Chapter 91:

The snow on the mountain hadn’t melted yet, and Jicheng, for once, stayed home to keep Chunfu company. From time to time, he would lean close to her belly and whisper a few words, acting as silly as a child. Chunfu couldn’t eat anything too greasy or heavily seasoned, so Jicheng, perhaps having picked up some culinary skills in the capital, went out of his way to prepare meals for her. The house was filled with valuable items, but Jicheng only used what was necessary, ignoring the rest—truly focused on living their current life to the fullest.

Their rare moments of warmth were unfortunately disrupted by the unwelcome arrival of Meiniang. Chunfu found it both amusing and exasperating; it was her first time encountering someone so shamelessly clinging to another woman’s man. Chunfu wasn’t afraid, though. Meiniang only showed up when Jicheng was home, and while it was unpleasant, watching Jicheng reduce her to a pitiful state was somewhat entertaining.

Jicheng couldn’t bear the thought of Chunfu wasting her breath or energy on such matters, especially since she was pregnant. He feared the stress might harm her. Truth be told, Jicheng had only scowled and scolded Meiniang once, using the harshest words he could muster. Yet, Meiniang remained unfazed, continuing to pester him as if immune to rejection, making him seriously consider grabbing a stick to drive her away.

Since Meiniang started showing up, Jicheng had grown more cautious. In his life, he only cared to decipher Chunfu’s thoughts—everyone else was like the wind, blowing whichever way they pleased. Worried Meiniang might harbor ill intentions toward Chunfu, he voiced his concerns, only to send Chunfu into fits of laughter. “Jicheng, has Meiniang scrambled your brains? Don’t worry, I’m here. For men like you, this situation is tricky. Whether you’re in the right or not, hitting her would only make you look bad. Besides, striking a woman is never a good look—no need to stoop to her level. If she comes again, just watch how I handle her.”

Chunfu knew that reasoning with someone as shameless as Meiniang was futile. The only way was to target her weaknesses and strike hard. While she was still pondering how to deal with the woman, the village had already erupted in gossip. Liansheng’s wife called out to the couple over the low wall, grinning mischievously. “Look at you two, so troubled. I know you’re both decent folks, but running into such a shameless troublemaker must be exhausting. I just heard Chunju got into a fight with that woman. Let’s go take a look.”

Jicheng and Chunfu usually avoided such drama, but the news caught them off guard. Jicheng had been home these past few days, and Meiniang had been as punctual as a rooster at dawn, always showing up at their doorstep. How had she suddenly ended up in a spat with Chunju? Seeing the spark of curiosity in Chunfu’s eyes, Jicheng pursed his lips and supported her waist. “Alright, let’s go. But we’re only staying for a short while, then heading back.”

Before they even reached the old locust tree, they saw a crowd gathered nearby. Chunju’s shrill curses carried far, while Meiniang merely wept without retorting—a classic act of playing the victim to win sympathy. It was unclear when it became tradition to air grievances under the old locust tree, perhaps because the public setting made it easier to shame the other party. Jicheng immediately regretted coming. Chunfu was only three months pregnant, and he worried the long walk might be too much for her. But seeing her childlike excitement, he swallowed his words.

The incident, in truth, had little to do with Meiniang. It was Jikun who’d been eyeing her beauty and harboring improper thoughts. Unbeknownst to him, Meiniang only had eyes for Jicheng and was scheming how to seduce him. Chunju, however, caught wind of it and unleashed a storm.

Chunju had been seething over Jikun’s refusal to legitimize their relationship. After giving birth, her temper had grown even more explosive, like a firecracker ready to ignite at the slightest touch. Jikun, tired of her nagging, either slept or fled outdoors, avoiding confrontation altogether. At home, she alternated between crying, cursing, and fuming while holding their child, while that scoundrel was out eyeing another woman. She’d followed him and seen the young, beautiful woman, which only stoked her fury. She’d already lost face—what more did she have to lose? Might as well drag everyone down with her. She’d make sure the whole village saw Jikun for the scum he was and expose his uncle for the kind of man he truly was.

Chunju dragged Meiniang from her home all the way to the village entrance. As the crowd grew, her pent-up rage exploded: “You’re nothing but a born seductress, always scheming to steal men. Your husband’s barely cold in the ground, and you’re already eyeing someone else’s? I bet you were never faithful even when he was alive!”

