Following the direction of Dong’s gaze just now, Lin Fang turned her head and saw Qi Biao standing at the courtyard gate, his face filled with ferocity, his eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty light, sending a shiver down Lin Fang’s spine.
When Qi Biao snapped out of his thoughts, he saw Lin Fang pouting unhappily and snuggling into Dalang’s arms. An inexplicable sense of frustration and heartache surged within him, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. In the past, if someone displeased him, he would beat them without hesitation, even to the point of death, without a second thought. He had never cared about others’ feelings before. Yet today, the mere unhappiness of a small child unsettled him, leaving him bewildered.
“Hmph.”
Dalang had been watching all this coldly, his heart boiling with anger.
In previous years, whenever he returned home, it was always in a rush. The first thing upon entering was to pay respects to his parents. His father never asked about anything else, only about his wages—where he had been, what business he had conducted, whether he had received any bonuses, how much they were, and how much he had spent daily and on what. Then, his father would meticulously compare these figures with the money Dalang handed over. If the numbers didn’t match, it would result in a scolding. As for his life outside, his father never asked a single question. This didn’t feel like a conversation between father and son but rather like an account manager reporting to his boss—and the manager was a villain embezzling the boss’s money.
Once the money was accounted for, his parents would begin recounting his wife’s various acts of unfilial behavior. At first, Dalang believed his parents and would immediately scold his wife upon returning to their room, not giving her a chance to explain before rushing back to the shop. His wife had argued with him at first, but over time, her heart grew cold. She began staying at her parents’ home for long periods and eventually proposed a divorce. This was the talented woman he had fought so hard to win—how could he give her up so easily? He sought help from his aunt, who carefully analyzed the situation multiple times, making him half-doubt his parents’ words.
He remembered that time when his aunt took him to his wife’s family home. Not only were they turned away, but Li Ziyang nearly came to blows with him. His wife pulled her younger brother back and asked coldly, “I know I’m ugly and have no illusions about myself. My heart was already like still water, yet you insisted on disturbing it. Afterward, you did nothing to protect me, allowing others to throw stones, weeds, and filth into it. Why should I cling to a man who breaks his promises?”
Each word struck his heart like a hammer. His wife was right—he had been biased and credulous, never giving her the attention she deserved. After countless promises from him and endless mediation from his aunt, his wife, unwilling to let Wen suffer the pain of parental separation, eventually agreed to return with him. Whenever she was angry afterward, she no longer rushed back to her parents’ home but instead stayed with his aunt. Dalang, for his part, tried to spend more time with his wife and children.
Remembering the resolve in his wife’s eyes when she spoke those words, even now, Dalang felt a chill of fear. Today, upon returning home, he was immediately berated by his mother and seventh sister, and his tenth brother even tried to hit Wen right in front of him. Did anyone respect him as the eldest son and brother? And yet, his wife still suggested giving his parents an explanation. Was there even a need? Would they let her speak?
With a cold expression, Dalang walked toward his room. Before he could enter, Li Cuimei stormed out, her face filled with anger. “Husband, our home has been robbed. We must report it to the authorities.”
Lin Wu, looking up with his small face, reported, “Father, everything in the house is gone. Mother’s chests are empty, the jewelry box on the dressing table is empty, and the wardrobe door fell off.”
Before his son finished speaking, Dalang had already strode into the room. He opened the dressing box on the vanity—aside from a wooden hairpin, all the jewelry was missing. That hairpin was something he had bought on a whim from a street vendor while traveling for business, costing only half a tael of silver. Next, he checked the wardrobe. One door hung loosely on its frame, and the clothes inside were tossed about in disarray. That door had been broken when Dalang, in a fit of anger, punched it. He had hastily fixed it afterward, but it would come loose with the slightest force. In the adjoining room were his wife’s dowry chests. Dalang opened them one by one. They weren’t completely empty, as his son had claimed—the calligraphy, paintings, and porcelain were still there, but the fabrics and the emergency money were gone.
