That night Chen Dasheng came home late; by the time he got back, the children were already asleep.

Qiqian’er, feeling the heat, sat in the courtyard drinking water and eating a few pieces of fruit, listening to the old women gossip.

They were all people with short legs for gossip, and no matter how the conversation wandered, it always came back to the recent spate of children dying near the household gate.

By the time Chen Dasheng finished bathing and came into the courtyard, it was already the second quarter of the Xu hour.

The old women, gathering up their various chores, withdrew, glancing wistfully at the beef-tallow lanterns on the table and walls as they left.

Such bright lighting was something only the masters of the house could afford; back at their own places, they could only fumble through their rough chores in the dark.

Qiqian’er, finding them endearing, let them each pick a lantern to take with them.

This delighted the old women so much that even from a distance, one could feel the joy radiating off them.

Chen Dasheng, hair loose and disheveled, came over holding a fine-tooth comb and sat down cross-legged in front of his wife. Qiqian’er, disliking the state of his comb, had Yiyue fetch her own small cosmetics box.

Among the great pleasures of Chen Dasheng’s life now, one was coming home and sitting on the floor while his wife carefully combed out his hair.

As for the other pleasures — probably seeing his father happy, his grandmother pleased, his brothers well-fed… flicking his silly son’s little pecker, ahem!

Qiqian’er took her tortoiseshell-rimmed comb, dipped it into the hair-oil bowl Yiyue had prepared, and drew it once smoothly through her husband’s hair at the roots; Chen Dasheng’s head tilted back slightly.

His hair truly was fine — grown down to his waist, black and smooth, catching even a little light at night to shine like black satin, rippling.

Qiqian’er envied that head of hair greatly; her own hair had only just managed to stop being so thin, and hair this black and lustrous was something she could never hope for in this lifetime.

After that stroke of the comb, Qiqian’er turned aside toward a sheet of coarse paper on the table, scraping the comb’s teeth with her fingernail, then bent to examine it closely. In her ear, she heard Chen Dasheng ask: “Are there… any?”

Qiqian’er pressed close to the roots again, checked a few more times, then said: “Still fine, none.”

This referred to lice and nits — back when their whole heads and bodies used to be covered in them, no one thought anything of it.

Now that life had improved, the fine silk undergarments were changed daily, and he had half a chest full of loincloths — that sort of thing simply couldn’t survive anymore.

But there was no guarantee, since the places Chen Dasheng went were always filthy, and every so often he’d bring some back with him, after which the whole household would get them, and the two children would be bitten and restless all night.

Because of this, Qiqian’er had scolded her husband fiercely on the stove several times over it, and after that the fellow made sure to be careful when out — generally, if he’d been somewhere filthy, he’d make a point of soaking thoroughly in baibu-root water several times before daring to come home.

Wealth and status also came in tiers — from being able to afford an oil lamp to having a whole courtyard full of lanterns without a second thought — but eating well and dressing well didn’t necessarily make one a true “master.” A truly wealthy, noble man’s body couldn’t sustain lice — truly, regardless of hereditary standing, a man of humble origin might serve as an official his whole life and still not mind having lice on his body.

He was used to it.

Chen Dasheng had once told a joke — officials of the fifth rank and above generally couldn’t sustain lice on their bodies; officials with real power in the Ministry of Personnel, Ministry of Justice, and Ministry of Works rarely had lice either; the Ministry of Rites was somewhere in between; the Ministry of War inevitably had them — sometimes even the commanding general couldn’t avoid it.

Especially those newly appointed scholars who’d just passed the examinations and entered the Hanlin Academy as archivists and erudites — they loved to keep this sort of thing the most, and there were even a few scholars who buried themselves in the book archives and never wanted to come out; while waiting at the South Gate to be summoned, lice would crawl about their temples… and after waiting long enough, they’d reach up along their temples, occasionally catch one, and squeeze it right in front of Chen Dasheng with a smile, black long fingernails and all, popping it with a satisfying crack.

This joke about lice was one Chen Dasheng had only started telling since early this year — before, he hadn’t found it funny at all; now he found it funny without even realizing it.

It was also from early this year that the things seemed to have vanished from his own body entirely.

That was the little pleasure of young married couples — one liked having his wife comb his hair, the other liked chattering on about household matters.

“You went into the palace today, did you see His Majesty?”

“Mm, I saw him.”

“Did you tell him about our situation here? Was His Majesty angry?”

Chen Dasheng was startled, then burst out laughing: “Children dying young around Yandu happens every day — even with more of late, it’s not enough to be reported to the throne. His Majesty is so busy. I went and mentioned he should keep an eye on other medicinal materials too, like mugwort leaves, agrimony, bletilla — if these are being bought up in bulk, that’s a real problem.”

