Chapter Twenty: Negotiation

There were forty days left until the entrance exam. Even if he didn’t rest a single day, he would have to memorize 3,600 characters daily. Moreover, The Mencius and The Doctrine of the Mean were even harder to recite, and with daily review tasks, his absolute daily limit was only about 3,000 characters. That meant a gap of at least 24,000 characters he couldn’t possibly cover. Besides, he wasn’t living in seclusion—life would always throw things his way, forcing him to pause his studies…

That morning, before dawn, Su Lu was woken by his second brother, who handed him a jujube-wood stick.

He hefted the stick in confusion, “What’s going on? Are we going to war with the Cheng family again?”

“Unlikely, but best be prepared,” Su Youcai replied, also holding a stick as he led his two sons out of the room.

They soon saw their uncle and eldest uncle surrounding the old master as he emerged from the main hall, each man also holding a stick.

“What are we up to?” Su Lu felt a shiver down his spine.

“No questions, just follow along—we’re there to show support,” his eldest uncle said in a low voice.

Su Lu had no choice but to keep quiet, trailing the elders as they descended the stilted house, passing through the narrow alleys and leaving the town behind.

The road widened, and the six Su men, lined up with sticks in hand, advanced into the morning mist…

The scene reminded Su Lu of the Shelby family…

“Are we heading to the mountain?” he whispered to his second brother.

Su Tai nodded. Now that they were outside the town and no one was around, he dared to speak. “Grandfather arranged to meet Cheng’s eldest today.”

Su Lu almost burst out laughing. So it was a meeting between soon-to-be in-laws—he’d thought it was some kind of gang negotiation…

“What’s the full story?” He barely had time for gossip these days and wasn’t sure how things had progressed with his youngest uncle.

“Eldest uncle tried to talk to Cheng’s eldest, but negotiations stalled. Now both heads of family have to meet face to face,” Su Tai said, clearly having followed the matter closely. “Neither side wants outsiders to see, so they picked the old spot on Centipede Ridge, before sunrise.”

He paused, then added, “Since the Cheng family has more men, we can’t look weak. If aunt hadn’t stopped him, eldest uncle would have called our eldest brother back too.”

“Alright then,” Su Lu finally understood the situation.

When the Su men crossed the dove tree grove, they saw the Cheng family already waiting in the forest clearing.

The eastern sky was only just lightening. Truly, “Don’t think you rise early—there are always earlier risers.”

Cheng’s eldest wore a cotton cap trimmed with rabbit fur, a brand-new padded robe, and a sheepskin vest, looking every bit the wealthy landlord of the mountains.

The old master wore his blue silk guard’s garb from his days as a company commander, a copper-studded leather belt at his waist, crisp leggings, and a pair of old brown military boots. He stood ramrod straight, utterly unlike his usual slouch.

Behind them, the men of both families lined up in a row—eight to five, our numbers were at a disadvantage.

And in terms of quality, we probably didn’t fare better either, given all our good-for-nothing sons…

The two sides faced each other in silence until the old master finally spoke, “Cheng Old Fart, you’re the one who asked me out here. Why aren’t you saying anything now?”

Cheng’s eldest, Cheng Pixian, had been given worse nicknames over their years of enmity, but today the old master opted for a less lethal one since it was business.

Of course, the old master wasn’t immune either—his name was Su Dacheng, and Cheng Pixian snapped, “Pig Intestine, you really know how to keep your cool! Look at the mess your son made, and you still haven’t said a word!”

“Didn’t I have my eldest talk to you?” Su Dacheng said gruffly. “It’s you who kept pushing things off and refusing to settle. Doesn’t seem like you’re in a hurry.”

“Who says I’m not in a hurry!” Cheng Pixian waved his hand impatiently. “I said my family would pay to buy them a house in the county, let them live there to avoid any gossip. Even offered your son free lodging, but you refused!”

“I was the one who refused!” the old master replied firmly. “If they live in your house, won’t that make my boy a live-in son-in-law?”

“Then your family can buy a house!” Cheng Pixian snorted. “Save me the expense.”

“I can’t afford it!” the old master’s eyes flashed. “And anyway, what have they done so wrong? Is it so bad they can never see the light of day?”

“So you admit your son’s at fault!” Cheng Pixian was still furious.

“Go tell the magistrate, then,” the old master sneered.

“If I could, your whole clan would be wiped out by now!” Cheng Pixian ground his teeth but then deflated. “I’m not here to argue. Let’s decide what to do.”

“We do what must be done,” the old master replied. “You can’t hide fire in paper—especially when there’s a child. Sooner or later everyone will know. Best come clean and face it honestly.”

“They’ll be drowned in people’s spit…” Cheng Pixian shook his head.

“And you, as their fathers, are just decorations?” the old master cut him off. “That’s settled. Each of us will handle our own family.”

“How am I supposed to break the news?” Cheng Pixian hung his head.

“I’ll tell mine when I get back—you can say whatever you want,” the old master waved it off.

