Upon hearing Qiaoyun’s words, Uncle Ji immediately flared up, his beard bristling with anger, while Aunt Ji raised her voice in a scolding tirade, accusing them of being ungrateful. She berated them for wanting to abandon the elderly couple at the first sign of trouble, calling them heartless and warning that such cruelty would surely bring retribution.
Qiaoyun frowned at the loud commotion. “Mother, we’ll still honor and care for you and Father, but living separately will prevent future arguments when disagreements arise. With Jiliang in this state, I can’t focus on anything else. My priority is taking care of him first.”
Uncle Ji sat on the edge of the kang, dusting off his pants, his anger subsiding into a sigh. “Why can’t you manage other things? Let your mother help look after Jiliang—it’s better than you neglecting everything else for him. What’s the point of splitting the family when we’re doing fine? Don’t let outsiders laugh at us.”
Qiaoyun’s eyes, already red from crying, burned with suppressed fury. “Father, with Elder Brother still ill, how can Mother spare the energy to care for Jiliang? It’s better if I handle it. His condition won’t improve—I’ll just make sure he doesn’t starve.”
“What nonsense are you spouting? Since when does a man rely on a woman to support him? Dr. Han prescribed medicine—once he recovers, he can work again. Don’t make it sound like we’re oppressing you. I won’t allow this. Your mother will take care of Jiliang, and you’ll go find work tomorrow. I heard Damanzi’s fields still need weeding. In previous years, they hired laborers—if you approach him first, you’ll secure the job. With Jikun and Jiliang both convalescing, we need money to feed everyone. Once we get through this, things will improve.” He leaned back against the wall, his eyes dull with worry. With only a few able-bodied members left, how would they manage if Jiliang and the others left? What would become of his remaining years?
Jiliang’s chest still ached, and he suppressed a cough, though the pain lingered. His heart ached at his father’s words. Life at home used to be comfortable—busy but joyful. But since learning Jikun was alive, his parents had changed. Though it pained him, he couldn’t voice his feelings. He tugged at Qiaoyun’s sleeve, silently urging her to stop.
But Qiaoyun wouldn’t relent. This might be her last chance—if they didn’t separate now, her future would be bleak. Her tone turned sharp as she steeled herself.
“Let’s lay it all out today. Dr. Han said Jiliang’s injuries need proper care, or he’ll never handle heavy labor again. So why, Father, are you pushing him to work? I’ve wanted to ask—do you even care if he lives or dies? If Uncle Xiangcheng hadn’t brought him home, I might’ve been widowed. Look into your heart—have you ever treated Jiliang as your son? Mother skimps on our food and clothing, and Jiliang stops me from complaining. Fine, I endure it. Elder Brother returns, and he gets meat and eggs to recover—I say nothing. But when it came to Jiliang’s medical expenses, you refused to pay, and Elder Brother Jicheng covered it. If I’d had the money, I wouldn’t have let him—I’m not that shameless. We live our own lives, and I won’t exploit others. Even doing it once fills me with regret.”
“I’ve made up my mind—we must separate. Not for myself, but so my children won’t grow up warped by favoritism. I may be a country woman, but I want to raise them with integrity, to know right from wrong—not like their parents, who caused chaos at others’ celebrations. I won’t let them grow up in a home where they learn scheming instead of love.”
Her words struck Uncle Ji like a slap. Flushed with rage, he pointed at Jiliang, who could barely sit up. “Is this your doing? Huh? I raised you, and this is how you repay me—letting your wife shame me? I should’ve fed a dog instead. Didn’t we give you the best we had? Jikun suffered for years—isn’t it right we treat him well? Don’t be so selfish! This is what we owe Jikun—he deserves every good thing. What you enjoyed was rightfully his. Instead of gratitude, you dare defy me? I ought to break both your legs, and no one in Dongpo Village would blame me!”
