WSMTATMC C35

Chapter 35

On the other side of town, Lin Zhangbin remained wholly unaware that his vile secrets were now known by his family. He was at that very moment cooing and laughing over his mistress and their infant child, plastered about her like glue.

“Tell me, this little Fugui (Wealth-Blessed), who does he resemble more?”

The woman replied with practiced sweetness, “Why, naturally he looks like his father. See these brows and nose—they are as though carved from the same mold as yours.”

Lin Zhangbin chuckled, lifting the baby up, pinching his little cheeks with relish. “Ah! Never did I dream that in my later years I’d still receive such a precious treasure. He makes up for the regret of never having a true son. For his sake alone, I’ll strive to live several more decades yet—save money, find him a wife one day.”

This woman’s family name was Yu. Once a young widow of twenty-six, her husband had died early. With little means of income she had begun running a small illicit brothel from her house.

One night, Lin Zhangbin, drinking with friends, ended up there by chance and was smitten with the young widow. Thus began their clandestine affair.

That summer, she found herself with child. Counting the dates, it matched the time she had first lain with him. Lin was overjoyed, insisted she keep the babe, and thenceforth lived with her as a conjugal pair in all but name.

“Darling,” she smiled, “when will that marriage business finally be decided?”

“Soon. After the New Year, the match will be settled.”

“And the Fang family—will they truly give a shopfront to us?”

“Of course they will! I am to be his father-in-law. If I ask, how could he dare refuse?”

The widow laughed lightly. “Then that is good. Our Fugui truly has blessings. And I shall become a shopkeeper’s wife—rocking my child while minding our store.”

At her kittenish expression, Lin’s heart melted. He clasped her close, intent again on intimacy. But though inwardly repulsed, she donned a simpering mask. Seizing the child’s sudden whimper as excuse, she quickly pushed him off, tending to the babe.

“You’ve been coming so often these days—won’t that shrew at your house suspect something?”

Lin lay sprawled upon the bed, hands behind his head, watching her nurse. “Don’t worry. Guests have come to stay—she’s got no time for me.”

“And do you plan to keep me hidden forever?”

“Patience, patience. Once we’ve wedded off my eldest, then we can speak. Were I to tell her now, she would thwart the marriage.”

The widow only gave a cold hum, lowering her head to the child, all while calculating within. From this scholar she must milk whatever wealth could be gotten. If it weren’t that she had failed to latch onto richer prey, why would she sully herself with this old man nearly her own father’s age? Still, it would serve. When the Fang family’s shop came into her hand, she would want no more for livelihood.

After an hour, Lin Zhangbin extracted a string of coins from his sleeve. “I’ll go to the pawnshop now. Tend well to my son.”

“Rest assured—am I not his mother? I shall not mistreat him.”

At dusk, Chen Rong was about to prepare noodles for him when Wang Ying stopped her.

“Third Aunt, why bother? None of us can swallow a bite. Let us first resolve this matter.”

For since she had resolved upon divorce, they must plan carefully. Divorce in ancient times was no easy thing—it could only be granted for proper cause. Lack of affection was no ground on its own.

Though they all now knew Lin harbored a mistress, they knew neither her name nor address. If it came before the magistrate and he denied it, proofless, then there would be no recourse.

Chen Rong had never navigated such cases before, and did not know how.

Wang Ying counselled: “Last night he stayed away till dawn—he must have slept at her place. Tonight, when he returns, seize occasion to quarrel and drive him out. Qingyan and I shall shadow him and see where he goes.”

“Will that truly work?”

“We have but to know where she lives. A thief must be caught with the loot, an adulterer with his lover. If we seize them together, he cannot deny.”

“Very well.”

Her eldest son soon woke, calmer after his ordeal. Learning his mother intended to divorce, hope flickered once more in his eyes. “Mother, will you truly leave Father?”

She stroked him tenderly. “But if we divorce, your future marriage will be hard.”

“Then let me never marry. Let me stay by your side. Better that than be given away to such a man.”

His mother pulled him close, tears brimming. “Yes, my son—only promise me no more foolish deeds. Whatever he desires shall not succeed. So long as I live, I will shield you.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Wang Ying and Qingyan exchanged a glance—the stone long lodged in both their hearts slid halfway down at last.

At evening, Lin Zhangbin strolled home from the pawnshop, humming merrily. Passing the roast chicken stall, he paused—then thought better of it. At fifty wen for a chicken, far too dear to share with those at home. Better to save it for his darling son.

Upon arriving, as usual, he first relieved himself outside, then entered—only to see the table long cleared, scraps left cold. Rage rose.

Striding to the kitchen, he seized Chen Rong’s arm. “Why did you not wait for me to eat?”

Suppressing fury, she answered flatly, “And how was I to know if you’d return at all?”

“I’ve eaten nothing. Boil me noodles.”

“There’s no flour left.”

“Then cook rice.”

“The rice jar is bare too. Tell me, where is the money for rice and flour?”

“Do you and the children not weave cloth? Where is that money gone?”

