The crowd quieted, feeling as if the proverbial duck might just fly away. After all, it made sense—they were family. A matter as big as building a house shouldn’t be decided by a young girl alone, especially one who had been divorced and returned home.
Yet Guan Xiyue shook her head: “Grandfather, you still don’t understand. I’ve established my own household. All matters are up to me. I can manage the accounts and select diligent workers. You and eldest aunt, everyone knows how you work—or don’t.”
The crowd burst into laughter. The Guan family was notoriously lazy; in fact, most of the work in the family was done by the third branch—Xiyue’s parents. Without the twenty taels of silver she earned as a concubine, the family barely had meat all year.
Old Guan’s face flushed red. Madam Wang rolled up her sleeves and swung at Xiyue—but she moved deftly to the side. Unexpectedly, Chunliu, the maid, reacted even faster, grabbing Madam Wang’s arm and hurling it aside. Wang screamed in pain, rendered speechless with fury.
Xiyue was surprised, realizing the girl could fight—a real bonus!
Old Guan fumed: “Where did this wild girl come from?”
Chunliu calmly replied: “Speak properly. Anyone who harms my lady will find I am not polite.”
The villagers were stunned. To have a young woman with a skilled maid—this was unheard of. Their perception of Xiyue changed. Previously, they thought she was merely a divorced girl returned home, perhaps seeking a bit of face. Now, with a martial maid and wealth enough to pay higher wages, she was clearly different.
Xiyue was pleased with the unexpected advantage. She turned to her parents, Guan Lao San and Madam Zhang: “If you want to help, you may. You’ll earn the same wages as everyone else.”
They eagerly agreed. Though their daughter had been divorced, this was no loss of face; on the contrary, neighbors now viewed them with admiration.
Looking at their chubby daughter, they couldn’t put their finger on what had changed—she seemed confident, relaxed, witty, and capable. Everyone present felt that Xiyue could fully control her affairs.
Even Old Guan’s faction refrained from causing trouble. Xiyue said firmly: “I am my own household, the head. You and I are now two families. Think of me as a married-out daughter. I will visit on holidays if I wish. If you’re not satisfied, we cut ties—you won’t see a single coin from me.”
That was her ace. Old Guan and the others sought silver. If they argued, they risked getting nothing. Besides, Xiyue’s land and house were hers—she wasn’t going anywhere. With patience, she could still gain her way.
Thus, they grumbled a bit and left. Xiyue concluded her meeting and took Chunliu to rest at Sister Liu’s house.
Under the village’s watchful eyes, Xiyue’s house began construction. Most villagers lived in single-story mud-brick homes. Xiyue’s would be a sturdy, elegant blue-brick, two-story, three-room building.
The assistants marveled at her generosity—every meal had three bowls of meat, eggs, tofu, with white rice and steamed buns. Neighbors brought fresh vegetables from their land; Xiyue paid market prices.
Guan Lao San and Madam Zhang were thrilled. Neighbors expressed envy, praising them for having such a capable, generous daughter. Though they worked for wages, the couple’s earnings were still skimmed by the elders, as always. No separate household yet, that’s how the Guan family ran things.
Other family members encouraged them to take meat and vegetables from the kitchen—“It’s your daughter, take some.” Even Guan Lao Si, studying at the private school, quoted Confucius: “Among three thousand punishable crimes, none is greater than unfilialness. Our daughter, Xiyue, deserves respect.”
Yet Lao San and Madam Zhang resisted the pressure and refused the food. Xiyue noted this—they were honest, humble, and loving toward their daughter, not scheming.
She also observed her younger siblings. Her brother, Guan Ziyuan, eleven, and sister, Guan Xiaomei, nine, still had cautious, wary eyes toward her. Previously, the original Xiyue had been distant and demanding. Now, the children displayed a complex mix of worry and respect.
Her younger cousin, Guan Ziming, eight, behaved like a mischievous kitten, sneaking toward the kitchen for scraps. Xiyue instructed the kitchen manager, Madam Qian, to keep the children out. The kitchen’s meat, eggs, and grains were precious and no one, child or adult, could take freely.
Xiyue beckoned Ziming over and called Ziyuan and Xiaomei. The three children stood before her, wearing tattered clothing but unable to stop staring.
Xiaomei timidly spoke: “Sister, your clothes are really pretty.”
Xiyue wore a sky-blue fine cotton dress—a rare material in the countryside. The Guan children rarely had new clothing, often wearing hand-me-downs from the elder sons.
Recalling the pomegranate-red dress she had worn when leaving the Zhou family—fine cotton, patterned but subdued in color—Xiyue decided to give it to Xiaomei: “This is good material. I only wore it twice. I’ll buy you new clothes in the future. For now, have your mother alter this so it fits you.”