A quiet night.
The sudden blare of suona horns shattered the silence, startling the village into a chorus of barking dogs and crowing chickens. The once-peaceful Liushan Village rippled like water struck by a stone.
A funeral procession passed through the village. At the entrance, a child from the Li family was jolted awake and began crying at the top of his lungs.
Wu Cuijuan sat up cursing as she nursed the baby, scolding her husband at the same time.
“Sleep, sleep—that’s all you know how to do! Your son could cry himself to death and you wouldn’t even notice!”
Li Siniu turned over, covered his head, and went right back to snoring. Furious, Wu Cuijuan turned her anger outward, cursing the funeral procession.
“Blow, blow all you want—still destined to die childless! Not even a son to smash the mourning bowl for you. Dead already and still putting on a show—bah!”
“Will you shut up already?!” Li Siniu roared, throwing off the blanket in irritation. The baby, who had just calmed down, was startled again and burst into even louder cries.
Wu Cuijuan was taken aback, then grew even angrier.
“Oh, Li Siniu, can’t hide it anymore, can you? The other day when we passed the Zhong house, you kept staring at that fox-faced little哥儿. I only said a couple of words about him and you yelled at me like this—you heartless bastard…”
“Oh, what a miserable life I have! Slaving away for your Li family inside and out, yet I can’t even compare to an outsider—damn little vixen…”
The baby’s cries mixed with Wu Cuijuan’s wailing curses, carrying far into the night.
Neighbors were awakened, and upon hearing what the quarrel was about, they all rolled their eyes.
Wu Cuijuan had only been married into the family for two years, yet she had already staged countless scenes of jealousy and unreasonable tantrums. They were all ordinary farming households—did she really think Li Siniu was such a prize that people would fight over him?
And she truly had no sense of decency—she wouldn’t even hold her tongue during someone else’s funeral.
People muttered privately in their homes, but no one stepped in to stop her.
The Zhong family had long since left the village and grown distant; no one was foolish enough to stand up for someone unrelated.
As for the “little哥儿” from the Zhong family that Wu Cuijuan mentioned—well, that was a long story.
Years ago, the south had been struck by disaster. Liushan Village received orders from the authorities to take in several refugee households, and the Zhong family was one of them.
The Zhong family had originally consisted of three brothers. The eldest brother’s family was swept away in a flood, leaving only the second and third sons. The old patriarch injured his leg on the journey and, without proper treatment, became crippled. The burden of the family fell on the two remaining sons.
The land allotted to them was far from enough to support everyone. To make ends meet, the third son stayed behind to farm, while the second son went out to seek a living elsewhere.
At first, the villagers assumed he was just doing manual labor. Without connections, that was the only way they knew to earn money.
But to everyone’s surprise, within just a few years, the Zhong family built a house!
Only then did people realize that the seemingly honest Zhong second son had actually gone into business and made something of himself.
A few more years passed, and his business flourished. He bought a residence in the prefectural city and moved the entire family there.
The village was in an uproar—no one had expected such fortune from a refugee family.
There was envy and jealousy, but even more genuine admiration.
It was said that the Zhong family owned several shops in the city, with servants attending them. They had become people of an entirely different world from those who toiled in the fields.
For a time, the Zhong family was a hot topic of discussion, but since they had no relatives in the village, talk gradually died down.
No one expected that the next news would be of Zhong second son’s death.
He died young of illness, and his only child—a young哥儿—returned to Liushan Village with the coffin for burial, causing a sensation.
In a small village like this, it was rare to produce even one wealthy family. Zhong second son had risen from a peasant to a city gentleman, only to meet such an end. For a while, his story dominated everyone’s conversations.
People gossiped about his illness and the family’s wealth—and beyond that, the Zhong family’s young哥儿 became a major focus.
Compared to earlier dynasties, customs in Yan were more open. Villagers had seen pampered young masters and ladies in the city, but none of them could compare to the Zhong family’s young哥儿 in terms of looks.
Some hypocritically pitied Zhong second son for not having a son to perform funeral rites. Others muttered that the Zhong family was unreliable for sending an unmarried young哥儿 to handle such matters. Still others entertained wild ideas about marrying into the family.
Everyone had their own schemes.
Given his looks and background, Wu Cuijuan’s outburst only seemed ridiculous to others.
The next morning, she packed up and returned to her parents’ home with the child, adding more fuel to the drama.
Neighbors told Li Siniu to bring his wife back, but their eyes were full of schadenfreude.
Already embarrassed, Li Siniu grew angrier under their comments. “If she wants to go, let her,” he said stiffly, then went to the fields.
Rumors spread quickly in the village. In the Liu family courtyard, several women and husbands were gathered, knotting cords and chatting.
As Zhang Guihua vividly recounted last night’s quarrel, the others listened while working.
From the courtyard, they could see people working in the distant fields. Liu’s husband withdrew his gaze and sneered, “Like a dung beetle—treating a ball of dung as treasure.”
“Exactly,” Zhang Guihua spat. “Let alone that Zhong family哥儿—how many in the village would even look twice at Li Siniu? She’s always dragging others into her nonsense—one day her mouth will rot.”
The others chimed in, knowing Zhang had a personal grudge.
The conversation eventually circled back to the Zhong family哥儿. Liu Feng, recalling something his son had mentioned the night before, was about to speak when the sound of hoofbeats interrupted him.
Horses were expensive—rare in such a place. The last time a carriage had come was when the Zhong family returned for the funeral.
Everyone stopped working and craned their necks.
“Bang!” A wooden basin in the courtyard was kicked over. Liu Feng turned in alarm to see his son rushing in.
“Something’s wrong, Father!”
At the Zhong family’s old residence.
Village head Liu Youzong looked at the slick-looking servant and the prepared carriage behind him, still trying to process what he’d heard.
“You’re saying Young Master Zhong will stay in Liushan Village?”
Wang Shun lowered his voice. “It’s the old master’s decision—to let the Third Young Master stay here to calm down and reflect. Our household registration is here, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Liu frowned. “No problem—but he’s unmarried…”
“No need to worry,” Wang Shun said. “The Second Madam will stay with him.”
Just then, another carriage arrived.
“The Second Madam has arrived.”
A pale middle-aged woman stepped out, supported by Zhong Yizhu.
The crowd fell silent.
Dressed in plain mourning clothes, his beauty stood out even more starkly.
Gasps could be heard.
After he helped his mother inside, Wang Shun hastily took his leave—without leaving a single servant behind.
The crowd erupted.
At the edge, Liu Feng asked what was happening.
“They’re staying here,” someone replied.
Liu Feng felt relieved. If they stayed, there was still opportunity.
But then he frowned. “Why didn’t they leave any servants?”
No one could answer.
By evening, a rumor spread quickly—one that not only explained everything, but also shattered the noble image people had of Zhong Yizhu.