“Is this difficult for you?” the old madam asked her grandson carefully.

Many people sat in the old madam’s room, and rare as it was, they were all family.

After Chen Dasheng returned from Old Madam Tao’s house, he’d already told the old madam about today’s events. Hearing her ask him about it now, he took off his outer robe and handed it to Chunfeng, then seriously considered the matter. Zhou Jizong wanted to get a set of captain’s armor and a war horse through normal channels at the Ministry of War—this was almost too small a thing to even register with him.

He didn’t know many people at the Ministry of War. The one he was closest to was Zeng Anbang, and next was Guo Qian. As it happened, Zeng Anbang oversaw the Bureau of Equipage within the Ministry of War—meaning he managed the imperial guard of honor, horse administration, carriages, postal relay, and weapons. He wouldn’t even need to speak to Zeng Anbang directly; he could simply send Guan Si’er to the Ministry of War to casually mention it to some minor clerk in charge of weapons, and it would be issued through normal channels without any trouble.

But this kind of normal issuance was usually impossible to obtain. Take his own experience in the Tan family army—whatever should have belonged to him, he’d never known about, never seen. Most things, a commander had to scrounge up for his subordinates himself; if a subordinate had the means, spending his own money to protect himself was also normal.

Military supplies had always cost a fortune, and even horses were graded. What the Zhou brothers wanted—horses capable of long journeys and combat—would require at minimum a thirty-string horse to be suitable, plus ordinary tack at one string three hundred coins, an ordinary bow and arrows at two strings for one bow and ten arrows, and a bottom-grade iron armor set at twenty-eight strings five hundred coins. All together, ninety-three strings six hundred coins. No wonder Father frowned every time he looked at the Ministry of War’s expenditure ledger.

The Zhou brothers had only asked for armor, but armor could cost a thousand strings or a hundred strings—the worry was accidentally doing someone too large a favor without meaning to. That wouldn’t do.

Seeing her grandson lost in thought, the old madam asked again, “Choutou? Is it difficult?”

Chen Dasheng startled, then smiled and shook his head at his grandmother. “Not difficult.”

“Ah.” The old madam finally relaxed, then sighed. “I don’t understand these things, I just worry it’ll be hard on you. But if it’s not too hard, we should help where we can. All these years… she’s a proud woman, and life has been hard for her. She’s always been calculating, but what choice did she have? Only those with plenty in hand can afford to be lazy about scheming. Our family has finally settled down—who would have thought it’d be her turn again? Such bad luck. Why does fate treat her this way?”

She always wished peace for everyone. Even though she and Old Madam Tao had been on bad terms before, she didn’t want Old Madam Tao to suffer the same grief of losing a son.

Chen Dasheng nodded. “Hey! Don’t feel bad. I’ll think about how to handle it later. Don’t worry about it—it’s not a big deal.”

He sat beside the old madam and patted her hand, smiling. But the old madam muttered dazedly, “Those two are just no-good sons. At their age, still stirring up this kind of trouble. Did their mother raise them to fight over such useless things? If they had no talent, farming would’ve been fine too—at least it’s steady.”

Chen Dasheng said nothing, just kept patting his grandmother’s hand to comfort her. He was a child who spoke little in front of his elders, and now, what he did and what he thought had grown even more different from his brothers’. He didn’t want his family to notice, so he wanted to say even less.

Meanwhile Qiqian’er sat somewhat dazed, a few words tumbling over and over in her mind. Zuoliang Pass? Zuoliang Pass? Could it really be Zuoliang Pass, could it really be? Suddenly she no longer dared resent Old Madam Tao. In another year or two, Zuoliang Pass would become the most dangerous stronghold in all of Daliang, and the soldiers sent there would face near-certain death.

How was it that Chen Dasheng was safe now, that Guan Si’er and the others no longer had to die—but in exchange, it was Old Madam Tao’s son instead?

The whole thing felt too uncanny, and she shivered involuntarily, blurting out, “You all say the realm has finally found peace after so much trouble—but when will the border regions ever be settled?”

