Old chief Yao Chunfeng’s wife came from her natal family surnamed Ding, named Xiugu. Her family’s ancestors weren’t originally from within Yanjing city proper — they lived outside Yanjing’s north gate, in a place called Three Bucket Mouth Lane, which fifteen li further back used to be called Three Whisker Lane. Old Yanjing folk all knew that any place name with a “three” in it meant the people there were tough to deal with.

Compared to Yanjing, where half the city descended from artisan households, the people on the Three Bucket Mouth Lane side were the true local natives of Yanjing. But later, when powerful nobles came to claim the land, Three Bucket Mouth, Three Whisker, and even Three Family Ditch all became the private domain of Yanjing’s noble families.

How did this “private” arrangement work? Well, the law didn’t recognize you as a slave, but if your family’s property and land were suddenly granted away by the imperial court, then living on that land meant you had to work for its new owner.

And so, around Yanjing there arose all sorts of designations — vegetable households, tea households, temple households, wine households, sauce households… in short, you had to render service of some kind to the master family.

Ding Xiugu’s family had been just such a vegetable household. Perhaps they hadn’t gotten along with their landlord family, because eventually the master family forbade them from farming that vegetable plot any longer, and even drove the whole family out.

The old Ding family thus lost the ancestral trade. With no other choice, Ding Xiugu’s grandfather gritted his teeth and brought her father into Yanjing city, becoming something a notch above a common vagrant — what was called a “grievance-monger.”

What exactly was a grievance-monger? Such people were, on ordinary days, just common folk of the Yanjing streets, living in crowded tenement courtyards with a dozen or more households, scraping by with some ordinary trade, looking like decent people on the surface. But whenever some family had a misfortune — say, a mother-in-law had driven a daughter-in-law to her death — that was when the grievance-mongers’ business began.

They’d first go with their smooth, quick tongues to the dead woman’s family and stir up trouble, offering schemes, and finally rally a whole crowd of grievance-mongers — dozens strong, old and young, men and women, carrying the corpse to the mother-in-law’s house to raise a ruckus, cry injustice, roll on the ground and make a scene, turning the household’s life completely upside down. In the end they’d extract money, which they’d split with the wronged party. And this was actually one of the more decent kinds of grievance-mongering.

There were many other varieties — bullying outsiders, pretending to be injured by some wealthy family’s carriage… in short, all of it fell under “grievance-mongering.”

In Yanjing, this sort of neither-good-nor-bad rabble was everywhere underfoot — rogues, bachelors, bullies, ruffians, hangers-on, market pests, cudgel-wielders… these people had been fixtures of Yanjing life longer than any official’s tenure, and were safer in their position than any noble lord’s — no matter who sat on the throne, such people could never be stamped out.

Like old rats in a sewer ditch, they all clustered and mingled together in packs.

Since childhood, Ding Xiugu had been carried on her mother’s back to go out and pad out a crowd for money, and over time she’d learned to become just like her mother — a full set of grievance-mongering skills, and aside from not caring about her own face, there was nothing she wouldn’t stoop to.

Her being this fat was because her mother, taking her along to eat off the grievance-mongering trade, was terrified she’d be shortchanged on food, and so stuffed her full at every turn — treating one meal as if it were five — and that’s how she’d grown this whole body of sinful fat.

Otherwise she’d never have married out at all, and in the end she’d ended up with Yao Chunfeng, a man who’d already worn through three wives before her.

The chief’s family had never gone hungry for generations, and were well-liked and respected among the neighbors — this was, for her, marrying above her station. Yet that didn’t stop Ding Xiugu from opening her mouth with lines like, “I was a pure maiden when I married you…”

Since she happened to be fat and large, and Yao Chunfeng couldn’t even overpower her physically, she became the household tyrant.

Yao Chunfeng tried to divorce her once every month, and every single time, it fell through.

This wife had eighty family-heirloom tactics ready and waiting for Yao Chunfeng — singing and wailing, rolling on the ground and making scenes, disheveled hair and sob stories, feigning fainting fits with eyes rolled back — by day it was unbearable suffering, and by night, god only knows what went on; either way, try as he might, he could never get the divorce to stick.

