Chapter 110: Distributing the Spoils

"What, what are you saying?" Old Lady Jia scrutinized the back of Sanlang’s head, itching to force his face around to see if this was truly her Sanlang.

"Hah!" Old Man Wang slapped his knee as if his right hand had lost all strength. The disappointment and bitterness the old man had just suppressed surged back into his eyes. "If not for those four-plus strings of coins... if not for them. Fine, I will speak plainly: if not for this money, your mother and I would move to Qinghe Manor! Even if I had to work as a tenant farmer, I would still provide for Hutou’s schooling! *Cough, cough...*"

"Father!"
"Grandfather!"

Old Lady Jia rubbed Old Man Wang’s back while Hutou stroked his chest. For a moment, Old Man Wang’s vision blurred. Only when he saw his descendants looking at him with such tension and concern did the pain from his heart condition slowly subside. "I am fine. Eldest, this money was earned by Ge. Whether to divide it or not, I leave it to your branch to decide."

Because of his eye ailment, Old Wang’s eyes throbbed painfully whenever he felt sad or distressed. Others did not know this, assuming the bulging veins on his temples were merely from anger at Sanlang. He dared not speak with too much force: "Ge, you speak. What you say is the will of the eldest branch."

Wang Ge: "Understood. Before the year ended, I crafted tools for Magistrate Huan and received a total of four thousand five hundred coins. Since our family has not yet separated households, Uncle San’s request to divide the money may be unreasonable, but it is logical. I often hear Hutou reciting the classics; there is a saying that 'of all human virtues, none is greater than filial piety.' Therefore... we should first set aside one thousand five hundred coins to honor our elders. Uncle Er, Uncle San, do you agree to this arrangement?"

"Agreed, agreed." Wang Erlang quickly added, "I don't want this money; the second branch wants none of it."

"Agreed," Wang Sanlang finally straightened his back.

Wang Ge: "As for the remaining three thousand coins... one thousand for each branch."

Wang Erlang grew anxious: "No! The second branch doesn't want it!"

Wang Ge handed a broom to her grandfather.
Wang Erlang shut his mouth.

Wang Sanlang: "Agreed."

"You beast, San!" As Erlang kicked his younger brother, he took a strike from the broom across his own back.

Wang Ge sneered: "Uncles, do not be impatient; I have not finished. After the thousand coins are divided into each branch, they are to be distributed by head count. That is to say, for the third branch’s thousand, Apeng and A’ai shall each take three hundred thirty-three, and as an elder, Uncle San shall take three hundred thirty-four. How does Uncle San feel about that?"

Wang Sanlang lowered his eyelids and said, "There is also Azhu; he has not been cast out of the household."

"Then two hundred fifty coins per person."

"I am their father; I shall take four hundred. Azhu is the eldest brother, he takes three hundred, and Apeng and A’ai take one hundred fifty each."

Old Lady Jia and Wang Erlang were truly mother and son; the bewildered expression on their faces as they failed to calculate the figures on their fingers was identical.

Wang Ge’s eyes curved into smiles: "I didn't realize Uncle San was so skilled at arithmetic. I had thought you had calculated this long ago."

Wang Sanlang gripped his fists inside his sleeves, knowing he had lost all shred of dignity, and knowing, too, that this was likely all the money he would ever get from the family. But it was enough! Seven hundred coins—he couldn't earn that in a lifetime of farming.

*Creak...* The main house door opened.

Wang Sanlang emerged clutching a cloth bundle. It was heavy, and the weight made his heart itch with greed and joy. Step by hurried step, he retreated to the east wing, opened his hands, and let the copper coins scatter across the bed.

The crisp sound... it was beautiful! It was so beautiful it sank into his very marrow!

He threw away the rag his mother had given him, took out a double-layered cloth pouch he had stitched, and counted them one by one as he filled it. If he lost count, he poured them out and started over.

As the sky darkened, only a sliver of light entered through the latticed window, failing to reach the corner of the straw mat on the floor, where a pile of grass roots, wood chips, leaves, and stones sat—totaling exactly one thousand.

***

At the north side of the village, by the well.

Tomorrow was the Lantern Festival, and many families were drawing water in the evening. Previously, because of the incident with Jia Qin, the villagers were superstitious about this well, believing it had been tainted by a corpse, and preferred to walk further to the well on the west side of the village.