They never will be. Not since ancient times has there been true peace there.

Even the old madam, illiterate as she was, knew that the people of the grasslands beyond the border had always had the nature of wolves. Taking advantage of these recent years of internal chaos in Daliang, they had pushed deep into the central plains several times, and news of their burning, killing, and plundering had never stopped reaching them, even during the family’s own flight from famine.

The old madam seemed to recall something. Her eyes went sharp, and she grabbed Chen Dasheng’s hand, looking first at him, then at her other grandsons, before finally saying with a threatening edge, “We’re not going! Do you hear me? Even if there were mountains of gold and silver, we wouldn’t go! We’ve already given our loyalty—we can’t give any more! No more! I only have this much family left! If any of you dare risk something like that, going off to trade for that kind of glory—I’m telling every one of you, any single one who does it is the greatest unfilial act there is!”

Now people know how to use filial piety as a threat.

Seeing the old madam’s eyes grow a little unfocused, Chen Dasheng took her hands in his and said with a smile, “A’Nai! We do want to go! But Godfather won’t allow it.”

The old madam’s mind cleared at once. She patted her chest first, then reached over to touch little Lanting in the cradle beside her, and said with a smile, “That’s right. Look at me, worrying myself silly over nothing all day. It would be best if no family’s children had to go at all.” She tapped the cradle and cooed, “Isn’t that right, Grandma’s biggest treasure?”

Lanting was a plump, fair, good-natured baby, and when his grandmother teased him he laughed and gurgled happily in response. The old madam was overjoyed. “New Year’s almost here! When you come kowtow to me for money, and Grandma says she has none—you’ll turn right around and leave without a shred of loyalty, won’t you?”

Xique, sitting in the corner playing cat’s cradle, suddenly looked up, her small face serious, and said to the old madam, “No, I won’t!”

The cloth that had covered this child’s face was gone now, and a clear scar ran across the entire right side of her face.

The family on Ministry of Rites Lane had been scrambling to find connections and smooth things over, and recently even two elderly officials at court had mentioned the matter to Chen Dasheng—but he hadn’t budged.

He simply couldn’t bear to look at Xique’s face. It made him angry every time. Every child in the Chen family was precious; none of them deserved to be bullied like that.

Seeing her cousin looking at her face, Xique immediately lowered her head and went back to her cat’s cradle.

Only the old madam laughed and said, “Aren’t you the clever little imp—if you say it’s not so, then it’s not so. Fine, fine, I won’t dare say anything crooked, only good things. As long as we’re all safe and sound, that’s enough. I never dared imagine I’d have days this good. Heh heh.”

Only the old madam went around every day saying she was content—but who among them didn’t carry some private wound in their heart these days?

Madam Li thought of something and reached for her handkerchief to wipe her eyes. Chen Dasheng, meanwhile, seriously turned his mind to his wife’s question, and found that the sense of strategic command he’d just felt vanished the instant the border came up—he felt suddenly small and powerless.

Seeing everyone’s mood sour, Madam Luo—who rarely spoke—suddenly said, “My father was a war-front sacrificial officer.”

The whole family looked at the young wife in surprise.

Madam Luo’s face flushed red, and her hands, holding needle and thread, paused. “My father says the wild people of the grasslands never perform sacrifices. They’re bound to lose.” She nodded firmly at the family. “It’s only a matter of time!”

The young wife’s eyes were round with conviction, her tone full of certainty. Charmed by this, the old madam brightened at once and waved her over. “Come here, you.”

Startled, Madam Luo rose and approached. Chen Dasheng made room, and the old madam pulled her close, patting her and laughing. “You’re an interesting one too! Why don’t you ever talk? Sitting there quietly all day, only blurting out a sentence when pressed—I thought you were half-mute! This is good, keep being like this. Grandma likes you this way.”

Everyone laughed. The old madam pointed at Qiqian’er. “You’re a thousand times more interesting than this stubborn mule.”

