Chapter 18

"Yes, yes, your child will be born in winter, so you need to prepare plenty of diapers. Also, if conditions allow, when Huo Lin gets back, have him chop more firewood—winters are freezing. The heated brick bed needs to be warmed every day, and wash the diapers in hot water. That way you won't be cold, the baby won't be cold, and the bed can even warm the diapers."

Aunt Liu's voice trailed off, saying, "I wonder when they'll be back. My son Dashu hasn't returned either. This corvée labor—is it digging canals or building roads? It's been way too long."

Zhang Shui, another husband waiting for his man to come home, was pounding hemp fibers with a small mallet nearby. At her words, he accidentally struck his hand. He sucked in a breath, and the little boy who'd been pulled out of the mud and made to sit beside him playing with dirt quickly asked, "Papa, does it hurt?"

The boy was mischievous but sensible.

Zhang Shui patted his head. "I'm fine."

He said softly to Aunt Liu, "My Tiezhu's not back either. The only one back so far is Brother Qingshan from Uncle Liu's family, but his leg's...

I've been sleeping badly lately—I keep having nightmares..."

Liu Cuier saw how anxious they looked and quickly comforted them, "Auntie, Brother Shui, Jue Ge'er, don't you worry too much. Dashu, Brother Tiezhu, and Huo Lin all have strong bodies—digging ditches and canals is nothing to them.

We work the fields all year, so there won't be any problems. Brother Qingshan was just unlucky—maybe a rock hit him. Besides, didn't Shuyao say folks would start coming back in batches by the end of the month?"

Aunt Liu was reassured and smiled. "That's true. Since the county magistrate said so, we'll just wait a bit longer."

She noticed Chen Jue's face wasn't smiling at all and comforted him too: "Jue Ge'er, don't you worry either. Huo Lin is one of the finest men in our village—he's spent years roaming the mountains hunting game, so he's quick and tough. There's no problem at all. Once he's back and sees you've got a big fat boy in your belly, he'll be over the moon."

Chen Jue gave Aunt Liu a silent look. Huo Lin wasn't coming back—it was exactly because of his skill that he'd been picked for the front lines, and he'd died there.

Apparently none of the villagers knew the people sent for corvée labor weren't digging canals—they were going to war.

He glanced again at Aunt Zhang, the village head's wife. Her lips had twitched earlier, like she wanted to say something, but in the end she just lowered her head and said nothing.

She clearly knew something, but she couldn't say—the village head wouldn't let her.

Chen Jue said nothing either. Zhou Qingshan's silence was probably because of orders from the imperial court, or maybe fear of panicking the villagers.

They'd find out soon enough, anyway.

Chen Jue looked at these people, each waiting hopefully for their husbands and sons to come back, and felt a little heavy-hearted.

It was Aunt Liu who changed the topic, asking Zhang Yan beside her, "By the way, Yan Ge'er, have you figured out the milk situation for after your baby's born?"

Chen Jue perked up—this was something he wanted to hear.

Zhang Yan rubbed his belly and smiled. "My mother-in-law already bought a nanny goat. In a few months she'll be giving milk, just in time for my baby."

Aunt Zhang, the village head's wife, finally got a chance to jump in. She quickly added, "That's really good. Let the kid drink goat's milk till five months, then switch to millet porridge, and at six months start him on rice paste and minced meat—he'll turn into a big fat boy for sure..."

She talked a lot, deliberately trying to break the earlier silence.

Chen Jue gave her a blank look. Aunt Zhang's eyes darted away before she smiled and asked him, "Jue Ge'er, what are your plans? Will your family help out? Will you go back to your mother's place to give birth..."

Seeing Chen Jue looking at her, she quickly added, "I mean, Huo Lin's family is small, and this is your first—you need experienced folks around you..."

Chen Jue stayed quiet, but Aunt Liu chimed in, "Yes, you need to discuss this with your family in advance. Ah, Huo Lin's family has only him in this village—no siblings at all.

You'll have to rely on your own family, Jue Ge'er."

Chen Jue said nothing. He did have a family, but he didn't know them, and even if he did, he wouldn't go there.

His original plan was to raise the kid himself. If he had no milk, he'd get a nanny goat.

What he'd confirmed was that men definitely don't produce milk.

Though he'd decided to carry this child to term, he was still a long way from accepting breastfeeding.

