Deep autumn had just arrived, and Quanhou Manor, where people had fled only days before, was already thick with wild grass everywhere; vines sprawling over the old houses concealed the former liveliness and the fallen homeland completely from view.
After the great army had besieged the city, the families who once lived in Quanhou Manor had long since scattered off to who knows where, presumably fleeing for their lives just like the Huo family.
Qiqian’er, too, had not been gone from this place for very long — only three or four days or so — and so, without needing the old matriarch to lead the way, she made her way home by heart, familiar with every turn.
Along the way, though the same road, different times made everything look different.
She found it wonderfully strange to think that only days ago she had been the fiercest old woman on Quanhou Street, someone no one dared provoke — and now, in the blink of an eye, she had turned back into a young girl again.
Back then, she’d had no children, no husband, no relatives, no nephews or nieces; wanting nothing, she’d feared nothing either. In her final years she had lived quite well for herself — saying anything she pleased, cursing anyone she liked. If someone provoked her, she’d go straight to the capital and bang the petition drum outside the palace gates — after all, the imperial family owed her a husband.
Chen Dasheng had guarded the border for twenty years; when the enemy pressed against the frontier, he had led his troops to defend Zuoliang Pass to the death for thirty-two days, ultimately dying for his country — a loyal and valiant official recorded in the official histories.
Later, literary men took up their brushes to sing his praises, though there were also idle sorts who wrote her, Qiqian’er, as some kind of criminal — resenting that she hadn’t even given Choutou a son to carry on his line, while Choutou, even in death, had still earned her an honorary title.
The fourth branch’s Madam Qiao had wanted to adopt her own grandson over to carry on Choutou’s line; Qiqian’er hadn’t been willing, and the clan had made things exceedingly difficult for her over it — in the end, even the porridge she was fed had been poisoned.
If one could say when she stopped being easy to bully, that was probably when it all started.
She thought, since she wasn’t meant to live anyway, she might as well turn the whole sky upside down. She fled in the dead of night, hired a donkey cart, and went straight to Yandu to bang the petition drum.
Back then, Madam Qiao had caused her son An’er’s death — and now this Chen Sini wanted to send his own grandson to inherit Choutou’s noble title and incense line?
Keep dreaming!
In the end, nobody got what they wanted — Choutou’s grave had no one to burn paper offerings for it, no one saw Huo Qiqian off in her final days, Madam Qiao swallowed gold and took her own life, shouldering the whole family’s guilt alone… Thinking back on it now, all the benefits had simply gone to Chen Sini in the end.
Passing by the ancestral hall, Qiqian’er looked at the present-day Quanhou Manor and let out a slow breath. She thought, this time round, the beginning was different, after all.
In that other world, the women who lived well either had a husband who doted on them, or children who made something of themselves. She hadn’t planned on relying on either of those two things this time — instead, she had money in her pocket and a foundation to build on. So what was there to be afraid of? Nothing at all, now.
She was probably about to become the most difficult little wife on all of Quanhou Street. Just thinking of it filled her whole body with an indescribable sense of comfort and drive.
“This girl, dashing around like a headless fly, what are you doing!” Old Madam Chen Wu, hurrying to catch up, called out loudly as she saw Qiqian’er heading down the dirt road on the right side of the manor. “You girl! You’re going the wrong way! This side… oh! There’s not even a shadow of a person down there — are you off to catch mice or something? Honestly…”
Qiqian’er stopped walking and laughed at herself — she’d been heading toward the old house out of habit.
Right, right. That place wasn’t home yet, not now.
Smiling sheepishly, Qiqian’er turned back, took hold of the sheep again, and dragged them along after the old matriarch.
The disgruntled sheep left behind a trail of dark, date-like droppings as they went.
The onlooking aunties found this endlessly entertaining, laughing so hard that the magpies perched above scattered in fright…
They certainly weren’t the ones living in the shabby old houses at the back of the manor — the residences they now occupied were the finest official houses in the whole manor. Anything without a fine garden, they wouldn’t even bother breaking the door down for.