Qiqian’er immediately protested, pouting. “A thousand times? You can’t even count to a thousand, old lady, so how’d you come up with ‘a thousand times’? Truly, once you’ve got someone new you forget the old—this isn’t how you used to dote on me.”

The old madam’s face flushed red at once, and she grabbed something and threw it at her. Qiqian’er caught it—a piece of sweet cake—and popped it straight into her mouth, chewing as she leaned in seriously toward Madam Luo. “So when they fight wars, they also do sacrifices?”

This was the first time she’d ever heard that such a position as “war sacrificial officer” even existed.

At this, Madam Luo grew animated. She sat up straight and said earnestly to Qiqian’er, “Of course there are sacrifices! Wind, clouds, thunder, lightning, the Yellow Emperor, the horse ancestor spirit, army banners, war drums, Heaven and Earth, Lord Chiyou—all must be honored. And when the army marches out, whenever they pass famous mountains or great rivers, every temple to every local god must be properly attended to—wine and meat offered, paper and incense burned, and ceremonies arranged. My father was always so busy! Really, so busy!”

The room fell silent for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Chen Dasheng, smiling, watched the women crowd together laughing, then tilted his head at his male cousins, thinking of slipping away.

Chen Dazhong asked his younger brother quietly, “What is it?”

Chen Dasheng tilted his head. “Hunting up in the back hills—coming or not? I’ve been itching for something to do these past few days, and New Year’s almost here.”

Chen Dayi leaned in between them and whispered, “Are we really short on a few dishes at home?”

Chen Dasheng jutted his chin. “Don’t come then—stay and chat needlework with A’Nai.”

These days, whenever the old madam woke, she’d send someone to call all the children in. She didn’t need them to do anything—she just needed to look up and see them, and count their heads once. Sometimes in the middle of the night she’d wake and have someone help her to stand at the courtyard gate for a while, just to ask the night watch, “Are they all there?”

The watchman would say yes, every single one, all in their rooms. Only then would she return to bed satisfied.

But sitting there every day truly grew tedious. In the end, they were all men, and they couldn’t sit still for long—they quietly stood up one by one and slipped out. The old madam eyed these furtive escapees sideways, pursed her lips at her grandsons’ wives, then burst into laughter with them.

Out in the courtyard, they could still hear Madam Luo declaring just how busy her father had always been.

“…My family has three whole chests of scripture texts! My father can recite them all—the Prayer to the Lords of Wind and Rain, the Prayer to the Mountain and River Spirits, the Prayer to the Yellow Emperor, the Prayer to Chiyou, the Prayer of the Five Weapons—I can’t even finish reciting them all. The Yellow Emperor and Lord Chiyou are war gods. When Dayong went off to campaign last time, I prayed to them…”

“Good, good, good, we’ll worship them too from now on…”

Chen Dasheng, watching his smug third cousin, laughed. “Little sister-in-law is quite the character. She’s arranged another happy occupation for our A’Nai.”

Chen Dayong laughed at that. He wasn’t stationed with Chen Dasheng, nor with Dazhong and Dayi. Fortunately his sister Dingxiang had kept sending word urging him to hurry and marry so as not to let the second branch’s line die out. Looking around nearby, he’d discovered that only the old war-sacrificial officer’s family had a literate young daughter, and so he’d asked a superior to serve as matchmaker and sought her hand.

His father-in-law hadn’t been difficult about it either—a thoroughly kind and decent old man. But once he brought his wife home and settled into married life, he discovered that she’d been raised by her parents to always defer, and had little of her own initiative. It hadn’t shown much back in her hometown, but after coming to the capital, compared to the family’s four daughters-in-law, she was—well, the youngest was the steadiest, the eldest the most forthright, the second the most sincere, and he was left with… the most delicate one.

That wasn’t all, either. When they were preparing to come to the capital after the wedding, his father-in-law had spoken to him for the first time, saying he was getting old, couldn’t offer his son much of a future, and hoped Dayong wouldn’t mind taking on the burden.

