Jicheng could hear the satisfaction and joy brimming in her voice. It was the first time since he had laid eyes on her that he saw her so emotionally charged—her brows, the corners of her eyes, her small mouth, all radiating smiles, like flowers blooming defiantly in the rain.
Jicheng smiled along and patted Zhang Yan’s shoulder again, saying softly, “See? Your aunt has money now and can afford to send you to school. Focus on your studies from now on and stop worrying about unnecessary things.”
Chunfu’s lips curled up, her voice clear and melodious as she looked at Zhang Yan with moist eyes. “In just over half a month, we’ve already made this much profit. Business should only get better from here. As long as we work hard, life will be much easier in the future. Let’s go to town together one day. If you’re going to school, you’ll need decent clothes. Your uncle’s clothes are practically unwearable too—we’ll replace them all. They don’t care about you, but I do. From now on, you’ll live with us. You won’t lack for food or clothing.”
It wasn’t that Zhang Yan wasn’t happy—he was. But there was a hurdle in his heart he couldn’t overcome. His aunt loved him and treated him like her own son, but she hadn’t given birth to him. Why should she spend money on him that rightfully belonged to her own children? It made no sense. He didn’t deserve it. Gritting his teeth, he looked up and forced a smile. “I don’t want to study anymore. If I can’t pass the imperial exams or become an official, it’s just a waste of money. Aunt, I’m full. I’m going home now. I’ll come back for the sack another day.” With that, he grabbed his raincoat and made to run.
Chunfu was quicker. She seized his collar and scolded angrily, “What nonsense are you spouting? You clearly want to study—why say things you don’t mean? Do you know your smile looks worse than crying? Are you trying to kill me with anger? I just want to see you succeed, so I can bask in your glory later and proudly tell people, ‘Magistrate Zhang was raised by me.’ Do you understand?”
Zhang Yan didn’t respond. His back was turned to Chunfu, but his eyes were already brimming with tears. He wrenched himself free from her grip and dashed into the rain.
Chunfu trembled with fury as she watched Zhang Yan disappear into the distance. “That ungrateful brat! What’s he being so stubborn for? Who wouldn’t want to send their child to school? Even if he doesn’t become a scholar, just knowing how to read is good enough. Look at him!”
Jicheng saw her eyes reddening and knew she was worried. Zhang Yan was smart, and this was the perfect age for learning. He soothed her, “Don’t be angry. I’ll go find him. That boy must have had a fight with his parents. He’s just talking nonsense in the heat of the moment. Don’t take it to heart.”
After Jicheng strode off, Chunfu stared at the sack in the corner. For a moment, she was so furious she wanted to throw it away. But then she remembered how carefully he had worked to catch what was inside, and her heart softened. Did he even realize she loved him precisely because he was too sensible for his age, bearing so much hardship while still so young? That was why she doted on him extra. Next time she saw him, she’d give him a good scolding. But what she didn’t expect was that Zhang Yan would vanish completely from their lives—disappearing without a trace for seven or eight years.
Jicheng searched everywhere before finally arriving at Chunmu’s house. As he entered the courtyard, he saw Chunmu dumping dirty water from a wooden basin. Wiping rainwater from his face, Jicheng asked with a smile, “Brother, has Zhang Yan come back? I’m looking for him.”
Chunmu was surprised to see Jicheng, initially thinking he had come for some other reason. Hearing the question about Zhang Yan, he shook his head. “That boy’s grown too wild. We can’t control him anymore. He hasn’t been back for a full day and night. That heartless brat might as well die out there. Jicheng, I heard some wealthy family sent you gifts the other day. Why are you letting Chunfu waste them like this? With money, you could live comfortably. Don’t let that ignorant girl run wild anymore.”
