Poisonous Peasant 'Concubine' Ch 85 - Hyacinth in Bloom

May 5, 2026

Chapter 85 — The Estate • The Wine

As the saying goes, many hands make light work—and with enough silver, even the most troublesome matters can be smoothed over. In just a single month, Ling Jingxuan’s estate had, more or less, taken shape.

A continuous stretch of gray brick walls ran from Yuehua Ditch in the east all the way to Xiaogong Mountain in the west. On three sides, the walls enclosed the estate tightly. For ease of travel, aside from the main front gate, smaller carriage gates had been opened at the center of the left and right walls. All three gates connected to straight cobblestone paths, which extended outward until they met the newly constructed official road near the wasteland by the inland waters. From afar, the entire estate carried the imposing grandeur of an Imperial Palace—its only flaw being how empty the inner grounds still felt.

For the main entrance, Ling Jingxuan had deliberately rejected the traditional double wooden gates of the era. Instead, he chose a sturdy iron-bar gate, painted a bold red. It looked unconventional, yet carried a strange sort of understated luxury. The estate was still in its final stages—essential furniture had already been crafted by carpenters, and everything that needed moving had been brought over. Meals were eaten here, nights were spent here. Still, Ling Jingxuan had yet to name the estate. He intended to wait until everyone was free, then gather together and choose a name worthy of it.

Pushing open the great iron gate, a flagstone path stretched straight ahead for over a hundred meters, leading directly to the main residence. On either side, the ground had been planted with grapevines he had personally cut from the mountains. Nurtured by water drawn from Crescent Moon Spring, the thick vines had already begun to show signs of life.

The main house, with its gray bricks and black tiles, stood in harmonious contrast. At its center was a grand hall spanning several hundred square meters. To either side were eight bedrooms each, every one designed in a curiously modern fashion—three inner chambers and a sitting room, complete with private washing facilities and a small kitchen. They could serve both as living quarters and private reception spaces.

Flanking the main house, the side wings were arranged with equal care. On one side stood a massive, spotless kitchen, two spacious storage rooms, and the entrance to a cellar. On the other were the stables, cattle sheds, and even a separate enclosure for wolves. Pig pens, chicken coops, and duck sheds had all been planned toward the rear courtyard.

Circling past the main residence, one would find to the left a row of large, tile-roofed buildings—each over ten meters long and at least three meters high. There were only four of them, each fitted with double doors and considerable interior space. These were what Ling Jingxuan referred to as his “workshops.” On the right stood another row of buildings stretching to the end of the courtyard, though these had been divided into numerous smaller rooms, intended as spare storage and servants’ quarters.

Whether workshops or servants’ rooms, both the front and rear had been set aside for planting fruit trees—though for now, the land remained bare.

Roughly ten meters from the main house lay a vast pond covering nearly five mu. It was already filled with water. Lotus roots had long since been planted beneath the surface, though nothing could yet be seen above. When diverting water from Yuehua Ditch, Ling Jingxuan had quietly introduced a large number of fish as well. To avoid arousing suspicion, he had specifically asked Ling Jingpeng and Song Gengniu to rent a boat and gather floating duckweed from the Ling River to scatter across the surface. Not only did it lend a touch of green to the estate, it also created ideal conditions for raising fish and ducks. As a result, the pond’s surface was now almost entirely veiled in a layer of soft green.

At the very center of the pond, a grand covered corridor wound its way across the water, connecting end to end. It was wide enough for the entire household to pass through, and at its heart stood an octagonal pavilion where one could rest and enjoy the breeze.

In time, when the surrounding fruit trees matured and the lotus flowers bloomed, the scenery would surely become breathtaking. As it was, ever since the pavilion had been completed, it had effectively become Ling Jinghan’s private study. Whenever he had nothing pressing to do, he would bring Song Shuisheng along, carrying a pot of chilled tea and a plate of pastries specially prepared by Song Yang-shi. More often than not, they would sit there for half the day.

