Autumn passed quickly, and winter arrived in just a few days. The cold weather made everyone reluctant to venture outside, yet they had no choice but to brave the icy winds and snow to make a living.
Chunfu hurriedly finished making a new winter coat for Jicheng, stuffed with fresh, snow-white cotton—light and warm. During the fishing season, Jicheng had also happened to hunt a brown wild fox. He had initially planned to sell it in town, but Chunfu stopped him and insisted he skin it. After processing the fur, she fashioned it into a fox-fur hat, with flaps that hung down to protect his ears from frostbite.
That morning, when Jicheng got up, he accidentally woke Chunfu. The heated *kang* bed was so comfortable, wrapping her entire body in warmth and ensuring peaceful sleep every night. Worried that Chunfu might suffer from the cold, Jicheng had spent some money to buy charcoal. Though he returned home late every day, too dark to help with much, at least it made cooking and daily chores easier for her.
Chunfu stretched and sat up. Jicheng, fastening the last button of his coat, turned to look at her and smiled softly. “Why not sleep a little longer? It’s even colder today. Stay inside if you can.”
Chunfu yawned. “No, it’s still early. I can make you something warm to eat. I’m not sure if the salted fish we sent to the tavern will keep the customers coming. As for the mushrooms and wood ears, we should send fewer—they’re rare now, and more than one family will want them. Let them come to us. This tough time is almost over. Once you don’t have to leave early and return late, I’ll finally feel at ease.”
Jicheng gently stroked her long hair. She had grown plumper, and the loosely tied strings of her white undergarment revealed glimpses of her soft curves. The sight of her fair skin and rosy peaks made his blood heat, and he quickly averted his eyes. “Just a little more effort, and we’ll be done. Jobs like this, where the money comes so easily, might be hard to find later.”
Chunfu grabbed her outer robe and draped it over herself, sighing quietly. “I don’t want you taking on such jobs again. We’ve been married for so long, yet we’re apart more than together. And after what happened recently—it still upsets me to think about it. Others I could ignore, but it was Jinjuan. I can’t stand Aunt Zhao bullying her just because Yun isn’t home.”
Jicheng had heard about the incident. Because of Chunfu, their families had grown closer over time. When Aunt Zhao heard Jinjuan’s life was improving, she assumed Yun was giving most of his earnings to Jinjuan while treating her like a beggar. She sent Zhao Si to cause trouble. The once-tidy house was turned upside down, and Aunt Zhao, showing no mercy, scratched Jinjuan’s face and tore her hair, leaving her in a pitiful state.
Aunt Zhao’s words were even harsher. She accused Jinjuan of being wicked, constantly sowing discord between Yun and his mother. “If not for her,” she spat, “our family would be thriving. Yun used to hand over his wages every month, but now it all goes to this greedy woman. She’s a leech, sucking the Zhao family dry!”
Jinjuan wiped her tears, forcing her blurred vision to clear, and shouted back, “When have I ever relied on your family? Everything in this house was bought with my own money! I stitch for the cloth shop until my eyes nearly go blind, just to make ends meet. And now you come here, spewing lies? Fine—let Yun come back and tell you himself whether his wages go to you or me. I used to think you were just strict but well-meaning, doing what you had to for your son. But I was wrong. You’re heartless, determined to drive me to ruin. Yun often tells me how hard your life is, so we scrimp and save to send you the best. And where do those feasts of meat go? Straight to the dogs?”
Aunt Zhao remained unmoved, stubbornly retorting, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve seen nothing.”
Zhao Si, unable to bear Jinjuan’s distress, tugged at his mother’s sleeve and whispered, “Ma, we just finished the meat yesterday. How can you deny it? Yun’s been sending money on time every month, and we’ve never lacked for meat…”
Aunt Zhao glared at him. “Shut your mouth! Who told you to speak?”
Jinjuan let out a bitter laugh, her tear-streaked face twisting into something almost fierce. “A mother who forgets her son’s kindness the moment she’s fed? Even dogs are more grateful. If you want to make trouble, wait till Yun comes home. I’m not afraid. I’ve given my life to the Zhao family—I owe you nothing. Say what you want, but unless you can drive me out, I’m staying.”
Under the crowd’s gaze, she stood, straightened her hair and clothes, and defiantly cleaned up the mess. Only then did the onlookers snap out of their daze. Someone asked skeptically, “The cloth shop? How’d you get work there without connections? I heard the town’s shopkeepers are picky, only hiring relatives. You’re not lying, are you?”
