Chapter Fifty-Five: Repaying Grievance with Virtue

Faced with the villagers’ accusations, Aunt Liu clenched her teeth, refusing to utter a single word.

An Yi felt a sense of ease, thinking she’d missed her chance to expose Aunt Liu’s hypocritical mask—unexpectedly, the woman had delivered herself right to her door.

Old Li stroked his chin and remarked, “Well now, I truly didn’t see it before, but you’re quite the ruthless woman, aren’t you? You really have the nerve to do such things!”

Madam Luo’s face was cold. “Liu Yan, my daughter Xier is safe now, so I won’t bother with past accounts. The money and gifts I gave you—I’ll just consider them wasted on a dog. Now, take these people and leave my house at once.”

Aunt Liu looked up at Madam Luo, opening her mouth as if to speak.

Seeing the families had fallen out, Old Li knew the An family would never pay the ten taels of silver. With a swift kick, he struck Aunt Liu’s back, cursing, “Damn you, you thieving woman! You dare to deceive me, making me waste my time for nothing.”

Aunt Liu toppled forward, landing on the ground from his kick.

Old Li pointed at Cong Liu, who stood trembling beside Aunt Liu. “Take this little brat away, sell her to the brothel, get whatever price you can.”

His men stepped forward to seize Cong Liu. Terrified, she screamed and dodged instinctively, but instead of running elsewhere, she huddled toward An Yi.

An Yi was about to move away when Wei Yang stretched out his left arm, picked her up, retreated swiftly, and with a flick of his right sleeve, deftly tossed Cong Liu aside. He lowered his head and asked An Yi in his arms, “Xier, were you frightened?”

An Yi’s eyes flickered; she shook her head.

A trace of fear flickered in Old Li’s gaze—he’d misjudged this country fellow, who clearly possessed some remarkable skills. Thankfully, he hadn’t rashly tried to overpower him; otherwise, today could have ended disastrously.

Meanwhile, the two burly men had already grabbed Cong Liu, dragging her outside. She struggled desperately, crying out, “Mother, save me! Mother—please, save me!”

“Cong Liu! Cong Liu!” Aunt Liu wailed.

The villagers, fearing Old Li, quickly made way. As the group was about to take Cong Liu, An Kang suddenly called out, “Wait.”

Old Li turned to look at him, then at Wei Yang. Judging by their ages, they weren’t father and son, but since they lived together, likely uncle and nephew—best not to offend. He smiled politely and asked, “Young master, is there something else?”

“The silver her family owes you, I’ll pay on their behalf. Please, be merciful and spare her,” An Kang replied calmly.

“Big brother!” An Jian and An Yi cried out together, clearly opposing his decision.

Madam Luo’s expression was conflicted. Though she hated Aunt Liu for deceiving her for so long, she couldn’t bear to see a child as young as Cong Liu fall into ruin. She wanted to speak but held her tongue, silently consenting to An Kang’s offer.

Old Li laughed, “Young master, you have a noble heart—repaying evil with kindness. Since you’re willing to settle her debts, I’m not unreasonable. I’ll do you this favor.”

“What young master? He’s the scholar who passed the imperial exam this year!” a villager interjected.

Old Li’s face changed; he clasped his hands respectfully. “So you’re Master An! I failed to recognize greatness and trespassed upon your esteemed house. Please forgive my offense.”

“Those who don’t know are not to blame. Please wait a moment,” An Kang said with a slight smile, turning to fetch the silver.

But Old Li didn’t take the money. He produced the debt note, offering it with both hands. “Just now, my men, unaware this was Master An’s home, damaged your door. This silver is compensation for repairs. Please forgive my intrusion.”

“This wasn’t your fault, Master Li. On this festive day, you’ve worked hard, coming all the way from town. You shouldn’t leave empty-handed,” An Kang placed the silver in his hand and took back the debt note.

“Thank you for your understanding, Master An.” Old Li bowed, then took his men and left the An household.

Holding the debt note, An Kang swept his gaze past Zhu Fucai and Cong Liu, finally landing on Aunt Liu. “Your debts are paid. You may leave.”

Aunt Liu scrambled up from the ground, not daring to look at the An family. She grabbed the terrified, urine-soaked Cong Liu, ignoring the bruised and battered Zhu Fucai. Mother and daughter leaned on each other as they headed home, with Zhu Fucai trailing behind at a sluggish pace.