Throwing down her rag, she snapped, “Have you no shame? A grown man living off a woman? Tell me straight—how much was your wage this month? Year’s end approaches. Hand me a string of cash!”

His monthly wage was three hundred and fifty wen. That morning, he had already given a whole string to his mistress. Only one hundred coins remained in his pocket—he could ill afford to part with them.

“I’ve none! I must spend to eat and drink outside, do I not? If I gave it all to you, what would I live on?”

Her lip curled. “So—the stranger is more precious to you than your wife and children. You line others’ bellies with meat and wine, while your family starves!”

“Shh!” He cast a glance at the east room. “When will they leave?”

“You still know shame?” she sneered, voice raised. “Out laboring all day, yet bring not even one coin home. You’d leech off wife and children? Bah! Look at your ugly, useless face in the piss pot, why don’t you!”

Guilt stung, but pride pricked worse. He blustered. “Unruly wench! Impossible to reason with!” Snatching his sleeve, he stormed off.

Inside, Qingyan and Wang Ying had sat ready. The moment he went out, they followed close.

Chen Rong’s last words trailed them: “Be careful!”

“Do not worry,” Wang Ying replied. “Wait at home, watch over the boys. We’ll not be long.”

The night was starry, snow reflecting moonlight to bright silver. They dared only trail distantly, lest he detect them.

After a stick of incense, he turned into a narrow alley. Quickening their pace, they watched him step to a certain house and knock.

“Cuixia, open up—it is I.”

Light sprang behind the door. A woman in a padded coat appeared. “So late—why have you come again?”

“Ah, quarreled again with that shrew.”

“My poor darling,” she cooed.

“Enough talk—I’ve had no dinner. Make me something to eat.”

Only when all had gone inside did the two watchers slip forward, carefully marking the courtyard’s location before slipping back.

Chen Rong was waiting anxiously at their gate, lantern in hand. The moment she saw them she rushed over. “Well? Did you find the mistress’s dwelling?”

“Yes. Not far. Through three alleys south, then left—the second courtyard.”

“May a thousand blades hack him to pieces!” For there had still been a shadow of doubt in her heart—perhaps, she had thought, Master Fang’s words were nonsense. True, Zhangbin was bad, but they had been wed for eighteen years. Could he be so utterly unfeeling?

Now all hope was slain. He had indeed hidden another woman, and sired with her a son, without a thought for wife and kin.

“It grows late. Rest a while.”

But Wang Ying saw her wan face, and worried. She pressed his arm gently. “Do not fear—I still have my son. For his sake, I must endure. But mark me well—should anyone dare to lay a finger upon my children, even with this worn life I will tear off a chunk of their flesh.”

Before dawn had broken, the Lin house was lit with lamp and flame.

Chen Qingyan helped his aunt pen the Separation Agreement. On the sheet he wrote clear every crime: keeping a concubine in secret, neglecting wife and children, selling his son in exchange for a shop, and other foul misdeeds.

Wang Ying watched, from time to time offering praise: “Your hand is truly elegant.” His compliments turned Qingyan’s ears red.

Originally, he had meant to demand Zhangbin leave with nothing—yet the law was not on women’s side. In those times, even a divorce seldom favored the wife. Beyond her dowry, she could take nothing. Children should by rights remain with the father. But Chen Rong could never abandon her sons. Last night thus, they had trailed him, to strike him unprepared.

Qingyan dried the ink, then handed the paper over for her to see. At the end, he added one line: Henceforth, bonds are cut. Never again shall we associate.

“Let us go.”

They marched out into the dawn.

Chen Bo carried a lantern, leading in front. Chen Rong’s steps were brisk behind.

Today she had dressed with unusual spirit. Over her shoulders hung a dark crimson robe; within she had donned the silk-padded coat long saved for special occasion. Her hair was drawn high at the back, set with silver hairpins and jade ornaments. A light powder upon her face made her seem younger, recalling the grace of her girlhood, the Chen family’s cherished daughter.

Behind her followed Wang Ying and Qingyan, both with hearts racing. To think—they were about to storm a lover’s nest! The scenes they had seen only on stage or in television in another life, they were now to enact in flesh.

Soon they reached that house of adultery.

“Is this the one?” someone whispered.

Both men answered at once. “Yes. This is it.”

Chen Bo stepped forward and knocked loudly. Thump thump thump!

For long there was no movement. At last a voice called out, and a woman shuffled forth. “Who’s there? Knocking at dawn—don’t you let a body sleep in peace?”

“I am Scholar Lin’s friend, come to see him.”

The woman remained guarded. “What Scholar Lin? You’ve the wrong house.”

“How could I? Why, only recently he brought me here himself.”

Hearing this, Widow Yu relaxed, closed her gown, and pulled the bolt. But no sooner had she opened, she froze. For there before her stood four grim figures, eyes blazing wrath!

“You—who are you?”

But Chen Rong stormed forward, pushing her aside, shouting, “Lin Zhangbin! Get out here, you shameless beast! Carrying a whore outside your home—keeping another under my nose!”