Chapter 52 Wang Zhu Leaves

After Wang Ge came out, Wang He’s gaze lingered on her hand for a moment. He wanted to apologize, but couldn’t bring himself to bow his head, his face flushed red with frustration. Wang Ge paid him no attention at all, instead heading to the kitchen to scoop half a ladle of water. Wang Shu was just carrying their grandfather’s meal tray outside and smiled at his elder sister in passing; Wang Ge returned the smile, then went out to the wall to rinse her scraped hand and came back to the house to wrap it with a clean cloth strip.

At supper, apart from that guilty mother and son, only Wang Xing knew that the fresh wound on her sister’s hand wasn’t from making bamboo brushes.

The daily chore of fetching water still fell to Wang Ge. As soon as she picked up the carrying pole, Wang Xing ran over. “Sister, I want to fetch water with you.”

“Let’s go.” Wang Ge gave her little brother a broad grin.

“Let’s go!” Wang Xing replied in a louder voice.

“Let’s go!” Wang Ge called out even louder.

“Go—!” Wang Xing’s voice rose higher, cracking with excitement.

The two siblings doubled over with laughter, the buckets swaying and creaking as they skipped and chattered all the way.

That night, Wang Xing clung to her side again. Before the story was finished, the little one had already fallen asleep. Only then did Wang Ge allow her eyes to ache and let the tears flow in secret.

She wasn’t crying because of the bullying from Lady Jia and her son, but out of heartache and pity for Tigerhead.

At such a young age, he was already forced by life to learn to hide his feelings. Her hand had been fine before she entered the storeroom, but was wrapped in cloth soon after she came out. Since Tigerhead had been in the courtyard the whole time, he must have guessed her injury was connected to Lady Jia and her son. He felt for her, so he found an excuse to accompany her to fetch water. Yet along the way, he was either bouncing about, or walking with his hands behind his back like a little old man—anything but holding her hand.

He was afraid of hurting her wound.

Every day, Tigerhead yearned to grow up quickly and bear the burden of the main family. He hated Wang He for mocking his “grain-sized stature”—not because he cared about the insult of “being short,” but because he feared growing too slowly and delaying the day when he could uphold the household, and be brave for his sister.

The more Wang Ge pitied Tigerhead, the more she loathed Lady Jia. That woman was vicious—her malice utterly different from Yao’s. Yao was the type whose wickedness showed plainly on her face, and she was unpopular in the village; after being cast out, few even sympathized with her.

Lady Jia, on the other hand, never gossiped about family matters in front of outsiders. Instead, she was always eager to showcase her filial piety in caring for the elders, and behaved meekly before her husband—except that one time she made a scene and returned to her maiden home, but even then, she stopped once she got some new clothes and came back to admit fault. To this day, no one in the village knew why she had threatened to throw herself into the well that day.

But today, in the storeroom, Lady Jia had torn away her mask for the first time in years and threatened her outright. What did that mean? It meant Lady Jia was afraid—she couldn’t keep up the act any longer.

That was enough to set Wang Ge’s heart at ease.

Two days later, the window mat was finished.

Before dark, Old Wang called Sanlang into the main house. “Ah Zhu cries all day, can’t eat, won’t speak. You’re his father, can’t you comfort him? Sigh.”

“I’ve tried, Father. But he just keeps crying.”

“Let him see his mother for a while. It’ll help.”

Sanlang’s face lit up. “Yes! So… when shall I go fetch Yao?”

Old Wang was exasperated to the point of anger.

Lady Jia quickly gave her son a thump on the back. “Foolish boy! Since when does one bring back an abandoned woman? What your father means is, take Ah Zhu to Shatun and let him stay with his mother for a while. When he wants to come back, ask the Zhangs to send word, and then you fetch him home.”

“Should I send Ai along too? She also cries at night…”

Old Wang couldn’t bear it any longer. Before his foolish son finished, he threw a shoe at him and chased him out.

“Mother? Mother?” Sanlang lingered at the door.

Lady Jia first soothed her husband. “Don’t be angry. He’s always been like this—scold him and he just gets more confused.” Then she went to the door and motioned for Sanlang not to come in, but to speak outside.

Sanlang understood and lowered his voice. “Mother, should I go tomorrow or wait a few days? I asked at Jia Erlang’s—his family’s donkey cart is cheap. Should I hire their cart to go to Shatun?”

Lady Jia replied just as quietly, “Your father spoke so late so you’d have tomorrow to prepare. How can you send Ah Zhu empty-handed? You must take some grain. As for the cart—hire from the Zhangs. Otherwise, when Ah Zhu wants to come back, who’ll pass the message?”

“Isn’t that what Zhang Silang’s wife’s family is for?”

“If we don’t let the Zhangs have a share, why would they help us? They didn’t buy two oxen just to plow their own land. Who doesn’t want to earn a bit more on cartage?”

Sanlang finally understood, and said with guilt, “Mother, I’m not afraid of hardship—I’ll open up more land myself. When we finally get our own ox, I won’t let Father and Mother envy anyone, nor let you suffer for my sake.”

“Good boy.” Lady Jia’s eyes grew red with emotion. “Go bring Ai over—I’ll keep her for a while, and she’ll miss her mother less.” She wiped her tears as she went back inside, and grumbled to her husband, “Did you hear that? Sanlang is so filial—don’t scold him so much.”

Old Wang gave a wry laugh. “If he were truly filial, since Yao didn’t take the rest of the money, why doesn’t he pay us back? He knows the main house went into debt for this!”

Lady Jia fell silent, lowering her head in sadness.

Seeing his wife so downcast, Old Wang hastened to cheer her up. “Tiger Treasure is just a child—how would she know what an IOU is? She calls those bamboo sticks that record the amount owed ‘IOUs.’ Honestly, it’s better the money stays with us. If she’d kept it herself, she’d have spent it all on pig fat to plaster the stove!”

Before long, Sanlang came carrying one crying child, followed by another. Hearing the laughter of the elders inside, Sanlang and little Peng exchanged a look, both feeling reassured.

In the end, Lady Jia only took in little Ai, and with a bang, shut Sanlang and his son outside.

Peng burst into fresh tears and went back to the east wing with his father.

From that night, Wang Zhu returned to his usual self, his eyes no longer swollen in the morning. Old Wang called Sanlang to the storeroom, where he had prepared two burlap sacks of grain, six pairs of straw shoes, and a roll of window matting.

Sanlang fretted over the grain. “He’s just a child—he can’t eat that much, one sack is enough. And why the window mat? Wasn’t there trouble over this last time?”

Old Wang sighed. “Ah Zhu may not eat that much, but now that side isn’t your in-laws. When you send Ah Zhu, you need to show you care, and to avoid gossip about our family. The grain is to silence the Yao family!”

“Oh.”

“The window mat especially! When you get there, you must make it clear to the Yao woman that your niece is not disrespectful to her elders. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have made another to send!”

“Oh.”

“Sanlang, you must be more mindful. After the new year, Ge will be eleven. A young girl’s good name is hard to spread, but a bad rumor spreads like wildfire! With that Yao woman’s tongue—sharp as a sieve—she’ll surely try to ruin Ge’s reputation once she’s been cast out!”

“Oh no! That won’t do. Don’t worry, Father, I’ll tell the Yao family exactly what you said. I just… feel sorry to give away such a nice window mat again.”

“Enough. Quiet now,” Old Wang cut him off, seeing Ah Zhu coming their way.