The villagers gradually dispersed; the excitement was over, and it was time to return home for the New Year. From that day forth, Zhu Fucai’s family lost all standing in the village; people avoided them as if they were snakes or scorpions. An Kang’s act of virtue—repaying wrongs with kindness—became the talk of the region, spreading his good name far and wide.

All that was for later. At present, An Jian put down his stick and asked, “Sister, why didn’t you tell us about all this?”

An Yi glanced at Madam Luo and whispered, “Mother wouldn’t let me say anything.”

A look of guilt crossed Madam Luo’s face. She stepped forward and embraced An Yi. “It was my fault. I never imagined they’d be so malicious. She was both woman and demon. I was wrong, and I scolded my good child. Don’t be angry, Xier.”

“Xier isn’t angry with mother,” An Yi replied with a sweet laugh.

An Kang sniffed and asked, “Mother, what’s burning?”

“Oh no, my yellow pork!” Madam Luo rushed to the kitchen. “Oh dear, it’s all burnt up—how can we eat this now?”

Once Madam Luo was in the kitchen, An Kang gazed intently at An Yi. “Sister, how did you come to suspect Aunt Liu?”

An Yi looked up at him, noting the absence of doubt in his eyes, and smiled. “Mother wouldn’t let me play near the pond, but Xin Liu said the fish there were frozen on the surface, so I went with her. She pushed me in, then Aunt Liu jumped in to save me—it all seemed too coincidental. I didn’t think much of it before, but the books say that too many coincidences aren’t coincidences. Later, when you passed the exam, Aunt Liu pressed her favor to make mother agree to your engagement with Xin Liu, which made me even more suspicious. So just now, I deliberately tricked her, asking her to swear, and she hesitated, too guilty to do so. Now that her lies are exposed, she can never again claim to be our benefactor.”

An Jian laughed in admiration. “Sister, you’re so clever!”

“I’m the scholar’s sister, of course I’m clever!” An Yi said proudly, raising her eyebrows.

An Kang smiled gently, “Sister, you mustn’t say such things outside, or you’ll be the subject of ridicule.”

An Jian’s smile faded. Glancing at the kitchen, he lowered his voice, “Big brother, we can’t let this matter drop.”

“Shuanzi, let it go. She’s shown her true colors, and her days won’t be easy from now on. There’s no need for us to do more,” An Kang said, looking at him.

“Second brother, listen to big brother—don’t bother with useless things,” An Yi agreed. The account was settled; Xin Liu was dead, a life for a life—she wouldn’t pursue further vengeance.

“Understood.” Seeing both siblings in agreement, An Jian had no choice but to accept.

Wei Yang, repairing the door, overheard their quiet conversation, a faint smile curving his lips.

During the mourning for the late emperor, fireworks were forbidden for the New Year. Without their crackle, New Year’s Eve was cold and quiet. After the dinner, they stayed up until midnight, washed, and went to bed.

On the first day of the new year, the seventh prince—heir for fifteen years—had been emperor for just over a month. With the new year, the era name was changed to Zhishun; this was the first year of Zhishun.

Madam Luo took An Kang and his brothers to pay respects to An Younian, but An Yi had a stuffy nose. Fearing the cold wind would worsen her discomfort, Madam Luo kept her home.

If she could, Madam Luo wouldn’t have made the trip, but An Younian, regardless of his character, was An Kang’s grand-uncle. Scholars valued reputation, and she couldn’t let such trivial matters ruin An Kang and An Jian’s names and hinder their future careers.

Wei Yang took An Yi to visit the three Luo brothers for New Year’s greetings. With Madam Luo absent, they stayed for lunch at Luo Fugui’s house. Luo Fugui brought out a treasured vintage wine, sighing with emotion, “Chan-ge, your uncle has waited so many years, and finally you’ve returned. Come, drink with me.”

An Yi interjected, “Granduncle, uncle can’t drink—his injury isn’t healed yet.”

Wei Yang’s eyes flickered; he smiled, “Granduncle, the young physician has spoken—I mustn’t drink. Once I’m recovered, I’ll drink with you to our hearts’ content, until we’re thoroughly drunk.”

Before Luo Fugui could respond, Madam Yang stepped forward and confiscated the wine. “Save it for when Chan-ge is well.”

