Old Madam Chen Wu glared at Qiqian’er with a murderous look; Qiqian’er stiffened her neck and held firm against it.
She wasn’t afraid of a beating itself, but being beaten in front of everyone and losing face was a serious matter. Being looked down upon herself didn’t matter to her — but how would her son An’er conduct himself in the future because of it?
One day, when An’er made something of himself, instead of people acknowledging his worth, they’d sneer and say, oh, I know that one from the old Chen family — bought by his mother, always got beaten by his grandmother, everyone saw it.
What to do, then? Fight it out with the old matriarch?
The two of them stared each other down, neither willing to flinch first.
No one understood better than Qiqian’er that this old matriarch’s fierceness was nothing like an ordinary old woman’s.
This was a woman who had drifted through battlefields, clawing out a small fortune from nothing with her own hands.
As the rebel army’s territory grew, Old Madam Chen Wu — once merely a rebel dependent whose staying behind would have meant certain death — had been forced to follow the army’s rear alongside her only surviving granddaughter, Ding Xiang. At first she’d made a living doing mending work at the edge of camp; later, as more of the family’s children died, she gained a measure of respect, and once the army moved out, the officers allowed her to sit on half a cart bed.
Later still, as the surviving men gradually earned their way up, restoring their proper names and surnames, she earned the privilege of traveling with the unit — given rations by her superiors, and even a donkey cart of her own to get around.
Five full years now since they’d first fled the flood — of the more than forty members the old Chen family once had, all that remained now were two grandsons still struggling through the ranks in the eldest branch, one grandson from the second branch, one from the third branch, and her fourth son and grandson-in-law, all still serving in the army.
Choutou belonged to the third branch.
The old matriarch had endured watching pieces of her own flesh cut away, one after another — it was a wonder she hadn’t gone entirely mad.
Enduring her near-madness, she had managed with great difficulty to raise her one surviving granddaughter, Ding Xiang — only to have Old Madam Chen Wu decide, just last year, to marry her off to the superior officer of her two grandsons in the eldest branch.
The old matriarch couldn’t read a single character, yet she found the best way she knew to protect what few threads of bloodline remained for the old Chen family.
Ding Xiang, who had depended on her for survival, married a man fifteen years her senior. Did it not pain her?
It did!
Ever since Ding Xiang married, she’d found herself clutching her chest in sudden pangs, time and again.
But Ding Xiang had traveled with her, this lonely old woman, through refugee camps, field hospitals, and the edges of great battlefields — none of it safe. And so she had given Ding Xiang up as though cutting off her own flesh, and in doing so had protected three lives at once.
These days, she had no idea which side her granddaughter’s husband’s family was fighting on, or where her two grandsons from the eldest branch were shedding blood — but she felt at ease about it regardless, reasoning that at least those were her two brothers-in-law, and her son-in-law, however heartless, would surely look after his own kin.
Now, things had turned out well — the dynasty had changed.
Her sons and grandsons, through year after year of risking their necks and struggling for survival, had finally grown bones and sinews on the killing fields, and had built up merit.
And so her family now had a whole nest of lowly rank-and-file military officer posts — five of them in total.
The old matriarch was tough as nails — the sort of old woman who could ride a donkey cart thousands of li following the army, the sort who dared go onto the battlefield itself to strip corpses of blades and armor, then turn around and sell them for cash in camp.
Old Madam Chen Wu wasn’t the only one either — the camp dependents formed several large clusters, and hers belonged to the vanguard forces under General Tan’s command, a group that had simply formed itself naturally, with no one overseeing them.
With no one in charge, wildness naturally took hold — not just the old matriarch, but the dozens of women living in Quanhou Manor too; anyone who had survived this long was no pushover.
Their husbands were all low-ranking soldiers — compared to the dignified wives of men with real standing, who had servants, maids, and guards to escort them, these women had nothing but their own two hands: driving their own carts, carrying their own blades to protect themselves.
One could only imagine how difficult it must have been for Qiqian’er, marrying in, to deal with this group of aunties.
This crowd of aunties and matrons, carrying with them an air of banditry impossible to disguise, would occupy any empty house they found unattended, any stray livestock left behind — whatever they claimed, they considered theirs.
An absolute pack of female bandits, really — and Old Madam Chen Wu might as well have been their bandit chief.
With fighting and war all around, the men would occasionally come by unexpected windfalls; over the years, from following the great camp on foot alone, this group of women had gradually acquired, almost every household, a donkey cart of their own to get around.
Among them, Old Madam Chen Wu counted as one of the wealthier ones — her family had two mules and one donkey, and three cartloads of belongings to their name besides.
