WSMTATMC C57

Chapter 57

Wang Ying looked up at the glowing countdown on the display screen — only seventeen minutes remained. A cold sense of dread surged through him. That meant Chen Qingyan had already been in the experimental field this whole time, and the time was nearly used up.

“No time to explain — quickly, help me untie the ropes!”

“A‑alright!” Chen Qingyan rushed to untie them, but the hemp cords were tied too tightly, in dead knots. After several failed tries, his sweaty hands trembled with frustration.

“There’s a sickle in the leek patch — hurry, get it!”

Chen Qingyan sprinted over, grabbed the sickle, and finally slashed the ropes binding Wang Ying’s hands and feet, helping him to his feet.

But having been struck on the head, Wang Ying felt dizzy and queasy as soon as he stood — most likely a concussion.

He cut his words short:

“I’ve been captured by Zhang Shiqiu. Right now he’s holding me somewhere unknown. He’s trying to kill me.”

Chen Qingyan’s eyes widened with horror, “I’ll go back immediately!”

Holding his aching head, Wang Ying said,

“Even if you return, it’s too late now. Mother and the others must have already sent people to find me. I don’t know if they’ll succeed.”

“What should I do!” Chen Qingyan stomped the ground in anguish, fists tight, eyes bloodshot, burning to rush out and fight Zhang to the death.

“Let me think of something…” Wang Ying inhaled deeply, striving to calm himself. Outside, he could still hear faint noises. His sudden disappearance had clearly frightened Zhang Shiqiu, who was in the cowshed, wildly swinging a knife around.

“You! Where are you? I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!!”

He raged for three or four minutes until, exhausted, he dropped to the ground panting. Then came sobs:

“Father… I was wrong… I shouldn’t have killed you. Why, mother, why did you stop me too?…

“I worked so hard to borrow silver from the Lu family to report my grievance at the county court, but she secretly hid the silver and gave it to her brother instead. I was nearly beaten to death because of her! Mother, you never saw me as your son, you ruined me completely! Die, all of you, die!” He went back to flailing the knife madly.

From this incoherent tirade, Wang Ying pieced together the truth — Zhang Shiqiu had actually murdered his own parents.

So that explained why he had been feigning madness.

A sudden thought sparked in Wang Ying’s mind. He quickly loosened his hair ribbon, tousled his hair over his face, and stripped off his outer robe, leaving only a thin white undergarment.

“I’ll go scare him. If it works and he flees, then I’ll be saved. If not… then I’ll have to fight him.”

Chen Qingyan clutched Wang Ying’s hand tight, unwilling to let go.

“Listen, if something happens to me… don’t collapse the way you did before. Don’t let mother suffer for your grief either. Stay with Master Liang, study hard, and find your chance to gain fame through the imperial examinations.”

Tears streamed down Chen Qingyan’s face. Never had he hated more his own weakness and timidity, having allowed Ah Ying to suffer on his behalf.

Wang Ying gave him a long, deep look, then resolutely stepped out of the experimental field.

“Ah Ying!” Chen Qingyan fell forward, clinging to his sleeve before tumbling to the ground. But there was no time for sorrow — he scrambled up again. He had to hurry out before the field’s time ran out!

Meanwhile, outside, Wang Ying rasped through his throat, calling:

“Shiqiu—ah~”

In the dim cowshed, an eerie cry echoed, and a pale figure in white appeared like an apparition.

“Ahhh!!” Zhang Shiqiu screamed, snatching up his knife and charging.

But Wang Ying had anticipated this, and immediately re‑entered the experimental field.

Zhang lunged into empty air, embedding the kitchen knife deep in the cowshed timbers, stuck fast.

Seizing the chance, Wang Ying emerged again, uttering in a ghastly falsetto:

“Son… why did you kill your mother?”

“Mother… Mother!!” Zhang Shiqiu’s body betrayed itself — he lost bladder and bowels in terror, the stench choking Wang Ying into nearly retching.

He fell to his knees, knocking his head on the ground.

“It was wrong of me… I shouldn’t have killed you… I was wrong, so wrong…”

Wang Ying carried on:

“Mother is so cold… I died without a proper garment, without coins to cross the underworld’s river. Burn me some clothes, child…”

Had Zhang stopped to truly think, he would have realized the voice sounded nothing like his mother’s. But so tense was his mind, he was incapable of reason now.

“Mother! Don’t worry, I’ll do it right away… right away!” He staggered off in fright.

Once certain he had gone far, Wang Ying gripped the sickle, slipped out, and looked around.

He had no clue where this was: a sprawl of dilapidated houses, some half‑collapsed by rain, leaving only bare walls behind.

Afraid of running into him again, Wang Ying crept into a low wall corner, hiding beneath overgrown weeds. He spent the rest of the night on edge until dawn.

At daybreak, he finally heard shouts outside.

Scrambling up, he spotted not far away Ershun and several others calling his name.

“I’m here!” He tried to answer, but his throat was hoarse beyond speech.

He clambered over the wall, exhausted to limpness, able only to wave his arm weakly.

“Look, over there!” someone shouted upon spotting the white sleeve.

Ershun darted over, checked him over, and then, realizing something, quickly called off the others. He threw a cloak around Wang Ying.

“Master, put this on — let’s take you home.”

Draped in the cloak and supported by him, Wang Ying stumbled out of the courtyard and onto the road. Only after boarding a mule cart did they realize he’d been held outside town — no wonder they hadn’t found him all night.

The moment he felt safe, exhaustion overcame him, and he fell asleep on the cart.

By the time it reached home, the others hadn’t returned yet. Ershun went off again, while Chen Qingyan, having run the whole way back, nearly tripped over the threshold in his haste. Ignoring the pain, he dashed to the rear courtyard.

