WSMTATMC C5

Chapter 5

Madam Wang, the elderly matriarch, furrowed her brow, set down her bowl, and slipped on her shoes before heading for the door. There, she found her second son seated on the threshold like a beggar, slapping his thighs and bawling at the top of his lungs.

“Wang Ying, what on earth are you doing!”

“Mother! That Chen family— they bully me so shamelessly, they don’t treat me as human at all! I can’t go on living like this!” His voice was so loud that it drew the neighbours from nearby houses.

One curious onlooker called out, “Wang Ying, what’s happened to you?”

“This morning, just for eating a few more mouthfuls, my mother-in-law grabbed me by the hair and slapped me four or five times — look, my face is still swollen.” Wang Ying puffed one cheek out with his tongue to show them. He had smeared dirt on his face earlier, so nothing much could be seen; the onlookers only gathered round noisily to spectate.

“Goodness—how could they treat you like this?”

Madam Wang’s face stiffened. “Get inside! What sort of spectacle are you making, wailing in the doorway?”

From Chen family’s behaviour at yesterday’s wedding, she had thought they might make good in-laws to rely upon, but now she put that idea out of her mind.

Wang Ying ignored her and continued crying where he sat. “That Chen family’s eldest son doesn’t look like he’s got long to live. I married in just yesterday, and we didn’t even have a bridal chamber night — if he dies, Mother-in-law will make me be a living widow. What am I supposed to do then?”

“What am I supposed to do about it? A ge’er married out is like water poured out; naturally, you have to obey your husband’s family.”

“Then give their money back! Mother, I don’t want to stay married~~”

Wang Ying let the anguish in his voice rip through him. He knew the character of the original body’s parents — they would never return the bride price to the Chen family. This whole display today was meant to sever any notion they might have of sponging off him in the future.

Madam Wang ground her teeth, stepped forward, and yanked him up, hissing in his ear: “Get yourself inside right now, or I’ll skin you alive!”

Wang Ying shuddered — and it wasn’t all an act. This was an ingrained reaction of the body he now inhabited; the original’s mother had beaten him so often and so harshly that even with a new soul inside, hearing her tone struck fear into him.

In the past, the old Wang Ying would have meekly followed her indoors. But now the one in his body was no longer that timid, downtrodden boy.

He raised his voice instead: “We’re all born of the same mother — why are you partial to Eldest Brother and Younger Brother, and only treat me with such disgust? Am I a foundling you picked up from the roadside?”

This was a question he had long wanted to ask on the original’s behalf. Same mother, same blood — how could such favoritism be shown, just because of gender? It was intolerable.

At the words, Madam Wang erupted. “Pah! You were born to bring me misfortune — raising you at all is charity! If I’d known you’d turn out this useless, I’d have drowned you in the night jar when you were born!”

The roots of this lay back when she was carrying him. One day, an old Daoist passed through the village and stopped at the Wang household gate, asking for a ladle of water. Madam Wang — sharp-tongued and hard-hearted — not only refused, but cursed him for a fraud.

Enraged, the Daoist pointed at her nose and spat: “Shrew! In your womb you carry neither son nor daughter, but a freak of ill fate — one that will bring about your death!”

She had chased him off with a broom, yet the words lodged like a thorn in her heart.

As fate would have it, her labour that day was terribly difficult; after a day and a night, she delivered the child at last. The midwife took one look and announced: “It’s a ge’er.”

At that, Madam Wang nearly fainted. If not for the elder Madam Wang — the old grandmother — still being alive then, the child might well have been drowned at birth.

Unfortunately, the old grandmother passed away later, and there was no longer anyone to protect the boy; with a father’s neglect and a mother’s hatred, he suffered every hardship in the household.

Now that Wang Ying understood his predecessor’s history, the trembling of his frame calmed, and in that moment, it seemed the spirit of the original Wang Ying passed away for good.

A wave of emptiness rose within him as he thought of his own parents in his previous life — not as cruel as the Wang couple, perhaps, but in truth, little different. They had abandoned him to aged grandparents, shouldering none of the responsibilities of parenthood.

One summer, his grandmother had taken him to his father’s home, hoping to mend their relationship. But he arrived only to find his father with a new wife and another child. Seeing them happy together, he felt like nothing more than an outsider.

He had wanted to call him “Father,” but the words stuck in his throat — and in return he was scolded for being increasingly ill-mannered as he grew.

He stayed only three days in that house before being sent back, the reason being that his younger half-brother had torn his homework and he had scolded him for it.

He had never gone to either parent again after that. He had thought himself long past caring — but now, treated this way once more, that long-buried resentment flared up at once.

Furious, he said, “You’ve taken the words of some random Daoist to heart and treated your own son as an enemy. Since you don’t see me as your son, why should I see you as my mother?”

“As it happens, all the uncles and aunts are here today — let’s have them judge whether it’s me who’s heartless, or you who’ve gone too far!”

“Since I was six, I’ve cooked for this whole family — had to stand on a bench just to reach the stove. One time I scalded my hand by accident, and instead of feeling sorry for me, she called me useless and denied me food for three days until I was eating leaves in hunger.”

