Chapter 73: The Left-Handed King Ge

Wang Ge had already explained to the elders that she needed peace and quiet to focus on crafting, so when neighbors came by to chat idly, she simply pretended not to notice—hardly a breach of manners.

Once Madam Sun and her son departed, tranquility returned to the courtyard. Wang Ge bent herself again to her work, carving vertical lines one by one into a smoothed wooden ruler using a flint blade. The so-called blade was nothing more than a sharp-edged shard picked from broken stones—any piece with a point would do, and she discarded them as soon as they dulled. The basket at her side was filled with such stone fragments and spare ruler blanks.

When she finished scoring one side, she flipped the ruler and repeated the process, then turned it over to do the back. Time slipped by unnoticed. The little incisions, each like a pair of upright marks, seemed to take on a hostile energy, swirling in a dizzying, chaotic dance that pricked at her brow, her forehead, and her eyes.

No, this was too much—she was exhausted. She dropped the flint blade, her right hand still curled tightly in a grip that ached when she tried to stretch it. Even after closing her eyes to rest, her knuckles throbbed uncomfortably. With a sigh, Wang Ge picked up the blade with her left hand—she had no other choice.

In her previous life, Wang Nanxing had been left-handed. Since coming to this world, she’d forced herself to use her right whenever anyone watched, training it so thoroughly that even her brother, who saw her every day, never suspected she was a natural lefty.

As dusk fell and the light grew dim, Wang Ge, thoroughly chilled, finally put away her tools. First, she lowered the linen curtain, then the woven grass one, weighing them down with stones. Outside, only a heavy roll of straw matting covered the window, and with so many layers, darkness settled in early.

She had no idea what sort of windows the wealthy enjoyed, but in Jia House Village, everyone made do with the same fixed wooden lattices that couldn’t be opened. If you wanted air or light, you simply propped up the window mat. Raising and lowering that mat marked the rhythm of every farmer’s day.

So the days blurred, light and shadow chasing each other. Six days passed.

Once more, young Madam Jia’s figure appeared in the courtyard, but she was not worth Wang Ge’s time. Wang Ge was in the middle of her self-imposed “advancement trials.”

First stage: score ten consecutive lines, then check the spacing against the standard measuring tool. How many could she get precisely right?

The first attempt, six.

Try again—another ten lines. Still only six matched.

Again, ten more. Only half were correct—dispiriting.

But no matter. Advancement is like climbing a mountain; slipping once is normal. On the next try, seven out of ten lines were correct.

As soon as a flint blade showed a nick, she swapped it out. Precision mattered: the lines had to be thin and clear, or the ruler would lose its purpose. Even in practice, she demanded the rigor of a formal test.

She pressed on—ten lines at a time.

This time, eight matched!

No cause for celebration yet—this was progress, not a breakthrough.

Noon... evening... morning... evening...

Two more days went by. Wang Ge tested herself ten times, each time scoring ten equidistant marks, each one perfectly regular.

Only then did she permit herself to attempt the second stage: crafting a full ruler, adding the inch marks.

The focus required for this new trial made her grip grow ever tighter, until the pain in her right hand’s knuckles forced her to switch to the left, and then, when that hand ached, to switch back again. The labor doubled, but so might the reward.

As evening fell, Madam Jia came to the kitchen. Wang Shu was preparing supper and quietly called, “Mother.” For a moment, mother and daughter had nothing to say.

Madam Jia, distracted and absent-minded, added fuel to the fire. Only a few days ago, she had returned home in tears to beg forgiveness from her aunt and uncle, only to discover she’d been duped by that hemp-shoe girl. Her aunt explained that Wang Ge had indeed passed the craftsman’s exam, and the county had sent a reward—but it was tools for making things, not the string of coins she’d assumed. That day at the east wing, the girl had lied outright, letting her believe her husband had hidden away a fortune, which was why she’d made such a fuss about returning home.

How vicious Wang Ge was! Cunning as her own late mother, if not more so. Why hadn’t the wild tiger killed that hemp-shoe girl back then? What a relief that would have been!

A sharp crack from the fire startled Madam Jia so badly she nearly fell. The log she’d just added, still aflame, tumbled out, nearly catching Wang Shu’s shoe.

