The previous magistrate had been a corrupt and incompetent fool, but rumor had it that a new, upright, and fair magistrate had recently taken office.
The Village Chief dared not risk a trip to the yamen. His beard trembled with sheer rage. “You—you ignorant woman! I… I refuse to argue with you!”
Snatching the five hundred coins, he retreated in utter defeat.
Inside the kitchen, Mrs. Cui listened to the entire exchange, feeling a deep, satisfying thrill.
Later that afternoon, Lin Yuhe rested at home, sleeping straight through until dusk. Upon waking, she counted the hundred and twenty copper coins she had earned that day and divided them, offering half to Mrs. Cui.
Mrs. Cui pulled back her hands, refusing to accept it. “Yuhe, you provided the capital for this. You were the one who made the cordial and rolled the glutinous rice. You are carrying a child—how could I possibly take your money?”
“Mother, now that my husband has enrolled at the academy, he likely won’t have time to copy books for extra income,” Yuhe explained gently. “The household still has daily expenses. Only if you have silver in hand can he focus his mind on his studies at the academy without worry. Besides, without you and Little Yun, I couldn’t have managed this on my own. We all played a part.”
Her reasoning was perfectly sound. A delighted smile broke across Mrs. Cui’s face as she finally accepted the coins. “Yuhe, you’ve truly changed.”
While Mrs. Cui turned around to put the coins away, Yuhe stepped out of the main house. She intended to head to the vegetable patch behind the cottage to pluck some yellowed cabbage leaves to feed the chickens.
Reaching the garden, before she could even set her basket down, the faint, choked sound of weeping drifted over from the nearby fork in the path.
Yuhe paused, puzzled. At this hour, most farmhands had already returned home, unless they were working close to their own doorstep like she was. Who would come all the way out here to cry?
The closest houses to Xie Shuhuai’s home were a few families down at the main junction. Thinking of this, a slight uneasiness crept into her heart.
Suddenly, a harsh, shrill scolding cut through the air, drowning out the soft crying.
“You useless brat! Why didn’t you use the sanitary belt I gave you? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, soaking right through your trousers? And you still have the nerve to sit here blubbering!”
“Mother, I don’t want to use a sanitary belt filled with plant ash! It makes me itch,” a girl’s choked voice pleaded. “I want one made of cotton cloth!”
“You weren’t born with such a blessed life! Hurry up and pad yourself with it. Lucky for you no one was on the road just now, or you would’ve made a complete spectacle of yourself!”
“Mother, I’m begging you! I haven’t had a single piece of new clothing in years, and I’ve earned plenty of silver from gathering medicinal herbs in the past. You won’t even give me a belt made with cotton cloth, yet the undergarments you sew for Brother are all fine cotton! How could you be so partial?”
The woman lapsed into a heavy silence. After a long moment, her voice rang out again, cold and unyielding. “You’re a girl—how could you compare yourself to your brother? Cry all you want, see if I care. I’m going home.”
With that, the heavy thud of receding footsteps echoed down the path.
Once her mother left, the young girl wept even more bitterly.
Listening from afar, Yuhe felt a sharp pang of sympathy in her chest. She remembered getting her first period at fourteen, the very year she married Xie Shuhuai. Mrs. Cui had made her sanitary belt for her back then, and Shuhuai himself had gone out to buy the soft cotton cloth.
A quiet warmth blossomed in her heart at the memory, accompanied by a deep sorrow for the poor girl.
Believing she was entirely alone, the girl wept with unrestrained heartbreak.
Yuhe climbed the stone steps, following the sound of the tears. On a wide landing where travelers often rested, she spotted a young girl dressed in patched clothes, carrying a heavy bundle of firewood on her back. As she shuffled slowly toward home, the back of her trousers was visibly stained red.
Without a second thought, Yuhe called out to her. “Girl ahead, wait a moment!”
The sudden voice startled the young girl, making her freeze in her tracks.
As she turned around, Yuhe recognized her right away—it was Daya, the daughter of the village carpenter.
Seeing someone behind her, Daya frantically covered her stained trousers, her face flushed with intense humiliation.
“Don’t be afraid,” Yuhe said gently, stepping closer. “We’re both women. Wait here for me. I have two sanitary belts at home that I made and haven’t used yet—they’re lined with soft cotton cloth. Since I’m pregnant now, I won’t be needing them anyway.”
