Chapter 73:

Chunju clutched at Uncle Ji’s hand, trying to free her hair. Though old, Uncle Ji’s grip was strong, and the pain at her roots made her feel as if her scalp was being torn off. Tears welled in her eyes, her voice trembling with a sob: “Dad, I don’t dare let you serve me. I was just lying down because I felt unwell. I’ll go work now, please let go.”

Uncle Ji dragged her all the way to the yard before shoving her away. Chunju, protecting her belly, barely managed to steady herself. Seeing Uncle Ji’s wide, furious eyes and angry face, she shrank back, thinking how unlucky she was to have crossed him at such a moment.

“You can eat nonsense, but don’t call people nonsense. Our family properly married Jiliang to one wife—there’s no place for you here. I don’t want you in my house for a single moment. It just so happens that today I’ve realized something: ever since that good-for-nothing came back, my peaceful life has been ruined. I lost an obedient son and now have to deal with you, this disgrace. What sin have I committed in this life? Ji Kun, stop hiding in the house pretending to be dead—get out here!” Uncle Ji turned and roared toward the house.

A person may live in confusion for a lifetime, not knowing when clarity will strike. Perhaps it’s the silent questioning of conscience that makes one realize how a single misstep can create irreversible karma. Uncle Ji was filled with regret and pain. If he were to descend underground after death, how could he face his third brother and his wife? Back then, he had resented the third brother’s wife for not letting Jicheng be adopted by him, so he had someone ruin Jicheng’s reputation.

In truth, the third brother’s family had every right to refuse. Who had forced him to exploit their weakness? Uncle Ji snorted lightly, watching as Ji Kun slowly emerged from the house. He sighed inwardly. He had pressured the third brother’s family only because he knew Jicheng wasn’t their biological child. The third brother, fearing damage to his wife’s reputation, had reluctantly given his own son, Jiliang, to him in adoption. In the end, he had truly picked up a sesame seed only to lose a watermelon.

Ji Kun’s injuries had long healed. Once, he had acted recklessly, relying on his parents’ indulgence. But after being beaten by his father, he had grown cautious and more disciplined. Leaning against the wall, he responded meekly, “Dad, what is it?”

“Today, you’re clearing out the room for me. Jiliang used to live in your uncle’s courtyard—go stay there. Handle your own food, drink, and sleep. Your mother and I are old, our hair white. Who knows when we’ll kick the bucket? We don’t have the energy to support you anymore. They say raising a son ensures support in old age, but I’ve given birth to an ancestor to worship. I want to live a few more years. Leave today—I don’t want to see you.”

Ji Kun limped on one leg and had no means to support himself. If he were truly driven out, wouldn’t he starve to death? Back in the army during the war, at least there had been ready-made meals. How could he survive if kicked out now? He turned to his mother and said, “I’ve been behaving well, causing no trouble. What’s gotten into Dad?”

Aunt Ji wiped her wet hands on her clothes and walked over, tugging at Uncle Ji’s sleeve. “What happened after you went out? Who upset you? I’ll go talk to them.”

Uncle Ji pulled his hand away, exasperated. “Enough, don’t embarrass yourself. Who dares upset me? It’s this useless thing you gave birth to. No more nonsense—pack up and leave. Once he’s gone, clean the room properly so Jiliang can live comfortably when he returns. Qiaoyun and Jiliang haven’t divorced yet. In the next few days, take some good things to her family and apologize. Bring her back. I’m just a fool, throwing away a good life for this waste of a son. What are you standing around for? Waiting for me to hit you?”

Seeing his father raise his fist, Ji Kun, afraid of being struck, hunched his shoulders and reluctantly went inside to pack. Aunt Ji followed, sighing. “Your father’s furious. If you refuse to leave, he won’t spare you any face. Just stay there for a couple of days. After all, you’re his flesh and blood—he won’t truly abandon you. I’ll find a chance to talk him around. Everything in this house is yours—what does Jiliang have to do with it? Even if he comes back, I won’t let him through the door. Just looking at him annoys me.”

Chunju stood there like a block of wood. She hadn’t expected to be mistreated while carrying the Ji family’s child, let alone driven out. Life here was worse than in the Cen household. What sin had she committed to jump from one pit into another?

Aunt Ji packed some grain, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar for Ji Kun. She was about to add cooking utensils when Uncle Ji’s fierce glare made her set them down. Limping out, Ji Kun saw Chunju still standing dumbly and yanked her collar, cursing. “It’s all your fault, you wretched woman—a born jinx! Expecting others to serve you? Go be my slave and atone for your sins.”