Behind the pond, several large sheds had been constructed—pig pens, chicken coops, and duck shelters. The two piglets and dozens of chicks purchased earlier had already been moved into their new homes. Ling Jingxuan had since added eight more piglets, two hundred chickens, and five hundred ducklings. By the time the New Year arrived, the harvest would likely be abundant. Beyond that, stretching all the way to the foot of Yuehua Mountain, lay vast open land reserved for future orchards.

All in all, aside from the buildings and the pond’s corridor, the estate still appeared rather empty for now. But come next year, when trees cast their shade and greenery flourished, it would undoubtedly transform into a scene of captivating beauty.

During this past month, Ling Jingxuan had not been idle either. Xinyuan Restaurant had come twice more to collect goods. Together with the profits from selling fish, the more than two thousand taels of silver he had spent on buying land and constructing the estate had gradually been earned back.

While his fortunes flourished, the situation at the old Ling family grew increasingly bleak.

After a unanimous decision by the Clan Elder and the council of elders, Ling Jingwei was forbidden from buying his way out of military conscription. The village head personally returned the twenty taels of silver that Ling Chengcai and his wife had already paid. Not long after, Ling Jingwei was sent off to the recruitment camp.

As for Ling Chenghua, she stubbornly insisted that Ling Jingwei had forced himself on her. Backed by the old madam, she was not cast out of the family—but her reputation was utterly ruined. Let alone marriage, she would likely not even dare to face people again for the rest of her life. On top of that, Ling Chengcai and his wife, embittered over their son’s fate, now hated her to the core. Even with the old madam’s protection, her days in that household were anything but easy.

Because of this incident, the old scholar’s household completely lost the goodwill of the villagers. Never again could they carry themselves with the same lofty arrogance as before. Even the old master’s private school was forced to close—nearly every villager had come to take their children home, cursing as they did so. Better to let their children go uneducated, they said, than allow them to grow into scum like Ling Jingwei.

A string of blows followed in quick succession, and Ling Qiyun fell gravely ill, bedridden. The entire Ling household all but fell into the hands of the old madam. The eldest branch, angered over their son’s fate, clamored to split the family. The third branch fared no better—Ling Chenglong had already moved out, and with the eldest branch making trouble, all the housework and field labor were dumped onto them.

Accustomed to idleness, Ling Chenghu and his wife complained bitterly day after day. More than once, they sneaked off to Ling Jingxuan’s place, hoping to persuade Ling Chenglong and his wife to return. But Song Gengniu, strictly following Yan Shengrui’s orders, never asked questions—he simply beat them back each time they came. Not once did they even catch a glimpse of Ling Chenglong and his wife.

None of this, however, had anything to do with Ling Jingxuan.

His days remained as busy, fulfilling, and peaceful as ever. Each morning, after sending his sons to school, he would head into the mountains with Yan Shengrui and Ling Jingpeng to gather fruit. After lunch and a brief rest, he would join Ling Wang-shi, Song Yang-shi, and the others in washing the fruit and simmering it into preserves. By the time his sons returned in the afternoon, the entire household—along with the three members of the Zhao family—would gather around a specially made large round table for their meal.

Often, it was not yet dark after supper, and Ling Jingxuan, Yan Shengrui, and the others would head to the workshop to continue cooking fruit jam. Meanwhile, the four little ones, under Ling Jinghan’s supervision, obediently practiced their calligraphy and memorized their lessons. Once night fell, in an age without entertainment, the busy day would quietly come to an end.

“Father, stop working already—come and taste the wine I brewed!”

Over the past few days, they had gradually moved everything from the thatched hut into the new house. That evening, after a leisurely walk to aid digestion, Ling Jingxuan finally remembered the jar of grape wine he had sealed away in the old cellar. Judging by the time, it should be ready. Without hesitation, he dragged Yan Shengrui down to fetch a bottle.

