After the Prince had gone far away, Ding Yi straightened up. A person walked out from the corner of the building—looking closely, it was Master Bai. She exclaimed, “Master Bai, you’re still here? It’s so late, you should hurry home!”

Master Bai said it didn’t matter. “I didn’t expect you to have such good fortune—the Chun Prince granted your request. How did it go? About Xia Zhi’s situation…”

Before he could finish, someone was thrown out of the side gate. Xia Zhi tumbled twice on the ground and lay there, unable to get up. The Xian Prince’s guard was still cursing, “Boy, you’re lucky today! The Twelfth Prince pleaded for you, so your life isn’t over yet. Watch your step from now on. Don’t let me see you again, or if I encounter you on the street, I’ll break your third leg without another word!”

With a loud thud, the side gate was closed. Ding Yi and Master Bai hurried to help Xia Zhi up. His face was smeared with dirt, and when Ding Yi tried to wipe it, he winced as she touched his chin. “They nearly beat me into a split-mouth. Those lackeys are ruthless…”

He could still speak, so it seemed he wouldn’t die. They helped him up and walked back together. At Di’anmen, Ding Yi profusely thanked Master Bai, apologizing for disturbing his sleep so late at night.

As an official in the yamen, there were always small favors exchanged. Master Bai said, “It’s good that everything’s fine now. Take a sick day tomorrow to recover. Let this matter pass, but be more careful next time.”

The two agreed and parted ways with him, walking slowly through the quiet alley. Xia Zhi couldn’t keep his mouth shut, rambling on about how the Seventh Prince had punished him, beating him severely, and leaving injuries all over his body. He worried about how to explain it when their master returned tomorrow. Then he said, “I have to thank you today. Fortunately, you know the Chun Prince, otherwise I might not have survived. Hey, what kind of relationship do you have with the Chun Prince that he grants your requests? Let me tell you, many people have bad intentions. They seem nice on the surface but are beasts in private. Officials in our dynasty aren’t allowed to visit brothels, but they’re permitted to keep young male companions—that’s why Zhuangzhi Alley is full of male brothels. You need to be careful.”

Ding Yi glared at him. “Why didn’t they break your mouth? Someone saved you, and here you are spreading rumors about them!”

“I’m just worried about you…”

“Worry about yourself first. If you had just listened to me, would you have suffered today’s beating?” She scolded him all the way home until Xia Zhi fell silent. They soon arrived at Tongfu Alley.

The next day, Wu Changgeng returned. Seeing their battered state, he couldn’t help but grab Xia Zhi by the ear and berate him, “You never give me peace, you brat! As soon as I left, you created such a mess. It’s your good fortune that Little Tree has connections. If you’d been killed in some noble’s mansion, who could have sought justice for you? You would have deserved to die!”

After the scolding, what was to be done? Punishment by kneeling! Kneeling by the south wall, not allowed to rise without permission. With no one to cook, the master had to go apologize to the Seventh Prince’s mansion, so Ding Yi stayed home to attend to Xia Zhi. In communal courtyards, though kitchens weren’t shared, they were all set up outside during summer. Under the eaves, a small shed was built with an earthen stove—as long as it could hold a pot, it would suffice.

Ding Yi mixed water and kneaded dough to make steamed corn buns. San Qingzi’s wife also came out to cook and greeted her, “You’re cooking today? Is your martial brother badly injured? Not to criticize, but that man needs discipline. It would be good if two of his ribs were broken. Eating undeserved official meals yet still being so foul-mouthed—he deserves it!”

Executioners earned “undeserved meals,” and Ding Yi was displeased hearing this. Seeing her expression change, San Qingzi’s wife quickly smoothed things over, “I wasn’t talking about you, don’t take it to heart.” After a pause, she continued, “Tree, how old are you this year?”

Ding Yi put the corn buns in the steamer and casually replied, “Seventeen.”

“Time to find a wife,” the woman chattered. “Later, sister-in-law will introduce someone to you. The girl is lovely—I’m sure you’ll like her.”

Women with nothing to do loved matchmaking. If Ding Yi agreed even half-heartedly, tomorrow the woman would bring a girl over. She waved her hands repeatedly, “I appreciate your kindness, but right now I can’t even earn enough to feed myself, how could I support a family? Besides, my marital brother is still unmarried. As his junior, I can’t marry before him. Sister-in-law, if you know someone, please match them with my martial brother first. He’s not young anymore, and perhaps with a wife to manage him, he might become more mature.”