His mother had told him that once she gave birth, they’d kick her out. They had no ties—even if others asked, they could say Chunju had shamelessly clung to their family. No one would speak well of her, so there was nothing to fear.

Uncle Ji watched their retreating figures until they disappeared, then squatted down to light his pipe. His voice was hoarse. “Don’t let me catch you sneaking him anything, or you’ll be out too. None of you know your place anymore. Who knows where that rascal Jiliang has gone? Remember what I told you—don’t make me chase you with a stick.”

Aunt Ji snapped, “I know. I’ll go this afternoon.”

Meanwhile, Jicheng and Zhou Jing drove their cart to town and stopped at the Bai Ji Restaurant, waiting for the manager to name a price. The two wild boars, weighing nearly three hundred jin, had far better flavor than domestic pigs. Their meat was firm and robust from years of running in the mountains. The manager, knowing his trade well, understood that wild game was scarce and thus more expensive.

“Three taels of silver for both. One’s already gutted—it’s not fresh anymore.”

Though delayed, the weather wasn’t hot enough to spoil the meat. Prepared now, the taste wouldn’t change. Three taels was too little. Zhou Jing immediately countered, “These were caught at great risk. Even just the labor’s worth more than this. If you won’t pay properly, we’ll sell elsewhere. This town’s full of travelers willing to spend. I doubt we’ll be stuck with them. Let’s go.”

Afraid of losing the deal to a competitor, the manager—who had assumed they were simple country folk—smiled apologetically. “My mistake. I was distracted and spoke without thinking. How about another tael?”

“Not enough. Five taels. I’ve heard that since Old Zhou the hunter died, your restaurant’s lacked fresh game. These boars are rare. My friend here owns a mountain full of such treasures. If we find more, you’ll be first in line. Business thrives on relationships.”

The manager chuckled wryly at the smooth talk. “Five taels it is. In all my years, I’ve never met someone as silver-tongued as you. Remember—if you find more, bring them here.”

Wild boars were fierce. The timid wouldn’t dare hunt them, and the bold couldn’t catch them alone. Restaurant patrons loved the taste, claiming domestic pork was bland. Traveling merchants, flush with cash, indulged their palates freely. Five taels would be recouped quickly.

Zhou Jing clasped his hands in agreement, wished the manager prosperity, and led Jicheng out. Seriously, he said, “The boys only meant to help. Sharing the silver makes it seem like we’re strangers.”

Jicheng tucked the money pouch into his robe, patted it, and flicked the horse’s rump before replying, “None of us live lavishly. A little extra helps. It wouldn’t sit right with me to keep it all. Enough talk—let’s head back. Chunfu’s waiting for me to catch her fish.”

Zhao Yun and Liansheng finished digging the last two traps, washed up at home, then went to Jicheng’s place. Seeing the women chatting and working together lifted their spirits.

“You really shocked everyone. Your life seems good—has Aunt Zhao come to make trouble?”

Zhao Yun shook his head. “She hasn’t. Probably resents me. My eldest brother tried twice, but after I beat him, he stopped. I understand Mom’s plight—my brother’s the type you can’t scold, only coddle. Who knew he’d turn out like this? Spoiled rotten, lazy and gluttonous.”

“Maybe he’ll come around. Aunt Zhao can’t baby him forever. Every family has its struggles.” Liansheng watched his son play with Dabao, smiling at the thought of sending him to school soon. Life was unpredictable—who’d have thought his clouded days would brighten so? He felt they’d caught some of Jicheng’s luck.

Jicheng and Zhou Jing returned in high spirits, dividing the silver. The group’s joy was contagious. Chunfu fetched water for them to wash, but Jicheng waved her off. “Just found out Zhou Jing’s handy with fish too. We’ll catch a couple first, then clean up.”

Zhao Yun and Liansheng, poor swimmers, tagged along anyway. Talking in front of the women was awkward.

Chunfu took the meat from Jicheng, diced potatoes, and stir-fried them with tomatoes. With so many mouths to feed, noodles were easiest, though she wished she could make dumplings for the kids. Seeing her struggle with the dough, Liansheng’s wife laughed and took over.

Once the dough rested, Chunfu called everyone to wrap dumplings. The kids would feast, the adults enjoy them as a side.

