The sun was setting in the west, the sky ablaze with red clouds. Four burly men with red sashes tied around their waists carried a bridal sedan through the village, heading straight for the carpenter Yan’s house at the western end.
The festive music of pipes and drums rang out across the entire village, and many neighbors came out to watch the spectacle.
The man leading the wedding procession was quite generous. Whenever children came begging for lucky money along the road, he would grab large handfuls of copper coins and scatter them, drawing the onlookers rushing over to catch them.
The Chen Family Husband clutched his three copper coins and squeezed next to someone, asking, “Who is the eldest Yan son taking a wedding procession for?”
“You’re asking a question you already know the answer to. Who else could it be but their third son?”
Just as Chen Husband was about to speak, Aunt Liu picked up the conversation: “He’s marrying Wen Liu, the Wen family’s ge’er[1]Ge’er is a fictional third gender or sub-male character who looks like a man but is biologically capable of getting pregnant and giving birth. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3407618_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3407618_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, isn’t he? That child is pretty as a spring flower and has had a few years of schooling—he and the third Yan son are quite well matched and would have things to talk about.”
A woman covered her mouth and laughed: “Oh, Aunt Liu, are you senile or speaking in irony? The third Yan son fell and became a simpleton—what could those two possibly have to talk about?”
“He’s a simpleton?”
“Simple as can be. Speaking of which, Wen Liu really is pitiful. He was just about to become a xiucai’s wife, and then the third Yan son went and scrambled his brain. The Wen family can at least be called honorable—even with things as they are, they were still willing to marry the child over.”
“Honorable, my foot!” the Wang Husband, who had been silent until now, sneered. “Those two treat their eldest ge’er like the apple of their eye—how could they bear to give him up? The one being married off is their youngest son!”
“What! And the Yan family agreed to this?”
“Ha! At this point, they’re lucky to have anyone for the wedding-luck-bringing at all. Who cares about that?”
“If you ask me, that Wen couple shouldn’t treat everyone like fools. They simply couldn’t bear to part with the thirty taels of silver betrothal gift, and couldn’t bear to give up their eldest ge’er, so they threw the young ge’er into a pit of fire. Bah! Wicked beyond measure!”
A pit of fire… And wasn’t it exactly that?
Ever since he had boarded the bridal sedan, Wen Xi’s tears had not stopped. Even now he could hardly believe that he had truly married Yan Feng’an in Wen Liu’s place.
Both the Wen family and the Yan family lived in the same village, so even though Wen Xi paid no attention to the world around him, he still knew something about Yan Feng’an. He was the only person in Daoxiang Village to ever pass the xiucai examination. With both talent and good looks, he was deeply adored by unmarried girls and ge’er alike. Forget the villagers—even many wealthy families in town wanted to form marriage ties with him.
Compared to him, Wen Xi was like the moon among clouds while the other was like mud on the ground—one might as well say. By rights, the two of them should never have had anything to do with each other. But last year, his brother Wen Liu had somehow become acquainted with Yan Feng’an, and their relationship had progressed all the way to discussing marriage.
Wen Liu was the best-looking ge’er in their village, with a vivid pregnancy mole between his brows and a knack for dressing up, plus a few years of schooling. Quite a few men in the village drooled at the mere mention of him.
Both of them were hot commodities in the village, so when news of their engagement spread, it broke the hearts of a whole crowd of men and ge’er.
When Wen Xi heard the news, an indescribable emotion rose in his heart—he didn’t know whether it was envy or something else. Wen Liu had been doted on by his parents since childhood and had never suffered a single hardship, and now that he was grown, he had found such an ideal husband. His fate was truly a blessed one.
If only he, too, could get married someday.
Wen Xi’s requirements were nowhere near as high as Wen Liu’s—he never hoped for a scholar-official or anything of the sort. As long as he no longer had to endure beatings and no longer had to go hungry, whether the man was a pig butcher or a cow herder, he was willing to marry.
But even such a simple request was a luxury for him. He was the old ox that did all the work around the house, and since his parents still had great use for him, how would they ever willingly arrange a marriage for him?
