WSMTATMC C64

Chapter 64

Madam Li had never expected that, after so many years without contact, her natal family’s first message to her would be that her father’s health was failing. For a moment, emotions surged within her, and tears streamed uncontrollably.

After a long pause she said: “Let Uncle Chen prepare the carts—we shall set out tomorrow.”

Chen Qingyan hurried off to make ready the necessities for travel, while the others supported Madam Li back to her chamber.

Leaning against the bed, Madam Li’s mind ceaselessly replayed memories of her father.

From as far back as she could remember, her father had doted on her. Whatever good things the family had, he saved them for her, raising her like a cherished jewel.

But when she and Chen Xian (Qingyan’s father) had eloped, her father, in fury, had struck her thirty lashes with a rattan whip. Her back had been flayed bloody. At that time, Madam Li nearly hated her father to death.

Her father had declared: if she insisted on marrying Chen Xian, then from that day forth she should never return home nor consider him her father again; in matters of life and death, there would be no further ties.

She had not believed he would be so ruthless. Yet she did marry into the Chen family, as she wished.

Unexpectedly, in the first year of her marriage when she returned to visit, she was driven out before even setting foot in the door.

In the second year, with her young son Chen Qingyan in arms, she and her husband were again turned away, even the gifts they brought for New Year thrown back at them.

The third year was the same…

What cut deeper was that even when her mother passed away, no word reached her. Madam Li grew chilled in her heart, and from then on, she never returned. More than ten years swept by in an instant—now to hear that her father’s health was failing.

Wang Ying sat beside her, holding her hand. “Mother, do not work yourself up. Whatever there is to say, we shall speak of it when we arrive.”

“Sigh…”

Chen Qingyan and Uncle Chen readied the mule-carts. One cart was not enough; they rented another from outside.

From town to Tianyang County was four to five days’ journey. Since the weather was cold, the carts had to be packed with sufficient bedding for warmth.

Originally, Chen Qingyan did not wish Wang Ying to go, for he was carrying a child, and long travel might endanger his body.

But Wang Ying insisted he must go. His reasoning was simple: Madam Li was soft-hearted, Chen Qingyan was not skillful at arguing, and Qingyun and Qingsong were still children. If no one could stand firm at crucial moments, what then? He could not allow that.

The next morning, the family set out early for Tianyang. Madam Chen Rong remained at home with the younger children to guard the house.

All the way, Madam Li’s face wore a cloud of sorrow—drawn tight closer to her old home. Proverb was right: “Near home, the heart trembles.” The nearer she came, the more uneasy.

She feared that her father might already have passed away, yet also feared he still lived to cast her out in shame. Her emotions were like being roasted upon fire, tormented beyond words.

At last, by dawn of the fifth day, they reached Tianyang County.

The Li family held prestige here, for among their ancestors they had produced three juren (provincial-level scholars). Though in the present generation they had waned somewhat, they were still a family of scholarly lineage. Most of the sons still pursued the life of letters.

“Whoa~.” The carriage stopped on Changwen Street, and the driver opened the door.

“Madam, we have arrived.”

Madam Li looked nervously at the front gates. Seeing no white mourning streamers hung, her taut breath eased slightly.

They dismounted with their children and waited as the gatekeeper boy went in to report.

The children looked about curiously. It was their first visit to their maternal grandfather’s house. The rust-red gate bore an inscribed plaque, and a pair of stone lions guarded the door—altogether grand.

Soon, footsteps echoed within. The gatekeeper returned, followed by a young man—it was her nephew, Li Bingchen, son of her elder brother.

He bowed respectfully to Madam Li, then, without warmth nor coldness, led them into the courtyard.

“Grandfather has been gravely ill these days. Father and Mother remain by his bedside and cannot come out to receive you. Aunt, please forgive.”

“Never mind… your grandfather, how fares he?”

Li Bingchen looked sorrowful. “He can no longer eat.”

