Chapter 43: The Rebirth of the Concubine's Daughter III

“It’s wonderful if you can find someone who shares your interests and feelings, but if not, I just hope for a relationship marked by mutual respect. Still, I have no fondness for wild, unrestrained men,” said the tenth sister.

“Good fortune is rare. My greatest wish is simply to meet a man who won’t dote on concubines while neglecting his wife,” the eleventh sister chimed in, her outlook tinged with pessimism.

“Don’t worry, things will work out in the end. I’m sure both of you will find happiness,” Mu Yin offered, her tone light-hearted. The three of them were all daughters born of concubines; their prospects lay with either sons of noble houses, promising young scholars from humble backgrounds, or legitimate sons of minor officials.

Daughters born of concubines were, by nature, pawns in the game of marriage alliances. While legitimate daughters married into other powerful families, those born out of wedlock were used to widen a family’s network. The girls of the family understood this well and accepted it as natural. After all, they had received the family’s upbringing and thus owed something in return.

Still, the family did its best to find suitable matches for them—men with whom they might enjoy conjugal harmony. This, in their eyes, was an act of mercy. All in all, the Liu family was considered one of the more enlightened among noble houses and did not treat its daughters harshly.

Mu Yin believed that gain always came with loss—or rather, that rights and obligations balanced one another. She had benefited from the family’s cultivation, so it was only fair to repay them. If one did not wish to give back, then one could simply return the benefits received in equivalent value and settle the matter.

Unlike her two sisters, Mu Yin was free to choose her own match. She had already given enough to the family to fulfill her obligations—namely, her inventions of hotpot and barbecue. In an era when cuisine was limited to boiling, stewing, and roasting, these new dishes added a fresh dimension to people’s tables. Moreover, Mu Yin had introduced chili peppers, a secret weapon.

She had gone to great lengths to procure chili peppers. Though not transported by sea, it had taken over a year of arduous land travel to find them, and another year to cultivate them on a meaningful scale. With chili peppers, and the iron pots and new cooking methods Mu Yin provided, the Liu family’s restaurants flourished. The resulting profits were substantial, even for a prominent family, and so she earned the right to decide her own marriage.

To be clear, this meant she could choose her spouse without being limited by the family’s arrangements. If she wished, she could marry a merchant or a laborer. However, remaining unmarried was impossible. In this era, men could sometimes avoid marriage for reasons such as a free-spirited nature, but women had no such luxury.

There were even regulations about the age by which a woman must marry, or else pay a hefty fine. The reason lay in the era’s dismally low population growth—not only from the ravages of war, but also due to high mortality from poor medical conditions, not to mention the hidden households, a practice common among the powerful.

Mu Yin was aware of all this, but she had not come here to change it. Every world had its own rhythm of development; unless the world’s consciousness itself wished for rapid change, any outside interference would be met with suppression by the natural order. If the locals awakened on their own, that was another matter; their awakening meant the time was right.

Of course, all depended on the will of the world itself. In her previous world, though she hadn’t eradicated the zombies, she had solved the bedbug problem, eliminating a major threat and providing the locals with a method to deal with the zombies. She left them a thread of hope, and the world’s consciousness deemed her mission complete, rewarding her handsomely. After all, it preferred its own people to rise up rather than rely on outsiders like her.

But that was all beside the point and had nothing to do with her current mission. The carriage had by now arrived at the outskirts of the capital. It was March, and this area had been especially planted with vast stretches of flowers—nothing rare, but blooms for every season.

Now, amid the brilliant spring sunshine, the flowers were in full bloom. Families with young men and women would come here each spring for flower-viewing outings, a chance for young people to meet, though social distinctions still lingered. It was an unspoken rule that commoners, those not of noble birth, were forbidden to enter.

Of course, there were always some who tried to sneak in, hoping to ingratiate themselves with the powerful. If they went unnoticed, all was well, but if caught, the consequences were severe. The social hierarchy in this world was still strict and unforgiving.

Mu Yin had learned through investigation that it hadn’t always been this way. At first, there were no such restrictions, but after a certain incident—when a scoundrel took advantage of the opportunity and violated a noble maiden, forcing her into marriage—the rule was put in place.

During these outings, each family’s guards would stand watch around the perimeter, forming a protective circle to prevent unwanted intruders. Why not simply cancel the event? Well, these rare outings were too precious to forgo, especially for girls, whose opportunities to go out were few and far between.

The scenery here was exquisite, and the land was not, in fact, unclaimed. It had once belonged to a noble family that later fell into decline, after which the royal family took possession but did not change its use.

Gazing at the wildflowers in bloom—though not valuable, still beautiful—Mu Yin strolled along the paths through the flower fields, admiring the blossoms on either side. The knee-high grass was sprinkled with colorful little wildflowers, a truly lovely sight.

Once she entered the area, Mu Yin deliberately separated from her sisters and avoided the crowds, heading for a more secluded spot with only Chunfen as her companion. “Miss, this isn’t safe,” Chunfen fretted.

“Don’t worry, nothing will happen,” Mu Yin replied with a wave of her hand, unconcerned. She had no intention of matchmaking, nor of returning just yet; she wanted to properly savor the scenery. She had never seen anything like it before—having lived in the south in both her lifetimes. In the south, even in bloom, flowers mostly blossomed on trees, with hills and mountains covered in various trees and shrubs, such as azaleas.

She often saw mountainsides awash in the vivid red of azaleas in spring. Azaleas came in many colors, but wild ones were mostly bright red. The red azaleas were edible, but the white and pink varieties were not.

Here, however, was the north, where hills were rare and mountains rose high, yet this was a plain. If it hadn’t been royal land, it would never have been left to flowers—after all, it was several acres of fertile soil.

She picked a spot and had Chunfen spread out the tablecloth she’d brought along, having prepared especially for this spring outing. How could a picnic be complete without a tablecloth and delicious food? She’d seen it on television and always wanted to try it herself.

Though Chunfen grumbled, she dutifully laid out the cloth and took out the various snacks from the food box they had brought—treats and nibbles, even fruit juice.