“Ah, let me finish setting this wooden wedge first—I’ll be right there.”

The beds and wardrobes in the new house had all been crafted by carpenters brought in, but what remained were the desks and chairs Ling Jingxuan had specifically requested. These were smaller items, and unwilling to let his son spend more money, Ling Chenglong had taken it upon himself to make them. Day after day, he buried himself in piles of timber.

“When can’t that wait? It’s already dark—just finish it tomorrow, Father.”

“Yes, yes—I’m coming!”

“Don’t mind him, he was born to toil,” Ling Wang-shi said with a huff, shooting an annoyed glance at the man still working in the courtyard. But the moment her eyes fell on the crimson liquid in the cup, she couldn’t help but cry out in surprise. Lifting it up, she examined it from every angle, utterly fascinated. Around the table, Ling Jinghan and the others were no better—aside from Yan Shengrui, nearly every face carried some degree of amazement.

“Mother, have a taste—see how it is?”

Instead of answering her question, Ling Jingxuan simply smiled and gave her an encouraging look. Holding the cup, Ling Wang-shi cautiously sniffed the aroma, then carefully brought it to her lips. All eyes turned toward her. At first, she merely extended her tongue to take a tentative lick. Then, as if catching the flavor, she tilted her head back and drank the entire cup in one go.

“Ah! Delicious! It’s nothing like other wines—this one doesn’t burn the throat at all, and there’s a faint fruity fragrance. Jingxuan, may I have another cup?”

She smacked her lips, reluctant to let the taste fade, her eyes gleaming as she stared at the wine jar in his hands. It was the first time she had ever tasted something so delightful—better even than the sweetened drinks they made from fruit preserves.

“Hehe… Mother, no matter how good it tastes, it’s still wine. The aftereffect is quite strong. From now on, you may have a cup each night—it helps with sleep and even improves one’s complexion. But don’t overindulge.”

It wasn’t that he was unwilling—Ling Wang-shi didn’t usually drink, and that single cup had been at least three liang. If she drank more, a passing breeze might well have her swaying like a drunken fighter before long.

“Daddy, is this the grape wine you made from wild grapes? Can I try some?”

Whenever it came to food or drink, Xiao Baozi was never absent. Having just returned from practicing martial arts outside, he had caught the faint fruity scent from afar. Without a second thought, he ditched his elder brother Ling Wen and scrambled over in a flurry, climbing straight onto Yan Shengrui’s lap. His round, longan-like eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the cups before them, and at the corner of his mouth, a telltale trace of drool had already appeared.

“You brat wants to drink? Wait another ten years.”

Seeing how adorable his little nephew looked, Ling Jingpeng, seated across from him, couldn’t help teasing. This kid—whenever food was involved, he turned into a completely different person. As his elder brother liked to say, a textbook glutton.

“Ah? I can’t drink?”

At those words, the child’s face—now plumper after careful nurturing these past weeks—instantly fell, his lips drooping as if he might burst into tears at any moment. Ling Jingxuan and the others couldn’t help laughing. Only Yan Shengrui, who had always doted on the children, lifted his cup and brought it straight to the boy’s lips.

“Just a little. Taste it.”

He simply couldn’t bear to see his precious son disappointed.

“Hey!”

The gloom vanished in an instant. The little bun’s face lit up, both hands clutching the cup as he opened his mouth wide and took a huge gulp—

“Cough, cough—so awful! Water—water…!”

“Hahaha!”

No matter how mild, it was still wine. After that reckless gulp, Xiao Baozi stuck out his tongue in misery, coughing until tears sprang from his eyes. Even Yan Shengrui couldn’t hold back, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. Ling Wen, who had just come in behind them, saw his younger brother’s pitiful state and hurriedly poured him a cup of water, shooting a fierce glare at the two fathers laughing far too gleefully.

What kind of parents toy with their own child like this?