“At eight, I was sent to work the fields. My parents treated me like an animal, not even giving me a sip of water under the blazing sun. I fainted on the ridge between fields, and would have been left there if my uncle hadn’t found me and carried me back.”

From the crowd, Second Uncle Wang Erhai nodded vigorously. “True! It’s the truth — poor child, really pitiful.”

“In winter, my elder and younger brothers had thick cotton coats, but I had nothing, and had to crouch by the stove for warmth — my hands and feet froze to the point of festering sores.”

One by one, Wang Ying recounted the memories in the body’s mind, and the neighbours shook their heads and clicked their tongues.

“What kind of parents treat their child like this?”

“Indeed — even a tiger does not eat its cubs! This is worse than a beast.”

“They’re your own flesh and blood—why treat them so?”

At this, Old Man Wang Laoshuan and his eldest son came back from the fields. Hearing the whispers of condemnation, they could hardly lift their heads.

Seeing the whole family present now, Wang Ying continued, “I know you can’t take out the money, and this home has no place for me. Let’s cut things clean today.”

Wang Shi demanded, “What exactly are you after?”

“I want the neighbours here as witnesses when we go to the lizheng¹ and have a deed drawn up — from this day on, I, Wang Ying, have no connection to your family. In life and death, there will be no more dealings between us!”

Madam Wang spat. “Fine, have your deed — let’s see how long you last in your in-laws’ house without your maiden family to rely on!”

Wang Ying sneered. “Even the worst of it is better than drowning in an icy river.”

At that, all bonds of blood were severed.

The Wang family talked it over and decided the deed was good — once Wang Ying was no longer part of the family, then even if the Chen family’s eldest son died, there’d be no way to demand the bride price back.

They went in a group to the lizheng’s house; after hearing the matter, he tried a few words of mediation, but seeing reconciliation was impossible, he drew up a severance contract.

Wang Ying read it through carefully; once satisfied, he pressed his thumbprint to it. From then on, even if they went to court, there would be no legal tie left.

As they left the lizheng’s, they happened to meet Chen Bo driving the mule-cart toward them.

He had waited outside the village for a long time with no sign of Wang Ying, and had finally felt uneasy enough to come looking.

On seeing him with disheveled hair and dirt on his clothes, Chen Bo hurried forward. “Little Master, what’s happened?”

“It’s nothing — let’s go.” And with the eyes of the Wang family and neighbours upon them, he climbed aboard and rode away in style.

Sitting in the cart, Wang Ying pulled out the deed, read it over twice, and the more he looked, the wider his grin spread.

He had hardly expected it to be so easy to break with the Wang family; he’d thought it would take days of wrangling. His acting skills were superb!

Chen Bo stole glances at him as he drove, until he could no longer resist asking, “Little Master, what happened to make you end up in such a state?”

“Oh, it’s a long story.” Wang Ying moved up to the front bench and chattered on about the original owner’s life.

Though a man of wide experience, Chen Bo was still shocked by all he heard, and a shade of pity entered his gaze.

He himself had two ge’er sons, both married out — to him, whether ge’er or son, they were still one’s children. How could anyone treat them with such discrimination?

He resolved to tell the young master when they got home, so he could treat Little Master well in future.

By the time they reached town from the village, it was already late. Having had nothing for lunch, Wang Ying was so hungry that his stomach felt stuck to his back.

As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, one of Madam Li’s women came over to summon him to the main hall for dinner.

“I’ll go change clothes first, and be right there.”

The woman gave him an odd once-over, but nodded.

Back in the bedchamber, Chen Qingyan was lying as wan as ever on the bed. He glanced at Wang Ying, then lowered his head again to his book.

Wang Ying went rummaging through his bundle. He was still wearing the clothing he’d married in the day before; he’d brought along one old change of clothes to wash and wear.

But after searching for some time, he couldn’t find his small bundle anywhere. “Hey — have you seen my things?”

“What things?”

“The little bundle I had when I came yesterday — it had my clothes in it.”

“I told Chen Bo to throw it away.”

“Throw it away?! That was my only other set of clothes!”

Chen Qingyan touched his nose in embarrassment. He had thought it was just a bundle of rags. “There are some new, unworn robes in the cabinet — pick one to wear.”

At that, Wang Ying’s temper vanished, and he clasped his hands together with a grin. “Thank you, xiang-gong².”

The word made Chen Qingyan flush scarlet; he gave a cold hum and bent over his book again — though his eyes kept straying to Wang Ying.

Why were his clothes dirty and his hair mussed, with eyes red as if he’d been crying? Did something happen at his home? He’d have to ask Chen Bo later.

Even as he thought it, Wang Ying stripped off his outer robe, then his undershirt, even his inner trousers—

“Stop! Wh-what are you doing?”

Wang Ying held up a dark-blue robe against himself. “Didn’t you say I could pick any? How about this one — does it look good?”

“Outrageous! P-put your clothes back on at once!”

Wang Ying pinched at the muscle of his chest. “Ours look the same — what’s there to be shy about?”

“Get out!”

notes:

1. Lizheng (里正) – The headman of a village in traditional China, responsible for local administration and mediation.

2. Xiang-gong (相公) – A respectful/loving form of address for one’s husband in historical China.