Wen Xi dared not reveal what was in his heart. As always, he buried himself in his chores, only hoping this happy occasion would let him catch his breath at home for a while.
Just as his parents and Wen Liu were joyfully preparing the wedding things, trouble arose on the Yan family’s side.
That Yan Feng’an, a frail scholar who didn’t know what evil had possessed him, insisted on imitating others and going hunting in the mountains. In the end, he not only failed to catch any game, but also fell and turned into a raving simpleton.
Going from a xiucai to a fool—the drop could not have been greater. Not only the Yan family, but his parents and Wen Liu could hardly accept such a blow. During those days, the atmosphere at home was terribly oppressive. Wen Liu locked herself in her room, washing her face with tears all day and refusing to see anyone, while his parents wore furrowed brows, either sighing constantly or cursing about the family’s bad luck. Normally his parents would scold him even without reason, and with such a huge disaster on their hands, they all the more used him as a vent for their frustration. Wen Xi worked in silence every day, not even daring to breathe loudly.
The wedding was right around the corner, yet Yan Feng’an showed no signs of recovery. Wen Liu completely lost her composure, crying and shouting that she wouldn’t marry him.
His parents’ voices drifted in and out from inside the room. Wen Xi only heard his mother say she would find a way for her.
It was already written down in black and white—Wen Xi didn’t know what other way she could come up with. Besides, the Yan family had given thirty taels as the betrothal gift. If Wen Liu didn’t marry, wouldn’t they have to return it? Would his parents really be willing to part with it?
After coaxing Wen Liu, his parents went to the Yan family on their own initiative. Wen Xi guessed they had gone to discuss breaking off the engagement.
That’s right—Wen Liu was the family’s treasure, gilded in gold. Compared to her happiness, thirty taels didn’t seem so important after all.
He didn’t know what the two families discussed, but after only an afternoon, the two of them, who had been so troubled before, came back beaming with smiles.
At the time, Wen Xi was hanging laundry. The moment Li Qiaozhen stepped through the courtyard gate, she eagerly came over and took his hand. “Xiao Xi, your father and I just found a good match for you…”
Wen Xi had once secretly overheard his parents saying that the household needed someone to work and serve them, and that after Wen Liu married, they would keep him for a few more years. When he reached twenty-something and became too old to marry, they would find him some widower who’d lost his wife, collect a betrothal gift, and marry him off.
Wen Xi understood their character well enough to know that this so-called good match was a lie.
Thinking of where they had just gone, an ominous feeling suddenly rose in Wen Xi’s heart. He was still panicking when he heard Li Qiaozhen continue: “You know the Yan family—they have the best circumstances in the whole village. If you marry into them, you’ll be guaranteed never to worry about food or drink.”
There was only one family surnamed Yan in the village, and they had only one unmarried man.
It was too absurd. Forgetting his fear, Wen Xi wrenched his hand free of Li Qiaozhen’s grasp and said in a trembling voice: “Yan Feng’an is my brother’s fiancé. How could I marry him?”
This reaction displeased Li Qiaozhen, but thinking that Wen Xi was still of great use to them, she didn’t lose her temper right away.
“You’re one unmarried and the other unbetrothed—what’s there to hesitate about? Yan Feng’an is a xiucai scholar. Marrying him would be the best thing that could ever happen to you.”
Wen Xi couldn’t help but scream inwardly in despair: How is marrying a madman who’s lost his mind a good thing in any way?
Though he had never personally set foot in the Yan household, he had heard plenty of gloating gossip from people outside.
Everyone in the village said that ever since Yan Feng’an took that fall, he’d been like a man who’d lost his soul. All day at home, he either smashed things up wildly or shrieked incoherently for his father and mother, too addled to recognize anyone. If the Yan family didn’t force calming medicine down his throat every day, he probably would have killed his entire family long ago.
Though Wen Xi was often beaten and starved at home, Wen Shishan and Li Qiaozhen still needed him for work, so they wouldn’t go so far as to take his life.