Jiliang tightened his grip on Qiaoyun’s sleeve. Though his father’s neglect should make him resentful, he strangely found his words reasonable. Qiaoyun often vented to him, but if she aired all their grievances now, there’d be no turning back. Anxious but breathless from pain, he finally managed, “Qiaoyun… stop…”
“If they’re so aggrieved, Father, why keep them? Let them leave. This is my home—why should outsiders occupy it? Doesn’t Uncle have another courtyard? Let them stay there, so no one can accuse us of mistreatment. Pack their things and go.”
Jiliang never wanted to split the family, but his elder brother clearly saw him as an outsider. What else could he do? Even he couldn’t endure such scorn. Heart heavy, he murmured, “Father… let’s separate. Once I recover, I’ll care for you. But now… I’m useless. I won’t burden you further.”
Uncle Ji, stunned by Jiliang’s defiance, fell silent. “So this is your decision? You won’t regret it?”
Jiliang turned away. Even if reluctantly, he had to leave to escape his cousin’s taunts. Softly, he replied, “No.”
“Then get out. Don’t let me see you again.”
Aunt Ji tugged at her husband’s sleeve, frantic. “How can we give in? After raising him, this is how he repays us—like feeding a meat bun to a dog!”
Uncle Ji snapped, “Enough! Let them go. Their presence sickens me.”
Soon, the whole village knew of the split. Jiliang and Qiaoyun left with just a bedroll and a few clothes. The old family home, once reserved for the eldest son, had long been abandoned, overgrown and dilapidated. Yet Qiaoyun smiled—enduring hardship was better than living under constant oppression.
She planned to tidy the place, borrow grain from her parents, and fetch a pot and bowls. She only hoped her sister-in-law wouldn’t make a fuss.
$
At home, Chunfu attempted making fruit porridge, following a recipe. Just as she added sugar, Zhang Yan’s voice called from outside, chatting with someone before shouting, “Auntie, are you home?”
Chunfu wiped her hands and hurried out, smiling. “Come in, no need for formalities!” Spotting the tall, well-dressed man beside him, she paused. “And you are…?”
The man clasped his hands. “I met this lad asking for Jicheng’s home, and he guided me here. Are you Madam Chunfu?”
Drawing Zhang Yan close, Chunfu nodded politely. “I am. May I ask why you seek my husband?”
The man waved a hand. “I’m Shang Jing, attendant to Master Pei of Yicheng. My master wishes to thank you for saving his life and invites you to town. A carriage awaits outside the village.”
If he hadn’t introduced himself, Chunfu would have driven him away. Recalling the down-and-out young master she and Jicheng had once encountered in town, she was astonished that he had managed to track her down.
“It was a small favor, unworthy of his gratitude. Please convey my regards.” She turned to leave, her slender figure retreating without ceremony.
Shang Jing chuckled. Many in Yicheng would kill for a Pei family connection. This village was poor—why not seize the chance for gain? As he turned to leave, Chunfu reappeared, handing him a cloth bundle. “A small snack for your trouble. Please tell your master that humble folk fear disrupting their simple lives. Since your arrival drew notice, I beg you not to return.”
Shang Jing’s eyes narrowed slightly as he accepted it. “I’ll relay your words.” With that, he strode off, his upright posture making Chunfu smile faintly. She held no expectations of the Pei family’s gratitude—but if the young master took a liking to her treats, perhaps he’d lend a hand. If not, no matter—it was worth a try.
Back inside, Zhang Yan played with the dog, ignoring the snacks she’d given him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Glumly, he muttered, “Auntie, I don’t want to go home. It’s too stressful. When Mother heard that man was looking for Uncle, she pushed me to come—just to pry for information. Does she think I’m stupid? Auntie… am I even her real son? Why does she only care about Zhang Tong?”
Chunfu ruffled his hair, her heart aching. “Stay for dinner. Help me taste this porridge.”
“Auntie, why make this? Don’t be too greedy, or Uncle won’t be able to afford you!”
She mock-glared. “Just eat when it’s ready. So talkative.”
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