This particular day, bright and early, Ding Xiugu put on her finest clothes — a two-piece outfit, pink top and red-flowered bottom, narrow sleeves, round collar, all stuffed full of fat.

A single-layer garment was called a shan; one with a lining was called an ao — and without a lining, unstarched, the garment wouldn’t hang properly; but a lining cost money, and washing and re-starching it cost money too.

A simple unlined shan was cheap, and common folk on the streets wore it year-round except in deep winter, rather than the more presentable, proper ao.

Though this outfit of Ding Xiugu’s was made from old satin, the color was still bright, and it was thin — and being fat as she was, the thin satin stretched taut across rolls of flesh, jiggling and bouncing with every step; combined with that small round collar, it looked as though the garment were growing straight out of the flesh of her neck, looking rather cramped, each fold of fabric patched together from bits of extra material, layer upon layer, roll upon roll — remarkably intricate — and she thought she looked rather fine indeed.

One couldn’t really blame this fat wife — for people who knew how to manage a household, buying secondhand clothes from the pawnshop was simply not appropriate… ah well, common families were all the same; no one had room to laugh at anyone else.

It wasn’t that Yao Chunfeng was stingy with money — it was that Ding Xiugu simply refused to buy new.

Ding Xiugu left home without telling Yao Chunfeng. She went straight to her natal family, and the moment she entered the courtyard, her old father had already lined up her six nephews on the steps of the yard for her to choose from, like items on display.

Meanwhile, her three sisters-in-law each held out gifts — some eggs, some fine flour, some home-woven, home-dyed cloth.

Ding Xiugu looked them all over, and seeing that the eldest sister-in-law had given two baskets holding some sixty chicks, she took the eldest sister-in-law’s second son, Er Dan, and left with him.

As she was leaving, her mother called after her: “Gu, ah, my own flesh and blood, you tell that in-law granny of yours — she needs to know the difference between her own kin and outsiders! You need to think of yourself too — if you don’t get your nephew properly settled, once Yao Chunfeng kicks the bucket, you’ll be waiting for your good days then, won’t you — still wanting meat to eat, still wanting to come back to your natal family and have your nephew wait on you — you can just wait and see…”

Ding Xiugu found her mother’s words entirely reasonable. She’d looked down on Huo Jiulang before, but she couldn’t get past the fact that his relative was an official lord — and she’d heard it was even a maternal cousin of His Majesty’s own family, no less.

Damn it, how could her family be mere vegetable households while his was this?

His old father was a fool — a nominal godfather — when the elder arranged matters, would Huo Jiulang dare so much as fart in protest? Why make things so difficult for herself over it? What was the point of putting on airs — sooner or later wouldn’t he have to give in anyway?

Just look at that ugly brat she was raising now — how could it compare to her own nephews?

And as her father said, wouldn’t her own sister want to see Huo Jiulang’s child cared for properly in old age? That, too, would surely rely on the family connections, and sooner or later the officials would arrange some minor post for him.

She and her husband had no children of their own — if her nephew became Old Nine’s adopted son, and later became an official, then with her claim on that debt of gratitude, how could he refuse to support her in her old age?

Besides, say what you will, her several nephews were clever and well-behaved, and their looks were among the best-known in the neighborhood — the in-law granny would surely take a liking the moment she saw them.

For Jiulang’s own good, too, they couldn’t keep that ugly child around any longer.

These words came straight from Ding Xiugu’s heart — she truly believed she’d thought everything through carefully, arranging matters for all three households’ old age in one stroke.

Thinking on this, Ding Xiugu began to feel she was getting the short end of the deal, and so, having taken her nephew and the two baskets of eggs, she turned back home to drop them off, switched to a smaller basket, picked out sixty evenly-sized small eggs to fill it completely, then mounted the family’s sturdy donkey, holding her fat nephew in her arms, and set off for the Qingfeng mansion.