But if he married into the Yan family and became the wife of that madman, would his miserable little life even survive?
Trembling, Wen Xi reached out and clutched at Li Qiaozhen’s hem. Knowing full well he couldn’t change her decision, he still pleaded in a small voice: “Mother, can’t I not marry?”
Li Qiaozhen impatiently swatted his hand away: “If you won’t marry him, then who do you want to marry? Wang Fugui from our village? Or Zhang Mazhi from the next one over? They’ve both come asking about you several times already. If I weren’t so fond of you, your father would have married you off to them long ago.”
Wen Xi had heard about both Wang Fugui and Zhang Mazhi from others. Wang Fugui was the village’s notorious drunken lout—as soon as he had a drop of liquor in him, he liked to hit people. He had married three wives in a row, and all three had been beaten until they fled. Zhang Mazhi was no better—an old bachelor even older than Wen Xi’s own father, and who knew what tormenting quirks he harbored in private?
Yan Feng’an in his current state was really no different from either of them.
Wen Xi knew his looks and temperament were nothing remarkable, and he had never dreamed of marrying above his station. But neither did he think himself so lowly that he could be married off to just anyone.
Whichever of the three men he married, it would be no different from leaping into a pit of fire for him.
In his panic, not knowing what to do, he remembered that Yan Feng’an had originally been betrothed to Wen Liu, and a sliver of hope flickered: “The Yan family took a fancy to my brother. If I’m the one who marries over, how could they possibly agree?”
Li Qiaozhen was fully confident: “Your father and I have already settled it with them.”
Her two eyes swept over Wen Xi’s body the way one appraises goods for sale: “Yan Feng’an has suffered this misfortune and needs someone to look after him. No matter how carefully his parents and brother tend to him, it’s never as convenient as a husband would be. You’ve done chores around the house since you were little and are best at serving people. Marrying over there, you can not only help care for him, but also carry on the Yan line—they’d be fools not to be pleased.”
Not only would he have to care for that man, he’d have to bear his children too. The very thought filled Wen Xi with horror. The back of his neck tightening, he said in despair: “Is there truly no way out of this marriage?”
After spending so much patience talking it through, only to see him still looking so unwilling, Li Qiaozhen completely lost her temper. She reached out and gave his ear a vicious twist, snapping: “Such a fine match—others couldn’t beg for it even if they tried. Don’t you dare fail to know what’s good for you! You’re not to go anywhere these next few days. Stay home properly and wait for the Yan family to come for you. If any improper thoughts spring up in that head of yours, don’t blame me and your father for turning on you without a shred of mercy.”
The twist had been delivered with her full strength, and the tears Wen Xi had been holding back for so long finally fell from the pain.
Since both families had already agreed, his marriage to Yan Feng’an was as good as set in stone.
Was he really supposed to accept his fate like this? To actually become a fool’s husband, bear his children?
That night, Wen Xi lay on the straw in the woodshed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Yan Feng’an’s face appeared before him.
Handsome—and hateful.
After Yan Feng’an and Wen Liu were betrothed, Yan Feng’an had often joined Wen Liu in humiliating him, saying he was too ugly for anyone to want, or that he was too thin and weak to bear children and would never be taken in marriage—one way or another mocking him that he’d end up a spinster ge’er no one would wed. What good ending could Wen Xi have marrying such a sharp-tongued man who despised him so thoroughly? Never mind that the man had now become a fool who hit people at random.
The two images of Yan Feng’an—hateful and terrifying—kept intertwining in Wen Xi’s mind, making him tremble all over and break out in cold sweat.
No. He couldn’t marry him.
Thinking of all the grievances he had suffered over the years, Wen Xi somehow found a surge of courage, and a bold idea took root in his heart.
Run.
Run far, far away.
To a place with no Wen family, a place where he would never again be at anyone’s mercy.
Late that night, while everyone in the house slept, Wen Xi nervously opened the front gate of the courtyard.
