Hearing there was a dead child, everyone was shocked. Chen Dasheng reacted swiftly, turning immediately to run toward the livestock shed. By the time he arrived, Jixiang had already led people in carrying out something curled into a ball—was it perhaps a person?
He walked over to look, and sure enough, it was a small child curled into a ball, face pale as paper, already frozen stiff.
Jixiang’s wife felt around a few times, pressing her hand against the child’s chest, searching. Seeing Chen Dasheng standing nearby, she said, “Master, it seems there’s still breath in him.”
“Then what are we waiting for, save him!” Chen Dasheng shouted. He saw a quick-witted young servant about to grab snow from nearby to rub on the child, so he scooped up the bundled child himself, then kicked the servant, saying, “What kind of blind rescue is that, rubbing him with snow? Rub snow on him and tomorrow the skin won’t even hold together—hurry, heat some warm water in the bathhouse and soak him in it…”
His words trailed off as he’d already disappeared from sight.
Jixiang’s wife hurried after him, asking as she ran, “What was the gate watch doing last night, letting someone in like this? Was the night watchman drinking again? If he’d just paid a bit more attention, this wouldn’t have happened. All day thinking about his cat-piss wine—hurry, climb the wall and ask next door, get some dried ginger and angelica from teacher’s wife to boil up a bowl…”
They were all experienced people really, no need for detailed instructions—they knew exactly how to save someone. That servant who’d taken the kick suffered less than his master’s worry did.
Meanwhile, the elder matriarch had been giving Madam Yang a scolding, holding onto her. Madam Yang, thoroughly frightened, knelt on the ground wailing. Suddenly hearing there was a dead person in the house, the two elderly ladies rushed back without a second thought for anything else.
They arrived outside the bathhouse to find half the courtyard full of people. Chen Dasheng and Qiqian’er were crouched on the ground, using tree branches to poke through several tattered pieces of clothing, examining them back and forth.
Seeing the matriarchs arrive, Qiqian’er hurried over to greet them, not wanting them to see the wretched scene, and guided them toward the house instead, comforting them as she went, “You two are getting on in years—why must you rush toward every bit of commotion?”
The elder matriarch protested, “What are you talking about? They said our house found a dead child? It’s only been cold for a few days—not even bitterly cold yet, how could someone freeze to death already? That can’t be right. Our poor neighbors nearby have all been given firewood this winter—how could anyone freeze to death?”
No matter how good the times were, poor families always had it hard. And so, wealthy families would build bridges and repair roads for the community, and if they had even more to spare, they’d select the truly pitiable among their neighbors and nearby villagers for targeted assistance.
The elder matriarch now personally supported over thirty poor households on the quiet. She didn’t give money, just the cheapest firewood to help them get through winter.
To her mind, of all the world’s suffering, eight-tenths of it came from winter. Survive it, and you lived; fail to survive it, and you became a ghost.
Who knows whose mouth had been running so fast, but Qiqian’er pressed her lips together, glanced around, then smiled and said, “You heard them making a fuss over nothing—he’s still breathing!”
Hearing this, the elder matriarch finally let out a breath of relief, and Grandmother Jiang murmured a prayer of thanks to Buddha.
The elder matriarch said, “What was I even saying? Our family does good deeds and accumulates virtue too, giving out porridge every day to help the needy. Such an unlucky thing shouldn’t happen to come knocking on our door. Our family surely has the Bodhisattva watching over us…” She looked up and saw two young servants carrying steaming water inside, and immediately shouted, “Stop! Hey hey hey! What are you fumbling around for, this scalding water won’t do!”
She rushed over herself, put her hand into the water, and immediately started scolding, “Oh, you good-for-nothing wretches! If you don’t understand something, ask—if you don’t know, at least make some noise about it. Anyone with a bit of age and experience would know this—this is frostbite! Heat it up like this and are you saving him or sending his soul off, or outright killing him?”
She pointed at the pile of snow nearby. “Go, go mix in half a basin of snow water.”
The two foolish servants went to mix the snow water, letting the elder matriarch personally test the temperature with her finger each time until it was just right, and only then did they carry it inside.
Wealthy as they’d become, at heart they were all still kind—faced with such a dire situation, the whole family pitched in without a second thought.
By the time neighbor Teacher Cheng’s wife arrived with frostbite medicine, the child had already recovered somewhat, and had been stripped bare and tucked into a quilt.