Seeing Wang Ying lying safe and sound on the bed, the heart that had hung suspended the entire night finally settled. Trembling lips, he whispered:

“Ah Ying.”

Opening his eyes, Wang Ying saw his haggard face. He reached up and caressed his cheek.

“Hey… I’m here.”

Qingyan had thought much on his run home. If Wang Ying died, he could not go on either. Even if he lingered for the sake of mother and siblings, he would remain widowed forevermore.

Luckily, Ah Ying was safe. Their child too.

The villain, Zhang Shiqiu, was soon captured at his family’s old residence. Still frantic from fear, he had returned there muttering about burning clothes for his dead parents.

Neighbors spotted him and reported to the authorities. Constables arrested him, interrogating him about Wang Ying’s whereabouts.

At first, he feigned madness to confuse them. But under the weight of dozens of blows, he confessed everything — from abducting Wang Ying and hiding him outside town, to poisoning his own parents.

Parricide was heinous. Under Wu Dynasty law, he was sentenced to execution. Yet before judgment was carried out, out of terror, he bashed his head against the prison wall and died. Thus, the matter came to an end.

Though Wang Ying emerged physically unharmed, Madam Li fell ill from fright. Unable to eat or sleep, she lingered in weakness, blaming herself.

She had only wished to keep her son‑in‑law close for care, but never imagined such a calamity. Her heart ached with guilt.

Wang Ying tried to console her, saying:

“Mother, this wasn’t your fault. Both I and the child are safe. That Zhang Shiqiu brought ruin on himself — retribution met him quickly. He won’t trouble us again.”

“I know… but every night when I close my eyes, I see you in peril all over again…”

Holding her hand, Wang Ying soothed:

“Why not accompany Third Aunt to the temple, pray to Buddha for me and the child’s safety? Once you recover your health, then Qingyan and I can return to the manor. Otherwise, we’d worry, uneasy away.”

“…Alright.”

After two temple visits, Madam Li’s spirits lifted, and at last, Wang Ying and Chen Qingyan returned to the manor. It was already late July.

The height of summer had passed, the air turning steadily cooler, and popsicle sales slowing down.

Because the incident had become widely known in town, Wang Ying feared the three children might suffer slander if they continued. So he closed the shop temporarily, letting Lin Qiu spare time to prepare for his wedding.

Back at the manor, time seemed to slow. Wang Ying strolled through the fields at leisure, helping villagers solve crop problems.

Though he wasn’t especially versed in millet, farming principles were similar. Most pest issues he could treat; at the very least, he would teach prevention.

As time went on, Wang Ying’s reputation spread through nearby villages. Anyone whose fields faced blight would cut some samples of crops and bring them to Young Master Wang of the Chen Manor — and sure enough, he would have the cure.

One morning after breakfast, Wang Ying took a bamboo basket, preparing to the village to hire a li nu (farm cat)^1.

Before he left, Chen Qingyan ran up:

“Shall I go with you?”

“No need. It’s not far — I’ll be right back.”

“Then at least take Uncle Chen.” Ever since the abduction, Qingyan was perpetually on edge, unwilling to let him go unguarded.

“Fine. Ask Uncle Chen along. He can even help me dig up a cherry tree. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. If we bring two saplings into the field now, we’ll have cherries in winter.”

Together they set out, greeting acquaintances along the way.

“Young Master, have you eaten? Come have a bite at my place.”

“I already ate. Uncle Yang, how’s your bean field faring lately?”

“Thanks to your advice! We set the grandchildren to collecting ladybugs and lacewings, releasing them in the field. Indeed, the red mites have decreased drastically — hardly any left at all!”

“Excellent.” His bean crop had been struggling with an outbreak of soybean red mites^2 — pests that spun webs on the underside of leaves, sucking their juices until the leaves curled, yellowed, withered, and fell, stunting the seedlings’ growth.

In modern times it would be managed with pesticides. But here, lacking such things, only biological control worked. Ladybugs and lacewings being natural predators, once released, suppressed the outbreak.

Walking through the farmland, they reached the Zhao household. The family’s cat had recently birthed kittens, and Wang Ying had agreed earlier to take one.

Initially he hadn’t intended to raise cats. But lately the warehouse had been plagued with rats, swarming through rice bins, impossible to trap completely. So a cat was the only solution.

The Zhao boy had been waiting, and brought them to the nest to choose.

“Sir, whichever you like, take it. They’re all weaned now and eating solid food.”

Nestled inside were four or five palm‑sized kittens of varied coats. Wang Ying chose a neat, pretty little orange tabby — said to be hearty and voracious.

Leaving the prepared gift behind, Uncle Chen lifted the kitten into the basket, and the two set off home.

Along the road, they passed some wild cherry trees.

There’s a saying: cherries are delicious, but the trees are hard to grow. Belonging to the Rosaceae family, cherry trees are small deciduous woods, delicate and temperamental — sensitive to heat and cold, drought and floods alike. Without modern grafting techniques, their cultivation in the past was exceedingly difficult.

But with the experimental field, where temperature and climate could be precisely controlled, Wang Ying feared no failure.

After digging up the saplings, Wang Ying glanced around and, seeing no one, slipped them into the field. Only then did he realize Uncle Chen was by his side. A jolt of alarm shot through him.

But Uncle Chen merely froze for a heartbeat, then lifted his head toward the sky, pretending not to see anything. After all, by serving them this long, what hadn’t he already surmised?

notes

 

1. Li nu (狸奴): A traditional affectionate name for house cats in Chinese culture, literally “raccoon servant,” as cats were prized rat‑catchers. 
2. Soybean red mites (红蜘蛛): Common agricultural pest that spins webs and damages crops by sucking plant juices, often handled through biological controls in absence of pesticides.