Daya stared at her in total disbelief, unable to fathom such kindness—let alone that the woman offering help was Mistress Lin, whom everyone in the village so openly disdained.
Everyone in the village claimed that Lin Yuhe was lazy, fond of luxury, and repelled by poverty.
Descending the stone steps, Yuhe happened to run straight into Xie Shuhuai, who was returning home from the academy. Neither spoke a word, walking one behind the other along the quiet path.
“You’ve been selling snacks outside the academy gates these past two days?”
The question came out of nowhere from Shuhuai up ahead.
Assuming he was about to scold her for making him lose face, Yuhe felt a spike of irritation. “My affairs are none of your concern,” she retorted sharply. “You said it yourself—we are no longer husband and wife. I won’t bring shame upon you.”
With that, she gave him a light push to the side, brushing past him to hurry home and fetch the supplies.
Not daring to run too fast in her condition, Yuhe took the sanitary belts and hurried back to the junction, where dusk had already settled over the countryside.
Accepting the soft cotton pads, Daya looked at her as if she were in a dream. “Sister Yuhe, are you truly giving these to me?”
“They’re yours. Hurry on home now.”
“Mm!” Daya’s eyes shone with joy, and her steps grew remarkably lighter as she headed back.
The next morning, Yuhe had Fourth Uncle haul the fruit cordial and glutinous rice cakes to the academy gates early on. She had no intention of backing down simply because of Shuhuai’s attitude the previous evening.
Though she wished to make amends for the hurt she had caused him in the past, she held firm to her own principles. Earning an honest living through her own hard work—neither stealing nor robbing—was nothing to be ashamed of.
Upon arriving, however, Yuhe noticed several new vendors set up near the entrance. They were fellow villagers from Hongye Village, and they too were selling glutinous rice cakes.
Her heart sank slightly, a wave of discouragement washing over her as she worried her business would suffer.
Yet the moment the academy’s side gate creaked open, the crowd of scholars surged straight toward Yuhe’s stall. A few drifted over to the other vendors to inquire about prices, but one glance at the quality and cost sent them hurrying right back to Yuhe.
Just as her rice cakes were nearly sold out, a fine horse-drawn carriage pulled up beside her modest stall.
The curtain lifted, revealing Li Yunluo’s graceful, slender figure. Draped in an exquisite terracotta-pink suit, she looked like a celestial spirit descended into the mortal realm—utterly out of place among the coarse mundane smoke and dust.
In an instant, she captured the gazes of everyone nearby.
Yuhe glanced down at herself: a coarse blue cotton half-sleeve top over a dark red skirt that had been washed until faded. In truth, the difference between them was vast.
Yet Yuhe was no longer the vain, shallow woman she had once been. She did not care in the slightest.
As Yuhe raised her eyes, her gaze collided with a flicker of disdain darting across Yunluo’s expression. She even caught the unspoken thought echoing in Yunluo’s mind: ‘So vulgar and unrefined… No wonder Brother Shuhuai refuses to spare her even a single glance.’
Yuhe offered a tranquil, unbothered smile, and with a subtle flick of her wrist, a small splash of fruit cordial flew out—landing right on the hem of Yunluo’s pristine skirt.
Yunluo’s brows knit together in deep disgust.
Yuhe offered a picture of innocent apology. “My deepest pardons. Being so utterly vulgar and unrefined, I hope Miss Li can find it in her heart to forgive me.”
Yunluo froze in sheer, terrified disbelief. Once again, her innermost thoughts had been laid bare and thrown straight back at her by Yuhe.
Busy collecting copper coins from a few scholars, Mrs. Cui turned around and spotted Yunluo. She immediately set down her wooden ladle. “Yunluo, you’ve come!”
“Auntie, why are you out here selling such things?”
An instinctive tone of contempt slipped into Yunluo’s voice, leaving Mrs. Cui momentarily flustered and unsure how to respond.
Catching herself quickly, Yunluo smoothed over her slip. “Auntie, I only meant that I worry you might overheat out here—nothing else. Could you take me inside to see Brother Shuhuai? I heard he joined the academy.”
Mrs. Cui was more than happy to oblige. Little Yun had gone inside earlier to deliver Shuhuai’s lunch and had yet to return, leaving Mrs. Cui slightly anxious anyway. She led Yunluo toward the side gate.
Before they could step through, Xie Shuhuai emerged at the threshold, holding Little Yun firmly by the hand.