The whole family gathered around the bed to look, and, well—how to put it—he turned out to be a fine-featured little boy, with cheeks that still had some flesh on them.
The elder matriarch, puzzled by what she was seeing, said, “This… this doesn’t look like a child from a poor family, does it? Those we’ve come across freezing to death on the road before were always thin and dark-skinned—never such a fine specimen as this. This must be a lost child from a good family.”
She glanced around after saying this, and noticing neither her grandson nor granddaughter-in-law nearby, propped herself up with her cane and went outside, only to find the two mischievous children each holding a small stick, still poking through the tattered clothes. Neighbor Teacher Cheng’s wife wasn’t behaving properly either, standing there with an ugly-looking girl tucked under her arm, idly watching.
The elder matriarch, annoyed, walked over slowly and asked with a teasing smile, “This is quite something, you’ve been staring at it for so long—how about it, shall A’Nai set up a pot for you, add a bit of salt, and we’ll stew it up to eat?”
Chen Dasheng’s face immediately looked embarrassed. Qiqian’er burst out laughing and said, “No, no, A’Nai, we’re just trying to figure out what happened with this child.”
The elder matriarch, never one for reasonable discussion, said, “Why bother with all that? What a pair of fools you two are—the child’s already recovered, the medicine’s already been given, just wait for him to wake up and ask him yourselves!”
But Qiqian’er pointed at the pile of torn cloth and said, “A’Nai, look at this pattern—this is this year’s thick damask from the new weaving bureau, still quite expensive, with that ruyi pattern too. This alone would cost over ten strings per bolt. This boy might have quite a background.”
The elder matriarch, curious now, leaned in to look too, and saw that between two already-tattered garments, some straw had been stuffed in. It seemed this little boy had been so terribly cold that he’d stuffed soft grass between his clothes for warmth.
Remembering her own hard times in the past, she sent up another round of thanks to every deity imaginable, then said with sympathy, “Poor thing, so young and already with no one to care for him. But this kind of grass won’t do at all—you need the reed-heads from the water’s edge, pounded soft, spread out and dried repeatedly, beaten together—that might actually help somewhat. Poor child, seeing this reminds me of your grandfather. When you were all young, our family had such hard times…”
And there she went again, launching into her reminiscing—at minimum she’d start from that egg she’d given as charity around the time Chen Dasheng was born. Not that she meant to play favorites with an egg, but Chen Dasheng’s mother’s milk hadn’t been sufficient, and Chen Dasheng wouldn’t have turned out so accomplished otherwise, and so on and so forth…
And so, while the elder matriarch rambled on with her own thoughts, Chen Dasheng continued his own investigation, stroking his chin and saying, “Look at the flesh on the soles of his feet—even scrubbed with dirt, it’s still quite fair and tender. This boy doesn’t look like someone who’s endured much hardship. He seems more like a lost child from some household. Someone, go fetch Old Master Meng over here.”
After all, one couldn’t simply take in a beggar child on a whim—not to mention, if the child died, it would be even worse, requiring a report to the yamen.
Meng Wanquan was the village head; he needed to serve as witness from beginning to end. Now that they’d fortunately saved the child, they needed to discuss with him where to send him—if it turned out some family’s child had truly gone missing, this would be an even greater act of kindness.
The two households weren’t far apart, and before long, Meng Wanquan arrived wrapped in a rabbit-fur cloak, grinning as he said, “Yo, has some great fortune befallen this house? Master, madam, do a good deed and donate to ward off misfortune, won’t you?”
Chen Dasheng glared at him. “Great fortune, my foot. The person hasn’t even died.”
Meng Wanquan blinked, then grinned and said, “Good news then! Let me take a look, where is he?”
He went inside for a moment, then came back out with a strange expression, and spreading one arm toward Chen Dasheng, said, “Alright, no more guessing needed—I know this boy.”
Everyone in the courtyard stared at him in astonishment.
Meng Wanquan sighed and said, “This boy is from the Zhang family on Quanqian Street. I’m not sure which branch exactly, I’ve only met that Master Yujian who got into trouble—when he went up to his mountain cottage, he often had this boy in tow… tsk, poor thing, he was once treasured like a jewel too.”
Chen Dasheng didn’t believe it and pressed further, “Are you sure?”
