10 Chapter 10

"What do you think you’re doing?" The woman from the Zhang family, knowing she was in the wrong, couldn't help but step back.

Madam Wang said coldly, "Since you believe in fortune-tellers, you should know that one shouldn't lack virtue in life. It was our family’s blindness that led us to discuss marriage with yours, which ended up ruining my daughter's reputation. But don't be too smug; for a family like yours that lacks moral cultivation, someone will settle the score sooner or later!"

Before the Zhang woman could reply, the Zhang daughter wouldn't have it. Retaliating without showing any weakness, she snapped, "Don't lay the blame for the broken engagement entirely on the Zhang family, you Song people! Good goods are always fought over, and whatever gets returned is just junk!"

With a face full of disdain, she added, "And 'bringing prosperity to her husband'? Bah! With the way your Song Zhuniang is so dull she can barely string a sentence together, how could she ever be a virtuous wife for my brother? If I were a man, I wouldn't marry her either."

"If she were truly any good, our doorstep would have been worn down by suitors long ago; it wouldn't have been your family coming to us to propose."

The Zhang girl’s words were like a barrage of cannon fire, truly filled with malice. Song Jingzhu’s small face drained of all color; her fingers trembled uncontrollably, and she could barely stand.

How could Madam Wang, as a mother, endure her daughter being humiliated like this? She was so furious she was about to step forward to teach this venom-mouthed little girl a lesson, but Jiang was holding her back tightly.

The street was crowded with people. If her sister-in-law, in a moment of impulse, got into a physical brawl with a young girl, what would become of the Song family’s reputation if word got out?

Could Zhuniang handle being the subject of such gossip?

Most importantly, this was a critical time when her son was seeking to become a student of the great Confucian scholar Chen. Jiang could not allow any negative rumors about the Song family to spread and affect her son’s future.

To put it bluntly, people who watch a spectacle only complain that it isn't big enough. Who cares who is right or wrong? No one would sympathize, and even if they did, it would be a form of gloating, especially when it came to matters between men and women.

Xiuniang, seeing her sister-in-law’s rage, hurried to dissuade her. Previously, when she had gotten angry with someone, Sanlang had told her, "Don't waste your temper on people who aren't worth it; just use your words."

Since the situation didn't involve her directly, it was easy for Xiuniang to remain calm.

Xiuniang spoke loudly on purpose: "Sister-in-law, if a dog barks at us three times, we can’t exactly bark back at the dog, can we? If it bites us, we can’t bite it back, right?"

"Why bother getting animal fur in your mouth and dirtying it for nothing!"

"Who are you calling a dog!" The Zhang girl across from them was so angry she was jumping up and down.

Seeing the other party lose their temper, Xiuniang felt smug; Sanlang was right after all. She rolled her eyes at her and said unhurriedly, "Why are you shouting so loudly?"

"Oh—I understand now. So you like to bark and bite people indiscriminately."

"You—!"

"Mother, say something! They’re bullying me." The Zhang girl tugged at her mother, stomping her feet and seeking help.

The Zhang woman across from them was also grinding her teeth in frustration at Xiuniang’s words, but she had her own concerns. If the matter of the broken engagement with the Song family became a huge scandal, how would her son ever marry into a better family later?

Besides, the other side had the moral high ground here.

Thinking of this, the woman glared fiercely at the sisters-in-law across from her and pulled her daughter along. "Are you not coming yet? How long do you plan on making a spectacle of yourself? If these down-and-outers don't care about their reputation, do you not care about yours either?"

In an argument, what situation is the most frustrating and suffocating?

It's when the other party gets the last word.

***

Xiuniang certainly wouldn't allow that. She called out crisply to the backs of the departing mother and daughter, "How pathetic. Some people want to be 'down-and-outers,' but that requires one's ancestors to have actually achieved something first. At least the Song family once possessed something; some people don't even have the qualifications to be 'down-and-outers,' yet they have the nerve to mock us! Your hides are thicker than the brick walls of our Song house!"

Madam Wang couldn't help but burst into laughter. She said to Xiuniang with genuine sincerity, "Sister-in-law, your tongue is truly sharp. You’ve really vented some of the pent-up anger for our Zhuniang."

Zhuniang, standing to the side, also felt a sense of immense relief, only regretting that she herself had such a clumsy mouth.

Xiuniang said, "The woods are big, and you find all kinds of birds. Knowing they are malicious, if we take their malice to heart, we’re only making things hard for ourselves. Zhuniang, don't listen to her bullsh*t."

Jiang patted her chest from the side and said, "I just feel a chill down my back. With a sister-in-law like that, if our Zhuniang had really married into that family, wouldn't she have been bullied to death? You heard her—guess what they originally saw in our Zhuniang?"

"What did they see?" Yunniang asked.

Madam Wang, being quite shrewd, realized the crux of the matter after a moment’s thought. She gritted her teeth and said, "They liked that our Zhuniang is good-looking and could bring face to their son, and they liked that she is honest and easy to bully and treat like a beast of burden."

After saying this, she firmly declared to Jiang, "Sister-in-law, Rui-ge is a good candidate for scholarly pursuits. Even if the Song family has to smash our pots and sell our iron, we must support the child."

When she said this, Xiuniang was displeased. She thought to herself, *What right does your first branch have to represent the Song family? Why should our second branch be represented by you? No matter how good Rui-ge is, he isn't my son, and we don't owe him anything.*

Jiang knew her sister-in-law all too well—she always talked better than she sang, and sang better than she acted. If you took her words at face value, you’d be a fool.