One could well imagine what this group of old women thought upon seeing the dignified splendor of Quanhou Manor — naturally, they simply lived wherever suited them best, claimed whatever caught their eye. So what if the finer houses had official seals on them? None of them could read anyway — who would know who had sealed it, or why?
As for the courtyard the old matriarch had picked out for Qiqian’er now — that was nothing compared to the one Fourth Sister-in-law had claimed with Xique, over on the other side, a proper three-courtyard estate with its own little garden. Madam Qiao even slept on an elaborately carved thousand-work eight-step bed, not being any kind of proper matriarch herself, yet dreaming every day of playing the part of one anyway.
But without real wealth and standing, one simply couldn’t pull off the airs of a proper matriarch. After a few days sleeping in that grand bed, Madam Qiao kept feeling there was a ghost behind it, and so, having no other option, she’d gathered a few familiar women to move in and keep her company with idle chatter. In the old matriarch’s words, that courtyard, with all its constant visiting back and forth, was like a hen coop — no eggs laid, just endless clucking, clucking, clucking all day long, never a moment’s peace.
Though the old matriarch lived among them, she personally oversaw the handling of rations each day rather than letting Madam Qiao manage it — this Madam Qiao had far too many little schemes of her own, and the old matriarch, having been cheated by her a few times already, decided it wasn’t worth keeping shared accounts with her any longer.
It was also for this reason that, the year Ding Xiang married, Madam Qiao had taken a fierce beating from her husband, her face unfit to be seen in public for a good half month afterward.
When Fourth Brother Chen had remarried and taken Madam Qiao as his wife, it had been on the pretense of finding someone to look after his elderly mother — but no sooner had she married in than, after only a few honest days, she’d played her little tricks and pushed his mother right out of the picture. Naturally, Chen the Fourth couldn’t let that stand.
A country man like him didn’t know tenderness in dealing with his wife — only his fists.
Madam Qiao took the beating, and her nerve broke; she now behaved with utmost obedience toward the old matriarch, practically begging to serve her on her knees.
But the old matriarch was no simple soul — she was a rare, hardened plow-blade of a woman among people, and once she’d made up her mind about something, she rarely wavered from it. She simply refused to give Madam Qiao any warmth at all.
Deep down she was quite fond of Xique, but she forced herself to hold back, not even sparing the child a glance, letting Chen the Fourth’s reputation as an unfilial son stand plainly for all to see, and so what if it did?
The old matriarch simply didn’t understand this reasoning, and neither did Chen the Fourth — that once peace settled over the land, those sour-mouthed scholars would establish their standing through filial piety and propriety, and Chen the Fourth would find himself stuck at the rank of a lowly rank-and-file officer for over a decade, never advancing.
For a mother to block her own son’s future prospects this way — there really was no one else quite like her.
Qiqian’er refused to enter this house belonging to five generations of scholars — fearing the old matriarch might make a scene, she would rather die than back down.
Old Madam Chen Wu, unable to save face, immediately darkened her expression, wanting to teach this thin-haired girl a lesson right then and there.
But it was also Madam Qiao’s bad luck — just as the old matriarch was about to strike, she caught sight, from the steps, of the mouth of the alley, where Madam Qiao stood together with a group of women, smiling as they watched the spectacle.
The old matriarch’s mood immediately soured further. She thought, better to settle this behind closed doors — after all, this was her properly, formally betrothed grandson’s wife; though young and somewhat naive, she’d need time to be brought around gradually before things ran smoothly. If it came to open conflict now, people would only say Madam Qiao had been wronged by this sharp-tongued newcomer.
And so, amid the laughter surrounding them, Old Madam Chen Wu released the pipe she’d been gripping behind her back and forced out a facsimile of grandmotherly affection. She stepped forward, pulled Qiqian’er into the courtyard, then slammed the courtyard gate shut with force, and turned to curse at the crowd outside: “Laughing, are you! Wasn’t it just the other day you were dropping your brats under a donkey’s belly, crying to me for help? Didn’t laugh then when old me was cleaning up your bloody mess, did you? What’s so funny now? Go on, all of you, scram!”
Laughter erupted outside in a great wave, but the crowd finally dispersed.
The old matriarch had reached an age where, whenever any of these women went into labor, they’d all come running to her eventually — no exceptions.
Once the crowd outside had gone, Old Madam Chen Wu glared at Qiqian’er and scolded her: “If it weren’t for your good-for-nothing fourth aunt being the thunder-struck wretch she is, I wouldn’t have brought you out here to live on your own! You’re such a simpleton! How could you possibly know better than me?”
