Chapter 74: What Kind of Silly Mushroom Is That?

The family scrambled in panic, carrying Wang Erlang—whose eyes were glazed over and who was muttering incoherently—into the warmer main house. As soon as they set him down, Wang Shu fainted from crying, but Wang He, quick for once, caught his sister and pinched her philtrum to revive her.

Inside the room, the anxious shouts of the adults and the children's cries became a tangled clamor.

Wang Dalang, leaning on his crutch, groped his way over, supported by Jia Granny, and was settled beside Erlang. At this moment, only the old master Wang and Dalang remained composed.

The old patriarch instructed Sanlang carefully, "Go to the township garrison and find someone. They've seen much, have them come and take a look at your brother—see what’s the matter with him. If you meet the night patrol on the way, you don’t need to go all the way to the camp. Beg them to come, even if you must kneel. A-Jia, give Sanlang some money, now!"

It had been over a decade since he’d called his wife “A-Jia.” Jia Granny opened the chest, shoved a string of coins into Sanlang’s arms, and urged him through tears, "Go, hurry!"

"Yes!" Sanlang ran into the night.

Dalang bent over his younger brother’s face, catching only the faint sound of something like “river” from Erlang’s muttering.

The old patriarch asked, "Erlang’s wife, what happened to him? What were you talking about in the courtyard before he collapsed?"

Little Jia answered through her sobs, "He just told Shu not to sleep too deeply at night, to help watch over Ai, and then... and then..."

Dalang interrupted sternly, "Impossible!" Though his eyes were blind in the candle’s shadow, he faced her unerringly. "What did you actually say? Every word—tell us everything. If you lie, I will ask Shu. Speak!"

Wang Shu crawled over. "Uncle, I’ll tell you. Grandfather, I remember, I’ll say everything!"

As Wang Shu recounted the brief conversation in the courtyard, Wang Ge and her younger brother arrived at the well on the northern edge of the village.

Strangely, the empty house of the widower now seemed occupied. The family had just moved in—a woman bustled in and out, sorting belongings, and under a withered tree stood a boy, presumably her son.

Why just stand there and not help? Wang Ge felt contempt, glanced briefly at the mother and son, then instructed Tiger-head to stay back as she began to draw water.

Meanwhile, Sanlang was lucky enough to run into Tingzi Huan-zhen, who had just slipped out of the garrison for a late-night snack with Yuan Yanshu and Tie Feng.

Back in the Wang family’s main house.

Erlang was not unconscious as everyone thought; he was still aware, but his soul was split.

One half could dimly perceive his surroundings; the other half drifted, fully immersed in his previous life.

He saw his daughter Shu from the past. She must have been about twelve, at that tender age when the heart first stirs. The family had already become tenant farmers for the Jia landlord, living in straw huts and eating coarse grains. Shu was dark-skinned and thin, but to him—their father—she was beautiful.

Wang Shu had first liked that young scholar who knew poetry, and only then, shyly, confided in him. "Father, you must promise not to tell Mother. I met him last year. He’s so pitiful. Don’t be angry, Father, I know we’re poor, but... Jia Lang’s life is even harsher than ours. His father passed not long ago, and though they’re kin to the landlord’s family, no one cares for their mother and son. Jia Lang can read and recite poetry. I don’t really understand his poems, just that he keeps mentioning ‘gentleman, gentleman.’ When I heard him, I thought—he is a gentleman..."

At the village well.

The well-sweep raised the heavy wooden bucket of water. Wang Ge nudged the beam, resting the bucket securely on the edge. The boy under the withered tree suddenly recited aloud: "The fish are splendid in the basket, bream and perch. The gentleman has wine, fine and plentiful. The fish are splendid in the basket, pike and carp. The gentleman has wine, plentiful and fine."

What was all that about donkeys and mushrooms? Wang Ge didn’t understand, and quietly told her brother to steady the bucket. She divided the water into their own container.