This fat wife, from childhood, had learned one habit from her father: in this world, when facing a difficult matter, nothing was more frightening than a shameless troublemaker — if you wanted peace and comfort, you’d best just give in to such people’s demands, otherwise… hmph, tables overturned, pots smashed, snot and tears flying, out-and-out shamelessness — then no one gets to live in peace.

Leaving through Yanjing’s east gate, halfway along the road, the donkey gave out and simply stood there panting.

Ding Xiugu, deeply fond of her family’s livestock, set her nephew down on the ground and had him run alongside.

If you want great fortune in this life, you have to suffer for it — what good fortune in this world comes free?

And so, all along that road, the people of Qingfeng mansion certainly got an eyeful —

Just a wheezing donkey, pulling an unprecedentedly fat woman, with a seven- or eight-year-old boy trotting along behind the donkey’s rear, wailing as he ran…

Amid all this commotion, aunt and nephew asked their way to Quanhou Street, and the moment they entered the street, Ding Xiugu found herself rather taken aback.

No wonder — while this fat wife had grown up in Yanjing, the true wealthy official households lived in places where, the moment you entered the alley mouth, someone would already be stopping you.

Moreover, having grown up seeing her parents and uncles fail in business and get hauled off to the yamen for a beating, Ding Xiugu had an instinctive fear of such places, and she kept to the side away from the great lords’ gates, not daring to even look up, as a rule.

But the moment she stood at the mouth of this street — goodness, row after row of tidy, deep alleyways, every household’s gate built up like a tower, with eaves and brackets five or six stories high, at minimum a pair of large and small “sleeping-silkworm-brow” carved faces, and below that the mansion’s name plaque — she couldn’t read, but she could tell the wealthy lords’ plaques were gilded with gold powder, and the very construction of these gates alone must have cost a fortune.

Clicking her tongue inwardly, Ding Xiugu led the donkey, the egg basket on her arm, walking a few steps and scolding her nephew each time: “Stay close! In a bit you’ll see your great-aunt!! Don’t get yourself lost again!!”

She’d meant to ask a passerby for directions, but everyone coming and going on Quanhou Street was either riding in carriages or sedan chairs — great crowds of them passing through — and it frightened her so much she pressed herself against the wall to keep out of the way, just like she would in Yanjing.

Once the people had passed, she resumed grumbling to herself as she walked, pacing quietly up and down the street three times before finally working up the courage to ask a gatekeeper at the entrance of some great household.

“Good elder brother, might I trouble you to ask something?”

It was hot, and this gatekeeper had been hiding in the shade sipping tea; disturbed by this interruption, he looked her up and down, curled his lip, and asked without even getting up: “Where are you from?”

Ding Xiugu hurriedly said: “Oh, oh, ah! Yanjing, from Twin Bend Lane in Yanjing, you know it, right, near North Artisan’s Three Workshops, close to the Five City Military Patrol Office, not far from my home — my father is Ding Sidun, just ask around there and everyone knows me — my husband is Old Chief Yao…”

The gatekeeper couldn’t make heads or tails of what this fat woman was saying, and cut her off: “All right, all right, all right, I’m asking which house’s gate you’re looking for? Who are you here to see?”

Ding Xiugu, sweat pouring down her face, nodded repeatedly and said: “Oh oh oh, my husband’s godson’s own sister married over on this side — I don’t even know her husband’s family name, I just know the in-law granny is surnamed Huo, seventh in her generation, and her husband works serving His Majesty.”

This made the gatekeeper laugh out loud. “Auntie, you’re quite the character. Everyone living around here serves His Majesty in some capacity — I’m asking who exactly you’re here to see. If you’re really a relative, you ought to at least know which government office that lady’s family belongs to, what official rank he holds, and which lane of the Six Ministries district they live in.”

How was she supposed to know any of that? Ding Xiugu broke out in another sweat, thought hard for a long while, then clapped her hands and said: “Ah, I remember now — the in-law lord’s surname is Monkey!”