Hearing that Zhang Yan had been gone for nearly two days, Jicheng’s heart sank. His voice turned grave. “I won’t interfere with what Chunfu wants to do. But you, Brother, have gone too far. Zhang Yan and Zhang Tong are both your sons. Do you really have to draw such a clear line between them? Hearts are made of flesh—have you ever considered what if something happens to him out there? Wouldn’t you feel any pain? Zhang Yan is already so sensible for his age—he knows right from wrong, has a kind heart, and works hard. Why can’t you see that?”
Chunmu’s face darkened. Irritated, he waved Jicheng off. “They’re my sons. I’ll treat them however I please. Where he goes is none of my concern. That traitor—why should I raise him?” With that, he stormed back inside. Whatever Li Xiu’e said to him, Chunmu’s roar soon followed: “Go look for him yourself if you want! Every last one of you is like a debt collector. Do I owe you? Feeding and clothing you isn’t enough—now I have to care about your feelings too? Who cares about mine? My whole life has been ruined by those two deadweights—and that jinx. I should’ve just let her starve to death.”
Some people would hold grudges for lifetimes over the slightest grievance, while taking all kindness for granted. The old resentments in Chunmu’s heart surged up like a frenzy, his eyes bloodshot with rage, terrifying to behold.
Jicheng didn’t linger. He turned to search elsewhere for Zhang Yan. If a man could treat his own son like this, no wonder he’d once entertained the vile thought of selling Chunfu to a brothel. Jicheng combed through every possible place Zhang Yan might have gone, braving the rain, but found no trace of him. He had no choice but to return home.
Liansheng’s wife hadn’t come to help because Jicheng was home, giving Liansheng some rare free time. She wanted to cook him something nice. Chunfu took out the jam jars and began kneading dough. Glancing back at the sack lying quietly in the corner, she sighed. When Jicheng finally returned, she hurried over to ask, “Did that boy listen to reason?”
After a moment’s thought, Jicheng decided to tell her the truth. Knowing it would upset her, he pulled her close, listening as she choked back tears and cursed, “They’re beasts! Zhang Yan’s still so young—how could they have the heart to drive him out? Where am I supposed to find him now? That stupid boy—how many times have I told him to come live with us? But he just wouldn’t listen. I’m terrified he might take a wrong turn in despair.”
Jicheng guided her to sit on a wooden stool, frowning as he reassured her, “I don’t think that’ll happen. Zhang Yan’s young, but he’s got a strong moral compass. He knows what’s right and wrong. He’s just too considerate—always worrying about burdening us because he thinks we’re struggling. Don’t worry too much. He probably hasn’t gone far. Maybe he’ll come back once he cools down. Even though your brother and sister-in-law treat him poorly, he’s still filial. He wouldn’t abandon them.”
Chunfu’s anxious heart eased slightly. She could only hope Zhang Yan would come to his senses soon and return to live with them. Looking at the sack, she sighed helplessly, “You deal with that snake yourself. I can’t bear to look at it. He went through so much trouble to catch it. He’s a good boy. Was I too harsh earlier? I… never mind. As long as he’s safe, that’s all that matters.”
Despite her words, Chunfu remained dispirited all day. Jicheng helped with the chores, and once the rain stopped—though the ground was still muddy—he encouraged her to go up the mountain with him. Both carried baskets on their backs, and Jicheng, as usual, tucked an axe into his belt.
After the heavy rain, small streams gushed down the slopes, making the path treacherous. But the mountain air was crisp, the greenery lush, and the occasional birdsong refreshing. Everything seemed more vibrant after the rain—the stifling heat and dust washed away, wild fruits glistening with droplets, plump and translucent. As Chunfu picked fruits, Jicheng crouched to gather herbs. Suddenly, he looked up and asked, “Do you have enough dried mushrooms yet?”
Chunfu turned to him with a smile. “There’s no such thing as ‘enough’—the more, the better. Once we’ve saved up more money, I’ll focus on making the more intricate pastries. For the rest, I’ll just supply the jam and let the shop assistants handle the baking. That way, I can free up time for household matters. If we ever have a child, I won’t be able to keep up this pace.”
