Madame Song hesitantly asked Madame Tong, “Second Madam, do you truly not recognize who I am?”
Madame Tong, puzzled, scrutinized her carefully but couldn’t recall ever meeting her. She shook her head and said, “Please forgive me, Elder Madam. Since I began practicing medicine, nearly fifty years have passed, and I’ve treated countless patients. I truly cannot remember where I might have met you.”
“Second Madam, I am Chunhong—Chunhong from the main household!”
“Chunhong? You’re Chunhong?” Madame Tong was astonished and examined her again, still unconvinced. “No, not at all. Are you really Chunhong? How could your appearance have changed so drastically?”
Madame Song sighed, “Ah, well, decades have passed. Your appearance hasn’t changed much, Second Madam—I recognized you at first glance. But as for me, not only do you fail to recognize me, even I can hardly believe, looking in the mirror, that I was once that Chunhong.”
Madame Tong asked, “Back then, didn’t the elder master send you to a temple to pray for blessings? How did it come to—”
“How did it come to be said that I eloped with someone?” Madame Tong hesitated to voice it, but Madame Song finished the sentence bluntly. “At the time, the elder madam was pregnant. She used a fortune-teller’s words to claim that I was inauspicious for her unborn child and demanded I be sold. The elder master couldn’t bear it and instead sent me to a nunnery, where I was to pray daily for the Lin family’s firstborn son. He promised to bring me back once the child was born.”
Here, Madame Song paused, her expression shifting as if recalling the past or organizing her thoughts. Madame Tong, still bewildered, didn’t press her. After a moment, Madame Song continued, “The elder master visited me frequently. Later, when he discovered I was pregnant, he said he’d discuss with the elder madam and bring me back to be cared for. I was overjoyed, hoping the elder madam would relent for the sake of the Lin family’s heir. But I waited and waited—not only did the elder master never return, but the elder madam sold me off instead.”
“Sold you? But you were pregnant! What happened to the child?” Madame Tong was shocked.
Madame Song recalled, “The elder madam came to the nunnery to fetch me but handed me over to a waiting trafficker on the way. I begged, even if I were to be sold, to at least let me give birth first—the child was of the Lin bloodline. But the elder madam called the child a bastard, saying sparing my life was mercy enough. How could I dare hope to stay until birth? I remember the trafficker waving a handkerchief in front of me, and then I lost consciousness.”
“What happened next?” Madame Song paused again, and this time Madame Tong urged her impatiently.
Madame Song collected herself and sighed. “When I woke, I was lying in bed, and the first thing I saw was a man’s face. I was terrified, but he told me not to fear. Though he’d bought me, I was his rightful wife, and he’d even given me his surname, Song, in the marriage contract. As for the child in my womb, he would raise it as his own.”
“Later, I learned this man, twenty years my senior, had been diagnosed as infertile. His wife divorced him, and no one else would marry him. So he scraped together money to buy a pregnant woman as his wife. True to his word, he never treated me as a mere purchase. The child I bore, he raised as his own.”
Madame Tong still had questions. “If he was infertile, how did you have four more children?”
Madame Song chuckled. “That’s the strange part. When I first felt nauseous, we thought it was bad food. He took me to a physician, who diagnosed a pregnancy. Neither of us believed it, insisting the physician was mistaken. But after a thorough examination, the physician confirmed it. Instead of suspecting infidelity, my husband openly shared his past infertility diagnosis. His ex-wife had remarried and quickly had children, proving the issue lay with him.”
“The physician re-examined him and concluded he wasn’t infertile—it was simply that he and his former wife were incompatible for conception, whereas with me, they were perfectly matched. That burly man wept openly in the clinic, overjoyed that he’d never again be mocked for infertility.”
Conception is a complex process involving many factors from both partners. Even in Lin Fang’s previous life, with advanced medicine, many causes of infertility remained mysteries. The idea of reproductive compatibility, as the physician described, could stem from issues with either partner.
If Madame Song’s husband’s ex-wife remarried and had children, she might have suffered from antisperm antibody infertility.
Antisperm antibodies are complex pathological products, affecting both men and women, with causes not fully understood. Sperm and seminal plasma are foreign antigens to women. Contact with blood can trigger immune responses, producing antibodies that block fertilization.