“Oh, about the realgar situation?”

“Ah, keeping an eye on things for stopping bleeding is important too.”

“And what about the realgar matter?”

“His Majesty heard it and told me to go find Lord Benchu at the Imperial Medical Bureau, to have him order an investigation into the private pharmacies, to see if anyone’s been buying up large quantities of these ingredients. As I was leaving, I mentioned in passing that more and more young children were dying, and the elders at the Imperial Medical Bureau got quite anxious about it too — they sent people down to look into it. I’d guess starting the day after tomorrow, Master Cheng is going to be quite busy for a while.”

Qiqian’er was startled: “What’s Master Cheng going to be busy with?”

Chen Dasheng said: “He’s in charge of the medicine storehouse — the realgar in our neighborhood’s pharmacies has all been bought up…”

Qiqian’er drew a breath in, understanding, and after understanding, felt helpless: “Choutou?”

“Hm?”

“When you all handle official business up there, do you have to go about it so roundabout?”

Chen Dasheng took a breath and after a good while said: “You call this roundabout? Come on, wife, what are you thinking? We consider this a big matter, but down below, the reports of disasters and calamities that come in every day — unless they reach a certain scale, they don’t even make it to the throne.

If I’d gone straight to the Imperial Medical Bureau first, just a word from me and those people would pay attention too, but it would get pressed down through layer after layer, and by the time it reached Qingfeng, it’d probably be ten or eight days later — by then the plague would likely have already passed.”

Qiqian’er’s hand tightened slightly: “Father said you were capable, yet it still takes ten or eight days? Hmph, keep boasting to me every day then.”

Chen Dasheng chuckled softly. He was a secret scout, the future prince — yet openly he was merely a fifth-rank official in the Ministry of War. What could a fifth-rank capital official really amount to? Not even as much as a lowly clerk with real power in the Ministry of Personnel.

There were plenty of rules in officialdom, and the biggest taboo was eating from your own bowl while reaching into someone else’s.

Of course, bantering with his wife, he was genuinely humble and said: “Wife’s right, I really don’t carry much weight.”

Qiqian’er nodded, then remembered something and said: “Oh, the little sister was sent off today. Grandmother decided to have her buried outside the Jiangzhu estate; the uncles and elders over there have all been informed too, so that from now on, whenever there’s a festival, the clan will help look after her — burn some offerings for their little aunt.”

For children who died young, there wouldn’t even be a proper funeral — they weren’t really counted as full persons.

Chen Dasheng sighed: “Ah, what a pity too. If that household had had anyone who took life seriously, even just a little care, they wouldn’t have let a child come to this. If he weren’t so greedy, wouldn’t people be wary of getting close to him? Which blood relative would refuse to help? All this is the sins of the adults, visited as retribution upon an innocent child.

Such a proper court official, how did he end up like this? Not to mention the firewood and coal alone — every year the storehouse waste is no small amount either. He takes people up the mountain, and I’ve seen the Ministry of Works’ reports too — the miscellaneous laborers and servants not on the official roster cost over a thousand guan a year in food and wages just by themselves…”

Behind him, Qiqian’er smiled oddly. She set down the bamboo comb and switched to a coarser horn comb to continue combing.

Today was, across both her lifetimes, perhaps her happiest day. In her previous life, her son An’er had died, and the idle gossip people spoke back then — she’d forgotten it, too overwhelmed by grief — but the hatred, she could never let go of.

She hadn’t gone today, but the household servants had come back early and repeated it all to her, and those same words from the neighbors around were eerily similar to before.

Good children never live long — the immortals like to summon them away to be little attendants; they come to your household to fool you for a few years, then leave…

Oh, that child always looked frail — I told you to pay more attention, but you wouldn’t listen…

Oh well, a child of three or five hardly even counts as a person yet — you’re still young, just have another…

How casually said.

Chen Dasheng suddenly turned and asked curiously: “What are you thinking about? I ask and you don’t answer?”

Qiqian’er startled, turned his head back by force and said: “Nothing much, just thinking it’s such a pity.”

Chen Dasheng sighed: “It really is a pity! Our family has few members to begin with — even when our children grow up and have more relatives, come festivals we still won’t fill even fifteen tables. Look at those families in Yandu — goodness, when they hold a big birthday celebration, they can fill up a whole racecourse.”

Qiqian’er didn’t like hearing this, and gave him a smack on the back of the head; Chen Dasheng chuckled: “Wife, I feel like you’re acting strange today.”