At this, Madam Li’s nose stung, and she quickly took out her handkerchief to wipe overflowing tears.

In her youth, she had hated her father for how harshly he treated her. Yet now, as a mother herself, she deeply understood the weight of parental love.

Back then, it was true that Chen Jing (her cousin, later an official) was more fitting than Chen Xian—she was the youngest daughter, raised delicately, never suited for the toils of managing a household. Chen Jing had already passed as a juren, his future bright indeed; he was objectively better.

But Madam Li had not understood her parents’ pains. She insisted to marry Chen Xian, even if it meant breaking her family bonds. Luckily, her husband cherished her during their few years together—always placing her first. But he had died too young, leaving her to shoulder the household alone.

They entered the hall, where servants offered hot tea.

“Aunt, cousin, and younger cousins, please rest here a while. I shall go inform Father and Mother.”

“Yes…”

When he had gone, Madam Li looked around. This familiar house made her throat choke. She had lived here sixteen years—every brick, every tree she knew. Yet the people had changed, and there was no return to former times.

Chen Qingyan whispered, “Mother, was that man just now our eldest uncle’s son?”

“Yes. I don’t recall whether it was Bingchen or Binwen. They were only a year apart, and after all these years I hardly remember their faces.”

After the time it takes to drink one cup of tea, her elder brother arrived—a tall man in his early forties, clothed in dark scholar’s robes, short-bearded. In his brows and countenance, Chen Qingyan resembled him seven or eight parts.

When he entered, they all rose at once. Wang Ying sneaked a glance at him, then back at his husband, sighing softly at fate’s curious resemblances. No wonder the saying goes “A nephew takes after his uncle”—it was no lie.

Li Cheng, seeing his sister’s family, showed little expression, merely said plainly: “So you came.”

“Greetings, elder brother.”

“Greetings, Uncle.”

Li Cheng did not reply, instead waving them to sit.

Madam Li’s mother had passed shortly after her marriage, but Li Cheng had not even sent word of the funeral. The news had reached her long after.

Brother and sister bore long grievances. If not for their father’s grave illness and desire to see her once more, Li Cheng would never have sent for her.

“How fares Father?” she asked.

Li Cheng shook his head. “The doctor says—only these few days remain.”

Madam Li covered her mouth, sobbing aloud. Wang Ying and Qingyun rushed to steady her shoulders. After a long while, she calmed herself.

“I want to see Father…”

As the old man could not withstand visitors in numbers, Li Cheng directed servants to settle the others in quarters, while he himself led his sister to their father’s courtyard.

Passing the familiar corridors, Madam Li halted before a bare persimmon tree. Her father had once planted it with her elder brother and her, when she was a child.

Li Cheng too looked at the tree, eyes reddened. “It bore many persimmons this autumn. We could not finish them, so we dried persimmon cakes. When you leave, take some with you.”

Within the house, warmth and strong medicine-scent assailed them.

Her sister-in-law, Madam Wen, was wiping the old man’s face; some medicine had been spilled upon his neck during feeding.

Seeing Madam Li, she was startled, then hurried to pull her forward. “Father, look who has come!”

“Father…”

On the bed lay an old man already exhausted, cheeks and eyes sunken, appearance almost ghastly. Madam Li could not reconcile him with the upright figure she remembered.

Not until he slowly opened eyes, cloudy but fixed upon her, and murmured in a slurred tone: “Jindou… you have returned…”

At this, Madam Li could not contain herself, collapsing at the bedside, bawling.

Jindou was her childhood name, for she had been a crybaby. Her father teased then that she was scattering golden beans—yet was she not his dearest golden bean?

Behind them, Li Cheng turned away, lifting his face as if to force back tears, yet streams fell nevertheless. Even Madam Wen drew a kerchief to wipe her eyes.

The Old Master Li raised a weak hand to touch her head, his spirit seeming a little steadier. “These many years… you never came to see me—was it because… you still hated Father for beating you?”