San Qingzi’s wife scoffed, “Enough of that! It’s not like the girl has no other suitors and must be forced on you. I thought you were reliable and good-looking, which is why I wanted to arrange a match. As for Xia Zhi—forget it!”

While they were chatting, they heard an argument break out at the other end of the courtyard. In a communal courtyard, all sorts of people lived together. This yard housed a family surnamed Xi, formerly wealthy with a gold shop. But as generations passed, they grew increasingly lazy—neither this one nor that one wanted to work—until finally the business folded, and after consuming their assets, they moved to Tongfu Alley. When people change environments and lower their expectations, they can taste something of ordinary life. Having declined in status, they just made do. The large family dispersed, each seeking their path, with little interaction. Things had been relatively peaceful until one day, the eldest sister-in-law, whose husband had died, couldn’t stay with her in-laws and returned to her maiden home. Coming home was fine—at worst, it meant an extra set of bowls and chopsticks. But this elder sister-in-law was like the “yellow master”—though just staying at her brother’s house, she started managing affairs, constantly picking on her sister-in-law, finding fault with everything, worse than a mother-in-law. Eating others’ food yet wanting to run their household—who could tolerate that? The sisters-in-law quarreled daily. The men couldn’t intervene; out of sight, out of mind, they escaped, leaving the women to fight—a complete chaos.

Madam Xi’s voice wasn’t loud. Unable to out-argue her sister-in-law, she wept and wailed, “You ill-starred menace! After ruining your husband’s family, now you’re ruining your maiden home. Who do you think you are, freeloading without contributing a penny? We gave you a place to live out of familial love, but look at you now, acting like the mistress of the house…”

The elder sister-in-law was formidable. Silently, she threw her brother’s wife’s belongings outside and had the children use winnowing baskets to scoop sand onto the kang bed, sneering coldly: “Try sleeping on that! Who am I? I’m a Xi by birth—this is my home. You’re the outsider, a hen that eats food without laying eggs. Get out early, don’t cut off the Xi family lineage.”

Such scenes played out every few days, and everyone had grown callous to them.

San Qingzi’s wife shook her head, “An elder sister-in-law is worse than ten mothers-in-law—she’s first-rate at sowing discord. Before a girl marries, she must investigate thoroughly. Even a family with a thousand gold pieces, even a prince’s mansion isn’t worth marrying into if there are many daughters. This Xi family woman is too fierce—such an aggressive unemployed widow can’t be found elsewhere in the entire dynasty.”

Ding Yi didn’t like gossiping about others. Each had their way of living—if they didn’t argue, perhaps they’d complain of boredom. She busied herself with heating oil to stir-fry preserved vegetables. The voices gradually quieted, and after a while, she saw the elder sister-in-law come out, a strand of bangs floating across her forehead, which she tucked behind her ear. She straightened her full bosom and, carrying an earthen pot, walked out proudly to get porridge.

“What nerve! She’s truly trouble…” Several women in the yard gathered to whisper, “She’s harder to serve than a mother-in-law—a living tyrant!”

Ding Yi listened carefully but heard no further sounds from the Xi family. By now, the corn buns were steamed. She carried them, bamboo steamer and all, into the room, intending to call Xia Zhi for a meal. She found him already lying in a reclining chair, humming opera tunes: “Chang-de-qi-qi, Chang-de-qi-qi.”

“The Seventh Prince is something—if the dog’s appearance was already ruined, why keep it?” He turned over and sat at the table, breaking apart a corn bun. “Didn’t the Chun Prince promise to compensate them with another one? They might as well have given us the one with its ‘hat removed.'”

The mention of the dog gave Ding Yi’s headache. “Can’t you stop thinking about that? Haven’t we caused enough trouble? There are plenty of ways to make money besides catching badgers. We could set up a stall and sell night snacks.”

“Yamen workers with official duties aren’t allowed to engage in trade—that’s the dynasty’s law. Officials not doing business is one thing, but what airs are we putting on? We can’t eat well, we drink thin gruel daily, yet still talk about official duties.” Xia Zhi stuck a chopstick in the pickled vegetable bowl. “If nothing else works, we can only peddle coal balls or sell our labor. Surely no one can object to that!”