Furthermore, the little bit of money the first branch had wasn't even enough for their own expenses; it was likely that when Song Jingmao got married, they would still have to scrape money from the old lady.

In the end, it was still the old lady who made the decisions in the Song family. Sister-in-law, you are just using the old lady's light to say pretty things.

Although she thought this, Jiang naturally wouldn't say it out loud. She smiled and said, "He is indeed a candidate for study, but the child is also working very hard. The burden of bringing honor to one's ancestors is not an easy one to carry."

Hearing her say this, Madam Wang and Xiuniang felt much more comfortable. The three sisters-in-law chatted and laughed as they took Zhuniang into the fabric shop.

The four women shopped until nearly noon before heading home. Fearing the old lady would be hungry, Jiang spent her own money to buy the old lady some steamed buns, thinking that making an egg drop soup to go with them would be quick. Since the old lady was putting so much effort into Rui-ge, she couldn't be stingy with this bit of money.

Although Xiuniang was thrifty, she was grateful that the old lady hadn't looked down on her background when she let Song Sanlang marry her. She was also filial to the old lady and bought some pea starch, which the old lady was fond of.

Madam Wang was always someone who knew how to handle appearances. Whether she was willing in her heart was one thing, but on the surface, she would never let anyone find fault. Since her two sisters-in-law were being filial, she wouldn't be left behind and risk being talked about, so she simply bought a few sweet pears for the old lady on the side of the road.

***

At the Li residence.

Song Sanlang placed his son under the shade of a tree not far from where he was working, laid out a straw mat, and set out his food, drink, and toys. He warned the child not to cause trouble, not to run around, and to call for his father if he needed anything.

Song Jingchen waved his small hand impatiently. "Father, you're so long-winded. Chen-ge is not a three-year-old toddler."

Song Sanlang stared at him. "You’re not three? Then how old are you?"

Song Jingchen held up five fingers and shook them.

Song Sanlang: "That’s your nominal age."

Song Jingchen: "I don't care, I’m five years old. Father, don't always boss me around."

Song Sanlang ruffled his little head. "Why don't you just say you’re fifty?"

Song Jingchen didn't even look up. "I don't want to be fifty. If Chen-ge is fifty, Father will be old. I’d rather not grow up than see Father grow old."

Song Sanlang: "..."

The childish words almost melted his heart.

After settling his son, Song Sanlang began his work. At first, he would turn back to look at his son from time to time, but after a while, seeing that the boy was obedient, and since they were in the courtyard of Master Li's mansion where it was safe, he stopped paying such frequent attention.

His work required total focus. The furniture from the Li family was made of top-quality precious wood, mostly red sandalwood, with some pear wood and chicken-wing wood as well.

Hardwood furniture as precious as this emphasizes "natural beauty without carving," because the color and grain of the wood itself are already beautiful enough. Therefore, the lacquering process required special care; the base color had to be adjusted carefully—not too much, not too little—so that it would blend seamlessly with the original hue.

In addition, Song Sanlang had to consider where the furniture would be placed—in a spot with direct light or indirect light. Under different light sources, the transparency of the lacquer would look different.

He was so engrossed in his work that he lost track of time. When he finally looked up, there wasn't even a ghost of a child under the shade of the tree.

***

In the back courtyard, inside Master Li’s study.

Song Jingchen sat on an official’s hat chair opposite Master Li, chatting leisurely while eating the exquisite pastries brought by a maid.

He had already met the old matriarch of the Yongchang Earl’s mansion, so he wouldn't be intimidated by a mere Master Li. Master Li’s house wasn't as big as the Earl’s mansion, which proved that Master Li’s official rank certainly couldn't be higher than the Earl’s.

"Master Li’s painting is very good," the child evaluated, nodding his little head seriously.

Master Li Yishan, who was over fifty, wore a dark-colored robe with three strands of beautiful whiskers floating on his chest. He was dressed like a Confucian scholar—a retired gentleman of leisure. Although he held no official position, his connections in the imperial court were extensive. Like the great Confucian Chen, he disdained being involved in the political mire; unlike Chen’s boisterous nature, he was extremely low-profile. Since resigning from the Ministry of Personnel last year, he had lived a semi-secluded life.

Finding the little child interesting, Li Yishan put down his brush and teased with a smile, "Little friend, why do you say that? Can you tell me what is good about my painting?"

Song Jingchen slid down from the chair, walked over with a pretentious air, pointed his little finger at the "Grapes and Insects" painting that Li Yishan had just finished on the desk, and said eloquently:

"Master Li’s grapes are painted very well because they look delicious and fragrant."

Li Yishan laughed heartily and said, "So, little friend thinks that if it looks delicious, it’s a good painting."

Song Jingchen nodded as if it were a matter of course. "Yes, grapes have to look good *and* taste good to be grapes, don't they?"

After saying this, the child looked at Li Yishan with eyes full of admiration. "Master Li can paint grapes so they look real—can you also paint children? Master Li, could you paint a portrait of Chen-ge?"

"That way, when Chen-ge grows up, I’ll know what I looked like when I was little."

The child’s large, grape-like black eyes blinked with an innocent request, his lashes fluttering. No one could bear to refuse him, especially since the child had already praised his painting skills so highly. Li Yishan couldn't say no and had Song Jingchen sit properly in the chair.

He then heard the child add, "I want you to paint your specialty, the grapes, in it too. Or, how about you paint a 'Child Eating Grapes' picture?"