Chunfu now had much more leisure time. She only needed to make intricate pastries, as even wealthy families who loved them wouldn’t eat them as meals, so there was no need to make large quantities. If they wanted to entertain distinguished guests, they had to place orders in advance at the shop, avoiding the awkwardness of making too much and not selling it. Jin Liu’er caught on quickly; she distributed the less presentable leftovers to the workers, who were delighted and worked even harder.
Where Liansheng’s wife was, there was always a lively atmosphere. Chunfu kept her hands busy while occasionally listening to their gossip about recent events, though most of the time, she was thinking about what her household still lacked. Suddenly, someone nudged her arm. Turning around, she saw it was Jinjuan and quickly smiled.
“What are you thinking about? I’ve been talking to you for ages, and you’re ignoring me. If you’re free, come visit me at my place. I live alone now—peaceful and comfortable. Didn’t you say you wanted to make clothes for your Jicheng? I can teach you.”
Chunfu was surprised. How had Jinjuan, such a delicate and refined person, become…? It was truly eye-opening. She hesitated to ask, but Jinjuan, seeing her expression, laughed heartily. “Did I scare you? I think life’s pretty good now—no beatings, no bullying. If Zhao Si dares to pick on me, I’ll give him a thrashing. My mother-in-law tells everyone outside that I’m a shrew. So what? I’ve realized that whether life is good or bad is entirely in my own hands. Zhao Si and I can’t stand each other, so I kicked him out. He can figure things out on his own.”
“What are your plans for the future? I feel partly to blame—my words pushed you onto this path, and I didn’t consider what would come next for you.”
Jinjuan shook her head with a smile and whispered, “Chunfu, my heart belongs to someone. Even if I can only look at him for the rest of my life, I’m content. It’s fate. We were just one step apart—no destiny. He’s reached the age to marry, and his mother is busy arranging matches for him. It hurts. I know society would scorn me for this, but I can’t help it. Ever since I found out I wasn’t marrying Zhao Yun but Zhao Si, I…”
Seeing Jinjuan’s eyes redden and tears well up, Chunfu sighed and comforted her, “I understand your pain, but I don’t know what to say to make you feel better. What about him? Does he feel the same? If his heart matches yours, maybe you could start anew somewhere no one knows you. But…”
Jinjuan forced a weak, pale smile. “I know the road ahead is hard, with too many things to consider. And… he doesn’t even know how I feel.” Thinking of that cold, taciturn man, always indifferent, her heart felt as if slashed by a knife, blood oozing thickly, the pain suffocating. She was the most shameless woman in the world. This forbidden affection, finally spoken aloud, no longer crushed her like a boulder.
Chunfu finally understood—Jinjuan’s heart belonged to Zhao Yun, younger and more sensible than Zhao Si, tall and handsome, one of the finest young men in Dongpo Village. Countless families wanted him as a son-in-law. Jinjuan’s situation was awkward. Even if everyone knew she was meant to be Zhao Yun’s wife, it couldn’t change the fact she’d married Zhao Si. A tangled mess indeed.
Chunfu studied this woman, about her own age, hands calloused from labor, still painfully thin. Perhaps the lifting of her inner gloom had lent her a new radiance. After cutting pigweed, Chunfu planned to check their fields. She’d heard everyone was busy diverting water for irrigation these days, taking turns household by household. If anyone missed their slot, no one would help.
It was her first time in the fields. Besides crops, Jicheng had built a grape trellis at the back, young vines twining with vitality. Jinjuan, walking beside her, smiled. “Your Jicheng is capable. Look how well-tended this land is—far better than others’.”
Chunfu smiled too. “He doesn’t let me help with the fields. I’m not quick, so I stay out of his way. These grapes should be ready by July—a nice snack to pass the time.”
Though unburdening her heart had eased Jinjuan, she now felt a flush of shame. If others heard, she’d never live it down in the village. She trusted Chunfu’s discretion and good heart, hence her candor. On their way back, she couldn’t help saying, “I don’t like my mother-in-law—she’s bullied me plenty—but for Zhao Yun’s sake, I tolerate her. I know it’s foolish, but without this longing, life would be unbearable. Chunfu, will you scorn me? Refuse to associate with me?”
Chunfu huffed. “If I didn’t want to associate with you, would I be walking with you? I just think you’ve suffered too much. Carrying this alone must be agony. If only people could let go of prejudice.”
