Late at night, in the eastern room of the north house, Fusheng listened as Junsheng recited all of the day's assigned texts from memory. Only then did she set down her brush, which she had been using to practice calligraphy.
She had never attended calligraphy classes, and the only reason her handwriting hadn't given her away was that the original Fusheng's characters had been atrociously bad.
Now, even though her writing remained terrible, it was still an improvement compared to before.
The oil lamp flame was small as a bean, illuminating the modest desk. The light fell steadily on the large characters Fusheng had just written, casting a soft glow over them.
Junsheng, who had finished reciting his lessons and packed away his books, sidled up to her.
"Third Aunt, your calligraphy…"
He didn't finish his sentence, sneaking a glance at Fusheng.
"What about my calligraphy?"
Fusheng looked at the characters on the paper, feeling she had written them wonderfully.
"Grandfather would sigh, and Father would weep!"
The worst calligraphers in the family, aside from Aunt Lin Cui—who had been misled by her natal family's teachings, twisting "a woman's virtue lies in her lack of talent" into "a woman's virtue lies in her lack of learning," and whose scholar father nevertheless couldn't write—was his own Third Aunt sister.
This handwriting… Even Fourth Aunt, who had only recently started learning to write, and Third Aunt-in-law Cao Sanqiao, who only practiced a couple of characters when the mood struck her, wrote more delicately than she did.
But Junsheng only dared to think these words in his heart, never daring to voice them aloud.
Even so, the moment his sigh-like remark fell, Fusheng's dagger-like glare flew over.
"Your handwriting doesn't make Grandfather sigh or Father weep, does it? Then why don't you use your fine calligraphy to finish studying the children's primer?"
Her smile was adorable, but her tone was icy. Junsheng trembled.
He didn't actually want to tremble, but ever since he'd been beaten black and blue by his own younger sister, his body simply wasn't under his control anymore.
"Your handwriting doesn't make Grandfather sigh or Father weep, does it? Then why don't you stop letting Xiaosheng trick you into nearly getting beaten up by Ahu from the next alley over!"
Junsheng immediately stopped trembling. He felt his backside begin to ache.
That afternoon, after Grandmother had taken Mother out to the stall, he'd taken advantage of Third Aunt practicing her knife skills in the kitchen to sneak out of the house and find Xiaosheng and the others to battle for the title of "Alley King." Who would have thought that traitor Xiaosheng would betray him, nearly getting him beaten by Ahu from the next alley?
If not for Third Aunt descending like a heavenly fairy wielding a rolling pin at the critical moment, he really would have been beaten by Ahu and his gang.
If only Third Aunt hadn't grabbed him by the ear, dragged him home, and then used that rolling pin to pound his backside—that would have been even better!
"Your calligraphy…"
Seeing that Fusheng was about to dredge up old grievances again, Junsheng feared that if she kept going, her anger would rush to her head and she'd give him another beating—the rolling pin was still sitting on the table by the window!
Junsheng quickly leaned forward, wearing an expression of one resigned to his fate.
"Third Aunt, your brother was wrong. Go ahead and hit me!"
He steeled his heart, squeezed his eyes shut, and stretched out his neck—the perfect picture of someone bracing for punishment.
Though Fusheng's hands itched, seeing him like this, she really didn't feel like hitting him.
She felt that giving him a good beating would only satisfy this brother of hers with his shameless streak.
The night air carried the scent of mist rolling over the green grass, drifting in through the window. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Until…
"Slap!!"
An exceptionally loud slap rang out, crisp as a fly swatter striking a fly.
“Huh? That didn’t hurt?” Junsheng opened his eyes and, after patting himself down from head to toe, looked at Fusheng with wide, clear eyes. “Third Aunt, where did you hit me? Why doesn’t it hurt at all!”
It had been a month now, and she’d been keeping Junsheng in line for half of that. For the first time, Fusheng realized her twin brother possessed a kind of utterly natural foolishness—unrelated to his wits, and certainly not affecting his ability to study. It was simply pure, unbridled stupidity.
Outside, the voice of Third Aunt, Cao Sanqiao, had already risen in a torrent of scolding.
Fusheng knocked Junsheng on the head and lifted her skirts to run out.
“Were you so scared by Ahu and the others this afternoon that you lost your mind? Who gets hit without it hurting and only hears the echo? Third Aunt’s pregnant, Grandmother and Mother are still out at the stall, Grandfather and Father went to Uncle Wu’s house, Eldest Uncle hasn’t gotten off work, and Third Uncle isn’t here either—hurry up and go see what’s wrong!”
Fusheng ran fast. By the time Junsheng snapped out of it, he couldn’t even see the hem of her clothes.
But no matter how quickly Fusheng ran, she couldn’t outpace Cao Sanqiao’s slapping.
“…You shameless, thieving cur! You filthy, lowborn wretch! I actually thought you had a good heart, coming to chat with me and keep me company—I even had Fourth Aunt bring you sweet treats to eat! Hah, pah! I must have been blind to let you into my room!”
Cao Sanqiao stood at the door of the west room, with Lansheng and Jusheng flanking her, both supporting her lower back, afraid she might fall.
And Cao Sanqiao herself? One hand gripped the hair of the person before her, spittle flying as she cursed, while the other hand swung with fierce vigor, landing slap after slap on that person’s face.
The person before her… judging by the clothes, and by Meisheng standing nearby, frantic and wanting to intervene but afraid to use force, Fusheng recognized her as Eldest Aunt, Lin Cui.