While he pondered ways to make money, Ding Yi thought about how to repay the Chun Prince. Asking for help twice with empty hands wasn’t appropriate. Thinking about following him to the Changbai Mountains was one matter, but in ordinary social interactions, expressing gratitude for help was common sense.

However, in the sweltering heat, these considerations were temporarily set aside. After eating, it was time for an afternoon nap. Xia Zhi had timed it perfectly—he would kneel by the south wall when Master Wu returned, but before then, he rushed to lie down. After clearing the dishes and cooling some boiled water, Ding Yi washed her face and returned to her room to rest. The small room was hot, so she propped open the front and back windows, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan. Gradually, drowsiness overtook her. Just as she was about to close her eyes, a sudden wail startled her.

Had something happened? She jumped out of bed to check. Many people stood outside the Xi family’s door, women covering their mouths, whispering, their faces showing both terror and pity. Xia Zhi emerged from behind, dazed, and peered over. “Someone died, didn’t they?”

Indeed, Madam Xi, bullied by her sister-in-law until she had no way out, had taken her own life. She had cut her throat in her sister-in-law’s room, blood spilling all over the kang bed.

For a frail woman to cut herself so severely with a kitchen knife—what courage and determination that must have taken! Everyone pointed fingers at the elder sister-in-law: “The thorn in your eye has been removed. Are you satisfied now? Aren’t you afraid her ghost will come for you at night?” Women can be vicious—when they hate, a thousand cuts aren’t enough.

Ding Yi leaned against the wall, feeling empty inside. Building a family was not easy, but destroying it was so simple. In the time it takes to eat a meal, it could all fall apart.

However, suicides weren’t easily classified. The yamen had to send coroners to investigate, interview neighbors, and question potential suspects about their whereabouts. Though people hated the elder sister-in-law and the useless Mr. Xi, human life was at stake, and wild accusations were inappropriate. At the time, the Jin family at Lantern Market Street was holding a charitable porridge distribution. The elder sister-in-law had taken the children there, and her sister-in-law had seized this opportunity to take her life. Even if they tried to implicate her, the accusations wouldn’t stick. Finally, the magistrate ruled that it wasn’t homicide and the matter didn’t fall under the yamen’s jurisdiction. The bereaved family should quickly prepare the body for burial—in the summer heat, it would decompose rapidly.

Who could fully understand family matters? In any case, it was a terrible misfortune. The most urgent task now was to give the deceased a proper burial. Funeral arrangements required certain formalities—buying a coffin, setting up a mourning tent, and finding musicians. The music and performances weren’t for the dead but for the living. Madam Xi had her maiden family who, upon receiving news, would all come, likely leading to another chaotic confrontation.

With so many messy details to handle, Mr. Xi, who had always been ineffectual, became completely disoriented. In this courtyard, only Wu Changgeng and his disciples had frequent contact with the dead. Mr. Xi had previously looked down on them, but now he came seeking advice without shame. The gash on his wife’s neck was too long for him to handle himself, and it wouldn’t be proper for his wife to be buried with her head hanging down. He needed a way to sew it up.

“Who should I ask? I don’t know or recognize anyone outside who does this work,” Mr. Xi said, looking half his normal height, his face filled with grief. “She didn’t have many good days with me while alive. In the next life, I can’t let her be unable to swallow food. Master Wu, please point me in the right direction. I’ve failed her, but I should at least let her go intact.”

Wu Changgeng finished a pipe of tobacco and tapped his pipe. “At Henian Hall, there’s a leather worker’s shop willing to take such jobs.”

Mr. Xi hesitantly asked, “Do you know their price?”

Xia Zhi interjected, “I asked last time. It’s two taels of silver for sewing around the entire circumference. For your situation, about one tael should be enough.”

Mr. Xi exclaimed, “You might as well slaughter me… Is there anything cheaper?”

Who would willingly do such work? It wasn’t like stitching shoe soles—it was sewing a head! Xia Zhi shook his head. “If you’re afraid of spending money, do it yourself. Your elder sister-in-law is free anyway. Let her take on the task—three stitches, two threads, and it’s done.”

Wasn’t this adding salt to the wound? Having the elder sister-in-law sew would be worse than making her pay with her life. Ding Yi was about to laugh but quickly suppressed it. Before she could recover, Mr. Xi stared at her with blank eyes. “Tree, I saw you mending clothes for your master before. You have courage… would you… help out?”