Jicheng found the herb he was looking for amidst the grass. Without looking up, he said gently, “To me, no one is more capable than you. What you earn in a month would take me two or three years to save. I’m already more than content. Whatever you decide is fine. Though I should work harder too—I can’t have you supporting the family forever. That’d be embarrassing.”
Chunfu swatted his shoulder playfully. “What nonsense are you spouting? Are we living together or competing over who earns more? I don’t care about any of that—as long as our life is good, that’s enough. Jicheng, would you like to move to town? I’ve been thinking—since this business is long-term, we might end up staying in town often. It’d be good to have a place to stay. Nothing fancy—just enough for our family.”
Jicheng chuckled. “With what you’ve earned so far? Town houses aren’t cheap. Let’s save up more first.”
Chunfu pouted and resumed picking fruits. Then, her eyes lit up with excitement. “Once summer’s over, we’ll catch more fish and dry them. Then we won’t have to worry about food in winter.”
Listening to her chatter about future plans, Jicheng’s heart swelled with joy. He had always been content—life with Chunfu was infinitely better than being alone. Every day was full of promise.
Meanwhile, Zhang Yan had sprinted all the way to Old Jiang’s house, drenched from head to toe. Old Jiang was reclining on his rickety wooden bed, smoking, when Zhang Yan barged in. Amused, he asked, “What’s this? Carrying your raincoat instead of wearing it? Weren’t you delivering something to your aunt? Did you get scolded?”
Zhang Yan slumped down weakly. “No. My aunt wants to send me to school. I refused and ran away.”
Old Jiang sat up and knocked the ashes from his pipe. Sighing, he said, “What’s gotten into you, boy? You’ve got such a good aunt, yet you’re still unsatisfied? Do you really think catching snakes is a proper job?”
Zhang Yan sat beside him, head bowed. “My aunt and uncle just got married. They’re struggling as it is—adding me into the mix would only make it worse. My parents brought me into this world but don’t want me anymore. They have their own children now. I won’t be a burden to them. When I’m older, I can do heavy labor. I’ll find work somewhere.”
Old Jiang patted his head, at a loss for words. After a long pause, he said, “If you’ve got nowhere else to go, stay here with me. I’m not long for this world anyway, and I’ve got no children. When I die, this house will be yours. Fix it up, find a wife, have kids, and live a good life. The world goes on with or without anyone.”
Zhang Yan murmured an agreement, but his heart was conflicted. Was he really going to cut ties with his aunt? The truth was, he couldn’t bear to. She was the only person in the world who truly cared for him. That was exactly why he couldn’t drag her down. He resolved to learn more skills to earn better money. Once he was stable, he’d make it up to her.
True to his word, Jicheng began asking around the village for Zhang Yan’s whereabouts. He didn’t care what others thought—he pieced together every scrap of information, tracing Zhang Yan’s steps until, seven days later, he learned the boy had visited Old Jiang. He took a day off to seek out Old Jiang, only to find no sign of Zhang Yan.
Old Jiang puffed on his pipe, revealing yellowed teeth. His weathered face broke into a smile as he said with certainty, “You must be Zhang Yan’s uncle. Well, no one else would come looking for him.”
Covered in dust from the road, Jicheng thought to himself how far the boy had wandered. A scholar’s son, yet he’d run this far. Hurriedly, he asked, “Old Jiang, do you know where Zhang Yan is? His aunt and I are worried sick. It took us days to track him here.”
Old Jiang exhaled a cloud of smoke and sighed. “He stayed with me for a few days but left without saying where he was going. But that boy’s tough—he won’t die. Don’t worry, just go home.”
Jicheng didn’t believe him. He pressed Old Jiang for answers but soon realized Zhang Yan was sharp—he’d picked up on things quickly. Old Jiang would have told him more if there’d been time, but it was too late now. With no other leads, Jicheng had no choice but to leave. How was he going to break this to Chunfu? The boy everyone saw as sensible had done the most reckless thing. Where on earth was he hiding?