Madam Li shook her head. “It was I who was wrong. I have long ceased to hate you.”

“Father was wrong too…”

Li Cheng sniffled. “Father, let us not speak of these things, it is all past. Now that Sister has returned, just keep your body well, take medicine and rest.”

Madam Li nodded tearfully. “Yes, all of it is past.”

The old man coughed, cheeks suddenly coloring red. “Did you come alone? Did that mud-legged fellow not come with you?”

By “mud-legged fellow” he meant Chen Xian—the illiterate farmer who stole away his precious daughter. The old man had hated him near half a lifetime, little knowing his son-in-law had already passed ahead of him.

Li Cheng too was puzzled. Though his father disliked his brother-in-law, in such a moment he ought have come regardless.

“Elder Brother Xian… he fell ill some years ago, and has already passed away.”

Both father and son were stunned. After a moment, Li Cheng sighed deeply. All former resentment seemed to disperse, as bygones with the dead.

“Since Shuer came with her children, Father, would you like to meet them?”

“Yes. I recall the eldest is named Qingyan, is he not?”

“Yes. He is nineteen this New Year—already married, with a child soon to come. The second is a daughter, Qingyun; the third, Qingsong.”

Li Cheng ordered servants to summon them. Soon, four entered at the door.

Inside, they saw their grandfather propped upon pillows, sipping millet porridge.

Wang Ying instantly felt his heart sink. Had they not been told he could no longer eat? Yet now he suddenly could—it seemed a final rally before the end, hui guang fan zhao (回光返照, a last resurgence of energy before death).⁵

Madam Li led Chen Qingyan and Wang Ying forward. “This is Qingyan—and Ying’er.”

The two knelt to kowtow, but their aunt quickly stopped Wang Ying. “You are with child, no need for heavy bows.”

The old man carefully scrutinized Chen Qingyan for a long time. “Your looks are upright, your eyes bright—like a child of our Li family. Have you studied?”

“Yes—I have read the Four Books and Five Classics, some Histories, and writings of the Hundred Schools.”

The old man’s face brightened still more. He had thought his grandson might take after his worthless father, unable to read at all. “Have you tested yet?”

“I have sat for the tongshi (children’s exam) but not passed as xiucai (licentiate).”

“No matter, you still have years. Continue your studies, and sit again in future.” After half a bowl of thin porridge, he could eat no more. The servants removed the bowl. He turned to the two younger ones.

“These must be Qingyun and Qingsong.”

The siblings knelt deeply. “Greetings, Grandfather.”

“Good children, rise.”

He gazed at Qingyun closely. Her face was exactly like his daughter’s when young—oval shaped, with clear bright eyes. Looking at her, it seemed his little Jindou once more stood before him.

“Daughter, come here.”

Qingyun stepped forward graciously.

“How old are you now?”

“Fourteen this New Year.”

“Eldest, bring my casket.”

Li Cheng immediately fetched it—a square-foot redwood box with a brass lock.

The old man, trembling, opened it with a key, and from inside drew out a jade pendant, placing it in Qingyun’s hand. “This jade was once meant for your mother. But she disobeyed me. So today, Grandfather gives it to you.”

notes:

1. Juren (举人): A scholar who passed the provincial-level imperial examination, qualifying for some official posts. 
2. Tongshi (童试): The “children’s exam,” a prerequisite examination for becoming a licentiate (xiucai, 秀才). 
3. Xiucai (秀才): A licentiate degree holder; lowest but important degree granting exemption from corvée labor and status as a scholar. 
4. “Mud-legged” (泥腿子): A derogatory term used by aristocratic or wealthy families for peasants, farmers, or the illiterate working class. 
5. Hui guang fan zhao (回光返照): Literally “returning light reflects once more.” A traditional phrase meaning “the rally just before death,” when a dying person suddenly appears better only to soon pass away.