Zhang Yan beside him said with some regret, "This is the one downside of being a gē'er—we can't breastfeed. The child has to find someone else's milk the moment they're born. It's a shame for them."

Chen Jue glanced at him. Zhang Yan was confused by the look and quickly asked, "What is it, Jue Ge'er?"

Over the past few days, he'd grown much closer to Jue Ge'er. He'd initially thought Chen Jue was a man of few words, but when his legs were swollen and aching, Chen Jue had told him several medicinal herbs to soak his feet in to reduce the swelling. Before he could even ask his husband to buy the medicine, Chen Jue had already prepared it for him.

The medicine he'd prepared was indeed very effective.

He now felt much lighter. He could almost walk with swift strides.

So Zhang Yan had a very good impression of Chen Jue. Even though Chen Jue kept a cold face all day, Zhang Yan didn't mind—he still smiled warmly at him.

Chen Jue sighed. What could he say? Could he say that not being able to breastfeed was actually wonderful?

No, he couldn't.

If he said that, this gē'er, brimming with maternal instinct and overflowing motherly love, would lecture him.

He was six months pregnant now, with three months to go. His body was secreting large amounts of estrogen, making him love this unborn child unconditionally, willing to give his life for it.

That's how Jiang Xinhe had been back then.

Chen Jue had read research on this topic—nature stimulates the mother's body to produce hormones before and after birth to ensure the offspring's survival rate, making the mother love the child infinitely and protect it through its helpless infancy.

This was also why human mothers often lost their sense of self after becoming mothers. They would make every concession for their children.

So Chen Jue didn't fault Zhang Yan for lacking a self—it was determined by his hormones, beyond his control.

Seeing Zhang Yan still looking at him expectantly, asking, "Jue Ge'er, do you have a better solution?"

Did he think Chen Jue was some kind of god?

"Do I look like I can produce milk?" Chen Jue touched his flat chest and asked him.

Zhang Yan burst out laughing at his words. Chen Jue saying such things with that deadpan face was especially funny—seriously deadpan humor.

"Laugh softer." Chen Jue steadied him. Luckily he was still early in his pregnancy; once he got bigger, laughing like that wouldn't be good.

Zhang Yan leaned against him, holding his belly: "Alright, alright, I'll laugh softer. You're killing me."

Zhang Shuier watched Zhang Yan's radiant smile, then looked at Chen Jue's cool, composed face, and smiled meaningfully.

This was the first time he'd seen Zhang Yan laugh so openly—he'd always been a shy person before.

Zhang Yan had never been this dependent around him.

This Chen Jue was truly handsome—tall, nearly as tall as a regular man, with sharp features and a handsome face that naturally drew attention. Add to that his strange, dry humor, and he was surprisingly charming. He'd never noticed before.

Of course, Chen Jue had never joined their gatherings before either.

Chen Jue had not only made Zhang Yan laugh—Aunt Zhang, Aunt Liu, and the others were laughing too. Aunt Liu chuckled, "There's nothing to be done about it. Gē'ers can bear children but can't nurse, which is why many people prefer to marry a woman rather than a gē'er. But you're all fine fellows..."

Aunt Liu said this with a mix of pride and pity toward the gē'ers.

If this world were a food chain, it would look like this:

Men—women—gē'er.

Gē'er sit at the very bottom of the biological chain.

This is the conclusion Chen Jue has reached over the past few days.

In ancient times, labor was valued, and men—the hanzi—sat at the top of the chain, having the final say.

Women, being fewer in number and more fertile than gē'er, also had a certain status. This was evident from the groups gossiping at the village entrance, which were mostly made up of women.

There weren't many gē'er around—either Zhang Yan, who was pregnant, or Zhang Shui, who had just returned from the fields and was waiting here for his husband.

Their status was low, so they didn't have much time for idle chatter.

That was why, in this world, men only married gē'er when they had no other choice.

If they had the means, they'd all prefer to marry women.

Besides the fact that gē'er had trouble having kids, another reason men didn't want to marry them was that gē'er couldn't produce milk, so they'd have to spend extra money on a wet nurse after the baby was born.

Wealthy families were fine—they could hire a wet nurse. Of course, wealthy families wouldn't marry gē'er either—anyone who could marry a woman did.