In this household he’d only ever eaten leftovers and worn hand-me-downs—he had almost nothing of his own. When he left, he took only two changes of clothes and the ten coins he had saved up over the years.
At this hour, the whole village was silent. No roosters crowing, no dogs barking—only gusts of night wind passing through, carrying faint, scattered sounds.
Clutching his bundle tightly, Wen Xi felt his way through the darkness toward the village entrance.
In all his years, he had left the village only a precious few times. Beyond it stood tall mountains and long rivers—and after climbing those mountains and crossing those rivers, he had no idea what awaited him.
To say he wasn’t afraid would be a lie. But he was even more afraid of marrying Yan Feng’an.
Whether the man was sane or a fool, he didn’t want to marry him.
Unfortunately, Wen Xi ultimately failed to escape. Before he even reached the village entrance, he was caught and dragged back by Wen Shishan and Li Qiaozhen.
The two of them held their tempers while outside, but the moment the courtyard gate was shut, Wen Shishan slapped him hard across the face.
“I fed and clothed you all these years for nothing, and this is how you repay me?”
“You ungrateful little debt-collector. Why waste words on him? I’ll break his legs right now and see if he dares run again.”
Li Qiaozhen grabbed a broom and started swinging it at Wen Xi. A farm wife who worked year-round, she had great strength in her hands, and the broom came down heavily on Wen Xi, beating him half to death with pain.
The courtyard was only so big, and Wen Xi had nowhere to hide. All he could do was kowtow repeatedly and beg for mercy: “Mother, I was wrong, please stop hitting me, stop hitting me…”
The battered old broom didn’t hold up—before Li Qiaozhen had vented her anger, it snapped in two. With one hand on her hip, she snarled, “I swear I could beat you to death!”
Wen Shishan’s sharp eyes caught sight of the bundle in Wen Xi’s arms, and he demanded gruffly, “What’s in that bundle? Did you take things from the house?”
Wen Xi shook his head in pain: “No, I didn’t take anything.”
Wen Shishan didn’t believe him and snatched the small bundle from his arms. Thinking of his private savings hidden inside, Wen Xi instinctively tried to protect it—and in the tugging and pulling, the ten copper coins concealed in the bundle spilled out onto the ground.
Money was Wen Shishan’s lifeblood. All the money in this household was clutched in his hands, and although ten wen wasn’t much, touching it had provoked him where it hurt most. Whether the money had been stolen by Wen Xi or saved up by him, either way it seemed unforgivable to him.
“You wretched thing, daring to take the family’s money—you must be tired of living.”
Fury boiling over, Wen Shishan kicked Wen Xi square in the chest, knocking him half a meter away.
The kick nearly knocked the wind out of Wen Xi. It took him a long while to recover, his body curled up in pain, unable to squeeze out even the faintest sound of begging for mercy.
Seeing him look half-dead only disgusted Wen Shishan further; he stepped forward and raised his hand to deliver two hard slaps across his face.
The taste of blood spread through Wen Xi’s mouth. Looking at Wen Shishan’s furious expression, he wondered if tonight was the night he would die right here.
Just as he closed his eyes in despair, Wen Liu, who had stayed silent all along, came out of the house and said to Wen Shishan in a gentle, soothing voice, “That’s enough, Father. Are you truly going to beat him to death over a few coins?”
“I’m sure little brother knows he was wrong. Just let it go this time. There’s still the proper business to attend to—it can’t be delayed.”
Li Qiaozhen spat at Wen Xi and said, “See how good your older brother is to you, yet you won’t even help him with such a small favor. A lowlife is a lowlife—no matter how honest and obedient they act normally, the moment it matters, they turn into ungrateful wolves.”
Wen Shishan pocketed the ten copper coins, grabbed Wen Xi by the hair, and dragged him like a dead dog from the courtyard into the woodshed.
“The day is set. The Yan family will send people over for the wedding. These next few days, you’ll stay in here with me.”
To prevent Wen Xi from escaping again, Wen Shishan locked the woodshed door from the outside.