Lin Cui was taller than Cao Sanqiao, but because Cao Sanqiao had grabbed her hair bun in the most comfortable position for herself, Lin Cui was bent over like a half-cooked shrimp, desperately trying to free herself but having no idea how.
She kept saying, “It’s not like that, it’s not like that,” while Meisheng begged Cao Sanqiao to stop. But the more they pleaded, the harder Cao Sanqiao hit.
Seeing people peeking through doors and over walls, Cao Sanqiao began to explain the whole affair:
“You motherless mongrel! Jealous that Eldest Boy is just a child, and upset that Grandmother sent Third Girl to learn cooking, so you come to sow discord between me and Second Sister-in-law and Third Girl? You wish that if I heard how Grandmother favors Third Girl, the baby in my belly would just vanish? Pah! You think everyone’s like you—black-hearted, rotten-livered, beating your own daughter’s legs with bamboo switches to vent your anger!”
The angrier she got, the harder she yanked Lin Cui’s hair, until it was a tangled mess.
Seeing Fusheng arrive, she raised her voice even more:
“Uncle and Grandmother said our family won’t split up—once Third Girl finishes her cooking training, the whole family will prosper. I’m not stupid! Third Girl is such a capable, fine young woman; I was even thinking of having her keep my Fourth Girl and this one in my belly in line! You rotten, black-hearted thing who takes out your anger on your own daughter! And you dare to stir up trouble with me? Watch me beat you to death!”
Cao Sanqiao still had a shred of sense left. Not a single word about the two or three hundred wen headscarf Lin Cui had mentioned slipped out. She just kept hitting Lin Cui hard, shaming her and exposing her secrets.
And in her heart, she was quite pleased with herself!
She was a pregnant woman, and Lin Cui, fearing her uncle and grandmother, dared not harm her—which happened to give her a good beating.
As for Meisheng, who was flailing uselessly on the sidelines? She knew exactly how hard to hit!
Seeing Fusheng come up to block her, and Junsheng run out to fetch the elders, she even reined in her movements—though her mouth still cursed out eighteen generations of Lin Cui's ancestors.
Granny Zhang had been listening from her own courtyard for quite a while, but she was somewhat dissatisfied.
—From the sounds of it next door, it seemed like only Third Brother Zhu's wife's voice could be heard?
Catching sight of her daughter-in-law Liu Sisao already perched on the wall, she yanked at Liu Sisao's pant leg.
"Is Yang Tieniang, that fierce demoness, there?"
She had gone to great lengths, patiently egging on that bamboo-pole-thin Lin Cui—not so she'd fight with someone else!
She wanted Lin Cui to clash with Yang Tieniang!
Liu Sisao had, in fact, been mid-squat doing her business, hastily tying her pants and dragging over a ladder to climb the wall and watch the commotion—her waistband hadn't even been properly fastened.
Granny Zhang's tug nearly pulled them right off.
With one hand clutching her waistband, her eyes were glued to the Zhu family's courtyard, afraid of missing a single detail.
But she didn't dare ignore her mother-in-law, so she answered offhandedly: "Only Oldest Zhu's wife and Third Zhu's wife are in the yard, along with a few kids."
Having said that, she climbed a step higher on the ladder, hoping not to be disturbed from watching the show again.
"Yang Tieniang isn't home?"
Granny Zhang was half-convinced. Seeing Liu Sisao climb higher, out of reach even on tiptoe, she muttered to herself and shuffled over to her own gate.
She hesitated for a moment, but curiosity ultimately won out, and she opened the door and stepped out.
Her daughter-in-law was chattering away about the spectacle—she needed to see for herself whether Yang Tieniang was really home! She'd already packed up her stall and come back!
If she truly wasn't home, then she'd have to play the good Samaritan and go call her from the night market…
With that thought in mind, Granny Zhang hurried out the door.
She'd barely stepped out when she nearly collided with someone.
"Granny Zhang, watch where you're going!"
It was a slightly tipsy Zhu Yongwen. He Xing wasn't easy to shake off—he'd expended great effort to escape his banquet. To avoid being pestered, he'd been forced to drink with the old bookkeeper, who wasn't on good terms with him and was hosting a farewell feast for his retirement that day. He'd drunk until his head spun before he could make his way home.
The only silver lining was that he'd dodged the "trouble" he'd sensed coming, and he'd even managed to pack up half a lotus-leaf-wrapped chicken from the old bookkeeper's feast.
On his way back, he'd swung by where his mother set up her stall—she hadn't packed up yet! If he hurried home now and shut the door, that half chicken would make a nice treat for Cuiniang and Auntie.
So even being bumped into by the unpleasant Granny Zhang didn't irritate him. Zhu Yongwen patted the lotus-leaf chicken tucked against his chest, listened to the sound of some household's quarrel nearby, and thought to himself that his own wife and daughter were better—soft-tempered, never getting into conflicts. With a smile on his lips and unsteady steps, he headed toward home.
But…
Why was Granny Zhang following him? Could she have smelled the lotus-leaf chicken he'd hidden?
Why did it seem like a crowd had gathered in front of his house? And that quarreling voice…
With a jolt, Zhu Yongwen's eyes flew wide. The tipsy haze instantly dissipated, his mind sharp and clear.
That quarreling voice—it was Third Sister-in-law!
Why was Third Sister-in-law calling out his Cuiniang's name?
Could it be!
That feeling of "trouble" today!
Heavens above!!