When Dingxiang married out, Chen Dayong had thought the more family the better, so he’d brought his young brother-in-law and wife along to live with them. But Madam Luo had felt guilty the whole way, resentful toward her own parents, feeling she’d become a burden to Dayong. Once they arrived, she hadn’t dared speak up, feeling too uneasy.

Dayong had spent days coaxing her along, and today she’d finally made some progress.

His heart eased as he listened to another burst of laughter from inside, mingling with the gongs and drums from the opera stage by the ancestral temple, making the whole world feel more festive.

Chen Dayong thought, ah well, everyone has their own fate—if she’s a bit delicate, so be it, as long as she’s kind-hearted, that’s enough.

They left the courtyard together, sent the servant boys from each household back to fetch hunting gear, bows and arrows, and wine gourds, then took the path behind the hills toward Baiquan Mountain.

Normally the best time for hunting was right after snowfall, when the animals had trouble moving quickly. But strangely, today, even after walking a good distance into the mountains, they saw nothing—not a single rabbit or pheasant, not even the magpies that usually fluttered about carelessly.

Chen Dazhong, more experienced, studied the mountain and said, “Something’s off today. It’s like the animals have been spooked.”

Chen Dasheng exhaled a breath of cold air, looking around. After a full circuit he muttered, “It does feel… unusually open up here today, somehow.”

They kept searching. The four brothers pressed further into the mountains, but before long they heard a strange, eerie wailing sound.

Chen Dasheng stopped in his tracks and grabbed his eldest cousin’s arm, gesturing with his chin toward footprints on the ground.

Chen Dazhong followed his gaze and saw a line of fresh footprints leading toward a hollow in the hills.

Who could it be?

Just as they wondered, another howl rose from the mountainside—like a wolf starved for four or five days, a raw, wrenching wail… ahh, ahh, uhh, uhh—and as they crept closer, they heard the sound of slapping.

Stranger and stranger.

When they finally rounded the hollow, Chen Dasheng and the others froze.

In the dim old grove, tucked into a wind-sheltered nook, Zhou Jizong from the Tao family sat on the ground, leaning against an old tree, sobbing.

A man’s tears were not meant to be seen by others, could not be shown in front of people—so he could only hide himself to cry, weeping as he slapped himself across the face with both hands, over and over.

He muttered something under his breath as he cried; listening closely, one could hear he was cursing himself, hating himself, loathing himself. He’d curse for a while, wail for a while, strike himself left and right for a while, reopening the wound his mother’s nails had left on his face until it bled again, the swollen red gash splitting open. Blood smeared across his face, and he didn’t seem to feel the pain at all.

He cried and cried until the snot, tears, and saliva mingling on his face froze into two icicles, unable to drip down, growing solid against his skin.

It was a scene of such suppressed sorrow and desolation.

Chen Dasheng slowly let out a breath and silently backed away behind the hollow.

At a time like this, better to leave. This wasn’t something he wanted anyone to see.

The brothers, having caught nothing, went down the mountain with heavy hearts. As they approached the estate, Chen Dazhong suddenly spoke. “Actually, I used to be like that too. Back when our elders had all passed and I was afraid—truly afraid. I was scared I couldn’t hold this family together, couldn’t carry A’Nai, couldn’t carry Dingxiang, couldn’t carry the rest of you. Honestly, even now I haven’t really carried anything.”

Seeing his brother’s distress, Chen Dasheng went over and patted his shoulder, half-embracing him as they walked.

Chen Dazhong kept talking about the past. “My heart felt like a piece of raw meat, so painful. One night I just couldn’t hold it in anymore—I felt like if I didn’t cry, I wouldn’t survive. So I found an empty stretch of wilderness, no one around…”

He stopped and looked back up at the mountain. “Just like him. It was cold like this too. We’d just gotten our pay, and Fourth Uncle came and said A’Nai was sick, and there was nothing I could do. I ran out, knelt in the wild field in the dead of winter, slapping myself left and right, howling…”

No one spoke. After a long while, Dayong finally asked, “So… what happened after?”