Jinjuan covered her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing. “As if! Look at Jikun and Chunju’s scandal—only their thick skins let them endure it, throwing decency to the wind. The things people say… I can’t bear to hear them, so I keep it inside. Chunfu, you’ll never understand how hopeless I felt when I married into this family. The Zhaos tricked me. On the wedding day, Zhao Yun wasn’t even there. Guess what he said when he returned from town? ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me Big Brother was getting married?’ Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Chunfu patted her shoulder. How could she not ache for her? One was a strong, handsome young man; the other, a man decades older. For a dreamy young woman, it was a thunderbolt. Not everyone was as lucky as her, meeting Jicheng. She sighed. “Since you’ve made up your mind, just follow your heart. Even if one day you can’t bear it anymore, no one will blame you. Be kind to yourself. If you’re unhappy, talk to me. I see you as a sister, no matter what others think.”
Who could turn away someone baring their soul? At the crossroads, Jinjuan and Chunfu parted ways. Jinjuan tightened the straps of her basket and headed home. Entering the courtyard, she saw Zhao Yun coming out. She smiled at him, then averted her gaze and went inside. Why was he back now? Probably because his mother had found him a match—he’d returned to formalize the engagement. She set down her basket, washed her hands, and started preparing lunch.
After she’d kicked him out, Zhao Si had been sleeping in Zhao Yun’s room. Zhao Da-niang had witnessed Jinjuan’s fiery temper these past days. Coming out of her room, she said unhappily, “Why are you back so late? Hurry up and cook.” Spotting Zhao Yun returning, she exclaimed, “Back again? Don’t tell me you’re refusing to marry! Your father died young—raising you two wasn’t easy. I’m not counting on this hot-tempered daughter-in-law to care for me. I’ve met the Liu family’s girl—pretty, hardworking, and virtuous. A good match for you.”
Jinjuan’s hands paused briefly as she washed vegetables, then she curved her lips and continued scrubbing. What did it have to do with her? Heading to the woodshed for firewood, Zhao Yun suddenly spoke up: “Wait, I’ll get it.”
Jinjuan began kneading dough, head bowed, long lashes trembling faintly. Her hands moved mechanically while her thoughts wandered far away, so much so that she didn’t notice Zhao Yun’s return. He didn’t call out, just crouched to add firewood to the stove. Looking up, he caught a fleeting mix of joy and resentment on her face, though her frown remained. Standing, he stepped closer and said softly, “The fire’s ready. Can you make some noodles later? Big Brother says he’s still hungry.”
Hearing his voice, Jinjuan whirled around, her conflicted expression lingering. His words twisted her heart bitterly, but she nodded without replying and busied herself. No matter how she raged, he wasn’t home to see it—yet his heart still belonged to his family. Her own heart, tied to him, seemed laughable now. Let it be, she thought. Let things take their course.
Sensing him still standing behind her, his gaze burning into her back, she grew uneasy and finally turned to speak: “Anything else?”
Zhao Yun hesitated before saying, “Do you hate me? Ever since I returned from town, you’ve ignored me. If I’d known my mother would do this, I’d never have agreed.”
Jinjuan’s body stiffened momentarily before she forced a smile. “Nonsense. Go on out now—I’m about to stir-fry. The smoke’s strong—don’t let it bother you.” How could she bear to ignore him? Only by keeping her distance could she suppress the wild thoughts in her heart.
Zhao Yun left the kitchen to find his mother sitting on a stool by the door. Sighing, he said, “Mom, you and Big Brother should stop picking on her. She’s had it hard. Truth is, we wronged her. How could you do that? It tarnishes my name too.”
Zhao Da-niang stood up angrily, ready to strike him. “If your brother could get a wife, would I have dragged you into this? He’s been frail since childhood—who’d marry him?”
As a child, Zhao Si had injured himself playing recklessly. The incident was so notorious that the whole village knew he was practically a eunuch. When Jinjuan first married into the family, people had scorned them, cursing Old Zhao’s widow for her cruelty—without her husband to restrain her, she’d stooped to such wickedness.
Zhao Yun knew arguing was futile. He squatted under a tree to brood until Jinjuan called them for lunch. Seated at the table, he spoke up: “Mom, Big Brother’s not getting any younger. He can’t rely on you forever. The place I work at is short-handed—let him come with me.” Then, turning to Jinjuan, he pulled a money pouch from his pocket and handed it to her. “You know the household expenses best. Buy whatever’s needed. We who just eat shouldn’t make life hard for the cook.”
Before Jinjuan could react, Zhao Da-niang lunged for the pouch, but Zhao Yun dodged. Furious, she spat, “Why give her money? We hardly need any! Why haven’t you handed over your wages these past months?”
Zhao Yun knew his mother wanted his earnings for Zhao Si. It wasn’t favoritism—after his injury, his brother had grown withdrawn, barely leaving home. Over twenty years, his personality had turned erratic and reclusive. What shocked them was his violence. Zhao Yun believed his brother was ill—a sickness of the heart, likely incurable. His gaze drifted to the slender woman beside him, stirring unfamiliar emotions. A voice inside insisted she was meant to be his. Startled by the thought, he panicked and shoved it aside. To others, it would be unspeakable.