“You’re so overbearing!” Cheng Pixian flared.

“I’ve always been this way—this is news to you?” the old master declared. “The more you try to hide it, the more people gossip. Better to be open and let them say what they will!”

“Still, the clan will talk behind our backs,” Cheng Pixian said bitterly.

“Then it’s us they’ll blame—not the kids,” Su Dacheng replied calmly. “You choose which you prefer.”

“Of course I’d rather they blame us for being reckless!” Cheng Pixian’s eyes lit up. “At least then the children’s reputations are safe.”

“That’s right. Let them talk—who’d dare say it to my face?” The old master struck his elm cane on the ground, exuding authority.

Su Lu was stunned. Was this really his grandfather, a former company commander of the Ming dynasty, who usually lazed about chewing betel leaf and drinking alone?

“Fine,” Cheng Pixian finally nodded, resigned. “I’ll tell them. But you have to promise one thing.”

“Speak,” the old master said.

“Treat my daughter well. Don’t let her be looked down upon.”

“That’s not your concern. Once she marries, she’s part of the Su family.”

“You—” Cheng Pixian nearly choked.

“I’ll treat her the same as my eldest daughter-in-law,” Su Dacheng said, catching his breath.

“Hmph.” Cheng Pixian’s expression softened.

By now the sun was climbing over the treetops, dappled light falling on both families, and the atmosphere finally eased. It seemed there’d be no fight today…

The old master took two rolled betel leaves from his pouch, handing one to Cheng Pixian.

Cheng Pixian hesitated, then took it and began chewing.

“Pah! Why is it so spicy—what did you add?”

“Long pepper. It drives out the cold,” the old master said, eyes closed in enjoyment.

“People usually wrap betel nut, and you put in long pepper? You’re a real oddball!” Cheng Pixian’s mouth went numb, and he stuck out his tongue.

“You know nothing—long pepper is much better than betel nut.” The old master slowly chewed his leaf and said in a low voice, “So the children’s matter is settled. Now let’s talk about the baby… when?”

“March, I guess,” Cheng Pixian said softly, straightening his tongue. “That’s a problem too. Who gets married at year’s end and has a baby as soon as spring comes? Everyone will know the truth.”

“There’s no way to cover it up,” the old master mused. “Here’s what we’ll do: after the wedding, I’ll send my third boy off to do business, take his wife along, and they’ll return in a couple of years. That’ll settle everything.”

“Right, that works,” Cheng Pixian nodded eagerly. “By then, we’ll just say the child is one year old instead of two—who could tell the difference?”

“Exactly. And if the kid grows a bit fast, so what?” The old master grinned at Cheng Pixian. “By the way, you should still buy that house in the county.”

“Huh?” Cheng Pixian was baffled. “Doesn’t that make him a live-in son-in-law?”

“We’re bringing her home in grand style—eight sedan chairs! How’s that a live-in son-in-law?” the old master retorted. “After the wedding, if they stay at her father’s, at most it’s…”

“Sponging off the in-laws?” Cheng Pixian finished.

“Call it what you like,” the old master replied magnanimously.

“Shameless,” Cheng Pixian spat, then muttered, “Why do I feel like I’m getting the short end? I have to buy a house and still get talked about.”

“Well, as they say, ‘A dragon born at home is a debt collector,’” the old master sighed.

“Too true,” Cheng Pixian agreed, a sense of shared hardship passing between them.

~~

The day after their secret meeting, the old master invited all the family elders for a meal.

The Su clan had thrived in Erlang Beach for a hundred years, and Su Lu was now the sixth generation. The dynasty, in order to secure military manpower, had decreed that military households could not split up. Still, with so many people, division was inevitable, even if it wasn’t officially recorded at the garrison.

By unwritten family rule, once a grandson was born, a branch could split off. The Su clan now had eighteen branches. Twelve brothers of the old master’s generation were present; five other branches had lost their elders but sent the next in line.

Seventeen men surnamed Su filled the main hall, and with the old master, all eighteen heads of family were present.

With so grand a gathering, Su Lu could hardly keep studying. He joined his second brother in serving tea, bringing dishes, and pouring wine, rushed off his feet.

When the wine had gone around three times, clan leader Su Daxiang set down his chopsticks and asked, “Old Six, what’s the occasion? It’s not a festival—why call us all here?”

The elders all turned to Su Dacheng, who chewed on his betel leaf, then said, “There’s something I need to tell everyone.”

“Go ahead,” they nodded.

“It’s not to borrow money,” the old master exhaled a long breath. “My third son is getting married.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Everyone relaxed—he’d made such a big deal, they’d feared he was asking for contributions.

Head brewer Su Daji grinned, “Sixth brother, you’re so formal. Just a word would have sufficed—no need for a banquet.”

“Exactly. We came empty-handed and feel embarrassed,” the others laughed. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

“From the Cheng family…” the old master replied quietly.

ps. Set my alarm to get up early—still asking for votes and recommendations!