Chen Dazhong laughed ruefully. “What ‘after’? Heh—my master thought I’d deserted. He and I shared a tent, and if one of ten men in a tent deserted, none of them could hope to escape blame. By the time I got back, they’d all already taken a dozen-odd strokes of the military rod from the commanding officer. Afterward I got beaten too, and once it was over they punished me by making me wash their clothes…”

Dayong, ever a bit slow, asked, “You washed clothes the whole time?”

Even as he asked it, though, he thought to himself that if his own tent had someone that troublesome, he’d make the man do everything, right up until death.

Chen Dazhong let out a long breath. “Didn’t wash for long, actually. By the time we took Huayang City, I was the only one who came back. I remember laughing in the tent that day—laughing at how foolish they’d been. Look at that! They didn’t even make it back, and all their dried meat, good liquor, and the coins tucked in their bedding were mine now…”

Before he could finish, his younger brother Dayi came up and threw an arm around him. “Come on, brother, let’s go drink again.”

Chen Dasheng nodded. “Yeah, another round. It’s my house, I’ll drink whatever I want. Brother, don’t feel bad—it’s all in the past. What’s a little wailing? I cried every single day back then. Ask Quanzi—in the new recruits’ camp, it was just me and Little Chang Hua. The two of us started wailing right from the war sacrifices and didn’t stop until we’d finished collecting the corpses. If they made us do the grunt work of burying the dead, we wailed through that too. There’s no shame in it. Surviving is the real skill…”

Chen Dazhong, who’d been genuinely upset, laughed at this shameless declaration, reached out, pulled his youngest brother into a headlock, and gave him a light punch. “Get going, you! Acting like it’s something to brag about, and you’ve got the nerve to say it out loud.”

And so the four brothers, laughing and joking again, came down the mountain and went together to Chen Dasheng’s house, sending someone to fetch Cui You as well.

There was no need to trouble the kitchen—they simply fished a whole rack of mutton out of the incense pot in the old madam’s courtyard, knocked it apart, and carried a basin of it back. The brothers climbed onto the heated brick bed in the west wing of Chen Dasheng’s main courtyard, sprawling about in thoroughly unrefined poses, drinking and chatting idly.

Chen Dasheng dug several new satin quilts out of the trunk for everyone to lean on—he had this kind of privilege at home; no one ever stopped him from spoiling his own household, and his wife indulged him besides.

Cui You came bounding in, and the moment he saw the scene he was overjoyed. He kicked off his shoes and climbed up too, grabbed a bone and gnawed on it a while, then scooped up a bowl of wine, drank two bowlfuls, and said, “Ah! What an immortal’s life! A truly blessed life!”

Hearing him complain like this, Chen Dayong kicked him. “What nonsense are you spouting? What, does my family mistreat you?”

Cui You wiped his scraggly beard and sighed. “Mistreat, my foot! Brothers, I’m not exaggerating one bit—these days I dream of finding my own house. My mother cries every single day, saying your sister bullies her. My life, oh, it’s bitter! Don’t not believe me—ask Brother Yong.”

Ding Xiang’s waist had thickened now, and Cui You’s mother no longer dared find fault with her. This time when she’d returned home, her family had even sent along an entire estate as a dowry gift, and her mother-in-law no longer dared stand in the courtyard of that house making sly remarks. The old woman, stifled, could only take out her frustration on her own son.

That old woman was petty-hearted, and every day she found time to go peer at the gate of that estate, envying the stream of guests coming and going, feeling that since she was a guest herself, the family ought to wait on her hand and foot and invite her to sit on their heated bed as the honored grand matriarch.

As if that would ever happen—let alone the old madam herself, even Qiqian’er wouldn’t indulge her that way.

And so, before she’d even finished watching the show, she started causing trouble—if it wasn’t complaining the food didn’t agree with her, it was her body feeling unwell. Within a few days, Physician Cheng had already been called to the house several times.

Ding Xiang, thickened now from the inside out, had stopped being so accommodating. She squeezed poor Cui You right in the middle, and his situation was pitiful to behold.