The identity of the thief was obvious. Who else could it be but his own mother and seventh sister? While the fabrics were high-quality silk and cloth, the most valuable items in the chests were the calligraphy, paintings, and porcelain. Perhaps the thieves didn’t recognize their worth. But their home was a large, walled compound—ordinary thieves wouldn’t easily break in. Knowing his mother and seventh sister’s nature, they would visit his room multiple times a day, looking for things to take. With his wife gone for over half a year, how could they resist such an opportunity? If it had been a real thief, they would have raised the alarm immediately. There wouldn’t have been silence upon his arrival, nor would they have had the leisure to make those sarcastic remarks.
“Fine. I’ll report it to the village head.”
Under the laws of the dynasty, any disputes or crimes occurring within the village had to first be reported to the village chief (Lizheng). If the village chief was unable to resolve the issue, it would then be escalated step by step. Although the village chief held a relatively low official rank, he was assisted by six deputies (Liya), who served as his enforcers, and a clerk (Libi) responsible for maintaining records.
These records were submitted annually to higher authorities and were crucial. If someone wanted to take the imperial exams, the court would review their records for any misconduct. A blemish could ruin their chances. Even marriages could be affected—families could check records for stains, making it harder to arrange matches. This was why Li Cuimei, the sister of a general, lived so cautiously and endured humiliation. She feared that a single misstep could tarnish her children’s futures.
“Stop! You return home and don’t even greet your parents first. Where are you going?”
Lin Boshi had been waiting in his room for Dalang to report his accounts and hand over his wages for the past few months. To his surprise, Dalang didn’t even enter the main house and was instead rushing out. Unable to maintain his composure, Lin Boshi stepped out to stop him.
Without pausing, Dalang replied as he walked, “Reporting a theft. With the New Year approaching, how can we celebrate peacefully if the thief isn’t caught?”
“Dalang, wait! There’s no need to rush to report it. I have something to discuss with you.”
The words “report it” startled Lin Boshi. A theft? He knew exactly what had happened. If it were discovered that his wife had stolen her daughter-in-law’s dowry, the consequences could range from restitution to beatings or even imprisonment. Any outcome would bring unbearable shame.
Dalang stopped. “Father, what is it?”
What was it? Wasn’t it obvious? As Lin Boshi hesitated, Dalang said, “If you can’t recall right now, no matter. I’ll report it to the village head first, catch the thief, and recover the stolen goods. Once you remember, we can discuss it properly.” He turned to leave.
“Wait! This is what I want to discuss.” Lin Boshi could no longer stall. He hadn’t expected his once-filial eldest son to become so unreadable.
“What do you want to say, Father?”
“We’re family. Why involve the authorities?”
“What does reporting a theft have to do with being family?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“What do you propose, Father?”
“What do *you* want?”
Dalang looked at his wife. The dowry was hers—he needed her opinion.
“Separate the household.” Li Cuimei no longer hesitated.
For children to propose separating from their elders was considered deeply unfilial unless under extreme circumstances. Li Cuimei had long wanted to split the household but had endured for the sake of her children’s reputations. Yet her in-laws kept pushing—first, they nearly drowned her daughter, and now they had taken all the money and fabrics. What next? If she waited, her children might not survive to adulthood, or their reputations might be ruined by their grandparents, aunts, and uncles. If life would be miserable either way, why not fight for independence now?
“No.” As expected, Lin Boshi objected. The family’s income relied heavily on Dalang’s wages. If they separated, they’d only have a dozen acres of land and whatever odd jobs the sixth son could find—hardly enough to live on.
“Then we report it.” Li Cuimei refused to back down.
“This is defiance and unfilial behavior!”
“If elders are unkind, how can one be filial?”
“Outrageous! Lin Dalang, your wife spews nonsense and insults her elders, yet you say nothing. Where is your authority as a husband?”
“Father, if your authority as a husband is so mighty, why does Mother still engage in such quarrels?”
“You—” Lin Boshi hadn’t expected his son to turn the tables. Stunned for a moment, he quickly recovered, drawing on years of Confucian study. “As a junior, how dare you criticize your mother? Where is your filial piety?”
Dalang laughed coldly. They were going in circles—his wife had just said, “If elders are unkind, how can one be filial?” And now his father was invoking filial piety. How convenient.
At Dalang’s laughter, Lin Boshi grew furious. “Separate the household? Don’t even think about it!”
“Then we report it.” Li Cuimei held firm.
The standoff continued until Dalang, exasperated, turned and strode out, heading straight for the village head’s office.
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