Only poor families or men who couldn't find a wife ended up marrying gē'er.

This sounded a lot like the "sworn brothers" custom from the southern parts of modern times.

Those sworn brothers weren't all gay—a big chunk were just men who couldn't find wives and had to team up to get by.

The number of gay people wasn't actually as high as people thought.

Most were straight, which was exactly why being gay was seen as weird.

The rare was special. The special was seen as strange.

The future for sworn brothers was to marry women once they could afford it.

Maybe some of them had real love, but in the end, none of it could hold up against society, and they all ended up marrying and having kids.

Now, though, things were better—some men could have kids.

This world had solved the problem of two men not being able to have kids together.

Chen Jue didn't know how his thoughts had ended up here.

He could only say that things in this world were all the same—the only difference was the era.

Thinking this, Chen Jue asked, "So, can a gē'er marry a wife too?"

He was sure his equipment worked fine.

If it worked, he could marry a woman.

But weirdly, he'd never seen a gē'er marry a wife. Even the marriage laws of the Great Liang dynasty didn't mention it—the rules only said men marry.

Chen Jue was a bit puzzled by this.

Aunt Zhang was stumped by his question too, and went along with what he said: "Why would you want to marry a wife? You'd be better off marrying out and getting a bride price."

Chen Jue knew Aunt Zhang didn't mean anything by it, but precisely because it was offhand, he felt what women in modern society felt when they were traded for a bride price.

So gē'er could marry wives, but they were married out to save money.

It saved money and got a bride price—two birds with one stone.

Chen Jue looked at her and said, "So you're saying they can marry a wife and have kids?"

Aunt Liu shook her head. "I've never seen a gē'er marry a woman. Why would you ask that? It's always been the rule—the County Magistrate never let gē'er marry wives; they're all supposed to be married out."

Aunt Liu's words were plain, but they brought up official rules.

Chen Jue was quiet for a moment, finally realizing he'd been thinking about it all wrong.

Even though gē'er looked pretty much the same as men on the outside, because they had hidden reproductive cavities and could have kids, they were put in the childbearing category.

In any era, humans—or rather, all of nature—put having offspring first.

The reason the government of this dynasty firmly made gē'er the childbearing side was that there were few women, and few people who could have kids. So the authorities strictly required that a child's gender be registered at birth, with no room for mistakes. The midwife profession was way more formal and strict than Chen Jue had thought, and midwives had to register with the government too.

If there was even the slightest slip-up, they could never be midwives again.

So it wasn't surprising that Aunt Zhang and the others thought like this—after all these years, they were used to it.

At this point, Aunt Zhang, Aunt Liu, Liu Cuier, and the other few women in Pingshan Village were staring at Chen Jue like he was weird. They really couldn't understand his way of thinking. They thought gē'er were meant to be married off, including any gē'er they gave birth to—they'd be married off too.

So they thought Chen Jue was a bit rebellious. Liu Cuier pointed at him, suddenly realizing, and said, "Jue Geer, is it because of this weird way of thinking that you never got married for so long..."

The silence that followed was loud enough to deafen.

Chen Jue was nineteen when he finally married Huo Lin.

In this era, people started looking at marriage prospects at fifteen, and the latest you could marry was seventeen. By later standards, Chen Jue was an old leftover man.

Even though it was true, having Liu Cuier say it so bluntly was still a little awkward.

Even Aunt Liu pretended to be looking at the birds in the trees.

Seeing Chen Jue's expressionless face, Zhang Yan coughed and tried to smooth things over for him. "Well, he's married out now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, finally married off..."

"..."

Forget it, Chen Jue didn't say anything else.

He'd found out everything he needed to—time to go.

He'd come today to ask about milk powder, but somehow ended up talking about genetics again. He always slipped back into his work habits.

His job right now was to make money and buy milk powder, and once he had enough money, buy a milk goat for the kid first.

Chen Jue got ready to head home. He lived on the west side, so he could walk part of the way with Zhang Yan. He'd already put his basket on his back when Zhang Yan was still pushing himself up from the tree for support.

Chen Jue gave him a hand.

Zhang Yan thanked him, and Chen Jue stared at his belly for a moment. Zhang Yan was pretty and small, which made his belly look even bigger. He was six months along, but he looked like he was seven or eight months.

Chen Jue asked him, "Are you sure the kid in there is six months?"