Since half a month ago, Old Madam Chen Wu and the group of camp-following women had occupied this manor. Not being many in number, they’d picked out the grandest brick-and-tile courtyards with wells and settled in together; days of chores and gossip passed by, and life wasn’t lonely at all.
Quanhou Manor was far more substantial than Huo Family Manor. Huo Family Manor had simply been a servant estate that watched over farmland for the imperial family, while the households at Quanhou Manor were something else entirely — it had been formed by up-and-coming officials of Yandu and second-tier noble families, each building their own separate villa, one household at a time.
In the old days, no matter the year, whenever it snowed, noble folk from Yandu would come in groups with their hounds and horses; once arrived, they’d rest and settle into their villas in the manor, then the next day set off together up the mountain to hunt.
For this reason, Quanhou Manor had come to be divided into two classes of residents: the original tenant farmers, who lived in the ordinary houses on the right side of the manor, and then those around the ancestral hall area, in the elegant, refined district — grand, dignified official residences, one row and one lane after another.
This group of women had no such scruples — naturally they simply lived wherever was best, without a thought as to whether it was truly theirs to claim.
The neat brick paths, three carts wide, were lively with more than twenty women leading their children along.
The old matriarch called out to them several times more, but they were thick-skinned and kept on regardless, so eventually she gave up.
They walked on further, and eventually the old matriarch caught up alongside Qiqian’er, leading the way and issuing directions with quite some air of authority — perhaps thinking of that bulging sack of grain and the jingling ten strings of copper coins she’d handed over, feeling suddenly hollow and unmoored without anything to rely on.
By the old matriarch’s reasoning, this thin-haired little bride had been bought with fifty catties of grain and ten strings of cash from her own hand, so the girl’s belongings ought to belong to her too — but seeing how fierce this girl really was, she suspected this one would be hard to handle, and if she lost the struggle, she’d never be able to hold her head up in front of Madam Qiao again.
What to do? The old matriarch walked the whole way turning over her rustic little calculations, thinking up countless schemes — but as she walked and walked, up ahead she spotted Fourth Daughter-in-law Madam Qiao, leading Xique, standing at the gate with a bright smile, clearly waiting for them.
Pah! Just the sight of that troublemaker set her blood boiling.
That woman was no good at all! However many things Choutou and the others sent back through others, once it reached her hands, it all just vanished!
No, absolutely not! This family hadn’t formally divided its property yet, though each branch already managed its own affairs separately. Choutou’s wife’s belongings belonged to her — if she let Madam Qiao “look after” them, who knew whose they’d end up being called by tomorrow.
Her fourth son took after his father — soft-eared, never having seen the world, unable to stand up straight even for his own mother. Rather than pin her hopes on Sini, she’d do better to start fresh and side with this girl from the very beginning — better than having no one to look after her in her old age.
Thinking this over, Old Madam Chen Wu felt torn and uneasy, unsure whether this scrawny little sparrow of a girl could even hold a household together…
The smooth white jade bracelet swayed on the little sparrow’s wrist; sensing Old Madam Chen Wu sizing her up, Qiqian’er tilted her face up and smiled.
Old Madam Chen Wu wasn’t familiar with her yet — but she was plenty familiar with the old matriarch.
Familiar enough that, by the time the old matriarch died, it was Qiqian’er who had dressed her in her burial clothes.
From a distance, Madam Qiao called out with a smile, “Oh, you’re here! You’re here! Finally arrived! Mother! Hurry and bring Choutou’s wife over, I’ve already got the water heated for you!”
The old matriarch and Qiqian’er stopped together, a cold glint flashing in both their eyes, both thinking: that thunder-struck wretch, all talk and no substance! Heating water, what for? To scald off pig bristles?
Come? Come to your grandmother’s leg! If she hadn’t called out like that it might have been fine, but the moment she did, Old Madam Chen Wu’s ankle swerved and she pulled Qiqian’er straight into the alley beside them.
Seeing her turn that way, Qiqian’er felt a burst of delight inside.
There had been a similar occasion before, back when she was young and didn’t understand things — the old matriarch had tried to make her live alone, and she’d cried in terror at the time.