In women with antisperm antibodies, immune cells in the reproductive tract, particularly macrophages, attack sperm as invaders. Normally, women lack these antibodies, but under certain conditions, their immune systems mistakenly target sperm.
In men, the body may produce antibodies against its own sperm, hindering fertility.
Such cases fall under immunologic infertility. In Lin Fang’s past life, some cases could be treated with medication. If Madame Song’s husband’s ex-wife had this condition, her ability to conceive with another man might stem from partner-specific compatibility—her antibodies reacting only to her first husband’s sperm. In this world, such nuances remained unexplained, reduced simply to “compatibility.”
As a gynecology specialist, Madame Tong understood this. But she was more concerned with another matter. “If your husband had his own children, what became of the Lin family’s child?”
Madame Song smiled contentedly. “After having his own children, he treated Xiang’er even better, saying that without Xiang’er, he wouldn’t have bought me, and without me, he’d never have overcome the shame of infertility. Most importantly, the Song family now had descendants.”
Hearing her mention the Song family again, Madame Tong asked, “The Song family? Isn’t the magistrate surnamed Lin? Unless—”
Madame Song interrupted with a laugh. “Second Madam, don’t call him ‘Magistrate.’ His name, Lin Chengxiang, was given by the elder master when he learned of my pregnancy—derived from the phrase ‘turning calamity into blessing.’ After his birth in the Song family, his father honored my wish to keep his Lin surname. He is a Lin descendant, and you are his rightful aunt.”
“Does he know his origins?” If the magistrate knew, his proximity to the Lin family might be deliberate—something Madame Tong needed to clarify.
Madame Song shook her head. “No, I never told him. He only knows his father isn’t his birth father, though he was treated better than his brothers. As a child, he once asked about his origins. I countered, ‘Would knowing make you abandon your parents and brothers to seek your roots?’ He never asked again.”
Relieved, Madame Tong inquired about Madame Song’s present. “In all these days of treating you, why haven’t I met your husband?”
Madame Song sighed. “He was twenty years older. I’m over sixty now—had he lived, he’d be in his eighties. After I bore his children, he couldn’t bear to see us suffer. With my recurring paralysis during pregnancies, he worked tirelessly, farming and laboring for others to earn medicine money. He wore himself out early. Xiang’er had only been magistrate for two years when he passed—twelve years ago.”
So Lin Chengxiang had been magistrate for fourteen years. No wonder he was anxious—such a long tenure in one post. Madame Tong asked, “You live with your eldest son. What of the other three?”
“They farm in our hometown. Of the four, only Xiang’er studied and became an official. Once appointed, he brought us to live with him.”
“Do you still think of the elder master?” Given Chunhong’s past affection for Lin Boshi, surely she hadn’t forgotten him.
Madame Song smiled wryly. “Truthfully, had I not met you, I might never have recalled those days. I once inquired about the Lin family but heard only that a concubine had eloped—likely the elder madam’s excuse. In a way, I owe her my thanks. Had I not been sold, who knows if my child and I would even be alive? Even if we’d survived, trapped in concubine rivalries, how could it compare to now?”
“Indeed, misfortune turned to blessing.” Unconsciously, Madame Tong no longer doubted Madame Song’s identity.
“Second Madam, now that we’ve reunited, there’s something I’d like to discuss.”
Madame Song watched her nervously. Sensing her intent, Madame Tong said, “Go on.”
Cautious yet eager, Madame Song said, “Though Xiang’er no longer asks about his origins, I know he longs to know. With the Lin family here now, it seems fate has brought us together. Could you let him call you ‘Aunt’?”
This was a probe—to see if Lin Chengxiang could reclaim his Lin heritage.
Madame Tong pondered. “Let’s not rush. Dalang was disowned by his father and is no longer a Lin in name. Suddenly acknowledging a half-brother would be too much for him. We must discuss this further. And don’t tell the magistrate yet.”
Having learned the full story through their conversations, Madame Song saw the reason in this and nodded in agreement.
Returning home, Madame Tong recounted the day’s events to Lin Zhongsi. After a long silence, he murmured, “No wonder… No wonder Elder Brother despised Dalang so, and Sister-in-law showed him no maternal love. It all traces back to Chunhong.”
Madame Tong sighed. “What a tragedy.”
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