That got the gatekeeper laughing even harder. “Monkey, is it? Might as well be Dog, then…”

Then his expression suddenly changed, and he sat up sharply. “Which Marquis?”

Ding Xiugu thought again, and finally said: “That’s it — I heard my old man say something like Chen-hou, Chen-hou…”

The gatekeeper sprang up, breaking into a beaming smile: “Ah, ah, oh my, oh my, forgive my rudeness, forgive me — so you’re a relation of the Chen household, my apologies, my apologies, you should have said so clearly from the start — Marquis Chen! Of course I know of him!

That’s the future Prince of the Second Rank! Oh, so you, madam, are a relative of his family. Now it’s all clear. Their household mistress — well, I dare not speak her honored name so casually, but she’s called Fourth Madam by everyone — please, come with me, it’s not far…”

The more the gatekeeper spoke, the lower his back bent in deference, and by the end he’d even taken up her basket and led her donkey along for her.

Ding Xiugu, though inwardly guilty, found herself thoroughly delighted by all this flattery — so pleased, in fact, that it felt as if her previous twenty-some years had been lived in vain.

She let out a few vague, pleased sounds, then, dragging along her nephew who was by now nearly fainting from exhaustion, followed the gatekeeper into the lane. Turning a corner, she saw, beneath the wall on the western side, a whole long row of gatekeepers seated.

She’d actually passed this spot already during her earlier circling, and had seen this row of people sitting there so neat and disciplined that it had frightened her off from approaching.

Dark-faced and stern, just like the yamen runners who administered beatings at the courthouse — terrifying.

The gatekeeper, spotting them, called out from a distance: “Brother Xiaode, Brother Xiaode! Your household’s Fourth Madam’s relative couldn’t find the way and ended up at our gate — come and receive her!”

The seated row of men rose, and out from among them came a young man in a half-length dark satin robe, fine-browed and clear-eyed, who came forward smiling. He first bowed politely to Ding Xiugu and said: “Ah, madam must be from Jiangzhu — you didn’t send word ahead, we would have sent a carriage to fetch you, in this scorching heat…”

Ding Xiugu, already thoroughly overawed, hastened to explain: “No, no, what Jiangzhu — I’ve come from Yanjing to find your household’s Fourth Madam.”

Xiaode Ge, still smiling, took the items from her and even pulled out a string of coins from his pocket to give to the gatekeeper who’d led her.

The gatekeeper took the coins and was smiling as he moved to tuck them into his sleeve, when the fat wife spoke up: “Ah, just a few steps and you’re still giving him money for that? Give it to me instead.”

This was rather awkward. Best pretend not to have heard.

Fortunately, this household had plenty of people used to such things, and Xiaode Ge merely smiled and bent down to pick up Ding Xiugu’s nephew instead, saying: “Which household in Yanjing is madam from? I don’t recall them ever mentioning Fourth Madam having relatives in Yanjing before?”

He knew all the households of the Fifth Madam’s side, that much was certain — and as for the Chang household, there was certainly no such connection there either.

Ding Xiugu’s heart ached at the thought of that lost money, but she smiled and said: “How could there not be! It’s the most proper relation there is! My old man is Huo Jiulang’s godfather — the one who’s the chief, you know!”

Xiaode had been one of six young servant boys sent over originally by the She household, and now he oversaw the gatekeepers of all ten mansions at the entrance to the Guard Escort Lane — a proper outer-household steward.

Naturally, he was well aware of the household’s affairs.

Given a relation of this sort, he no longer bothered carrying the child, but politely and courteously led her to Guard Escort Lane, inviting her to sit and wait in the side room by the gatehouse.

He also asked whether she’d eaten. Naturally, Ding Xiugu wouldn’t dare say yes.

So they first laid out a table of plain vegetarian fare for her — the household was observing mourning, after all.

While she was eating, a nimble household steward-matron came out from the inner courtyard, helping serve dishes and pour soup, and in the course of this managed to thoroughly ferret out all the details of Ding Xiugu’s background.