The old matriarch had no choice but to take her along to the three-courtyard mansion on the other side instead.
Cooking from one shared pot didn’t count as having divided the household; with the fourth uncle being the only elder around, whatever Choutou earned had to go into the common fund. From then on, eating, drinking, and daily expenses were a rank below everyone else’s — with Choutou away, she and her son had lived off others’ charity, watching people’s faces for permission.
The old matriarch back then probably despised her for being so spineless — while she herself had feared the old matriarch like a snake, staying as far away as she could…
Grandmother, too, had been thinking of her own interests — Qiqian’er only came to understand that reasoning much later.
The old matriarch walked a few more steps, and seeing Qiqian’er hadn’t kept up, turned and scolded, “Are you a fool? Hurry up! You still think that good-for-nothing is going to feed you? Right, her water’s all heated up, just waiting for your few scraggly hairs to go in the pot! Wait for her? She’d sell you without you even knowing it!”
Hearing this, Qiqian’er smiled and answered brightly, “Oh! Understood~ Mother!”
The women around them all burst into laughter again.
The old matriarch, full of irritation, heard herself called “Mother” and couldn’t help but laugh despite herself, pursing her lips, touching her peach-red forehead band, and finally smiling too.
“Wrong! What Mother! Do I look like your mother to you? I’m already this old, and you call me Mother? I’m your grandmother! You clueless little thing, talking such nonsense, calling me Mother! I’m seventy or eighty years old, and you call me Mother, to your ancestors’ leg — I already have a dozen or so grandchildren of my own!”
As she spoke, the old matriarch tugged at her own silk robe and, with some restraint, smoothed the silver hairpin in her bun.
Was she really this easy to please?
Qiqian’er, startled, then called out brightly again, “Oh! Understood, Grandmother!”
Such a sweet mouth on her — clearly not some country girl after all, being able to read really did make a difference.
Everyone laughed again, all praising the old matriarch’s fine choice of a grandson’s wife. The old matriarch, too, felt that though this thin-haired girl was scrawny, she had her merits — well, a clever tongue was one thing, and being literate was another.
When one was young, an honest, well-behaved child seemed most endearing — but once older, one came to prefer a lively, quick-witted child instead, not for how capable they were, but simply for the liveliness they brought.
Ah well, going forward, it would take some effort — with no elders to guide and teach her, she’d have to be brought along slowly. Even good crops need careful tending, after all.
The grandmother and granddaughter hadn’t walked much further before they came upon a rather dignified-looking residence — the gate had square pedestal blocks carved with lotus-seat tops and the “five blessings” motif on either side, and above the gate hung four neat rows of door studs. Most impressive of all was the plaque above the door, inscribed with several characters: “Five Generations of Farming and Scholarship” — and the signature, it turned out, belonged to a former Grand Tutor of the previous dynasty.
Well now, this house had quite a pedigree — who would dare live here?
Just from the plaque alone, one could tell this family had produced successful examination candidates for generations, most of whom had gone on to serve as officials posted elsewhere — which was why they’d built an estate here outside Qingfeng city.
Pity, though — the once-dignified door was now firmly locked and sealed with an official notice, while the courtyard wall had partially collapsed, suggesting the place had already been thoroughly looted.
The old matriarch looked around, then casually pried a brick loose from the wall and began pounding at the lock on the gate. With her considerable strength, it only took seven or eight blows before half the bolt fell away.
There came a clang, and the old matriarch, every bit like some rough bandit, kicked open the gate of this house belonging to five generations of scholars, pointing at the exquisitely carved brick spirit-wall inside. “Choutou’s household, this will be your home from now on. Go on in!”
Well now, that was quite a claim!
The official seal on the notice hung there pitifully, drooping. The old matriarch gestured again for her to enter, but Qiqian’er stood still, unmoving.
Her mind was in turmoil, wondering how best to get along with this old matriarch.
This old matriarch was someone who had completely given up on caring what others thought — she spared no face for herself, and gave none to others either.
And herself? Perhaps she, too, had become someone without shame or restraint. She had once envied the old matriarch’s manner — fearing no one, being cowed by no one, daring to scold anyone at all…
But if she walked through this door now, she’d become a laughingstock.