Luo Fugui watched the wine disappear from his grasp, smacking his lips in regret, unable to drink. Seeing his longing expression, everyone suppressed laughter.

After lunch, An Yi went home with Wei Yang. On the way, they encountered Li Yuan’er and Li Guyu. Even at New Year, the siblings’ clothes were patched upon patches; Li Guyu’s cotton shoes had a hole, exposing his toes.

They exchanged New Year’s greetings and passed by.

Returning home, An Yi set up the brazier and lit the fire. Uncle and niece sat around the brazier, roasting seeds.

“Xier, after the New Year, I’ll be leaving,” Wei Yang suddenly said.

An Yi looked up at him, “When will you come back?”

“I won’t return. Don’t tell your mother,” Wei Yang said solemnly.

An Yi’s eyes flickered, “Why won’t you come back? Has my mother not treated you well?”

“Your mother treats me too well—so well I’m reluctant to leave this warmth. But,” Wei Yang paused, a bitter smile at his lips, “I am not a bodyguard.”

“Why tell me the truth?” An Yi asked.

Wei Yang gazed at her, “Xier, I’ve always felt you’re not like an eight-year-old child.”

An Yi lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, “I’m not eight—I’m nine.”

Wei Yang smiled. With a brother who passed the exam at fourteen, her precocity wasn’t remarkable, but why did he feel she harbored many secrets?

The small copper kettle on the brazier whistled as the water boiled. An Yi took a porcelain jar from the cupboard, filled with dried red dates bought before the new year. She sliced the dates, brewed two cups of red date tea—good for health in winter.

They fell silent, sipping their tea quietly. He had his secrets, unspeakable; An Yi’s secrets would not be believed, even if told.

Thanks to An Kang’s scholar status, the three siblings were treated to lunch at An Younian’s house. After listening to his drunken ramblings for nearly an hour, they returned home at the end of the afternoon.

The second and third days of the new year followed last year’s routine, with Wei Yang accompanying them to the Zhang family. The Zhang uncles all agreed he resembled Luo Xianrong, so much so that even Wei Yang and An Yi began to suspect he might really be Madam Luo’s younger brother, perhaps the six-year-old Luo Qiuxue who’d been abducted years ago.

Unfortunately, without modern DNA testing, there was no way to confirm if Wei Yang was truly Luo Qiuxue.

By the Lantern Festival, the forty-nine-day ban on slaughtering had ended. After nearly two months without business, Aunt Zhu was eager to make up for lost time, having her husband butcher three fat pigs in quick succession. An Jian went to the pork stall, bought three pounds of pork, and, following An Yi’s advice, picked up two marrow bones. Aunt Zhu also gave him two hefty chunks of pig’s blood.

An Jian returned home heavily laden, shouting as he entered, “Mother, it’s festival time—cook extra dishes today!”

“Look at you, such a greedy child, like you haven’t had meat in years,” Madam Luo emerged from the kitchen, holding a plucked chicken.

An Jian chuckled, “It’s been two years since I had meat—last year’s end, this year’s start.”

“Nonsense! What do you mean two years? Altogether less than two months. When we were poorer, half a year would pass without meat, and you weren’t this greedy then,” Madam Luo scolded.

“When we were poor, I had to hold back—should I have acted like those foolish children, clamoring for meat, making you sad?” An Jian replied with a grin.

“Fine, fine, you win. All the meat is yours,” Madam Luo laughed, noticing the bones in his hand. “Why did you buy so many bones?”

“Sister told me to. She doesn’t like meat—she prefers gnawing on bones,” An Jian laughed.

“Who says I don’t like meat? Second brother always makes things up. I heard master say bone stew with peanuts makes you taller—don’t you think you’re short?” An Yi ran out, pouting.

An Jian scratched his head sheepishly, “I am a bit short—thanks for caring, sister.”

“Glad you know,” An Yi took the bones from him. “Mother, I’ll handle these.”

“The water’s icy—if you’re cleaning bones, use hot water,” Madam Luo said, plucking fine feathers from the chicken over the brazier.

“I soak the bones in water, no need to wash by hand, nor use hot water,” An Yi replied, using a wooden ladle to draw water from the vat, pouring it into a basin to soak the bones.

