That night, the wind suddenly picked up, howling as it blew. The paper window rattled nonstop with soft thudding sounds.
On the table, the oil lamp’s flame was no bigger than a soybean, swaying unsteadily in the draft.
Lin Suier lay on her side on the kang.
Xiaocao curled up in her arms, sleeping soundly, her little face flushed red. A fine sheen of sweat dotted the tip of her nose, one small hand still tucked into her mouth as she sucked on it contentedly.
She had gotten to eat wild chicken today—she was very happy.
Suddenly, with a loud bang, the door was shoved open and slammed against the earthen wall behind it.
Chen Wenqi walked in with a dark expression.
He had spent the entire afternoon cooped up in the west room, a book spread open before him, yet he hadn’t read a single word.
His mind kept replaying Jiang Liao’s presence from earlier that day.
In front of that man, he hadn’t even been able to speak properly—his dignity as a scholar completely gone.
The frustration had been building in his chest, swelling more and more.
And now, seeing Lin Suier lying quietly on the kang, he found an outlet.
Chen Wenqi took off his outer robe, crumpled it carelessly, and threw it onto the bench by the wall with a loud smack.
Lin Suier hurriedly pushed herself up on her arms, flustered. The collar of her thin undergarment hung loose, exposing a small patch of her collarbone.
“Husband… are you going to rest?”
“Rest? What rest!” Chen Wenqi snapped impatiently. “I’m suffocating inside—how could I have the mind to rest? This is all because of the trouble you brought!”
He walked to the worn square table, intending to pour himself a bowl of water to soothe his dry throat. But when he lifted the clay pot, it was empty.
With a thud, he slammed it back down.
“Look at this! Not even a mouthful of water! What has this household come to? An outsider barges in broad daylight, barking orders and pointing fingers—what kind of propriety is that? The Chen family’s reputation is being ruined by you!”
Lin Suier’s face turned pale.
In a small voice, she tried to explain, “Old Master Jiang was kind… he heard I was hurt, so he asked Brother Jiang to bring those things… it—it was goodwill…”
“Goodwill? Bah!”
The word seemed to sting him. He spun around sharply, the lamplight casting his distorted shadow onto the wall.
“What goodwill could the Jiang family possibly have? That Jiang fellow is cursed—a lone star who brought death to his own wife! He’s full of ill fortune—just being near him is unlucky! A man who only knows how to swing a cooking ladle, reeking of grease—he’ll never wash that stench off in his lifetime! What does he know? What good could he possibly bring? That plaster—who knows what random herbs he mashed together? Use it and your foot might rot off! And that crutch—just some rough piece of wood hacked from the mountains, crude and vulgar. Does it deserve to enter my Chen household?”
His words came faster and harsher.
As if only by belittling Jiang Liao like this could he suppress the humiliation he felt earlier.
As if only then could he straighten the proud spine of a “scholar.”
Lin Suier trembled slightly as she listened.
Xiaocao was still sleeping beside her—she didn’t want to wake her daughter.
“I… I understand,” she said softly.
Her submission seemed to calm Chen Wenqi a little, but his anger hadn’t fully subsided.
He paced the small room irritably, continuing his tirade.
“I, Chen Wenqi, have studied the sages and entered the scholarly path! One day I will bring honor to my family! Do I need pity from an illiterate villager? Charity from him? The way he acted today—utterly disregarding propriety! Crude! Ignorant! And you—you had no sense at all, just standing there taking his things, making us a laughingstock!”
As he spoke, his gaze fell on the faint rise and fall beneath Lin Suier’s thin clothing.
A strange heat surged within him, drying his throat.
He suddenly stopped, his voice lowering.
“Enough. It’s late. No need to talk about irrelevant people—it dirties the ears. Let’s rest.”
As he spoke, he reached out to grab Lin Suier’s arm, trying to pull her further onto the kang.
Her whole body stiffened—she understood the look in his eyes.
“Husband! No… my foot really hurts badly. It’s piercing pain when I move… not tonight, please…”
“What do you mean ‘not tonight’?”
Chen Wenqi frowned impatiently, tightening his grip. His other hand moved to tug at the cloth tie at her waist.
“It’s just your foot that’s injured, not anything else. You’re my wife—serving your husband is only natural!”
“Husband! I really can’t… it hurts…”
Lin Suier panicked. The sharp pain from her ankle shot through her as she struggled, cold sweat instantly forming on her forehead.
Afraid of waking the child, she could only push weakly against his chest while pleading through tears.
“Xiaocao is still sleeping… Husband, please…”
“She’s a child—she sleeps deeply. What’s there to worry about!”
Seeing her resist, his irritation flared into anger.
He felt his authority being challenged—even this usually obedient wife dared to defy him!
His movements became rougher, laced with pent-up frustration.
Rip—
The sound of fabric tearing rang sharply in the night.
The front of Lin Suier’s clothing was torn open.
Humiliation surged through her, and with a sudden burst of strength, she shoved Chen Wenqi away.
Xiaocao was jolted awake, bursting into loud cries.
Chen Wenqi staggered back two steps, his back hitting the table. The oil lamp flickered violently, then went out with a soft puff.
The room plunged into thick darkness.
In the dark, Chen Wenqi could only hear his own heavy, ragged breathing.
The twisted desire from moments ago had vanished, leaving only anger with nowhere to go.
“Fine. Very fine!”
His voice sounded cold and sinister in the darkness.
Fumbling, he grabbed his robe from the bench, stumbled to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it shut behind him.
Bang!
The whole room seemed to tremble.
Darkness flooded over Lin Suier like a heavy tide.
The pain in her foot came in waves, burning intensely.
The torn front of her clothing hung open, cold wind slipping through.
She didn’t care about that now—she only patted her daughter gently until Xiaocao’s crying gradually subsided.
Only after the child fell asleep again did Lin Suier finally begin to cry.
Her husband’s harsh words still buzzed in her ears.
But… Brother Jiang…
A mere neighbor, unrelated to her, had brought her a crutch and medicine.
Yet her own husband, full of talk about propriety and virtue, only sought his own satisfaction, lashing out whenever displeased.
The thought flickered faintly through her mind, making her shiver.
She didn’t dare think further.
What right did she have to compare?
She was Chen Wenqi’s wife—and Xiaocao’s mother.
Her foot hurt—but her heart hurt even more.
With effort, Lin Suier pulled the blanket over herself and her daughter.
The wind wailed outside, and the night stretched on endlessly.