WSMTATMC C36

Chapter 36

Inside the house, Lin Zhangbin still slumbered, when suddenly a furious shriek shattered the air and jolted him awake. He nearly tumbled from the bed in fright.

Flustered, he leapt up to find his clothes, and had barely pulled on his trousers when figures burst into the room.

“Wife—why are you here?” he stammered, stunned.

But Chen Rong strode forward and with no restraint rained four or five resounding slaps across his face. Each was struck with full strength, so that his sight swam with stars, his ears rang like gongs.

Clutching his cheeks, it was long before he could gather his wits, a chill creeping over his spine as sweat streamed down his temples.

“Wife, please, let me explain—this is all a misunderstanding…”

“A man and a woman, alone upon one bed—do you call that a misunderstanding? You claim to be a scholar, yet commit deeds no better than beasts!”

Lin fumbled, “M-men… are allowed… three wives, four concubines—is that so wrong?”

She spat back, “And is she wife or concubine? You consorted with a harlot, without betrothal, without ceremony, and even birthed a bastard! Spread abroad, this will be the laughter of the town!”

The widow stood at the doorway, too terrified to utter a breath.

Lin, shamed into fury, blurted, “At least she bore me a son, which you never did!”

At this, Chen Rong flared like dry kindling. She seized his hair and yanked, clawing at him. “So because I bore no sons, you dare trample my children? You even sought to sell Qiu’er to that animal Fang Shen just to gain a shop—dream on, daydreamer of spring and autumn!”

“Aiyo, let go! What—what do you want, woman?”

“Divorce. We shall divorce, here and now!”

“What madness—at our age, why such a commotion?”

“Pah! Even a mouthful of food turns sour in my belly with you by my side. Divorce then if you will not repent. Hear my words: so long as I live, that prostitute will never enter Lin’s gates, nor shall her bastard ever be inscribed in the family register! A child of illicit birth has no right even to sit for the keju examination!”

The widow, hearing this, immediately fell to her knees weeping. “It was my fault, all my fault. Spare him—strike me if you must, but do not strike Lin Lang!”

Chen Rong showed no mercy. Adulterer and harlot alike deserved blows. Years of labor had given her strength greater than either. Backed by two nephews, she unleashed all her pent-up rage, leaving Lin’s nose bruised blue and purple, the woman’s hair in wild disarray.

“Cease, cease, venomous shrew!” Lin at last pleaded. “Divorce then—let us divorce, only stop this beating…”

Only after venting her fury did Chen Rong draw from her bosom the letter of separation already penned, and fling it before him.

In the dim light, blood dripping from his nose smudged the paper as he pressed his thumbprint upon it without studying the words.

Wang Ying swiftly picked it up, folded it carefully, and returned it to Third Aunt, steadying her as her body swayed with exhaustion.

Chen Rong gazed at the pair of guilty lovers cowering together. Her heart was only weary. Such a man was not worth even grief or anger.

“After this separation, both children depart with me. Henceforth, bridge to bridge, road to road—we shall die never to meet again.”

Lin quickly argued, “No! Qiu and Sui are my Lin family’s flesh and blood. They cannot leave!”

She saw the calculation in his eyes, and her heart grew ice-cold. In sudden rage she lunged toward the swaddled infant. “If Qiu’er cannot leave, then this boy shall stay. Trade son for son!”

“Don’t—don’t hurt him! Speak calmly, but spare the child!” Lin’s legs buckled with terror. His old-age son was dearer than his own eyes—seeing Chen Rong hold him aloft made him nearly collapse.

“Then my two shall leave with me. Take him back!”

With a cold laugh, she tossed the child into his arms.

The baby jolted awake with howls, bawling at the top of his lungs. Lin nearly perished from pain of heart, rocking him desperately. “Oh, Fugui, don’t cry. Father is here, do not fear…”

Chen Rong could not bear to stay a moment longer. Turning, she staggered at the threshold, nearly falling, but Wang Ying and Qingyan rushed forward to catch her.

“Third Aunt, do not grieve for such a man,” they urged.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “This grief is not for him. He died to me long ago. My sorrow is for my sons—he never once… never once held them, as he now holds that brat.”

An old memory surged: when Qiu’er was but three, he had run joyfully to greet his father just back from school. But in foul mood, Lin had kicked the child aside. The boy had turned purple with the blow, lay sobbing soundlessly while Chen Rong’s heart tore.

The more she recalled, the more bitter her regret: would that she had left this scum long ago.

Back at home she began packing. After so many years of marriage, the household had acquired little indeed.

In youth, Chen Rong once loved to primp, but each time she made herself new garments the in-laws scolded her as wasteful, warning the family’s money must be saved for Lin’s studies. Had he made juren, they said, she could wear silks and eat delicacies.

That empty promise was painted year after year—until her elder son grew tall. She had grown used to pinching meals, scrimping cloth. Her sons too never knew good days.

Later, Lin squandered his chance at the exams, no money remained, and he plunged into ill-fated business—until now, even for oil and salt the family had to scrape.

She dragged out her dowry chest, thick with dust.

Within were fifty strings of cash, eighty taels of silver, several bolts of fine fabric, and her few pieces of jewelry—all that her parents had sent her with.

Also six bedding sets from the wedding, of which she took only the least worn.

Clothes were bundled, and even the New Year’s goods they had brought were stowed upon the cart. They had two wagons; now every corner would be loaded.