No one in the village cared where Zhang Yan had gone. Instead, gossip spread like wildfire about how heartless Zhang Chunmu and Li Xiu’e were for driving their own son away. What kind of grudge could justify such cruelty? How could parents favor one child so blatantly while neglecting the other? The scandal became the talk of the town, refusing to die down. Li Xiu’e and Chunmu never defended themselves—only Zhang Tong, returning from school, grumbled as he walked past the gossiping villagers: “Zhang Yan doesn’t know what’s good for him. His heart’s never been with my parents—always siding with outsiders. If he chose to leave, how is that my parents’ fault? He broke their hearts. They can’t rely on him at all. I’ll be the one to take care of them.”
Though Zhang Tong’s voice wasn’t loud, passersby heard him clearly. Chunmu, touched, patted his head with affection. Someone couldn’t resist sneering, “Chunmu, you’re lucky to have such a filial son. He’s definitely better than the other one.”
Ignoring the comment, Chunmu led Zhang Tong home. He had given up his own dreams of education due to poverty, only for Zhang Yan to drain what little they had. Back then, as their first child, Li Xiu’e couldn’t bear to let him die, so Chunmu had grudgingly paid for his survival—until Zhang Tong was born, bringing some relief. Compared to Zhang Yan, Zhang Tong was obedient, likable, and healthy, always grinning with bright eyes, while Zhang Yan seemed to do nothing but cry, fueling Chunmu’s growing disdain. Later, when Zhang Yan started helping Chunfu, Chunmu couldn’t stand the sight of him.
The accusations and mockery eventually faded in the face of Chunmu’s silence. Soon, the narrative shifted—people began saying Zhang Yan had run off on his own, too headstrong to listen to his parents. How could parents control a child’s legs if he refused to stay? And just like that, Zhang Yan became the rebellious, ungrateful son.
When Chunfu learned Zhang Yan had vanished without a trace, she didn’t break down. Instead, she calmly continued her work. Jicheng, worried she was bottling it up, grew even more anxious. Softly, he said, “I’ll keep looking. He couldn’t have gone far.”
Chunfu shook her head, sighing. “Once he’s made up his mind, there’s no reasoning with him. I just never thought he’d be this ruthless—leaving no room at all. Of course I’m worried. I’m terrified he’ll fall in with bad company or get kidnapped. But what can we do now? All I can do is pray he values his life enough to come back alive someday. He’s such a fool—what’s the point of throwing a tantrum at those heartless people? I wish I could slap some sense into him.”
Chunfu knew she wasn’t making much sense. She was furious, but she also knew venting wouldn’t help. That stubborn boy was more pigheaded than an ox.
After that, they never spoke of Zhang Yan again. But Jicheng noticed Chunfu often lost in thought, frowning as she gazed at the courtyard gate. Sometimes, she’d mutter, “Didn’t he say he’d come back for his sack? Why hasn’t he? What’s the point of keeping a bag that held such disgusting things?”
Too squeamish to handle the snake herself, Chunfu had Jicheng move it out of sight to separate the meat from the bones. When he brought it back, she steeled herself and cooked it—the aroma was irresistible. Jicheng assumed she wouldn’t eat it, but she looked up at him with a smile. “How could I not eat something my nephew worked so hard to get me? Even if it were poison, I’d swallow it.”
Memories flooded her mind—her sister-in-law beating her while Zhang Yan tugged at the feather duster, begging her to stop. How he’d sneak her extra buns during meals, never mocking her for her simplicity, instead entertaining her with stories of catching crickets or daring adventures. Only now did she remember—when she’d been deathly ill, it was Zhang Yan who had whispered incessantly by her ear: “Aunt, open your mouth and drink some water. You’ll feel better. They say you’re dying, but don’t die, okay? You’re the only one in this family who cares about me.”
Suddenly, her heart ached unbearably.
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