As she spoke, she jabbed a finger repeatedly at Qiqian’er’s forehead.
“You little troublemaker — you’d better wise up in the future, you hear me? Grain in the field only counts as yours once it’s harvested into your own storehouse. What’s so good about that house over there? You think it’s newly built or something? Pah, spit on you, you clueless thing! That side’s just a single courtyard, eight or nine broken-down rooms, nothing worth anything at all! This side! I climbed over the wall to check this side out myself! This side has a proper red-wood bed, beautifully made, and this main hall too — you’re young, you haven’t seen much of the world, from now on just listen to me and you’ll be fine…”
Hearing this, Qiqian’er glanced left and right; she did admire the rockery, wintersweet, and green bamboo vines trailing through this courtyard — but did living here now mean it was truly hers?
Ha — what a dream this old matriarch was living!
At the thought, Qiqian’er tilted her head away, smiling, and set down the basket on her back, stretching her waist before turning to Old Madam Chen Wu and saying, “Grandmother! No matter how nice this one is, it’s no use — that place over there is where we ought to live!”
Old Madam Chen Wu looked somewhat astonished at her own finger. She’d used it before, poking at her own children and grandchildren — they were so scared of her they didn’t dare even flinch away. Even Chen the Fourth, every time he came home, took a slap or two from her and never dared dodge.
This girl… this girl was rebelling against her, was she!
The old matriarch flew into a rage, raising her voice: “Well now! I said you thunder-struck little wretch, what’s this about one place being good and the other crooked? You think just because you’re moving in, this becomes yours? You’re a simpleton — none of it is yours, understand?”
Qiqian’er wasn’t afraid of her, and looked back at the old matriarch with bright, glittering eyes, thinking to herself — this was just a scrawny little old woman, honestly; if she really tried, she could probably lift the woman clean off the ground.
At the thought, an appraising expression crossed Qiqian’er’s face as she looked the old matriarch up and down.
Old Madam Chen Wu felt an inexplicable chill run through her; she swallowed hard and gave an involuntary shudder.
She thought, this girl really did have a fine pair of eyes — bright and burning, like the wick of a fine white candle at a landlord’s house.
What, was this girl planning to turn the whole world upside down?
The old matriarch, holding back her unease, continued to bluster: “You don’t even know what kind of household this is, do you? Hmph! We’re a proper military household, a general’s family — we’re bound to leave sooner or later! This place here, you can’t hold onto it! It’s all just passing wealth along the road — you can look at it, admire it, but did you really think it was going to be yours? I say you go picking and choosing already! You’re really dreaming big, aren’t you! There are plenty of empty courtyards around — you think you can carry them all off on your back one by one?”
Qiqian’er turned her face away to look at the wintersweet.
How infuriating!
Thinking of her own hidden savings, the old matriarch fell easily into her familiar habit of complaining: “Oh, aiyo, truly a summer bath in a shallow pool — two scoops of water in and this old turtle shows its true colors! What a waste of my ten strings of cash, and my fifty catties of good flour, just to trade for a thing like this… good words, bad words, none of it sinks in! Aiyah, what great virtue did the old Chen family lack, to first get that crooked-hearted one, and now this top-grade blockhead — no wonder our ancestors’ grave mound is soaked clean through with floodwater…”
The old matriarch had her own particular style of scolding — once she got hold of even a shred of justification, she could go on and on about it forever.
Qiqian’er thought to herself, what ten strings of cash! That money was from the old dynasty — it wouldn’t even be usable for many more days before it was worthless; those old copper coins would just be melted down and recast come the new year.
Well, in this old matriarch’s mouth, her ten strings of cash could be talked up into the grandeur of a thousand taels of official silver.
Having endured this old matriarch’s scolding before, and even a beating or two with her pipe, Qiqian’er — who, in her old age, had seen far too much of the world to be fazed by such things — merely found it amusing now. She waited patiently for the old matriarch to finish and catch her breath, then deliberately put on a puzzled expression and asked, “Huh? Leave? Leave for where?”
She was only teasing her, really — the old matriarch had such an easily provoked temperament, ready to jump at the slightest goading.
Hearing this question from Qiqian’er, Old Madam Chen Wu suddenly remembered that this girl didn’t even know what her own husband did for a living.
Oh dear, she’d let it slip — the girl didn’t even know they were meant to be leaving.
Feeling caught out and slightly abashed, she craned her neck to peek over the broken wall, and seeing no one around, steadied herself, then, apparently pleased with some private thought, took the pipe from behind her waist and packed herself a fresh bowl of tobacco.
