Just then, it worked out perfectly. The lesson taught yesterday clearly hadn’t sunk in deeply enough. Since they had come knocking, asking for a beating, she saw no reason to hold back.
Zhang Shi stared at the still-bleeding wild boar, her eyes gleaming greener than the wolves in the mountains. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing audibly, but she didn’t dare move any closer.
The memory of yesterday’s painful clawing still lingered in her arm, and Chen Zui’s threat about “crushing neck bones” made her scalp tingle.
Forcing a grab was out of the question. That little brat was far too strange.
“Oh my, Third Brother,” Zhang Shi said as her eyes rolled craftily. The fleshy folds on her face twisted into a fake smile. “Looks like you’ve struck it rich. Such a huge wild boar must weigh two or three hundred jin, right? According to village rules, everyone who sees it gets a share. Shouldn’t your eldest sister-in-law get a hind leg?”
Chen Laosan stopped walking and adjusted the vine rope tied around the boar’s legs on his shoulder.
“Sister-in-law, we risked our lives for this. The separation agreement was clear—we each live our own lives now.”
“Of course, of course.”
Not angered in the slightest, Zhang Shi actually stepped aside to clear the path.
“I understand. Everyone minds their own business now. But Third Brother, if you eat meat while your parents are left drinking the northwest wind…” She let the sentence trail off meaningfully.
She cast a glance at Chen Zui, then turned and hurried away, her feet moving as though greased with oil.
Her destination was clearly the old family house.
Chen Zui narrowed her eyes.
Had this shrew suddenly changed her nature?
No more screaming and rolling on the ground? Now she was playing the borrowed knife strategy?
“Dad, hurry.”
Chen Zui patted the boar’s rear.
Chen Laosan dared not delay.
A two-hundred-jin wild boar should have been exhausting to drag down the mountain, but strangely enough, it felt almost weightless, as if it were gliding across snow.
He glanced back.
His three-year-old daughter had both hands pressed against the boar’s backside. Her little face was tense with concentration. It looked as though she was merely helping push, but deep footprints had been stamped into the soil beneath her feet.
“Our Little Six is so thoughtful.”
Warmth filled Chen Laosan’s heart. He simply assumed the child was trying her best to help and quickened his pace.
Father and daughter dragged the boar into the village, making quite a spectacle along the way.
The normally quiet village road instantly exploded with excitement.
“Good heavens! What a huge wild boar!”
“What kind of luck did Laosan stumble into? He bought rice and flour yesterday, and now he’s brought home game?”
“How much money would that thing sell for?”
Villagers crowded around to stare, their envy and jealousy piercing the boar like needles.
With his chest held high, Chen Laosan dragged the boar through the sea of complicated gazes and finally into the yard of his thatched cottage.
He had only just set it down and hadn’t even begun boiling water to remove the bristles when a heart-rending wail erupted from outside the gate.
“Heavens above! I can’t live anymore!”
The shrill cry was sharp enough to pierce the ears.
Chen Zui frowned, the butcher knife she had just picked up pausing in midair.
They’re here.
Outside the broken wooden gate, a dense crowd had already gathered.
At the center sat Old Madam Chen, plopped onto the dusty ground. She slapped her thighs and wept dramatically, snot and tears flowing together as she performed her act.
“I worked myself to the bone raising you! Fed you mouthful by mouthful! And now that your wings have hardened, you hide away eating fine food while your own parents starve at home chewing tree bark!”
Old Master Chen squatted nearby, puffing on his pipe. His face was full of sorrow. Every so often he sighed heavily and shot Chen Laosan a disappointed look, as though mourning a hopeless son.
Standing behind them, Zhang Shi folded her arms across her chest, a victorious smirk on her face as she fanned the flames.
“Mother, don’t cry too hard. Your health comes first. Third Brother is a rich man now. Why would he recognize poor relatives like us anymore?”
The villagers pointed and whispered.
“That’s a bit much, even for Laosan. Family separation is one thing, but after catching such a huge boar, he should at least send a few pounds of meat to his parents.”
“Exactly. Filial piety comes before everything. Eating meat while your parents starve? That’s inviting heavenly punishment.”
“He looks honest enough, but his heart is pretty cold.”
The tide of public opinion shifted instantly under the influence of a few crocodile tears.
In this era, the word filial outweighed the heavens themselves.
No matter how unreasonable the elders were, any sign of disrespect from the younger generation was considered an unforgivable sin.
Standing in the yard, Chen Laosan’s face turned pale.
Looking at his mother rolling on the ground and his father glaring darkly at him, the fear and blind filial obedience ingrained deep in his bones resurfaced.
He opened his mouth.
“Mother, we didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?”
Seeing her son appear, Old Madam Chen cried even louder. She even rolled across the dirt, covering herself in mud.
“I smelled it already! Fried pork scraps and meat! Your sister-in-law said you caught a boar, and you didn’t send even a single hair back to the family! Are you trying to kill your father and me?!”
Li Shi stood in the doorway, trembling with anger, clutching the hem of her clothes tightly.
“Mother, when the family was divided—”
“Silence! This isn’t your place to speak!”
Old Master Chen suddenly slammed the bowl of his pipe against the ground, scattering sparks in every direction.
He rose to his feet and pointed directly at Chen Laosan’s nose.
“Third Son! I’ll ask you one thing. Do you still recognize me as your father or not? If you do, hand over this boar! It belongs to the family property, and I will decide how it’s divided! Otherwise…”
His voice grew harsher.
“I’ll report you to the county magistrate for unfilial conduct! I’ll have you thrown into prison!”
Report him to the authorities.
Those words crashed down on Chen Laosan like two mountains.
His knees nearly buckled.
In this age, defying one’s parents was a grave crime.
Chen Dabao, the eldest grandson, hid behind Zhang Shi. Staring at the boar in the yard, drool nearly dripped from his mouth.
“Third Uncle, just give it to Grandpa,” he shouted smugly. “Grandpa said the meat will help nourish my brain so I can become the top scholar!”
Chen Laosan clenched his fists, then loosened them, only to clench them again.
He looked at the villagers gathered to watch the spectacle.
He looked at his greedy parents and elder brother’s family.
Then he looked back at his frightened wife and daughters.
Give it up?
He couldn’t accept that.
Little Six had risked her life for this.
Refuse?
Then he would be branded unfilial and drowned in the villagers’ condemnation.
A profound sense of helplessness washed over him.
This cursed world. This man-eating doctrine of filial piety.
It was like a sticky web—no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t break free.
“Dad.”
Just as Chen Laosan was on the verge of breaking and giving in, a small warm hand slipped into his cold one.
Chen Zui stepped out from behind her father.
She carried neither a knife nor a stick.
She simply looked quietly at Old Madam Chen, who was rolling around making a scene.
Her eyes were as clear and cold as a deep mountain pool, reflecting the ugliness of everyone before her.
“Grandpa. Grandma.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, yet it cut through the noisy crowd, and for a brief moment, an eerie silence fell over the yard.
From her clothes, she pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper.
It was the Letter of Family Severance that the village head had personally written that day.
“Have you gotten so old that your memory is failing?”
Chen Zui slowly unfolded the document, a mocking smile curving at the corner of her lips.
“How about I help refresh your memory?”