Yuning twisted her fingers nervously, cheeks pink. “I’ve never done this before.”

Liansheng’s wife chuckled. “Don’t worry—practice makes perfect. I hear Zhou Jing’s quite the cook. After you marry, he can pamper you.”

Yuning blushed deeper, imagining the man she loved cooking for her—a joy beyond words.

Chunfu nodded. “Don’t let their looks fool you. Jicheng’s dumplings are prettier than mine.”

Jinjuan scoffed. “Mine just sits around waiting to eat. Chunfu, teach me your recipes sometime? Zhao Yun’s stuck with dry pancakes—I feel awful.”

Chunfu whispered, “Feeling guilty?”

Jinjuan pushed her playfully. “Be serious! Everyone grows the same veggies, but my cooking’s lacking. You’ve got real skill—life’s cozy here. I want to learn.”

“Of course I’ll teach you.”

Their laughter outdid even the old locust tree’s shade. Li Xiu’e, noting the sun’s descent, nervously headed out, only to hear someone call, “Chunfu’s family caught two boars—why didn’t they share?”

Li Xiu’e rolled her eyes. “Probably waiting for me to collect it.”

The neighbor laughed. “Nope—sold in town already. Seems you’re not in their thoughts. Had you treated her better, maybe she wouldn’t be so cold.”

Flushing, Li Xiu’e marched to Jicheng’s house. Demanding money now was impossible—she’d need to mend ties first. Arriving as Chunfu finished stir-fried tomatoes and eggs, the aroma halted her steps. Seeing no carriage, she strode in cheerfully. “Chunfu, need help? Oh, what a spread—even dumplings! Your brother’s unwell, so it’s just me. Need this carried out? Let me.”

The golden eggs and red tomatoes looked inviting, but Liansheng’s wife blocked her reach. Scowling, Li Xiu’e licked her lips. “What’s this? She’s my sister—don’t treat me like a stranger. Know your place.”

Unfazed, Liansheng’s wife smiled. “You weren’t here this morning. Rarely visit, and when you do, you stir trouble. Hard to trust your intentions.”

Li Xiu’e glared. “Who are you to speak? This is family business—blood runs thicker than water. Living nearby doesn’t make you kin.”

Liansheng’s wife laughed, shaking her head as Li Xiu’e flounced into the kitchen. She wiped the small table and arranged stools—borrowed from her own home, as Jicheng’s weren’t enough. Villagers cherished such gatherings, throwing themselves into preparations more than the hosts. Life’s burdens demanded occasional joy.

Chunfu’s mood soured as Li Xiu’e sashayed in. Ignoring her proved futile when the woman began lecturing: “I heard Jicheng caught two boars? Selling them instead of sharing with neighbors? Basic courtesy! If you don’t know how, ask me. How much did you get?”

Chunfu said coldly, “Why share? We’ve no ties to them. Let strangers feast, then curse us? They’re not welcome near my door. They can say what they like—I don’t need their lessons.”

Yuning was surprised by Chunfu’s sharp tongue. Her icy demeanor was intimidating.

“What nonsense! You’ll live among these people forever. Why make enemies? You’ll need them someday. Why won’t you listen?”

Chunfu brushed past her to fetch mushrooms for soup and stir-fry. Once prepped, they’d only need Jicheng’s fish for a sour-spicy dish to complete the meal.

Li Xiu’e, ignored, fidgeted awkwardly, unable to contribute.

Jinjuan pulled Yuning aside, whispering, “She’s here for handouts. Harping on the boars is her hint for a share. If her husband had treated Chunfu right, would she forget them? Now she’s just embarrassing herself.”

Liansheng’s wife sat down, rubbing her sore back. “They know they’re in the wrong—just shameless. Jicheng’s family finally finds footing, and vultures circle. Li Xiu’e’s greed knows no bounds.”

Yuning smiled faintly. How like her father—only his status masked his vileness. Rich or poor, the corrupt acted alike, pitifully transparent.

Li Xiu’e stayed despite the hostility, lured by the feast. She’d take some back for Chunmu and Zhang Tong—their dull meals needed respite.

Chunfu seethed silently, torn between anger and restraint. Jicheng returned with fish, saw her expression and Li Xiu’e’s smile, and understood.

“Jicheng’s back! Thought you might need help.”

He considered fetching the village head, but the man, like Li Xiu’e, eyed their earnings greedily. Best let it go.