She gave an oddly self-satisfied grunt.
Qiqian’er wasn’t afraid inside, but her body instinctively took a step back.
Holding the pipe stem in her mouth without lighting it yet, the old matriarch took a moment to gather herself, then, with a touch of pride, said, “Let me tell you — a simpleton like you coming into my family, well, that’s our ancestors’ accumulated virtue paying off, Heaven above looking on you favorably! Hey, don’t you not believe me — it’s only because I’m kind-hearted, otherwise, go look around outside, a scrawny thing like you wouldn’t fetch ten strings of cash or fifty catties of grain — you wouldn’t even be worth five catties of chaff! Believe me or not?”
Believe her? Of course she believed her.
Finding a stone stool set out in the courtyard, the old matriarch sat herself down with a grunt.
Qiqian’er quickly stepped forward to help support her; perhaps unused to such treatment, Old Madam Chen Wu startled slightly, then laughed.
All her life, she’d never liked showing weakness in front of others — she simply endured, and endured, and now suddenly here was someone treating her with tenderness, and it touched her.
Never having experienced this kind of care before, Old Madam Chen Wu, unsure how to respond, reached out and gave Qiqian’er’s hand a firm smack instead, saying gruffly, “You sure know how to act sweet!”
The moment she said it, she regretted it further — the girl had meant well, why hit her for it?
Out of embarrassment, she began grunting to herself even more.
Watching the old matriarch, Qiqian’er felt a mixture of unease and sadness, half wanting to laugh and half wanting to cry.
For all her many grandchildren, in the end each looked only after their own concerns — no one paid any mind to what this old woman actually felt or wanted deep down.
This was loneliness, plain and simple — Qiqian’er understood it all too well, having suffered from the very same affliction herself in her old age: a restlessness with no clear cause, no illness to name, just an overall discomfort that needed to be voiced aloud in little grunts and sighs to find any relief.
On days when the old matriarch wasn’t scolding, complaining, or being harsh with anyone, she would grunt continuously under her breath like this. She always claimed her body felt unwell, and had even called for a physician once, though nothing could be diagnosed — she’d taken plenty of medicine for it regardless.
Madam Qiao said it was all an act, but the old matriarch had kept up this bent-backed grunting for over a decade now. If it was an act, it was certainly a persistent one.
Sadly, this grunting habit had become, for her children and grandchildren’s wives, simply a signal to steer clear of her.
In the end, everyone had simply come to think of her as a tiresome old nuisance.
The old matriarch grunted a while longer before saying, “You — your husband, my grandson — his proper name is called…”
Qiqian’er cut in, lifting her face: “Grandmother! I know this one — his name is Chen Dasheng! It’s written right there on the marriage contract.”
Hearing the thin-haired girl say this, the old matriarch beamed.
She wasn’t holding a grudge over being hit? What an obedient girl.
No wonder people said being literate was a good thing — once you could read, you knew everything, and feared nothing.
Not like the rest of them, who had to stick close together whenever they went out, easily left twenty li behind by the camp ahead without even realizing, unable to even ask for directions properly, not knowing east from west — only knowing they belonged to General Tan’s household.
But there were plenty of Tans under Heaven — among the various armies ahead, the Tan clan split into greater and lesser branches, with several junior Tans besides, some ranked as generals, some as vice-generals.
The old matriarch wore her every mood plainly on her face — pleased as she was inside, she still forced herself to hold back a little, pursing her lips and saying, “What Chen Dasheng — his name is Choutou! Chen Choutou! That name of his, mind you, was given by old General Tan himself. You know the old general, don’t you — the one who commands a million men, he’s the one who gave my Choutou his name.”
The old matriarch’s neck bobbed about like a shadow-puppet figure, giving her a rather endearing, elderly charm.
Qiqian’er watched, the corner of her mouth twitching.
Setting aside the fact that the entire new dynasty didn’t even have a million-strong army, that so-called great General Tan wasn’t quite what the old matriarch imagined either.
That year, when the army had been surrounded, Choutou and his brothers had earned merit in battle, and by sheer coincidence had ended up as personal guards to that very Tan family — and as it happened, the Old General Tan they encountered was something of an eccentric character.
This eccentric fellow, whenever something notable happened, liked to put on a bit of theater — his favorite pastime being to bestow auspicious names on people, without regard for whether the name their parents gave them was any good, simply handing out names like Dajie (“Great Victory”), Dawang (“Great Prosperity”), Dashun (“Great Smoothness”), Dasheng (“Great Triumph”), Dayi (“Great Righteousness”), Dazhong (“Great Loyalty”), and Dahe (“Great Harmony”) to that whole group of Choutous and Choudans from the old Chen family.