Wolfing down his food, he kept his head low and said gruffly, “I’ll give you money when this runs out. Did you hear what I said earlier?”
“I refuse. Your brother’s never worked outside—what if he’s bullied? At home, he’s beaten and scolded daily. Without supervision, who knows—he might end up like the Cens’ daughter-in-law, running wild. He’s staying with me. I’ll provide.” Zhao Da-niang dropped a morsel into Zhao Si’s bowl, her tone dismissive.
Jinjuan’s mood soured. The old woman was clearly making jabs. Never admitting her own faults, she seized every chance to spite her. Not wanting to make a scene in front of Zhao Yun, Jinjuan let it slide—words couldn’t wound her. But to her surprise, Zhao Yun’s face darkened. “Mom, one thing at a time. Why drag in unrelated matters? It’s not that I mind supporting Big Brother, but he’s healthy—why laze at home? Getting out would broaden his horizons. Isn’t that better than hiding here?”
Zhao Da-niang snorted, making her displeasure plain. Zhao Si, glowering, spoke up: “You’re just afraid I’ll burden you. Fine. Once you marry the Lius’ girl, move out. Mom won’t stop you. Someone’s still able to work and support us.”
Jinjuan couldn’t hold back. Slamming her chopsticks down, she made Zhao Si flinch. This woman, who’d once endured his beatings silently, had suddenly turned fierce, chasing him with a cleaver. Had he not fled, she’d have wounded him. Since then, she’d transformed—at the slightest provocation, she’d grab anything to hit him. Petite as she was, her blows were vicious. It wasn’t that he couldn’t overpower her, but her cleaver-wielding fury cowed him.
“Traditionally, men provide, women tend the home. Zhao Si, you’ve got it all figured out—expecting me to care for you in your dotage? At your age, you could manage, but you’d better check if you’ve the lifespan for it. Personally, I think Chunju’s got it made—better off with Jikun than that good-for-nothing Cen Niu. Since hooking up with Jikun, haven’t her food and clothes drawn envy? If I had her skills, why stay cooped in this hovel with nothing? You think I care? Let me tell you, I could remarry someone far above you.” Jinjuan’s anger loosened her tongue. Since they already thought the worst of her, why hold back? At least venting eased her heart.
Zhao Yun cut in sharply: “Enough foolish talk. You’re not that kind of person—why pretend? If Big Brother won’t go, forget I mentioned it. I’m done eating—heading back to work in town.”
Zhao Da-niang’s anger dissipated instantly. Both were her sons—how could she not love them? But the elder’s pain pained her too, so the younger had to bear the brunt. Calling after Zhao Yun, she said, “You barely ate—are you really full? Giving her the money—what will you use? Wait, let me fetch some for you.” She turned toward the house.
Zhao Yun’s frustration vanished. Grinning, he said, “No need—I’m truly full. It’s time to go—can’t keep people waiting.”
What was he even angry about? It was futile. Big Brother was their mother’s favorite—he just resented his brother’s weakness. With everything provided, why couldn’t he live properly? Constant strife. He saw clearly that Jinjuan held no affection for Zhao Si—only resentment. His mother’s actions had wounded deeply. During his time home, he’d observed Jinjuan’s diligence and earnestness, chilled by their family’s treatment. Her coldness toward him likely stemmed from the same source.
After Zhao Yun left, the household’s mood soured. Zhao Da-niang retired for a nap. Zhao Si glanced at Jinjuan, itching to vent but seeing her indifference, swallowed his rage and retreated. He supposed he did care for Jinjuan—at least, his heart had skipped when he first saw her. But shame quickly drowned that spark. He wasn’t a real man—everyone said he was like a palace eunuch. Over twenty years of solitude, Jinjuan’s arrival felt like a taunt, magnifying his humiliation. So he’d raged, sometimes hating her passivity, which deepened his guilt. But after her transformation, panic set in. Jinjuan tolerated nothing now—she was a fearless madwoman, slashing at him while shrieking words he’d never forget:
“Go on, kill me! Today, one of us dies. What sin did I commit in my past life to deserve your family’s abuse? Why did I marry such an old man? I refuse to accept this fate. If heaven won’t give me a path, I’ll make my own. Think you’re tough? Hit me! Why are you dodging?”
In calmer moments, he understood: Zhao Yun meant well; Jinjuan’s grievances were justified. He even blamed his mother for ruining lives—his included. He realized he’d lost his grip, becoming a porcupine lashing out at all, only to repent in lucid intervals. Over thirty now—would his heart ever heal?
One thing was clear: if this continued, everything he had would slip away, never to return.
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