Zhang Yan said, "Of course, the county doctor took my pulse."

Chen Jue went "oh."

Chinese medicine was really something back then—by feeling the pulse, you could tell not just the baby's gender but also how many months along she was.

Zhang Yan saw how tense he looked and asked, "Is something wrong? Is it too small—doesn't look like six months?"

Chen Jue said, "I think it looks a little big, more like eight months. You need to eat a little less."

Zhang Yan blurted out, "This is big? I haven't eaten much at all. You know there's nothing much to eat these days—one egg a day, meat every three days, and mostly sweet potatoes and cornmeal cakes. I'm still hungry after I eat—starving, to the point my stomach burns."

"Don't eat so many sweet potatoes," Chen Jue said after a moment's thought.

It seemed Zhang Yan's baby took after his father, Zhou Dajiang, who was tall—the kid had a big frame, and since he absorbed nutrients well, he looked bigger than he should.

Chen Jue added, "You should walk more and take care of yourself."

Zhang Yan smiled. "I know. Anyway, we're about to get busy soon—there's no time to sit around."

Chen Jue thought about it—true, farmers never had idle moments. They'd only sat down to chat for a quick break while working the fields, and they still had to go home and cook.

Chen Jue sighed silently at the thought of having to cook at home.

But he still had to eat. His cooking wasn't good, but at least it wasn't harmful. And since he wasn't throwing up anymore, he could eat most of the time. It was just that there was no meat to be had.

Chen Jue was a meat-eater; he always had been. Now he was more of a rabbit than a rabbit.

As they got close to Zhang Yan's home, Zhang Yan said to Chen Jue, "The day after tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival. I'll make some zongzi and bring you two. You don't need to make your own."

Oh, right—he didn't know Chen Jue couldn't cook.

Chen Jue thought about what zongzi tasted like and hummed, "Meat ones?"

Zhang Yan coughed. "Red date ones."

He'd been overthinking it—he was just craving meat.

Chen Jue coughed and advised, "Sticky rice zongzi can make you bloated. Don't eat too many."

Zhang Yan laughed. "Don't worry, I'm only making six total. Two for my in-laws, one for me, and one for my husband."

So six zongzi total, and he was still giving two to Chen Jue.

Chen Jue didn't know what to say for a moment. He came from a modern era of plenty and kept forgetting how scarce everything was in this time.

Finally, he said, "Then just give me one. I can't eat too much anyway."

Zhang Yan smiled. "You eat one, and your husband eats one. Huo Lin's coming back soon."

He said it cheerfully, his accent soft and lilting, so "Huo Lin" sounded like "Huo Jilin."

Chen Jue, who was walking away, paused in his step. He'd heard that name too many times lately—especially today.

He didn't want to hear it anymore.

He wanted to turn around and shout that Huo Lin was never coming back—that he was dead.

Though it was disrespectful to the dead, Chen Jue really didn't want to keep hearing about this person all the time.

The man was dead, and people still talked about him. It didn't feel good, especially since Huo Lin was so close to Huo Jilin—just one character less, and with Zhang Yan's soft accent, they sounded exactly the same.

He didn't want to hear the name Huo Jilin.

That name made his chest hurt.

Chen Jue looked up at the sky, a faint hint of mockery in his eyes.

It was because he'd taken on the case of Huo Jilin's wife—the one with heart disease—from the Huo Group that he'd ended up in this situation.

He wouldn't blame a mother influenced by hormones, but the child's father carried a lot of the blame.

The name Huo Jilin was the source of his pain, just like the battlefield was for Zhou Qingshan.

If this was also a punishment for him, then heaven had really done him a favor.

It wanted him to remember that mistake forever, never able to let it go.

Zhang Yan didn't know that Chen Jue, with his back to him, had an icy look on his face—like snow on a mountaintop, freezing everything. It was a side of Chen Jue he'd never seen before.

Chen Jue waved a hand at Zhang Yan without turning around, said nothing, and walked straight toward the little courtyard at the foot of the mountain.

His back was straight, and his belly—just over three months along—wasn't noticeable, which made him look even thinner—like a straight oak tree, much like the one in his yard, standing alone, reaching for the sky.

He decided to make Chen Jue something he wanted to eat. He wanted meat zongzi, so he'd wrap some with their family's cured meat.