At this moment, in Wang Erlang’s drifting consciousness, the image of Shu became submerged in water, distorted and receding. Her voice tangled in her wild, floating hair, sadness outweighing joy: "It’s enough for me to just watch Jia Lang from afar. I... don’t dare speak to him. I know I’m not worthy. If I missed my chance, then so be it. But then his mother fell, and I went to help. They wept, mother and son, pouring out their sorrows. If I’d known he didn’t truly care for me, why did I meddle? Father, save me, please—I’m afraid of this river. Pull me up, Father, pull me up..."

A sudden chill swept through, scattering the part of Wang Erlang’s consciousness trapped in his past life, pushing him farther from his daughter until only the shadow of her hair remained.

This chill was, in truth, the night air brought in as Sanlang, Huan-zhen, and Yuan Yanshu entered.

Yuan Yanshu, skilled in medicine, was given space. He checked Erlang’s eyelids, took his pulse, produced golden needles, and, without a word, inserted one atop Erlang’s head, twirling it gently. The entire Wang family held their breath, helpless, awaiting the result.

Huan-zhen reassured the old master, "It’s nothing serious. Don’t worry."

Tears welled instantly in the old man’s eyes.

By now, Wang Ge and her brother were nearly home.

Wang Xing looked back and whispered, "That lady fell just now, and so did you, Sister. Did you do it on purpose?"

"Yes."

"You saw I wanted to help her up?"

"Mhm." Already spotting their own courtyard, Wang Ge set down the buckets to catch her breath and explained, "When we got to the well, that boy let his mother labor alone while he stood reciting poetry. That’s unfilial. When his mother tripped, he sounded worried but moved slowly—more unfilial still. If a son is like that, why should you rush to help? But if I stopped you, it’d make us seem cold, so I pretended to fall too, and we each helped our own."

"Wow, Sister, you’re so clever. I get it—he’s older than Brother Huan, yet he didn’t help his own mother. Why should a child like me be so eager?"

"You’re a teachable child." Wang Ge warned, "Actually, I heard another person in their house. At night, the whole family relying on that woman, it’s shameful."

"Mhm, I understand."

The siblings entered their courtyard and sensed something was wrong—the main house door was wide open. Wang Ge hurried in with her brother and found Wang Erlang just waking, the needle withdrawn.

"Father, you’re awake!" Wang Shu clung to his arm, sobbing.

With trembling hand, Wang Erlang touched his daughter’s hair—it was dry, not wet. His mind cleared at once.

He understood now. In his half-conscious state, the words he’d heard from his daughter were not confessions she’d truly spoken to him in their past life, but fragments he’d picked up as an observer during the two years she suffered and died after falling for the young scholar.

In other words, it wasn’t Wang Shu’s wronged spirit lamenting to him—it was his former self, from his past life, explaining to his present self the whole story!

"Ah..." He struck his chest in agony and hugged Wang Shu, weeping bitterly. The pain was unbearable. Even though he had a second chance at life and knew this life would be different, his daughter from that life was still dead! She’d been murdered!

Most maddening of all, he still didn’t know the killer. On the day his daughter drowned, the young scholar and his mother were in the village, so it wasn’t them. Who else would harm Wang Shu?

He realized, too late, that his daughter had been killed, pushed into the river!

Who was it? Who? Who?!

Wang Ge clung tightly to the doorframe. Her second uncle’s pain was the kind that could never be spoken, that could only be buried deep inside. What could have happened to torment him so deeply, yet leave him unable to voice it?

Huan-zhen and Yuan Yanshu, sensing it was inappropriate to linger, were soon asked by the old master to be escorted out by the siblings.

As they left the main house, another cry of anguish broke from Wang Erlang. Wang Xing, startled, gripped Wang Ge’s hand, sobbing in empathy.

Wang Ge glanced back at the main house, tears welling in her own eyes. Huan-zhen looked too, then back at her, his gaze lingering for a moment as she wept.

She wiped her tears and bowed to Huan-zhen and Yuan Yanshu. Words of gratitude were too light; for saving her uncle, she would repay them.

"Little Elegies: Splendid Fish"—a song in praise of a noble feast. The "basket" is a bamboo fish trap, and the names refer to various kinds of fish. Here, "sha" refers not to a shark, but to a small stream fish.