That night was more miserable for the older Su couple than being fried in oil.
The ground was freezing cold. The chill crept up their trouser legs and seeped into their very bones…
The two threadbare quilts, thin as paper, were almost entirely piled over Su Hongqing. Su Dawei and Zhu Chunjuan could only cling to the edges, huddled together from the cold like a pair of shrimp.
And Zhu Chunjuan didn’t dare close her eyes at all!
The room was pitch-black, and wind howled through the cracks in the walls.
Her thoughts were a tangled mess. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was Zhu Xiuxiu struggling in the water, staring at her with those venomous eyes.
What troubled her even more was that Su Hongqing, lying beside her, would suddenly convulse violently from time to time, making strange “huh-huh” sounds.
Zhu Chunjuan spent the whole night on edge, afraid that her son would somehow break free of the hemp rope around him and bolt outside to jump into the river.
At long last, the small hours came. Zhu Chunjuan’s eyelids had grown so heavy she could barely keep them open. Just as her mind began to drift, two sharp slaps suddenly cracked across her face.
Smack—
Smack—
Zhu Chunjuan jolted awake. Clutching her stinging cheeks, she looked up in bewilderment.
In the darkness, Su Dawei glared at her with bloodshot eyes and growled under his breath, “Sleep, sleep—that’s all you ever do! What if our son breaks the rope in the middle of the night, runs out, and jumps into the river? Can you take responsibility for that?”
“I…”
The slaps had been so hard that Zhu Chunjuan was wide awake now.
She huddled in the corner, sneaking a glance at Su Dawei.
His old face was so dark it looked ready to drip. Out of habit, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, but came up empty. Only then did he suddenly remember: there wasn’t a scrap left in the house—not even a chicken feather. Where would he get a cigarette?
Su Dawei irritably rubbed his mouth and let out a heavy sigh.
In the faint moonlight, he looked at Zhu Chunjuan huddled beside him, and a flash of violence crossed his eyes.
If he didn’t still need her to look after their son, he would have loved to strangle the spendthrift woman right then and there!
At last, dawn broke.
Su Dawei hadn’t slept a wink all night; his eyes were bloodshot.
With a dark expression, he kicked Zhu Chunjuan hard in the backside.
“Get up and make breakfast! I’ve got to eat before I head out to work in the fields! If we waste another couple of days, the crops will go to ruin, and then our whole family will have to live on air!”
After speaking, he went over and tightened the hemp rope binding Su Hongqing, pulling it several more notches tighter.
“Okay…” Zhu Chunjuan was dizzy from the kick, and her whole body ached as if a cart had run over her.
She’d finally managed to doze off for a little while the night before. For once, she hadn’t dreamed of seeing Zhu Xiuxiu—only for Su Dawei to kick her awake. She was instantly consumed by a fit of furious, bitter resentment.
“Make it, make it—you trying to rush me to my death?” Zhu Chunjuan grumbled as she scrambled up from the ground, her voice shrill. “There isn’t a pot, bowl, or dish left in this house—not a single grain of rice or drop of oil! What am I supposed to cook with? Dirt? Should I boil you some dirt soup?!”
“Is your brain just for decoration? Go borrow something from the neighbors! Yesterday I told you to borrow quilts, and you came back with just two cold steamed buns, like a corpse! If I don’t get a proper meal, where am I supposed to get the strength to work in the fields?!” Su Dawei snapped, glaring at her.
That was what he said, but Su Dawei knew perfectly well what the situation was.
The villagers treated his family like a plague and avoided them whenever they could. Who would be willing to lend them food?
Zhu Chunjuan rolled her eyes, brushed the dirt off her backside, and grumbling all the while, walked out of the room.
She circled the courtyard, then finally plucked a few insect-riddled eggplants and some shriveled green beans from the vegetable patch in the backyard.
Then she went to the pigpen and dug out a broken earthenware jar used for feeding the pigs.
She rinsed the jar inside and out several times with well water, managed to break some dry grass in half, and used it to start a fire.
She tossed in the eggplants and beans, poured in a ladleful of cold water, and somehow boiled up a jar of black, greasy-looking stew without a trace of oil in it.
After barely stuffing himself, Su Dawei slung a rusty hoe over his shoulder and headed to the fields, scowling.
Only Zhu Chunjuan was left in the courtyard.
She stared at the little bit of sludge left in the jar, which looked like pig slop. Her stomach turned with disgust, and she couldn’t swallow it.
But when she thought of her precious son still being hungry, she could only grit her teeth, pick up the jar, and prepare to go inside to feed Su Hongqing.
When she turned around, she nearly collided with Su Yuqing, who had just stepped out of the west room!
Zhu Chunjuan jumped and instinctively hugged the jar to her chest, guarding it against Su Yuqing as if she were a thief.
“What are you looking at?” Her face stretched longer than a donkey’s as she glared and spat, “There’s no extra food in this house. This is to keep your little brother alive. There’s nothing for you, so get lost!”
Then, as if afraid Su Yuqing might come over and snatch it, she hurried into the main bedroom and began feeding Su Hongqing one tiny mouthful at a time.
Watching her guard the food like that, Su Yuqing rolled her eyes.
“Who’d want to eat your pig slop?”
Even if she gave that stuff away for free, Su Yuqing would think it too filthy to touch.
The night before, Su Yuqing had slept soundly on the soft, warm bed in her space.
When she woke in the morning, she not only drew several talismans of excellent quality but also drank a large bowl of sweet, cool Spirit Spring Water.
Now, every pore in her body felt refreshed. She was full of energy, her skin had a healthy glow, and her whole appearance and vitality were worlds apart from the day before.
She stretched her limbs in the courtyard and was just about to head to the well when something caught her eye.
On the dirt road outside the courtyard, a familiar figure was hobbling toward the Su family’s gate.
He was leaning on a thick wooden stick as a crutch. Who else could it be but Wang Zhichuan?
Su Yuqing raised an eyebrow. Without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and went back into her west room, closing the door behind her to block out the view from outside.
This kind of rotten mess, with trouble coming right to their door, was best left for Zhu Chunjuan to enjoy.
…
“Bang!”
Sure enough, Wang Zhichuan kicked open the old wooden gate and hobbled inside.
When he saw the Su family’s courtyard stripped bare—not even a chicken feather left—and the rooms so empty that even the door panels had been removed, he froze on the spot, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg.
He’d heard the villagers gossiping the night before that ghosts had emptied out the old Su household, but seeing with his own eyes how clean the place had been stripped left him deeply shaken.
Along with the shock came a powerful wave of relief.
Damn, good thing that dead pig broke his leg yesterday. If the marriage had gone through and he’d actually brought Su Yuqing, that walking jinx, home, wouldn’t the ghosts have stripped the Wang family bare too—not even leaving them their underpants?!
“Sister-in-law Su, get out here!” Wang Zhichuan shouted in his nasal voice, pounding his crutch hard against the ground. “Hurry up!”
In the main room, Zhu Chunjuan had just fed Su Hongqing the last mouthful of slop. Hearing that funeral-bell of a shout, she came out in a foul mood, carrying the broken earthenware jar.
“Who is it?”
At the sight of Wang Zhichuan’s long, shoehorn-shaped face, Zhu Chunjuan felt a momentary pang of guilt. But when she remembered that her family had nothing left—not a penny to their name and no life worth speaking of—she immediately straightened her back again.
“Are you calling for a funeral? What are you yelling about so early in the morning?!”
“Cut the crap and pay me back!” Wang Zhichuan gritted his teeth and thrust his hand under Zhu Chunjuan’s nose. “The 188 yuan bride price. Every last cent of it!”