This particular bad habit of his had actually gotten him formally reprimanded and even flogged by the current Emperor himself, back when he was still just the Grand Marshal.
And here was the old matriarch, using this very story to intimidate people.
Fine, so long as they got along well together, Qiqian’er thought, let her have her fun scaring people. You just carry on grunting, and I’ll play along however’s needed. Hearing her grunt reminded her of her own past self — back then, was she really any better off than this? She’d grunted for her own children to hear too; what did she have to complain about here?
Qiqian’er played along enthusiastically: “What a fine name! When people come together, greatness follows; when one marches to victory again and again, that’s great triumph indeed.”
Oh my, what a lovely, crisp way of putting it — utterly incomprehensible, but lovely nonetheless.
The old matriarch ate this up entirely, softening further, and with even more patience coaxed Qiqian’er along, saying, “I’m not trying to scare you — your husband up ahead, he’s a general, you know! He’s really no ordinary man… you’d best listen to me from now on, understand?”
Qiqian’er put on an exaggerated look of astonishment.
“Really?”
“Of course! You lucky girl, you’ve fallen straight into good fortune, becoming an official’s wife!”
Qiqian’er turned her face away to look at the wintersweet again. The leaves were quite green.
The old matriarch, seeing her turn away as though in awe, only grew more animated, believing she’d properly intimidated the girl: “You, listen to me — as long as you behave! Whatever’s good in the future, there’ll be plenty for you too. Be clever about it, and whatever I tell you to do, you just do it! Don’t you go paying that Madam Qiao any mind, understand? I’ll never shortchange you, you hear?”
The old matriarch was getting ready to form factions now, was she? Fine, count her in.
Seeing Qiqian’er nod, the old matriarch smoothed the leaf-mixed tobacco in her pipe bowl with her fingers, and mimicking the manner of some dignified old lady she’d once seen, said, “Now then, you go on and tidy up here first, we won’t be staying long anyway — tomorrow we’ll be moving on with the army again, understand?”
This old matriarch’s idea of the most dignified old lady she’d ever seen was the matriarch of the wealthiest family back in her home village.
Qiqian’er registered appropriate surprise, lifting her face in confusion: “Huh? We’re leaving? Off to Yandu?”
The old matriarch, going on about one thing and then another without ever quite explaining herself properly, had really only succeeded in scaring her so far.
To hell with that, I’m not putting up with this any longer.
The old matriarch’s remaining patience finally ran dry, and her temper flared again — why was this simple-minded girl so hard to make understand? She raised her pipe as if to strike and scolded, “Yandu? Keep dreaming! A thing like you, going to Yandu? Tomorrow the great army moves out, and when the old general gives the order, you jump into the river if he says so! Fly to the heavens if he tells you to!
How would I know where we’re going? That’s a military order — have you ever even seen a military order? Fall behind and it’s death for you! Once the government troops arrive and find out you’re a rebel dependent, one stroke of the blade and you’re finished! And you still want to go to Yandu — why don’t you just go straight into the palace and be an imperial consort while you’re at it?”
Qiqian’er didn’t respond to that, instead leaning right into the path of the raised pipe, placing her own head directly beneath it, her eyes bright and sharp as she looked at the old matriarch and said, “Grandmother! What you just said doesn’t quite make sense.”
The old matriarch glared at her. “Sense? What sense?”
Qiqian’er blinked, then pointed casually toward the endless mountains stretching behind the manor. “That military order you mentioned, about us having to leave and all that — doesn’t that reasoning fall apart if you think it through?”
The old matriarch had been following the army for over four years now — and this business of following orders had some deeper logic to it that she’d never considered?
“What are you talking about? What logic? Whose logic?”
The war had only just ended, the state affairs were only just settling — and here was a group of unsupervised women and children thinking they could just wander off wherever they pleased? No such luck! That was that — once they’d arrived here, unless their men rose to great heights, this Quanhou Manor would become everyone’s final resting place!
By tomorrow, those second-tier noble ladies who hadn’t managed to secure a place in Yandu would come flooding in too, and from that point on it would be every fish for itself, big fish eating small fish, shrimp gnawing on rotten mud.
Qiqian’er had her own careful calculations in mind for making a fortune here, and for now she needed, step by careful step, to get this old matriarch thoroughly intimidated into settling where she ought to settle.
Logic, was it? Fine then — let me show you what logic really means, and what real intimidation looks like!