Lin Qiu hurried to and fro helping joyfully, never once letting a smile slip throughout—even his neck wound forgot its pain.

Halfway through their work, Lin Zhangbin returned—his mistress and babe brazenly at his side.

So impatient they were! Chen Rong had not yet departed, yet Widow Yu had already entered the hall.

Lin returned with the sole aim of watchful eyes—lest they strip the house.

On the way he had fretted continually, wondering how Chen possibly learned his secret. With her mind, she should never have uncovered his doings outside. Yet search as he might, he found no answer, and in the end was forced to accept.

Divorce was not his wish, but since her knowledge left no room to maneuver, he might as well fetch home his mistress and son, and inscribe him in the family’s register.

But when he saw the wagons packed full, his face fell, and he rushed into the house to find stripped rooms.

“Chen Rong! Do you mean to rob me bare?”

She dusted her sleeves. “What is there to rob? Are you still some young master of Lin’s? You lost the family fortune at trade years ago. I’ve taken only what my parents gave me.”

He did not believe until he tore open every bundle of cloth, thrust his hands into blankets, and confirmed no item belonging to him had been taken. Then only did he relent.

Still he called, “Qiu! Sui! Do you truly mean to follow her?”

But the boys, schooled in fear of their father, dared not utter a word. Only cold, expressionless faces answered him.

Qingyan stepped in front, shielding them. “You signed willingly just now. Do you mean to regret it?”

And indeed Lin did regret. If both sons left, how could he answer Fang? For he had already pocketed their bribes.

Wang Ying sneered. “Your babe is still an infant. Should something befall my cousin, will he live to grow up?”

Those words struck him through the heart. What were all Fang’s bribes compared to his darling boy? At once he waved them off. “Bah, a house of ingrates, and a worthless wife—go then, go! Never return to me again.”

Lin Qiu’s taut shoulders at last eased. His eyes glistened with tears as he stole a look toward his cousins. To have them beside him—even this storm could be weathered.

After all the packing was done, they still had to bring the separation paper before the county yamen, so that Chen Rong’s name and the boys’ could be removed from Lin’s register and inscribed under her own kin.

This was a nuisance; it cost them two days’ labor, but at last the farce was ended.

The Chen family’s mule-cart was large, but five grown passengers filled it cramped. Chen Rong sat with her two boys upon one side, opposite Wang Ying and Qingyan.

After hours, their limbs grew stiff. Wang Ying leaned against Qingyan’s shoulder.

“Are you sleepy?” Qingyan whispered.

“Not very.”

“Then rest here a while.” He slipped an arm about him, so that his shoulder might better serve as pillow.

Chen Rong’s lips curled into a faint smile. Thank heaven these two youths had come—otherwise, she would not know where to turn.

But her smile soon waned, giving way to worry again. She had divorced, yes. But word would spread—neighbors’ tongues were sharp as knives. At her age, she cared little, but the children were young. Their futures might be marred.

Looking at her eldest, she asked, “Does your neck hurt still?”

He shook his head. “No, Mother.”

Wang Ying remembered Cao Kun’s gift of medicine. Quickly he rummaged through the parcel and handed him the bottle. “This is balm Boss Cao gave me. He’s often wounded in his travels, says this salve works better than any apothecary’s. Try it.”

Qiu accepted softly. “Thank you.”

Chen Rong sighed. Step by step—they would see. Worst come to worst, she could buy a few acres of land near their estate, and one day marry Qiu into a good household as a reverse son-in-law.

The mule-cart clattered for three days, and on the fourteenth of the twelfth month, they finally reached the town.

At home, Madam Li had already grown anxious. She had expected them back in seven or eight days—this was the tenth, with no word at all.

Daily she sent Shun to the town’s gate to inquire of returning wagons, hoping to glimpse a familiar cart.

That very day, at last, the Chen wagon rumbled in. Shun met it with delight. “Uncle Chen! Uncle Dunzi!”

“Whoa there, why are you here?”

“The Madam sent me daily to await news. She feared greatly you tarried so long.”

“Come aboard, let us go home.”

The wagon quickened down the last stretch and soon halted at the Chen gate. The porter Linzi shouted in joy: “Young Master! Little Lord! Returned home at last!”

Madam Li and the children hurried out. Seeing her son and son-in-law safe, her heart returned to her chest.

“Why such delay? We thought you’d return days ago.”

Qingyan replied, “Trouble arose at Third Aunt’s home. I have brought her here, with the children.”

Chen Rong alighted awkwardly with her two boys, standing uncertainly at the threshold.

One glance at the wagons laden with dowry chests told Madam Li all she needed. She strode forward at once, grasped Chen Rong’s hand. “No more thinking now. You have returned home. Bring the boys inside at once. The kitchen has broth on the stove—come and warm yourselves.”

At that, Chen Rong’s nose burned with tears, and she choked out only, “Ah…”

notes

: Three wives and four concubines (三妻四妾) — traditional saying of a man’s household permitted multiple wives and concubines; used here as an excuse for infidelity.

: Spring and autumn dream (春秋大梦) — an idiom for a fantastic, impossible dream.

: Keju (科举) — the Imperial Civil Service Examinations, the only route to official post. Illegitimate children were ineligible to sit.

: Juren (举人) — title conferred upon passing the provincial-level exam in the Imperial system, higher than xiucai (licentiate), granting considerable prestige.

: Daocha men (倒插门) — “reverse son-in-law”: a man who marries into his wife’s family and takes her surname, usually when her family has no sons.