After a while, the blood seeped out. An Yi cleaned the bones, rinsed them with hot water to remove excess blood. “Mother, where’s the big clay pot?”

“On top of the cupboard—you can’t reach, let your uncle help,” Madam Luo said, chopping the chicken.

“Uncle!” An Yi called. After their conversation on New Year’s Day, she was willing to call Wei Yang “uncle.”

“Coming,” Wei Yang entered, “What do you need?”

“Uncle, please help me get the big clay pot from the cupboard.”

Wei Yang reached up and took down the pot.

An Yi washed it, put the bones inside, added water, placed it on the stove, threw in peeled peanuts, brought it to a boil, added peppercorns and other seasonings, a dash of rice vinegar, and let it simmer on low heat.

The festival dinner was in the evening. At midday, the family ate light fare. Toward dusk, Wei Yang and An Jian returned from practicing boxing on the mountain, bringing Li Yuan’er and Li Guyu with them.

Li Dazhi and Madam Jiang had taken their three younger children to her parents’ house for the festival, leaving the siblings to mind a cold stove, hungry.

“Yuan’er, Guyu, come wash your hands—dinner’s ready!” Madam Luo greeted them warmly.

The table was laden with dishes: chicken, duck, fish, meat, and a steaming bowl of bone soup. This Lantern Festival dinner was even more sumptuous than New Year’s Eve. Madam Luo gave two chicken wings to Li Guyu, and two chicken legs to Li Yuan’er.

“Thank you, Aunt An,” the siblings choked out. Since their birth mother’s death, it had been years since they’d eaten such a feast.

“No need for formality—eat up! You’re growing, don’t go hungry,” Madam Luo smiled.

After dinner, Madam Luo produced a pair of clean, old cotton shoes. “Guyu, these were Zhuzhi’s—his feet have grown, so he can’t wear them. Take them.”

“Thank you, Aunt An.” Tears spilled from Li Guyu’s eyes.

Madam Luo wiped his tears with a handkerchief, saying, “Guyu, it’s the New Year—not a time for tears. Smile, and your days will get better.”

Li Guyu managed a wide grin.

“Guyu, don’t be afraid of that wicked woman. My big brother is a scholar now; if she dares bully you, I’ll have him send someone to lock her up,” An Jian said, patting Guyu’s shoulder.

An Kang spoke sternly, “Second brother, don’t talk nonsense. You can’t just throw someone in jail.”

This was a family matter for the Li household—hard for even a wise judge to resolve, let alone An Kang who hadn’t yet entered officialdom.

An Jian stuck out his tongue, amending, “Guyu, my uncle’s skilled in martial arts. If that wicked woman hits you again, come tell me. I’ll have my uncle teach her a lesson.”

“A true man doesn’t fight women—I won’t hit a woman,” Wei Yang stated seriously.

An Jian, frustrated, protested, “Oh uncle, I didn’t mean you should really hit her—just scare her a bit.”

Wei Yang stroked his chin with a teasing smile. “If it’s just to scare her, I can consider it.”

An Yi put down her thoroughly gnawed bone. “Second brother, instead of asking uncle to scare her, you might as well have him teach Guyu some self-defense.”

Li Guyu’s eyes lit up, looking at Wei Yang with obvious longing, though he didn’t plead—perhaps fearing rejection or unwilling to trouble him.

Wei Yang looked at Guyu’s thin face, his gaze softening, as if seeing his younger self from years ago. His heart softened; since he’d decided to stay and teach An Jian martial arts for two months, it was no trouble to teach one more. “Are you afraid of hardship?”

“I’m not—I don’t fear hardship,” Li Guyu answered eagerly.

“Martial arts training is tough. If you’re not afraid, come here at dawn tomorrow. You’ll train with Shuanzi from now on,” said Wei Yang.

Li Yuan’er was overjoyed, nudging her brother, “Guyu, kneel to your master!”

Li Guyu knelt and kowtowed three times to Wei Yang. “Master!”

“Stand up,” Wei Yang gestured.

An Jian scratched his head, “Uncle, should I start calling you master too?”

“You’re my nephew—just call me uncle; no need to change,” Wei Yang replied. He liked hearing the An siblings call him uncle—it made him forget the past, forget his identity, forget the bloodshed, and feel like he truly belonged, like he was their uncle.

An Yi’s gaze glimmered, and she smiled softly.