Qiqian’er startled, then grabbed a fistful of his hair at the roots and gave it a hard twist. Chen Dasheng’s scalp at the temple was yanked up, and he let out a string of cries: “Ai-ya-ya-ya! Gently, gently, gently! We’re not enemies, don’t twist my head clean off.”

Qiqian’er relaxed her grip and took a black silk ribbon to start tying off the roots.

“What’s strange about me — what mother wouldn’t feel this way? And you’re supposed to be an elder brother yourself.”

As a mother herself, Qiqian’er wouldn’t wish this kind of grief on any other child either — her own son An’er was doing so well now, she was grateful for it, too afraid of retribution to hold onto hatred.

But hearing that Qiao Shi had lost a child, that flash of satisfaction had made her realize — deep down, she was still a worldly, petty woman, her heart really wasn’t so broad after all — and she quickly, silently recited a prayer of repentance, hoping the Bodhisattva wouldn’t blame her, only then did her conscience settle somewhat.

She wasn’t like Madam Li or Madam Luo, who would still joke around and tease with Xique and Lanting, let alone slip them so much as a single coin.

Those two children knew she wasn’t warm toward them, and kept well away from her.

But she’d never wished for that innocent child to die either — to die over a few doses of medicine.

She just thought — Qiao Shi loved her children more than anything; was today’s pain the same as her own back then?

How had it come to this? Without these nephews and nieces bleeding him dry, without Qiao Shi genuinely trying to build a life with him, Chen Siniu’s days would never have been good to begin with. No matter how difficult things got, Qiao Shi could manage everything, inside and out, and never once showed weakness in front of outsiders.

Now, watching them torment each other daily, hearing a little drama play out every few days, and come festival time a huge war breaks out over there in Yandu — this was the real retribution.

Qiqian’er now looked forward every day to Chen Siniu living a long, long life — she wanted to enjoy the show for the rest of her own life.

Chen Dasheng sighed: “I barely ever saw that girl’s face. Now that she’s gone, I feel a little regretful, though not overly so. Let me tell you — before, I didn’t want to burden you all with worry, so I didn’t mention it — do you know how the Fourth Branch has been living in the capital?”

Qiqian’er deftly gathered his hair up into a topknot and gave the back of his head a smack: “Done! How have they been living?”

Chen Dasheng shook his head comfortably and turned around, taking the handkerchief Qiqian’er handed him to wipe his hands: “Before, Qiao Shi was still managing things, but then she moved to Quanqian Street, and after that things over there ran wild. He’s taken in four concubines, fathered five daughters, plus one son — heh, my youngest brother just turned one year old, can you believe it?”

Qiqian’er blinked, somewhat astonished, and counted on her fingers: “Well, that’s eight already?”

Chen Dasheng bared his teeth: “Yeah, our family shouts ‘eight’ every day as a joke, but that man’s got a real, actual eight… tsk, not doing any proper work, and once he got to Yandu he just started having kids for fun. Aiya, this family’s rotted into a swamp beyond saving — there’ll be no end of trouble from now on.”

The two of them chattered a while longer before going to sleep, but by the next morning, trouble came in droves.

Early in the morning, someone stumbled up to the household gate to deliver news — Chen Siniu had had an accident.

Chen Dasheng threw on his clothes and shuffled out into the courtyard in his slippers, and saw it was Old Woman Shi from Qiao Shi’s household.

Old Woman Shi, seeing her mistress’s household collapse like a fallen roof beam, wept as though all hope were lost: “Fourth Master, Fourth Master! Ah, ah, ah, ah! The sky has fallen, the earth has split! You, you, you must hurry and go take a look! My master, my master has had something happen to him…”

Chen Siniu — Chen Dasheng was somewhat stunned. Qiqian’er came out to see this old woman, and knowing she always spoke unclearly, scolded: “What are you babbling about so early in the morning? Straighten out that tongue of yours and say it plainly — what roof beam falling, what sky splitting, what nonsense is this?”

Old Woman Shi, fearing Qiqian’er, sobbed out: “Madam, save your anger for later. My Fourth Master, he… he’s gone… truly gone!”

“What? Who did you say is gone?”

“Your Fourth Uncle, my Fourth Master is dead!”

“Bad news — hurry, go tell the old lady…”

By the riverbank behind Quanqian Street, Qiao Shi sat on the ground, disheveled and numb-faced, like a madwoman.

Behind her, several broken straw mats had been propped up to block the wind, and Chen Siniu’s body was temporarily laid there. The magistrate of Qingfeng Mansion had personally brought a coroner to investigate the case, currently examining the body and determining the cause of death.