Another bowl of wine down, Cui You pulled off his jacket and pointed to a bruise on his side to complain to his brothers-in-law—this one your sister pinched yesterday, this one just this morning—but no one showed him any sympathy.

They only smiled along and poured their brother-in-law more wine.

After the third bowl, Chen Dasheng kicked Cui You and said, “Come spring, there’ll be an opening at the Bureau of Equipage under the Ministry of War for a section director overseeing the postal relay stations—fifth rank, upper grade. Want it?”

Cui You jumped, startled enough to drop his wine bowl. Disbelieving, his teeth chattering, he turned to his most accomplished brother-in-law. “You—what did you say?”

Even as a mere section director, the postal relay stations were tied closely to lucrative posts like canal transport. Not even counting Daliang—back in the previous dynasty, in more stable times, there had been a relay station every thirty li, over two thousand of them in total.

Of course, the Ministry of War had its own duties, the Ministry of Revenue its own, the Ministry of Personnel its own—the postal relay system was a complicated place.

And this—could such a stroke of fortune really fall to him?

Seeing him this stunned, Chen Dasheng kicked him again. “What fantasy are you imagining? Not the head of the office—just a sesame seed in the bean pile, assisting with the Ministry’s postal relay affairs, handling minor matters, and passing along military orders. You want it or not?”

Yes! Yes, of course! Even this much was already impressive—relay stations every thirty li, horse care, courier meals, official report circulation, military order transmission…

Cui You wanted it so badly his heart was pounding like a drum, but he held himself back. He knelt politely beside Chen Dasheng, raising his two fists as if to give him a shoulder rub in flattery, but Chen Dasheng dodged, laughing and cursing, “What are you doing, brother-in-law? Quit the nonsense—just tell me, do you want it or not?”

Cui You, still fawning, said gently, “Of course, of course I want it—but such a fine post, why not give it to one of my elder brothers-in-law instead?”

Chen Dasheng glanced at his brothers, who all sat there feigning indifference, and finally sighed helplessly. “I’ve thought about it too, but that’s too critical a position—my brothers have only had a few years of schooling, and even if they took it, they wouldn’t be able to hold their seat. You, though—rough around the edges as you look, I’ve seen your annual review scores at the Ministry, and they’re all top marks. Add to that your years commanding troops and your real accomplishments—it’s not some hugely important post, so going there first to hold the spot works well enough.”

Cui You studied Chen Dasheng’s expression carefully, saw he wasn’t joking, and cupped his hands in thanks. “If there’s truly such a good opportunity, I’d be very willing to take it. Then I’ll trouble you to arrange it, brother-in-law.”

Even a lucrative post wasn’t one to exploit through corruption—the truth was, the Bureau of Equipage was too difficult a post to manage, too many wolves circling, every hole already filled by someone. Once someone held this seat, even shakily, anyone wanting to move him would have to weigh the cost—Cui You was the brother-in-law of the Gate Guard Marquis, a man with backing. A lateral transfer was impossible; to move him, they’d have to promote him a rank to make room.

Right now he held fifth rank, lower grade, without connections or opportunity—he’d have stayed there his whole life.

But if he went to the Bureau of Equipage to oversee the postal relay, that promotion to fifth rank, upper grade, would be all but guaranteed.

Seeing him willing, Chen Dasheng smiled. “Then it’s settled. Enjoy the New Year properly, and once the Lantern Festival’s over, report for duty.”

At this, his brothers were astonished. Was it really settled just like that?

Chen Dayi sat up and patted Chen Dasheng’s back. “That’s it? Just like that?”

Just like that, a fifth-rank official post decided?

Chen Dasheng sat up too, leaning against the quilt, and explained to his brothers. “Ah, you’re not in the capital often, so once you’ve settled in you’ll understand—this is common knowledge to everyone here. The situation now is that every ministry is short-handed everywhere, but they don’t dare use men from the previous dynasty. For sensitive posts like this, as long as there are three or five candidates competing, the consensus among our ministers is still to favor veterans of the old Commander-in-Chief’s Office, and veteran men of Shao Shang.”