Meiniang, her hair yanked painfully, struggled to keep her eyes open, scanning the crowd for the man she hoped would rescue her. Her pretty face was a picture of pitiful distress, her voice choked with sobs. “I’ve only just moved back to the village. I don’t even know you—why are you cursing me like this? Someone, please help me! Let me go!”

Chunju wasn’t about to release her. The anger she’d bottled up for so long had to be vented, or she’d explode. “I’ll teach you to seduce men, you shameless widow! Let’s see how you’ll charm anyone without that pretty face!” Her long, sharp nails left bloody scratches wherever they landed. No matter how Meiniang dodged, she couldn’t escape Chunju’s grasp, her already disheveled appearance growing even more horrifying.

By the time Chunfu and the others arrived, the scene was in full swing. The onlookers tried to calm Chunju, saying everyone already knew what kind of woman Meiniang was and there was no need to go too far. But this only enraged Chunju further. With a vicious tug, she ripped out a handful of Meiniang’s hair, eliciting a piercing scream.

“Good heavens… Chunju’s going too far. It looks like she’s trying to kill her,” Liansheng’s wife muttered, shaking her head. Though she had a temper herself and had fought before, it had always been tit-for-tat. Chunju’s brutality was something else entirely.

Jicheng frowned and patted Chunfu’s shoulder. “We’ve seen enough. Let’s head back. I’ve learned a few new characters—perfect for teaching you and the baby.”

The last time Chunfu saw Chunju, she’d sensed something off about her. Now, it was clear the woman was deeply unwell. Chunfu sighed and nodded. Divorcing Cenniu and living ambiguously with Jikun might not mean much to others, but for Chunju, it was like a thousand knives carving into her heart—an invisible, excruciating pain that could drive even the gentlest soul to madness. It was no surprise she’d snapped.

Women, whether in this era or any other, often pushed themselves to the brink for men. Those who took things too seriously often met tragic ends. Chunfu felt a pang of irritation, worried the negativity might affect her unborn child. She nodded in agreement.

Jicheng tightened her coat around her. “It’s cold. You’re not wearing enough. Let me carry you—we’ll get home faster.”

Chunfu was about to refuse when Meiniang’s sharp eyes spotted Jicheng. Her shrill voice pierced the air like a needle: “Brother Ji, save me! Brother Ji!”

Chunju, thinking it was Jikun arriving, was surprised to see Jicheng instead. She sneered. “What a slut! Trying to seduce every man in the village, are you? You’ll need to work harder for this one—he’s got money. Maybe he’ll even make you his wife. But if I catch you with Jikun, I’ll break your legs. Oh, look—Jikun! How shameless, dragging your parents into this mess!”

Jicheng’s expression darkened. “Chunju, watch your tongue. If not for yourself, then for your son’s sake. Since everyone’s here, I’ll make things clear. Meiniang, saving you was just a passing act of kindness. I don’t want your gratitude or anything else. As a woman living alone, life isn’t easy, so we’ve let your behavior slide. But don’t mistake our patience for weakness. If I ever see you within a hundred steps of my home again, don’t blame me for taking a stick to you. I keep my word—I don’t care for rules about not hitting women. If you won’t preserve your own dignity, no one else will bother either. You’re on your own.”

Uncle Ji, a cigarette dangling from his lips, listened with a frown. “Jicheng’s right. If you don’t care about your own face, why should anyone else? I’ve lived most of my life upholding my reputation. People used to respect me, calling me ‘Second Brother’ or ‘Uncle Ji.’ Back then, life was good—Jiliang and Qiaoyun were filial and sensible, making me feel young again. But ever since this worthless creature returned, disaster has followed. Blinded by sentiment, I’ve done many foolish things, ruining Jiliang and Qiaoyun’s marriage. My heart aches with regret. At my age, I’ve destroyed two young lives in such a short time. I’m not here to meddle in this mess. I just want everyone to bear witness: From now on, Jiliang is my only son. Everything I leave behind will go to him. As for Jikun, I’ll consider him dead on the battlefield. From this day forward, he is no longer part of the Ji family.”

Aunt Ji hadn’t expected her husband to say such things. She wailed, “I raised that child for so long—do you think it was easy? Why must you be so harsh on your own flesh and blood? Can’t you see how pitiful A’kun is? His leg is crippled; life is hard for him. As his mother, my heart breaks for him. Husband, don’t be rash! If it’s reputation you care about, fine. Jikun’s life was ruined by that woman Chunju. Let’s just send her away and live peacefully with our grandson. Wouldn’t that be better?”

