Gu Yanzhi smiled gently. “There now, Father—did I not just say I am your son? We are family from this day forward. You must not stand on ceremony with me!”
Shen Dajun smiled back, touched and a little awkward. With his leg in a cast and awkward to manage, Gu Yanzhi had carried him the whole way—up slopes, over paths, steady and strong. Shen Niannian watched his broad, unyielding back and her heart swelled with feeling. Wang Jiangang could never compare. No—there was simply no comparison at all. To put them side by side was almost an insult to the man beside her.
When they returned from the clinic, Shen Niannian decided to get her father settled first before returning to the village head’s to fetch their gifts. She had no sooner stepped through the gate than sharp-eyed Liao Chunmei spotted them.
“Well, look who’s come home!” she called, voice thick with mockery. “If it isn’t our Niannian and her fine husband? What—come visiting your parents’ home and empty-handed? Not so much as a single gift to show for it?”
Li Guihua and Shen Youyou had heard the commotion and came hurrying out from the main room, chopsticks set aside. Seeing Shen Niannian standing there with nothing in her hands, Shen Youyou burst into laughter.
“Dear me, Sister!” she jeered. “Is this how things are with you now? Not a single thing brought along on your return visit? Aren’t you afraid the neighbors will talk? If money is tight, all you had to do was say so! Come to me—I would have lent you something, no interest charged!”
Gu Yanzhi’s face darkened to thunder. He was seeing the Shen family for exactly what they were. He would have spoken, but Shen Niannian stayed him with a hand.
“Yanzhi—help Father inside first, please.”
Only then did everyone notice the bandages and white cast wrapped around Shen Dajun’s leg. Li Guihua’s face drained of color, and she pressed a hand tight over her purse.
“What has happened?” she demanded, her voice sharp with alarm—and calculation. “Why has he been bound up like that?” She shot Shen Niannian a resentful look. “You took him to the clinic, didn’t you? Let me make one thing plain—I have no money. Do not even think of asking me for it! You are his daughter. It is only right that you pay. He worked so hard to raise you… this is your duty. We have nothing…”
Shen Dajun, who had been hobbling toward the door, turned back at those words, stunned and disbelieving.
“Mother… how can you speak so?”
Shen Niannian nearly laughed for sheer anger. This was her beloved grandmother—this was her father’s own mother! Even tigers do not devour their young—and yet this household was worse than beasts. Gu Yanzhi had never in his life met such a mother. The veins stood tight and corded along his forearms. If they were not Niannian’s kin—and women besides—he would have struck them down himself. What kind of people were these? And to think his gentle wife had grown up among them… his heart ached so fiercely it hurt.
Shen Niannian stepped forward, cold and calm.
“Grandmother—how can you say you have no money? What of the betrothal gifts from the Gu family two days ago? Never mind the goods and silks—what of the two hundred yuan that went straight into your pocket? That money was given as my dowry. Surely it is only right that some of it should care for my father now?”
At the mention of her money, Li Guihua’s expression curdled. She planted her hands on her hips and shrieked.
“You ungrateful little wretch! Nothing but money, money, money! Did I not feed you? Clothe you? House you? Every grain of rice you ate came from this house! If we tallied every meal, two hundred yuan would not be enough! Black-hearted girl! Your conscience was eaten by dogs!”
Liao Chunmei chimed in, delighted to fan the flames.
“Exactly! And look at you—empty-handed! How shameful! Our Youyou and Jiangang? They came laden with gifts! Fine wine for your Second Uncle and Grandfather—do you have any idea what those bottles cost? More than ten yuan apiece! Could you ever afford such things?”
Their taunts fell one after another. Gu Yanzhi’s face turned livid. He helped Shen Dajun into the inner room, settled him, and stepped back out, voice ringing clear.
“Who said we brought nothing—”
Shen Niannian caught his arm and cut him off. She faced them all, her voice cold and steady.
“Mind what we brought or did not bring. What I carry is for my father—and no one else. Grandmother—you say you raised me, fed me, sheltered me? Very well. Let us reckon it properly. How much work did I do in this house from dawn till dark? How much money did I earn for you? Every chore, every basket, every meal—all fell to me. After middle school I snuck out at dawn to sell steamed buns just to bring coin back to you. Every copper was taken. Tell me—what does a landlord pay a hired hand these days? I worked for nothing. I worked and gave you everything I earned. And when I did not please you? Beatings and curses. Is there any justice under heaven for such treatment?”
From the doorway, Shen Qingfeng stepped forward, listening with a sneer.
“You cheap little whore! What lies spewing from your mouth! You ate at our table, slept under our roof—you are little better than a dog we keep! Do not imagine because you bear the Shen name you are truly one of us!”
His words were poison.
Inside the room, Shen Dajun could bear it no longer. He limped back out, trembling with rage, ready to throw himself at the boy. But before anyone could move—before anyone even saw it coming—a fist crashed squarely into Shen Qingfeng’s face.
With a crack loud enough to make ears ring, he was nearly lifted off his feet. He hit the ground hard, and spat a mouthful of blood into the dust.
Liao Chunmei shrieked and scrambled to cradle her son. “Qingfeng! My boy! Murder! Help—they are killing us!”
The commotion drew villagers from all around, gathering at the gate. Shen Qingfeng spat again—blood and a broken tooth. He staggered up, dazed and furious. He glared at Gu Yanzhi, who stood cold and implacable, and screamed curses.
“You—you are that slut’s husband! I’ll—”
Before the insult left his mouth, Gu Yanzhi was upon him. Blows fell like rain—swift, hard, and true. Gu Yanzhi had held his hand while they were women—but this man had insulted his wife, his father-in-law, and everything decent. He had stood by and watched them bully the people he loved. No man could endure that. He cared nothing for rank, nothing for punishment—let them strip him of his post, let him answer for this later. This had to be done.
Shen Qingfeng howled under the beating. Seeing his son struck down, Shen Erguang roared and charged in to help. But two ordinary men were no match for Gu Yanzhi—ten would not have been. He met them, parried, and struck them down in seconds.