The widower was furious and anxious—how hard it was to dig a well! Was it to be abandoned just because of that wretch Jia Qin? The widower ordered Wang Zhu to draw water from this well and strictly forbade him from going to the west side. After many days, the households in the north began to return, their superstitions fading.

After finishing his work, Wang Zhu stood by the roadside, craning his neck—why hadn't his father come? Tomorrow was the Lantern Festival; had his father asked his grandfather to let him come back for the reunion? He missed home; he missed it more every day. Even if he were only allowed to return for tomorrow and come back the day after, that would be enough.

***

At the Reed Pavilion, Huan Zhen and the security officer Lu Wu stood by the stakes and mounds of earth, watching the well-diggers. No wonder they had brought two carts of pottery rings; each time they dug a section, they had to secure the earth with these "well rings."

These rings were made of white pottery, cylindrical in shape, three feet in diameter, one and a half feet high, with walls two inches thick. The outer walls bore cord markings, the inner walls were patterned with clouds, and both top and bottom had standard grooves so that any two rings could be interlocked, preventing both collapse and the seepage of wastewater.

"This is a good spot," the well-digger on the surface praised. "The more reeds there are, the shallower the water source and the easier it is to dig." He used a pulley on a wooden frame to haul up a basket of wet soil, dumped it, and lowered the basket back down for the digger below, who was drilling and shoveling.

Whether on the surface or in the pit, the work was arduous. But the well-digger’s greatest skill was not digging, but locating water. He urged, "Magistrate Huan, please reconsider—do you really want to dig another well? It would be best to dig one in every corner. It costs more now, but it will be a great benefit when you begin reclaiming the wasteland."

Huan Zhen agreed: "That is what I was thinking. The water is shallow, right? Very well, do not dig each well to four zhang; dig only two. If you do this, you will still be doing the same amount of work, but you will help me dig an extra well. Everyone benefits."

The well-digger was horrified: "We agreed before we came that we would dig until we hit water. We never said four zhang!"

Tie Feng handed over a jar of winter wine. Huan Zhen pulled the stopper and held it to the digger’s face: "Is it strong?"

The digger nodded, feeling a bad premonition.

"Dig the full four zhang, and I will treat you both to this strong wine. If you fall short..." Huan Zhen tilted the jar and poured it onto the mound of earth.

***

The next morning.

Wang Erlang drove the ox cart, carrying the three members of the eldest branch and A’he toward the terraced fields. When they reached the bottom of the slope, the cart could go no further. A’he stayed to watch the cart, while Wang Erlang supported his elder brother, and Wang Ge led Wang Xing to the grave of Lady Wu.

The siblings pulled the weeds and cleaned the site, then took out the winter wine, five-colored beans, and wheat cakes, placing them in pottery dishes one by one. They knelt before their late mother’s grave, recounting their studies and their lives, weeping as they spoke.

Wang Erlang used a clean handkerchief to wipe his brother’s tears. When he folded the soaked cloth to tuck it away, he let out a soft gasp, his body trembling.

There was blood on the cloth!

"Do not panic, brother," Wang Dalang said in a low voice. "It has been like this for some time; it is nothing. Do you know, brother, every time I come to see your sister-in-law, I feel both grateful and terrified. Grateful for your bravery that day, fighting to save her and the children. And terrified that if something had happened to them then, if..."

Wang Erlang shook his head vigorously, his tears splashing onto his brother’s hand. "There are no 'ifs'! Brother, there are no 'ifs'!"

There must not be! Wang Erlang looked ahead, suddenly wondering: was this life different from the last one because of Wang Ge?

The eldest branch returned home before noon. Hutou ran into the courtyard, shouting for "Grandfather" and "Grandmother," then threw himself into their arms, overjoyed as if they hadn't seen each other in ages.

Wang He watched the scene and smiled. Catching Wang Ge glancing at him, he immediately huffed, looked away, and muttered: "That... you just focus on your studies. I will help Grandfather and Grandmother look after Hutou."

"Thank you, cousin." As soon as Wang Ge finished speaking, she suddenly remembered—oh no, she had promised Huzi she would make him a toy!