Wang Shu replaced the wood. Madam Jia asked, “Your foot’s all right?”

“I’m fine.” Not wanting her mother to feel guilty, Wang Shu recalled how Wang Ge would tease her shoes whenever she taught weaving in the kitchen, and mimicked her tone: “Look at you, so clean and tidy, yet you have to lean close to the fire—almost got yourself a big scorch mark. But really, Mother, I—”

Suddenly, Madam Jia bolted from the kitchen as if possessed, her face pale and wild. She halted and stared at her daughter in terror and confusion.

Old Madam Jia came out, annoyed by the commotion. “What’s wrong now, Second Daughter-in-law?”

Tearfully, Madam Jia stammered to both her aunt and daughter, “Didn’t you see it? A huge weasel just ran past the kitchen door!”

Old Madam Jia shook her head in exasperation. “What’s so scary about a weasel? It’s not a wolf!”

Wang Ge, just then lowering the window mat, knew Madam Jia was lying but couldn’t be bothered to care. After supper, darkness fell quickly.

“Grandmother, I’ll fetch water. I’ve been sitting for days; I need to stretch my legs,” Wang Ge said, and headed out.

“The wind’s so fierce, that child...” Old Madam Jia murmured.

Madam Jia, meanwhile, lingered outside the main room, unwilling to go in, and called to Wang Shu, “Come to bed.”

Little Wang Ai flopped across Wang Shu’s lap and pleaded, “Don’t go, Sister, stay with Ai.”

“All right.” Wang Shu giggled, scooped up her plump little sister, and carried her to their grandfather before lifting the curtain and heading to the outer room.

The difference between a room with people and one without was immediately clear. With just a grass curtain for a barrier, the outer room was nearly as cold as outside. Wang Shu shivered and said, “Mother, Ai is little and always kicks off her covers at night. Grandmother can’t always keep an eye on her. I’ll stay in her room for a few nights.”

Madam Jia grumbled quietly, “Don’t you have your cousin? What else is she doing?”

Wang Shu lowered her head, afraid her grandmother inside might overhear, and whispered even more softly, “Please, Mother, don’t say that. She’s not being idle.”

“Not idle? While you all sew clothes, she goes out—”

The noise of Wang Ge leaving with the water buckets silenced Madam Jia.

A small figure darted from the side house, calling out, “Sister, I’ll go with you!”

Madam Jia grabbed her daughter’s hand and came out, sneering at the gate, “See that? They’re real siblings. You think she’s good to you, but why didn’t she ask you to help fetch water? Who knows what secrets they’re sharing?”

Just then, Second Wang returned from the latrine. “Why are you two standing out here in the cold?”

Back inside, little Wang Ai grew impatient and called, “Shu, cousin, come back!”

Madam Jia knew she could no longer keep her daughter at her side and quickly invented a story. “Shu wanted to help fetch water when she saw Ge heading out, but Ge only took Tiger Head and didn’t let her go. Now she’s sulking out here. All right, Shu, go back to the main room. Don’t sleep too soundly tonight—help your grandmother take care of Ai, you hear?”

Second Wang, ever easygoing, reassured her, “Your cousin knows you’re afraid of the dark. That’s why she didn’t let you go. Go on now.”

As the couple headed back inside, Wang Shu finally couldn’t hold it in. “Father, Mother, I’m not just afraid of the dark—I’m afraid of wells, and deep water too. Cousin knows I’m timid, knows I’m so afraid of water I never go near the riverbank, so she never asked me to fetch water. She never has.”

What an utter fool! Madam Jia’s face twitched.

Second Wang, still unsuspecting, turned to comfort her, “All right, all right, I get it now. My daughter is afraid of wells. I’ll never ask you to fetch water, never ask you to go to the river... to the river... You—Shu, did you say—you never go near the river?”

A heavy blow landed in his heart. Second Wang finally understood. He gasped, unable to breathe, then let out a wail and collapsed to the ground.

Dear readers, from now on, updates will be posted at 7:00 a.m. and 7:00 p.m. daily, under normal circumstances.

(End of chapter)