Someone had died, and an official at that — so there was no shortage of onlookers; the area buzzed with chatter, as lively as a market day.

Chen Siniu really had died this time.

The day before, Qiao Shi’s daughter had passed away; once the household had finished the arrangements, the old lady had ordered the body taken away. It was only in the deep night that Chen Siniu, thoroughly drunk, finally arrived at Quanqian Street.

Qiao Shi, half out of her mind, argued with him furiously, but he was too impatient to listen and simply turned and walked out.

Whatever temper Chen Siniu had now, surrounded by a bevy of pretty faces, he had no patience left for Qiao Shi. He had daughters aplenty in Yandu — why would he care for this one with whom he had no real affection left? If she died, she died.

At that hour, the city gates of Yandu were already closed, so he couldn’t return there either, and he didn’t dare go see the old lady, nor did he have the face to disturb his nephew’s household — after all, he was an official, and his own daughter had died from lack of medicine due to his own delay. So he simply found himself a place on Quanqian Street at random.

It was a rather crude inn for travelers. He took a room, ordered food and wine, and continued drinking away his sorrows deep into the night. Perhaps needing to relieve himself — the inn’s outhouse wasn’t within the courtyard but built outside it, over the river at the back — he went out and never came back.

As it happened, he’d come in a hurry that night without bringing any servants along, so when he didn’t return, no one noticed.

Everyone had turned in early that night — who else was as idle as he was?

It was only this morning, when someone came to empty a chamber pot by the riverbank, that they discovered a body lying face-down by the water’s edge, and the commotion started.

The weather was hot, and after a night soaking in the water, the body already reeked, drawing swarms of flies buzzing around along with the chatter of onlookers.

Chen Dasheng simply sat there, cross-legged, paying no mind to what others were saying, unable to believe it no matter what — a man like that, he could die?

He just kept thinking, this thing… however it happened, he figured this man would go on plaguing everyone for ten thousand years.

How could he possibly be gone?

Such a scourge deserved death by a thousand cuts, and yet the old lady had only this one son left.

Just as he was lost in thought, the coroner who’d been examining the body came out to report that it was indeed a case of excessive drinking — he’d lost his footing by the water’s edge and fallen into the river, drowning.

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng slowly let out a breath, and said to the brother behind him: “Alright, go file leave for me on my behalf. This counts as a major merit for me — even though I’m in the Ministry of War, I should still take a month or two, let’s report a hundred days… Tell your sister-in-law, there’s a plague going around, and the household will need people, so send all the children to the Prince’s estate, let my father bear the burden for a few days.”

Just as he was speaking, a large crowd came rushing over from the other direction.

Chen Dasheng saw it was the old lady and immediately thought, this was bad.

He hurried forward to stop her.

Grandmother Chen wasn’t even using her cane anymore, hadn’t even bothered to dress properly — she looked hardly any better than Qiao Shi, truly disheveled with hair undone, running barefoot at top speed all the way from Quanhou Street by herself.

Seeing her grandson blocking her way, the old lady glared at him and asked, testing him: “You — you must have seen wrong, right?”

Chen Dasheng, secretly resenting Chen Siniu in his heart, said nothing, just bent down, scooped up the old lady, and started carrying her home.

The old lady went wild, beating at him with her hands, shouting over and over: “Put me down, put me down…”

All the coarse country language she’d long since stopped using came pouring out now, uninhibited — a string of curses aimed at her grandson, at Chen Siniu.

No one knew where she found such strength — even someone as strong as Chen Dasheng couldn’t hold onto her!

With no other choice, Chen Dasheng had to set the old lady down, and followed her as she stumbled unsteadily into the mat shelter.

Inside the shelter, Chen Siniu’s body, having soaked all night, was bloated, lying there fat and ghastly pale.

The coroner had cleaned him up somewhat, but coming out had only casually covered him with a mat, which didn’t even fully cover his face, leaving his swollen, wrinkled, pale, fat feet exposed.

The old lady naturally recognized her own son. She hesitated as she came in, not stepping forward right away, standing at the entrance of the shelter and asking tentatively: “Choutou, I was thinking, I must have seen wrong! Your Fourth Uncle, your Fourth Uncle… Si Niu, he… he wasn’t this bloated…”

Chen Dasheng swallowed and said nothing.

He just watched, eyes wide, as his own grandmother, step by step, finally shuffled up in front of that wretch.