Meng Wanquan thought for a moment, then sent someone to fetch Zhuangyuan from the school to come take a look.
Throughout Quanhou Street, the one who most often mingled with scholars was Zhuangyuan’s stepfather—that old gentleman had been quite fond of Zhuangyuan, always bringing him along wherever he went.
Before long, Zhuangyuan arrived, went in to look at the boy, and confirmed he was indeed from the Zhang family—though he wasn’t close with him, just acquainted.
Perhaps feeling uneasy in his heart, Zhuangyuan, having clarified matters, made his excuses and left as if pursued by ghosts—not even willing to touch the Chen family’s teacups. This boy carried a self-conscious, awkward inferiority complex, unable to even lift his eyes toward anyone from Qinwei Lane.
Turning back to that boy from the Zhang family who hadn’t frozen to death, the contrast was truly heartbreaking—a young master from a family with a respected fourth-rank official father, and yet the worst punishment he’d likely endured last year was a few strikes on the palm for failing to recite his lessons properly.
Qiqian’er sighed and stood up, asking Chen Dasheng, “So this family really has become entangled with us again, hasn’t it—everywhere we turn, it’s their family’s business. We just heard about the clay bodhisattva, and now this comes along. Let’s all go inside—it’s freezing standing out here in the wind. Didn’t you say his grandmother is still alive? Send someone to report the news!”
After all, that was the woman with the golden bodhisattva—even a trickle from between her fingers could save this boy.
Chen Dasheng’s eyes lit up—right, and there was someone on a hunger strike over there too, perhaps seeing her grandson would give her a reason to live again.
Meng Wanquan said with a grin, “Sister-in-law’s words make sense—this really is a matter right at your doorstep. However this plays out, it’ll happen right here. Leave it to me, I’ll arrange for someone to send word into the city right away. You all, today you’ve truly saved a life—that’s worth more than building a seven-tiered pagoda.”
Saving a life was certainly a good deed after all, and everyone went inside, relieved, to chat further, even keeping Meng Wanquan for a drink.
Unfortunately, after sending someone out, that evening the messenger returned reporting that he hadn’t even managed to see the old madam’s face. Her maiden family had come out to say that it wasn’t that they were being heartless, but this child’s parents had committed a grave act of unfilial impiety, breaking the old woman’s heart in the end, so they’d simply let things be as they were.
Hearing this, it was clear the whole family was just waiting for the old madam to die so they could divide up the golden bodhisattva—how could they possibly let her own grandson show up and get a share first?
No way, not a chance.
The servant, having finished his report, looked up and added, “Master, I found out more. This boy’s formal name is Zhang Pingchuan, his childhood name is Shunxing’er. He’s nine years old this year, with three older sisters above him. His father is the eldest son, who only had him near the age of forty—he was truly doted on before.
It’s just that this unfilial conduct is a grave crime against the whole clan—even without an imperial ruling, it’d bring disgrace on the entire family, a reputation that ten generations couldn’t wash clean. Since it was his parents who took the lead in abandoning the old mother, they’ve both been sentenced to execution after autumn next year. The Zhang case is a big one—the important ones have all been locked up, and those without much guilt have fled far away too. It’s not just this boy—it seems several children from the family have all scattered. This… this really is a case of the tree falling and everyone scrambling…”
Meng Wanquan coughed. “Scattering like fowl and eggs smashed, that’s the saying—look at you, half a book of study and you still can’t get it right, tsk!”
Qiqian’er immediately pressed further, “Didn’t you say there were also three older sisters?”
The servant reported back, “Reporting to madam, this whole family situation’s a mess, no mistake. I wore through three layers of shoe soles searching, and when I asked at those two ladies’ doors, one had already been divorced and cast out by her husband’s family, nowhere to be found. As for the other, I heard she was taken in as a concubine by a Ministry of War official named Wu Xiu. I went to the Ministry of War to inquire, and that’s how I finally found her.”
Having said this, the servant took out a crudely-made handkerchief from inside his robe and unfolded it for Chen Dasheng and the others to see. He said with a bitter smile, “I think this young lady’s life probably isn’t easy either, but at least her family still looks after her somewhat—though what good does this really do?”
Everyone looked down and saw, wrapped in that cloth, a rattan bracelet, a tarnished silver hairpin, and a dozen or so copper coins.