Ding Xiugu, quite pleased with herself, boasted at length about how clever and bright her nephews were, citing several examples of their filial devotion.

This matron, dressed head to toe in gold and silver, her long vest made of fine gauze, thought to herself: hm, this one talks a good game.

Once Ding Xiugu had eaten her fill and wiped her mouth, this steward-matron said with a smile: “In-law auntie, please don’t take offense — our madam says the household is in mourning, everyone here is observing the greater mourning period, so it isn’t convenient to receive you today. If auntie has matters to discuss, perhaps you could return in two months’ time?”

Ding Xiugu had never seen much of the world, but she wasn’t unintelligent. Not even let into the main courtyard, just received in a side room — what was this, looking down on her?

Seeing that they intended to see her off, she was too intimidated by the grandeur of the place to make a scene there, and also didn’t want to lose out entirely, so she went along with the matron out the gate. But once they reached the mouth of the lane, out in the broad light of day — ah, that’s when her grievance-mongering tactics came out in full force.

There at the mouth of Guard Escort Lane, she first carefully set the basket of eggs down on the ground, then sat herself down cross-legged right there, grabbed two eggs and smashed them against her own face, then mussed up her hair into a wild tangle, and only then let out an “Aiyaa!!” and began her wailing performance.

“Neighbors on all sides, good people passing by, come look, everyone come look!! A relative come from dozens of li away, and this unfilial family won’t even let her see their elder in person — not even given a sip of water before being slapped and thrown out! Heaven above, all-seeing and all-knowing, just look at how they treat people — so cold-hearted, so unreasonable, I can’t go on living, I can’t go on living, they’ve bullied me to death…”

Her shoe had flown off somewhere far away… Her nephew, experienced in this too, wobbled a bit and then lay still and silent across his aunt’s lap, feebly playing dead.

Hm… rather pitiable indeed.

Back in Yanjing, a scene like this would have gathered a crowd within moments — layers upon layers of onlookers, and once she’d finished wailing out her grievance, there’d surely have been people offering advice, growing indignant, wanting to see justice done for her, asking all sorts of questions, with plenty of kind souls lending a hand.

But this was Quanhou Street. From the moment Ding Xiugu began her heart-wrenching wails, growing louder and louder, the once-quiet lane grew only quieter still.

The few gatekeepers nearby who had poked their heads out at first all withdrew back inside within moments, and one after another, the household gates slammed shut with a bang.

Signaling: we know nothing, we saw nothing, we’re all staying out of it.

Hah! This Quanhou Street was where the officials of the Six Ministries district lived.

Never mind that at this hour the masters of each household weren’t even home — even if they had been, the inner quarters were so deep, who would even hear it, and even if they did hear — they were all colleagues serving at the same court! Some troublesome guest shows up at your gate, and I go and gawk at the spectacle? No such thing!

Staying out of it entirely was already none too soon — how embarrassing that would be!

And so, this fat wife wailed and howled for a full stick of incense’s time, summoning up all her hereditary strength, and still couldn’t draw out a single onlooker.

During this, one lord returning to his residence, upon seeing the scene, turned his carriage right around and left. That was infuriating enough on its own.

People coming and going from all directions — were they all blind?

And so it went — Ding Xiugu cried for a while, rolled on the ground for a while, cursed for a while, rested for a while, from high noon onward, parched with thirst, having pecked her way through four or five raw eggs, until evening was nearly upon them… and to this day she doesn’t know who the traitor was who tipped him off.

Her husband arrived with a whole group of people, driving a donkey cart in a great hurry.

The moment Yao Chunfeng reached Guard Escort Lane, he didn’t dare even look at anyone — he simply had the hired matrons carry Ding Xiugu straight onto the donkey cart, and just as noisily as they’d arrived, the whole crowd noisily departed.

After all that commotion, it was as if nothing at all had happened on Quanhou Street.

On the way back, Ding Xiugu, her voice hoarse from crying, wailed: “Mother, that place is haunted, I tell you — they nearly starved and parched me to death, the old hag…”

Never going back there again!