Jinjuan smirked. “Ask Liansheng’s wife if you don’t believe me. If my word means nothing, surely hers does?”
Liansheng’s wife was known for her blunt but honest nature, and everyone knew Jinjuan was close to her and Chunfu. Some of the craftier women, suddenly eager, asked with forced smiles, “You must know the shopkeeper well, right? Could you put in a good word for us? We could use the extra coin.”
Having spent so much time with Chunfu, Jinjuan had learned to rely on herself rather than others. What did these people matter? They were just spectators, quick to flee when trouble arose. Why waste breath on pleasantries? “If you’re bold enough, go ask yourself. Why bother others?” With that, she turned away, leaving them to gossip among themselves.
Chunfu only learned of the incident on her way down the mountain. Rushing over, she found Jinjuan calmly picking vegetables on a stool. Her hands moved deftly as she trimmed the roots, carried the scraps to the well, and washed them three times. Looking up at Chunfu’s worried face, Jinjuan’s eyes reddened. “I’m fine. Let them try to bully me—I’ll fight them with my life if I have to. I used to have no control over my fate, but now I fear nothing. Let’s see who’s tougher.”
Chunfu realized then how much fiercer Jinjuan had become. She patted her shoulder reassuringly. “I just heard about it on my way down. Aunt Zhao’s being foolish—don’t take it to heart. Yun adores you. I’m sure he’ll make things right.”
Jinjuan shook her head. “She’s still his mother. I don’t want to make things harder for him. He works all day—I won’t add to his burdens. I’ll handle it. If they dare cause more trouble, they’ll regret it.”
As dusk fell and chimney smoke curled from nearby homes, Yun finally returned. Puzzled by the crowd at his door, he asked, “What’s going on? What happened to your face?”
Aunt Zhao stormed out, her voice sharp. “I did it. Go on, take her side. She’s turning you against me!”
Chunfu sensed an impending argument and felt awkward staying. Jinjuan wiped her eyes. “Go home. Like you said, my protector’s here. Whatever happens, I won’t lose out.”
On her way back, Chunfu couldn’t shake the thought: *How is this not losing out?* Jinjuan, stubborn as she was, had been pushed to tears, swallowing her pride for a man’s sake. Wasn’t that the greatest loss of all?
Days had passed since then, and things seemed to have quieted down. But Chunfu still felt Jinjuan’s life was far from easy. Now, dressed and with the bedding folded, she watched Jicheng feed the pigs. With winter grass gone, they relied on stored feed—would it last till New Year’s, when prices were best? If not, they’d have to sell cheap rather than let the pigs lose weight.
After a quick wash, she stoked the stove and boiled porridge, warming steamed buns to share with Jicheng. As she helped him shoulder his basket, she said, “When you’re free, take me to town. I’ve got something for Jinliu’er. Jicheng, I really think I saw Zhang Yan that day. He looked thinner, darker—just a glimpse, then gone. But that’s a wealthy area. Why would he be there? I want to look again. What if he’s suffering right under our noses? If I find him sooner, he can come home and live well.”
Jicheng sighed. One glance, and she was convinced Zhang Yan was in misery. The world was full of lookalikes—what if she found the wrong person? The disappointment would be crushing. But he couldn’t destroy the hope she clung to. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he promised.
Five days later, the weather cleared. Though the wind cut like knives, bundling up made it bearable. Chunfu rarely ventured out in winter, but she had an idea to discuss with Jinliu’er and braved the cold, wrapped like a dumpling. Her cheeks flushed red, and she shrank into her coat, pressing closer to Jicheng for warmth. Her hands, tucked into her sleeves, still ached from the cold.
Jicheng, foolishly enduring, let his hands turn blue without complaint. Chunfu couldn’t stand it and pulled them into her robe, breathing warm air onto them. Schoolchildren passing by giggled at the scene.
Jicheng blushed but grinned, his breath forming white puffs. *Let them stare. My wife dotes on me—let them envy that.*
On the way to the Pei residence, Chunfu thought she saw Zhang Yan again. She knew it wasn’t her imagination—but how could he vanish so quickly? Had he become a ghost? Once, she wouldn’t have believed it. But now, given her own strange existence, what if Zhang Yan really was…?
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