Chen Dasheng, who always paid close attention to matters involving Wu Xiu, asked, “Didn’t you say she became a concubine? What concubine’s household would be this shabby? What, is this Master Wu dirt poor?”
The servant laughed bitterly, “Master, what concubine! I only found out the truth once I got there—she was sold as a servant girl by her maternal uncle, who told the neighbors it was a concubinage arrangement just to save face with outsiders. Actually, this girl too had been sent to her uncle’s household by her mother, and who knows how she ended up scattered from there. Think about it, wouldn’t it be the same outcome either way? Perhaps she was clever enough to run before being sold.”
Meng Wanquan nodded. “Hm, that boy did look fine-featured—worth a decent sum, that one.”
The servant said, “I thought the same, so I didn’t dare press further at the main gate, worried it’d cause trouble on this end. I went straight to the Wu household—naturally, quite an impressive place, five gates just at the entrance alone, with staff assigned just to run errands for the various concubines’ quarters. I even thought, today’s a fat assignment, surely there’d be a decent tip coming. Well! Turns out it was just a young maid, only twelve, doing rough chores—I didn’t even get to see the young lady herself, and that was about all there was to it.”
He jangled the small items in his hand again, half wanting to feel disdainful, yet also feeling this whole family’s misfortune was truly a human tragedy.
Chen Dasheng chuckled helplessly. “Well, what a mess. Not bad, this little fellow of yours is quite sharp—what’s his name?”
Meng Wanquan smiled. “He’s called Jiling—laughs—surnamed Jia, your sister-in-law’s family’s head steward’s little grandson. He’s been running errands for me lately.”
Having said this, the two of them, no, along with Jia Jiling too, all burst out laughing together.
Qiqian’er, however, cut in at this point, saying, “At least it’s a human life, after all. He’s at that awkward age, doesn’t know how to do any work, and his small frame couldn’t manage physical labor either. But keeping him here would also be a lingering worry.”
Chen Dasheng looked at her, seeing she was genuinely worried for the boy, and said with a smile, “What, aren’t you afraid of raising a white-eyed wolf who’ll repay kindness with resentment?”
Qiqian’er glared at him and spat, “Bah! The thing I hate most in this world is that very question—’aren’t you afraid of what might happen later?’ Who has the eyes to see the future? How old is that child, anyway? He landed right at our doorstep—are we people or livestock? Even if his grandfather and the whole family of elders are worthless, he’s still a human life!
Besides, back when I swore an oath to Heaven, I promised that as long as my An’er stayed safe and content, whatever hardship crossed my path in this world, I would surely lend a hand. It’s just that this child’s situation is complicated—too delicate to handle lightly or harshly. And it’s not far from Quanqian Street either. Right now the news hasn’t spread yet, but if word gets out, and some loose-tongued gossip starts saying we took in the neighbor’s grandson as a servant, that wouldn’t sound good at all… And then there’s the matter of reputation too, which is truly troubling.”
Qiqian’er reached out and pointed toward the two children playing wildly nearby, sighing, “Seeing them, my heart just melts.”
But this unfilial crime would implicate three generations of the family at minimum—a child with such a reputation absolutely couldn’t stay in the Chen household. Yet they couldn’t just send him out to die in the wilderness either. What on earth could be done?
Everyone was at a loss, when Chen Dasheng suddenly seemed to think of something, slapping his thigh. “I say, why are we all so anxious? Let’s go find Tang Jiuyuan!”
Meng Wanquan nearly choked on his wine, laughing, “You’re an official yourself, and Tang Jiuyuan has no jurisdiction over this!”
Chen Dasheng laughed lightly. “No, I’m just greedy for money, harboring dark intentions—this boy is still the eldest grandson of the main line, and isn’t his grandmother about to die any day now? That old madam’s golden bodhisattva has to go to save her own family, doesn’t it? What, is the Chen family so destitute we’d let it go cheap to some outsider’s family? Just need to hire a lawyer to draft a complaint—he’s not tall, we could even have him bang the grievance drum himself. In the end, it’s just about giving someone a way to live.”
Qiqian’er thought about it, then clapped her hands and laughed. “Exactly right—with money to protect yourself, life becomes bearable.”
Having said this, she called Jixiang in and gave instructions, telling him to spread word outside that the child had “passed away” that very night—as for who he was, well, who could say, just some little beggar fleeing hardship from who-knows-where.