“Phew… finally better. Daddy, why does this wine taste so awful?”

After gulping down several cups of water, Ling Wu finally recovered. Even as he spoke, he pushed the wine cup away in disgust. It smelled so fragrant, yet once it hit the mouth, it burned like chili water—absolutely terrible.

“You silly boy. Wine is meant to be savored slowly. Who drinks it like a cow, the way you just did? This grape wine is already among the mildest of all. You’re still young—don’t go wasting my good brew.”

Curling his finger, Ling Jingxuan tapped him lightly on the forehead, then lifted his own cup for a measured sip. Wine made from wild grapes truly was something else—the aroma rich with fruit, carrying a faint astringency. The alcohol content was modest; it couldn’t compare to the finest wines he had tasted in his previous life, but it was easily above average.

Seeing this, the others followed suit, taking small sips from their cups. The rich fragrance spread instantly across their mouths. Before long, just like Ling Wang-shi earlier, they couldn’t resist tipping their heads back and drinking deeply. It was their first time tasting such a unique wine.

“I think I’ve had something like this before… though it didn’t taste as good.”

Setting down his cup, Yan Shengrui frowned slightly. After the previous incident, he had secretly tried to investigate matters concerning Prince Sheng and the front lines, but the reactions he’d experienced had since faded, leaving him no choice but to let it go. Today was the first time in a month that a faint sense of familiarity had returned.

Of course you’ve had it, Ling Jingxuan thought, rolling his eyes inwardly. A prince of the Imperial Blood—what delicacy haven’t you tasted?

Too lazy to respond, he let it pass. Aside from the initial twenty jars, he had brewed a total of five hundred jars of grape wine. Judging from the current results, the entire batch seemed to have turned out well. Tomorrow, he would personally take some to town and let Shopkeeper Zhang have a look. With any luck, these five hundred jars might earn him his second fortune.

At the thought that funds for buying more land might soon be within reach, his phoenix eyes curved into a narrow smile. Watching him all the while, Yan Shengrui’s gaze softened with quiet indulgence. For reasons he himself couldn’t quite explain, no matter what expression Ling Jingxuan wore, he always found it pleasing.

“Daddy, didn’t you say this wine was meant to be sold for money?”

No matter how perfect the atmosphere, one little money-grubber could shatter it completely. Those still savoring the wine all felt their temples twitch, half wishing they could sew his mouth shut. Couldn’t he let them indulge in a bit of refined enjoyment for just a little longer? For someone studying the classics, how was he still so steeped in the smell of coin—bringing up money every other sentence?

“Mhm, it is for sale. Tomorrow, I’ll go to town with you and ask Shopkeeper Zhang about the price first. If it’s too cheap, we won’t sell it—we’ll keep it for ourselves.”

Reaching out, Ling Jingxuan pulled him onto his lap and tapped the tip of his nose. After all, his initial investment hadn’t been large. Grape wine was a fine thing—if it didn’t fetch a good price, he’d rather keep it all.

“There’s so much of it—how could we possibly keep it all? Daddy, not that I’m criticizing, but I told you from the start not to brew so much. You wouldn’t listen, and even went behind my back to have Little Uncle order more jars from Uncle Wang. And now look—an entire cellar filled to the brim! How long would it take us to drink all that? No, tomorrow you’d better ask Uncle Zhang. If the price is reasonable, just sell it all. Recover what you can.”

Ling Wen’s long-missed nagging made its triumphant return. Watching his lips move nonstop, Ling Jingxuan felt his own twitch in response, his whole body vaguely uncomfortable.

When did I ever say we couldn’t sell it? I only said if—if it didn’t fetch a good price, alright?

“Hahaha!”

Seeing this classic scene of a son lecturing his father, everyone burst into laughter once more, nearly toppling over. In this lifetime, it seemed Ling Wen had his father completely wrapped around his finger.

Pinyin & Notes (key terms):