Uncle Ji took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling rings of smoke. “If you can’t bear to leave him, I won’t stop you. But spoiling a child only ruins them. It’s because you indulged his every whim that he’s turned out like this. I won’t interfere in his affairs anymore. I’ve had enough of this farce.” With that, he turned and left, as if his only purpose had been to sever ties with Jikun. Aunt Ji didn’t dare follow Jikun—she knew he couldn’t even provide her with a decent meal, let alone support her in old age. Abandoning Jikun, she hurried after her husband. After decades together, she could let go of anyone but him.

Watching his parents walk away, Jikun panicked, uncertain about his future. Furious at the troublemaker before him, he blamed her for his father’s rejection. Limping forward, he grabbed Chunju and began beating her mercilessly, hurling curses all the while. The onlookers, disgusted, started berating him.

“It’s your own fault for being incorrigible. How dare you hit a woman? Jikun, this is beyond disgraceful!”

“Exactly! Chunju was foolish to choose this path, but look at Cenniu—he’s turned his life around. I saw him the other day, doting on his new wife, speaking softly and catering to her every whim. Jikun, on the other hand, is hopeless. He’ll never change.”

As if summoned by their words, Cenniu appeared with his new wife. Taking in the scene, he paused briefly at the sight of Chunju’s disheveled state before leading his wife away without a second glance.

Someone called out, “Cenniu, where are you off to?”

Glancing at his wife, Cenniu smiled. “She misses her family. Since I’m free, I’m taking her back for a visit.”

Chunju suddenly stopped resisting. In all her years married to Cenniu, when had he ever treated her with such care? Maybe they were never meant to be. Or was it her fault? Since their separation, Cenniu had thrived, while she’d grown haggard and bitter, descending into madness—a far cry from the woman she once was. Even she despised what she’d become. But for her child’s sake, she had to hold Jikun accountable. She couldn’t let them use her and cast her aside. This life was unbearable—when would it end? The villagers’ stares held no genuine sympathy, only mockery and schadenfreude. As a simple country woman, she’d believed making a scene would rally people to her side. Only now did she realize no one cared about their mess—they were just bored and eager for entertainment. Why had it taken her so long to understand something so obvious?

Exhausted, her hair a tangled mess and face bruised, she whispered, “Jikun, for our child’s sake, can’t we just live peacefully? You know I want legitimacy—I don’t want to spend my life as the subject of gossip, forever disgraced.”

Jikun scoffed. “What does your disgrace have to do with me? My son doesn’t need a mother like you. Chunju, what happened between us was mutual—I never forced you. You’re the one who clung to me, turning my life upside down. You’re nothing but bad luck. Look how well Cenniu’s doing without you. I’m begging you—leave me alone. I won’t stand in your way. Marry someone else, go back to your family—do whatever you want. I’ll raise the child myself.”

Chunju let out a hollow laugh. “Is that truly how you feel? After all this time, is this what you think of me?”

Jikun’s heart ached at the sight of Meiniang’s ruined beauty, fueling his impatience with Chunju. “Absolutely. Truer than silver. Who do you think you are?”

“Alright, I understand.” Chunju turned and left under the pointing fingers of the crowd. She tucked her disheveled hair behind her ears and wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. Her bloodshot eyes burned with a venomous, terrifying resolve, mingled with a strange sense of relief.

Jicheng and Chunfu only learned later that Chunju had gone home, taken her still-sleeping child, and jumped into the river that never froze over. The villagers searched for a long time before finding her and the child downstream, both lifeless. Chunju had been determined to die—she had tied the child to herself with cloth strips, dragging the little one, who had barely glimpsed the world, straight to the gates of the underworld.

The villagers could only sigh at the tragic sight, unable to fathom why Chunju had chosen such despair. In these times, even a divorced woman could easily remarry—any choice would have been better than snuffing out two lives. But they forgot how their mocking eyes and whispered judgments had scarred her heart. Death brought only fleeting sympathy; the hidden depths of her suffering remained beyond anyone’s grasp.

Jikun followed the villagers and, upon seeing the bodies of Chunju and the child, kicked Chunju’s corpse hard. His eyes were frighteningly red as he cursed in front of everyone: “You damned bitch! If you wanted to die, you should’ve gone alone! How dare you take my son with you? I curse you—may you never be reborn as a human, doomed to rot in the cycle of beasts forever!”

The villagers watched his outburst with disdain. After helping carry the bodies back, they quickly scattered. The deaths of mother and child were a true tragedy. The poor child’s tiny fists were clenched, mouth agape as if frozen mid-cry—a sight that wrenched the heart. What kind of sin had brought this upon them?