And so, that servant who’d worn through three layers of shoe soles, Jia Jiling, was sent off once again to summon Tang Jiuyuan.
Tang Jiuyuan arrived at lamp-lighting time, and immediately began playing coy, spreading his hands and saying, “The Mount Baiquan case still has no leads, and now you’re bringing me another child to hand over to the Ministry of Justice? This official has no jurisdiction over this matter—say what you will, I have no authority here!”
Chen Dasheng laughed lightly. “Truly no jurisdiction? It’s just a child not even ten years old.”
Tang Jiuyuan looked troubled. “How could I possibly handle it? Even if it were a bandit’s child, I could manage that. But this child… with this hereditary reputation, whoever gets involved will suffer for it.”
Chen Dasheng invited him to sit, poured him wine, and once he’d had a drink, said with a smile, “I won’t drag you into trouble, I’m just asking for advice—you’re an expert in the law, help me think like an upright official would, won’t you…”
While they discussed the legal matters inside, Qiqian’er quietly slipped away alone to the servants’ quarters. As it happened, this boy had just recovered, and after drinking a bowl of ginger congee, was lying there with his eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Seeing Qiqian’er enter, he struggled to sit up, but she pressed him back down, tucking the quilt around him as she asked, “Little one, how did you end up at my house?”
After a long moment, the boy said, “I… I’ve eaten your family’s candy before.”
He seemed to remember something, and the corner of his mouth curved into a smile. Truly, this child had rather fine, delicate features—when grown, he might turn out to be another Hu Yougui.
Qiqian’er thought about it for a while, puzzled, and said, “Our two families have never had any dealings—when did you ever eat candy from my household?”
The boy pursed his lips and said, “Madam, I didn’t mean to come to your house on purpose. I… I just wanted to borrow shelter from the wind behind your firewood stack, meaning to quietly leave again tomorrow. It’s just… back when things were still warm, back when my family… my family was still doing well, they brought me here to watch the monkey show. Your household’s, your household’s master would hand out candy to us every time.”
So that was it. Qiqian’er patted his head, her heart softening even further.
Being carried along by household servants to watch monkey performances, carefree and worry-free—that must have been quite a fond memory.
When a woman becomes a mother, her heart turns to water.
After a long moment, Qiqian’er finally made up her mind and said, “Little one, let me give you a new name. From now on, you’ll take the mountain’s surname, Bai, and be called Ruyi.”
This boy, having had some schooling, struggled to sit up, and in the end broke into tears. Wrapped in his quilt, he kowtowed to Qiqian’er, saying, “Thank you, madam, for bestowing this name.”
After he finished thanking her, Qiqian’er continued, “Actually, I know an elderly person who is the most compassionate soul I’ve ever known. Though he only tends a temple, he can still offer you a roof to shelter you from wind and rain. This elder is getting on in years now, and lacks a grandson to care for him in his old age. If you’re not afraid of hardship, in the future… in this world, he may be the only one who can offer you a way forward. Would you… would you be willing to go to him?”
The boy naturally agreed. Qiqian’er had originally planned for this—the next day, once his condition improved, she would send him to lodge at Yushu Grandmother’s Temple. But unexpectedly, early the next morning, Jixiang’s wife came and whispered a few words in Qiqian’er’s ear.
Qiqian’er, startled by what she heard, hurried to the servants’ quarters. Upon entering, she saw a firewood-chopping cleaver lying discarded on the ground. The boy was pressing his sister’s handkerchief against half his face, blood still dripping from the cloth.
“You… have you gone mad?”
This world always finds ways to grind a person’s heart to pieces—this boy, through his scattered misfortunes, had been forced to grow up all at once, and had already resolved how he would survive.
Bai Ruyi slowly knelt down and kowtowed to Qiqian’er, saying, “Madam has madam’s compassion, but I can’t be without conscience of my own. My family’s reputation is ruined, and this face of mine—too many people would recognize it. This way, it’ll be fine…” The small boy, his face covered in blood, looked up and said with a smile, “This way it’ll be fine. If no one recognizes me, then I can live!”
Qiqian’er stumbled out of the room in a daze. Chen Dasheng stood at the doorway, watching her, and said with a smile, “Wife, this little fellow isn’t bad at all—reminds me of the Lao Dao family line. Why don’t we just adopt him as our own?”