Chen Dasheng pointed at Cui You. “He fits. He fits anywhere! It just needed someone to say a word to the department head—that there’s a suitable man for it.”

Cui You nodded eagerly. “Right, right, like the old saying goes—having connections at court makes everything easier.”

He said this, then chuckled, and after finishing laughing, said to Chen Dasheng, “Brother, let’s not stand on ceremony within the family anymore. From now on, just tell me what you need done. Climb a mountain of blades or dive into a sea of oil, one word from you and I’ll do it.”

Chen Dasheng looked at him and nodded. “Be good to my sister.”

Cui You nodded. “She’s already my ancestor. I’ll treat her even better, enshrine her properly.”

Everyone burst out laughing—an old husband with a young wife, and Cui You wasn’t wrong about that.

Chen Dasheng raised his bowl and clinked it against Cui You’s. “No need for mountains of blades. Our family’s just settled into the Yandu circle—staying low-key in everything is what matters most right now. For your position, I only have one request: stay steady, don’t get fancy, just hold your seat firmly. No matter who tries to transfer you, don’t go—even if it means a promotion, don’t go. If anyone pressures you, come find me. I’ll see who dares touch you.”

Cui You didn’t quite understand, but nodded seriously in agreement.

Seeing him agree, Chen Dasheng raised his bowl again, clinked it with his, and drained it. “This position—I have great use for it. Within ten years… I’ll have great use for it.”

Watching his brother hand out such a lucrative post so easily, Chen Dayi, though he had his own wishes, said nothing—after all, if Cui You was already arranged for, there was even less reason for him to speak up.

And so, they all sat drinking until nightfall descended. Chen Dayi, uncharacteristically, finally said, “It’s not that I mean to dampen the mood, but just look at the life we have now.” He looked up at the ceiling, a touch of sorrow in his voice. “Look at this house, look at the food we eat. I’ve never dared forget the time our whole family was sold off. Sometimes when I close my eyes, it still feels like yesterday.”

This reminded Chen Dasheng of something, and he asked Chen Dazhong, “Brother, do you remember the name of that wealthy family we tricked back then? I was young then, too scared out of my mind to remember anything.”

Everyone froze at this. Chen Dayong glanced at the two older brothers but said nothing, tipped back a full bowl in one gulp, then smashed it.

After a long moment, Chen Dazhong bared his teeth in a grimace, patted his shoulder, and said, “Brother, don’t worry about this. Your three elder brothers are all still alive. I’ll handle it first—you go tend to your own affairs.”

Seeing his brothers who seemed to already share some prior agreement, Chen Dasheng nodded and said nothing more.

That night became another night of heavy drinking, downing cup after cup as if trying to drown themselves. Even with good days finally here, none of them could quite settle their hearts—there was a nagging guilt, as if every extra bite of food was somehow owed to someone else.

The next day at dawn, at the mouth of the lane, the Tao family’s top scholar was just heading out the door with his book satchel tucked under his arm, when he spotted the noble gentleman from Qinwei Lane leaning against the wall across the street, whip in hand, eating fried oil cakes.

Since the Chen family had opened their charity cauldron, it had drawn all sorts of peddlers and vendors carrying their wares into the lane to do business. And the wall across from the Tao family had been claimed by an oil-cake fryer.

Interestingly enough, no sooner had the cake seller set up his pan than a wealthy patron arrived. He’d brought along a sack stuffed full of copper coins, and stood there with his horse, eating cake after cake against the wall.

This was a man with quite an appetite—as soon as one batch of glutinous rice flour went into the pan, he’d buy the cake that came out, then buy another the moment he finished the last.

By the time seventeen or eighteen cakes had gone down, the door of the wealthy Tao household across the street finally opened, and this generous patron broke into a grin.

The cake seller heard him call out cheerfully across the street: “Little top scholar! Go tell your Fourth Uncle—say I happened to be in the capital today, and I’ll settle that matter of his right now…”