Even Jikun’s hard-hearted uncle, Second Uncle Ji, had doted on his grandson in secret. The child of Jiliang had been lost before he even knew of him, and now this one—though born to his worthless eldest son—was still Ji family blood. He had been pondering names for the boy these past days, but never imagined… Grief crushed him like a mountain. The usually tough old man collapsed to the ground, weeping like a child: “What sin have I committed? I’m an old man nearing the grave—why must I suffer this? Does Heaven want me dead sooner?”

Jikun, unnerved by the corpses in the yard, didn’t dare return home. He ran to his parents instead and, seeing his father weeping on the ground, dropped to his knees beside him. “The King of Hell will punish that bitch, Dad. I—”

Second Uncle Ji’s expression darkened at the sight of him. “Why are you here? I’ve already said you’re no son of mine. Get out of my sight and do what you’re supposed to. Bury the dead properly.”

Clutching his father’s leg, Jikun sobbed. “Dad, don’t drive me away! I’m too scared to go back—I’m afraid of the dead! I don’t even have money for coffins. You and Mom are all I have left. Please, I’ll obey you from now on, I swear! Once I marry, you’ll have another grandson to hold—”

Second Uncle Ji laughed coldly. Truly, he was the luckiest man alive—to have spawned such a waste of a son. No courage, no responsibility, just a leech on the world. Maybe he should beat this wretch to death and spare everyone the sight of him. Glancing around, he grabbed a carrying pole leaning in the corner and swung it at Jikun.

Stunned by the force of the blow, Jikun scrambled away, shielding his head. When the pain became unbearable, he grabbed the pole and shoved back—sending his father crashing to the ground. Winter soil was hard as stone, something farmers knew well. For an old man, a fall could be fatal. A loud thud echoed, and Second Uncle Ji lay motionless.

Aunt Ji froze in horror, then pointed at Jikun, weeping and cursing. “He’s your father! Jikun, I’ve spoiled you for nothing! I shielded you at every turn, praying you’d change—but you’re beyond redemption. Your father was right—I ruined you by indulging you. You’re grown, yet you’re still a lawless brute. We sold everything to pay your gambling debts! I even kept Jiliang at arm’s length, afraid he’d take what was yours. But I’m not blind—I saw how good he was! Jikun, I’ve played the villain for you. Do you know how many times I nearly broke? I wanted to treat Jiliang as my own! Your father never knew—he thought me cold. But my heart is flesh—how could it not ache? Jiliang’s lungs were ruined because of you, and it tortures me. He’s ten times the son you are! I pinned too much hope on you, and now you’ve drained our lives dry. You’re monstrous. Leave. If you’ve any conscience, fetch Doctor Han. If not—if you hate me—then go. I’ll find someone myself.”

Struggling, she hauled her husband inside. When Jikun tried to help, she shoved him away. Staring at his father’s still form, he suddenly remembered his son’s lifeless face. Staggering, he ran to Doctor Han’s house.

The doctor, who’d heard rumors of the family’s troubles, grabbed his kit and scolded as they hurried back. “Don’t take this wrong, Jikun, but your home’s been in chaos since you returned. How did a decent family come to this? You—what am I to say? You survived the war by sheer luck. Anyone else would’ve cherished that. But you? You act like fortune is endless, squandering it all. I just—”

At the gate, Jikun froze, too afraid to enter. What if his father died because of him too? He lingered until his mother’s relieved cry rang out—then turned and fled. Battlefields had shown him enough corpses. Now, he feared the dead would drag him down too. Where could he go?

Without realizing, he wandered to Meiniang’s door. She was dumping dirty water from a basin when she spotted him. With a glare, she slammed the door shut. So even a woman like her—clearly no saint—despised him.

Though Meiniang wasn’t solely to blame for the Ji family’s ruin, she had sparked it. The villagers resented this outsider. Many complained to the village chief, calling her a troublemaker—barely arrived, yet already breaking homes and costing lives. If she stayed, wouldn’t East Slope Village crumble entirely?

The chief stroked his chin. She couldn’t remain. He wouldn’t let the village unravel on his watch. And with Jicheng’s brother as the county magistrate, he dared not risk trouble. He summoned the widow Meiniang, berated her harshly, and drove her from East Slope.

Though the woman pestering Jicheng had been dealt with easily, the cost had been too bitter to bear.