Not only had he taken a beating for nothing, but the ten wen he had worked so hard to save was gone too. The last sliver of hope in Wen Xi’s heart had vanished.
A lonely moon hung in the sky, and inside the woodshed, Wen Xi was just as alone.
Staring at the tightly shut door of the woodshed, two streams of hot tears slid down from the corners of his eyes. In his despair, the thought of ending his life surfaced in Wen Xi’s mind.
Hanging himself wouldn’t work—he was afraid of the strangling.
Jumping into the river wouldn’t work—he was afraid of the cold.
Slitting his wrists wouldn’t work—he was afraid of the pain.
…
And so he kept putting it off, until the day of the wedding arrived.
Inside the bridal sedan, Wen Xi covered his face and wept. Only now did he admit that the fear of cold and pain had all been lies—he was afraid of death.
Even though he hadn’t had a single good day in these sixteen years, he still wanted to live.
The stopping of the bridal sedan brought Wen Xi back to his senses, and a pair of large, pale, slender, yet somewhat withered hands reached into the sedan.
Wen Xi recognized the hands as Yan Feng’an’s at a glance. The man devoted himself entirely to his studies and never did any chores at home, so his hands were fair and clean, completely different from those of the other villagers.
Things had gone this far; there was no room left for regret.
Wen Xi sniffled, bit his lip, and placed his callus-covered hand in theirs.
The Yan family was one of the village’s wealthy households. When the two elder sons had married, they had invited every villager in Daoxiang Village, and the endless wedding banquets had run from morning until night.
This wedding, however, was rather quiet. Apart from a few households close to the Yan family, no one else had been notified.
Dazed and barely conscious, Yan Feng’an was supported by his two older brothers as he went through the wedding rites.
When his mind was damaged from the fall, he would sometimes be witless and sometimes wild with madness. Afraid he might make a scene on such a special day, after the wedding ceremony the Yan family fed him another bowl of calming medicine, then sent him and Wen Xi into the bridal chamber together.
The wedding robes had been made to Wen Liu’s measurements. On the gaunt Wen Xi, the sleeves hung past his hands, and the waist was loose and empty.
Seeing clothes so clearly mismatched to his figure, the Yan family’s eldest daughter-in-law Li Wan and the second son’s husband He Jin both sighed silently to themselves.
As a newly married husband, Wen Xi could not show his face outside on the wedding day. Li Wan said to him gently, “Are you hungry? I’ll go get you something to eat.”
Apart from two barely suppressed sobs, Wen Xi gave no response.
Li Wan turned and went to the kitchen. He Jin, not knowing what to say to Wen Xi, hesitated a moment and followed her out.
Wen Xi dared not move about. Even when Li Wan returned carrying food, he was still clutching the oversized wedding robes, frozen stiff in the same posture as before.
Seeing his discomfort, Li Wan didn’t hold it against him and only said, “Mother said everyone’s tired today, so after you eat you can rest. We already gave the third brother his medicine beforehand, so he probably won’t wake tonight. Sleep easy.”
The room slowly quieted. Wen Xi released his bitten lip, and tears fell once more.
After bowing in the ceremony, he and Yan Feng’an were husband and wife in name. With luck, he might last a few more days; without it, he might lose his life as soon as tomorrow. That feeling of a blade hanging over his neck was truly despair-inducing.
At home, his parents found him unlucky to be around, and Wen Xi didn’t even dare cry too loudly.
Today, under the cover of the wedding festivities, he could finally open his throat and weep to his heart’s content.
Just as Wen Xi was shaking all over with sobs, on the verge of choking, the red veil over his head was suddenly lifted.
Startled, Wen Xi cut off his crying at once. He saw that Yan Feng’an, who had been lying on the bed, had at some point sat up, one hand rubbing his head, the other pinching the red veil, and said in a hoarse voice, “Stop crying.”
The Yan family had said they’d fed Yan Feng’an medicine, that he wouldn’t wake tonight—so what was happening now?
Shocked and terrified, Wen Xi sat frozen at the edge of the bed, not knowing what to do.
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