The old lady bent down to look, staring fixedly, and finally, filled with anger and grief, she reached out and slapped Chen Siniu’s face left and right, cursing furiously: “Get up! Get up!! I’m telling you… you scoundrel, you never listened, it’s not your mother scaring you, truly not scaring you — your bones have already turned black, you’ve gone rotten through! You’ll suffer punishment in hell! Your brother, your father have long been waiting for you there, huh? Si Niu! Listen to your mother’s advice, let’s not go, they’ll beat you badly there, Si Niu… Mother, Mother isn’t lying to you, they really will beat you, you mustn’t go there…”

Before she could finish speaking, the old lady fainted.

Back on Qinwei Lane, Qiqian’er, being pregnant, couldn’t attend a funeral, so she sat in the courtyard watching seven or eight cicadas in the treetop — they weren’t calling out, just relieving themselves.

That wretched man — he was supposed to live a long life, so how did he end up dead?

Just as she was lost in thought, she heard a tile on the roof click, and Qiqian’er’s brows twitched; she had Yiyue take everyone to wait in the front courtyard.

Once the courtyard had quieted down, Uncle Xin silently dropped down from the roof.

The old man was getting on in years now, and even crossing rooftops made some noise.

Seeing no trace of sorrow on Qiqian’er’s face, the old man asked curiously: “Well now, your husband’s own Fourth Uncle just died, and you’re not the least bit sad?”

Qiqian’er pursed her lips and smiled, pointing her fan at the shade of the trees.

The old man looked up at the cicadas and said with a curled lip: “You’ve got a black heart, little lady — your lordly cicadas up there are relieving themselves quite comfortably. Oh, should I sit over there and catch a faceful?”

Qiqian’er, helpless, grabbed some fruit shells from the table and tossed them out, sending the cicadas scattering in all directions. Only then did Uncle Xin sit down and pick up melon slices from the small table to eat.

Seeing the old man enjoying his food, Qiqian’er said: “You wouldn’t know it, but even though he was the Fourth Uncle, with him dead, only the old lady is grieving in the whole family. Ah, at most she’ll grieve a few days, then that’ll be it… never mind him, anyway, he’s just rotting and stinking now, none of the nephews and nieces in the household are shedding a single tear over it.”

The old man looked surprised: “Heh! It’s one family, all the ins and outs — shouldn’t be like that.”

Why shouldn’t it be? Qiqian’er had plenty to say herself, and so, holding nothing back, told Uncle Xin the whole story.

Hearing this, Uncle Xin grew angrier the more he listened, and finally slapped his thigh: “I knew it, I knew it! No wonder, no wonder! Good riddance — good!”

Qiqian’er, catching an undertone in his words, asked curiously: “There’s something behind what you’re saying — what do you mean, ‘I knew it’?”

Uncle Xin thought for a moment, then laughed: “The reason I came just now was actually because of your household’s business too — you see, yesterday I had a few mischievous little beggar children who live in the shacks by the river; these kids are clumsy-tongued and just can’t manage to learn proper begging, so every day they wait by the back river, and when people come early to empty their chamber pots, they’d go up and help, using straw brushes to scrape the bottom of the buckets for a bit of money to get by…”

Qiqian’er’s eyes flickered, and she cut in: “And they saw something?”

The old man raised his eyebrows: “Ah, our children saw it all. Deep in the night, that lord was relieving himself by the water, and then a woman came up behind him and shoved him… and while he struggled in the water, she went over and pressed down hard, kept pressing until he stopped moving entirely…”

“Hiss…” Qiqian’er drew in a sharp breath of cold air upon hearing this; her heart had already guessed who it was, but she still asked, testing: “Do you know who it was?”

The old man wiped his mouth with his sleeve: “Ah, our children are clever — they asked around afterward, found out the household, found out the person, that’s when… they came back and told me.”

Whew… this had turned serious.

Murdering one’s own husband was, throughout the dynasties, a crime punishable by death by a thousand cuts — that went without saying, but the truly troubling part was that such a heinous case would implicate the entire clan.

All of Chen Siniu’s unfilial, heartless conduct, once it got spread across all of Daliang, and the clean, loyal reputation the Chen family had built up through generations of service — from this moment on, it might never be salvageable again.

Qiqian’er tapped her fingers on the table a few times, then smiled at Uncle Xin and said: “You’ve gone to such trouble — our family’s children are still young, so let’s send them off to Xiaonan Mountain, find them a good family to take them in, have them learn to read and write. From now on, I’ll support them.”

Uncle Xin smiled: “Ah, don’t worry about this. A man so unfilial as that — his death was heaven’s own doing, taking him away. All we can do is quietly clap our hands in satisfaction.”

Qiqian’er smiled: “…You’re right about that.”