And that would only cause trouble for her son An’er.
Wind swept clean through the courtyard; unbloomed wintersweet branches poked out over the wall, and for a moment Qiqian’er simply stood there, lost in thought.
The old matriarch called to her, “Why aren’t you coming in?”
Qiqian’er stood beneath the tree and smiled, pointing toward the blue-brick house at the far end of the lane. “Grandmother, I don’t want this house! Let’s go over there instead — that one’s better!”
The women around them burst into laughter once more…
How many days had it been since anyone dared defy her wishes? Old Madam Chen Wu stood frozen, staring at this scrawny thing in front of her… out of habit she reached for the pipe tucked at the small of her back, thinking, why not just give her a beating first?
If one beating wasn’t enough, then two? Three? Eventually she’d come around.
These past two years, the old matriarch had grown increasingly unwilling to reason things out patiently with people.
Since the end of the Hongshun era, a great flood had destroyed Old Madam Chen Wu’s home village. In the blink of an eye, the small family fortune accumulated by generations of ancestors for their descendants was wiped out entirely.
With no other choice, Old Madam Chen Wu and the remaining villagers had fled north together in a group, though the road only grew more desolate the further they went.
Within less than three months, Old Madam Chen Wu had lost her husband along the road; then came bandit chaos, splitting the village into two groups scattered in different directions — the fourth branch’s daughter-in-law and the older granddaughters were all carried off by force…
Not one of the Chen men had proven able to hold his own — seeing their family members seized, all they could do was weep uselessly.
That night, Old Madam Chen Wu had gone half-mad, gripping a chipped kitchen cleaver, screaming at the men of the family that if they weren’t going to live, they might as well all die together!
No one was willing to die alongside Old Madam Chen Wu; they wrapped their arms and legs around her, begging and pleading.
From that day on, Old Madam Chen Wu held nothing but contempt in her heart for the men of this world — especially the men of the old Huo family.
The next day, the remaining elderly and young set off again, anxious and uneasy. They hadn’t gone two li before they came upon a stretch of the old riverbank, littered white with the dead… their captured family members lying there, eyes open even in death.
They wandered on in a daze for several more months, until this confused family was swept up by the righteous army — or, as it had once been called, the rebel army.
Actually — “swept up” wasn’t quite right. They’d been deceived.
The ones who deceived them were the local landlord’s family. At first they said they were looking for men to do logging work; only once the contracts were signed and the whole family, young and old alike, had pressed their thumbprints and arrived at the destination did they realize they had taken the place of the landlord’s own sons on the battlefield.
That year, Old Madam Chen Wu’s youngest grandson had been just twelve, barely reaching waist-height, thin and small, going off to war alongside his father — never to return.
Over the following years, Old Madam Chen Wu lost, one after another, three sons and five grandsons. From then on, an obsession took root throughout the whole Chen family: one could never retreat — retreat one step, and you die alone; retreat two steps, and the whole family dies. Heaven above was blind and deaf, seeing nothing at all!
Besides never retreating, there was one more obsession: a person had to learn to read. As long as one wasn’t starving to death, one had to find some way to learn characters!
And so, ever since then, anyone in the Chen family who could read and count was treated like something precious, to be honored above all else.
The old Chen family had dreamed grand dreams — a muddy-footed country man who managed to gain an official post found it near impossible to climb any further. As Chen Sini himself once put it, all the merit he could earn losing his head eight times over couldn’t outweigh a single evening of wine and flattery with a superior, all it took was a bit of eye contact and sweet talk to smooth the path.
Educated men scheming against them was like being made to dance for someone’s amusement — tricked without even realizing it, choked with resentment fit to kill.
Her son, when drunk, often rambled on about this, and the old matriarch had taken it all to heart.
Now this thin-haired girl was standing there stiff-necked, staring straight at her, not the slightest bit afraid — the little wretch didn’t seem to know fear at all.
Old Madam Chen Wu frowned, gripping the pipe bowl behind her tightly — should she hit her, or not?