Volume One, Chapter Seven: Even the Money from Selling Myself Is Stolen—My Whole Family Has Hearts Like Wolves and Lungs Like Dogs!

The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, a faint band of gray stretching across the horizon. At this early hour, the entire Chen family was already awake.

Madam Luo had somehow managed to produce a piece of clothing. Though it was patched in many places and the color had faded with countless washings, it was still the cleanest and most presentable garment they owned. She carefully helped Chen Pingchuan into it.

The family gathered in the dim main room, a simple breakfast laid out on the table. They watched Chen Pingchuan eat, taking small careful bites; no one spoke a word. Even Chen Pingyu, usually so lively and restless, was uncharacteristically well-behaved, her large dark eyes glancing from her silent brother to her worried parents. Her tiny hand clung tightly to Pingchuan’s sleeve, as if she feared that letting go would cause her brother to vanish forever.

Breakfast finished, and the hour was nearly upon them. Pingchuan rose to his feet. Madam Luo immediately stood as well, grabbing her son by the arm and pulling him toward the door, her voice trembling.

“My son, listen to your mother,” she said. “The Zhang family is a wealthy household, their threshold high and their hearts full of twists and turns—not at all like us simple farming folk. Whatever you do, keep your wits about you; don’t be so trusting. If the young master treats you well, then that’s your good fortune and a blessing for our family. But if he’s been spoiled and is arrogant and wild, heedless of right and wrong…”

Her voice faltered and her eyes reddened instantly. “Don’t ever stand up to him, do you hear me? We cannot pit our arm against a leg—if you do, you’ll be the one to suffer!”

“Watch and listen more than you speak. Keep your words sweet, your hands diligent, so no one can find fault with you. And whatever happens, never panic—think things through very carefully before you act or speak. Taking care of yourself is the most important thing, do you hear me?”

By now, her voice was thick with tears, her eyes brimming as she choked out, “If… if you face unbearable hardship in the Zhang household, and truly cannot stay any longer…” Her voice broke, “Find a way… just find a way to send word back. Even if it costs me my life, even if I have to sell everything we own, I will come and bring you home!”

She could say no more. Suddenly she clapped a hand over her mouth, tears streaming unchecked down her face, her sobs wracking her body. This woman, usually so strong, was now as fragile as a candle flickering in the wind.

Pingchuan reached out his small hand to wipe away her tears. He nodded with all the determination he could muster, comforting her in his childish voice, “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll take care of myself and not give you or Father cause for concern.”

A thousand admonitions later, the three of them reluctantly escorted Pingchuan to the gate. Even the cold wind seemed to carry a note of desolation.

From the main house, a window creaked open. The eldest aunt craned her neck, eyes darting as she watched them closely. Across the courtyard, Mrs. Wang from the third branch, carrying a basin of wash water, paused at the doorway, taken aback by the scene.

They all noticed it. Today, Pingchuan had not taken the thin old ox with him. He was dressed in a “decent” outfit rarely seen except for New Year’s, still patched but freshly washed. The unusual sight piqued their curiosity.

“Well, well, isn’t this Pingchuan?” the eldest aunt’s loud, piercing voice rang out, deliberately raised so the old master and mistress inside would hear. “Has the sun risen in the west today? Not herding the ox, but dressed up like a young lord—where are you off to?”

Before the echo faded, the curtain of the main room was abruptly flung aside. Old Madam Chen stormed out, leading Old Master Chen, who leaned heavily on his cane. Her sharp, calculating eyes swept the courtyard, pausing on the tearful Madam Luo and the blank-faced Chen Zhonghe, before finally fixing on Pingchuan at the gate.

Not seeing the ox, and noting his tidier appearance, the old lady’s temper flared. She could not hold back and shouted, “You, Second Daughter-in-law! Your little brat Pingchuan has grown bold, hasn’t he? Not going to herd the ox, dressed up like a young master—what’s he up to? Planning to shirk his duties again?”

Madam Luo turned sharply, the tracks of her tears glaringly obvious in the morning light. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she bit her cracked lips, refusing to utter a single word.

“Second Son, are you mute? Answer me!” The old man’s cough was harsh, his cane thumping heavily on the stone slabs.

Chen Zhonghe, cowed by their stern questioning, bent even lower, his voice barely a whisper, “Pingchuan… he… he’s going to Master Zhang’s… as a study boy.”

He struggled for breath, as if those few words had exhausted him, his tone rough with despair. “He’s… sold himself for twenty taels of silver… for Pingyu…”

A stunned silence fell over the Chen family courtyard, as if a thunderbolt had struck. Everyone froze in place.

An eight-year-old child had sold himself? It was unheard of.

After that moment of shock, the eldest aunt’s beady eyes flashed with greedy delight. Her mouth stretched in a grin nearly to her ears, barely concealing her glee before she forced a show of exaggerated “regret,” her tone so saccharine it sickened: “Oh, Pingchuan is truly… truly a sensible child! So young, and already bearing the family’s burdens. Well, now, with this, Zhongwen’s travel expenses for the provincial exam are taken care of!”

Her words shattered the silence like a stone cast into a still pond.

Old Master Chen stroked his sparse yellow beard, his cloudy eyes narrowing with a hint of satisfaction. He nodded slowly, “Yes, for the sake of his uncle’s future and our family’s good name, Pingchuan’s sacrifice shows understanding and filial piety.”

He spoke as if Pingchuan’s sacrifice was natural, even praiseworthy. After all, he still had Huzier, his favored grandson. He didn’t care for Pingchuan—let him be sold!

From the third branch, Mrs. Wang pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and tittered, her voice sharp and mocking, “Second Sister-in-law, you’re truly blessed! To have such a promising son, so young and already thinking for the family. Not like our Huzier, always up to mischief!”

Beside her, Chen Zhongwu joined in with a forced laugh, “That’s right! I always said Pingchuan was clever and sensible—now you see it’s true!”

Madam Luo trembled with rage at their words, her nails digging into her palms so deeply they drew blood, but she felt no pain.

“What’s all this commotion disturbing my morning rest?” came a voice, lazy with sleep, from the main house.

The curtain lifted, and the eldest brother, Chen Zhongwen, appeared, yawning and fanning himself with a battered old fan as he strolled out. His hair was tousled, his blue scholar’s robe wrinkled and musty, but none of this diminished his air of self-importance.

He glanced indifferently over the gathering, his gaze finally landing on Madam Luo’s ashen face. He frowned, displeased, “Are you arguing over my exam money again? What kind of conduct is this?”

The eldest aunt rushed over, her ingratiating smile spreading across her face. She recounted in vivid, embellished detail how Pingchuan had “volunteered” to sell himself for exam funds.

“Husband, you must thank this good nephew of yours! He sold himself so you could travel to the capital and sit for the exam. Such sensibility is enough to break your heart!”

In her telling, Pingchuan became a paragon of virtue—selfless, loyal, his filial piety moving heaven itself. All the pain, helplessness, and forced necessity behind it, she glossed over as if they were nothing.

Chen Zhongwen’s face showed a flicker of surprise, then he even managed to squeeze out two crocodile tears, sighing theatrically, “Ah! Pingchuan is truly righteous! So young, yet willing to shoulder such burdens. Our family is truly blessed!”

He dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve, adding, “When I win top honors in the examination, I will never forget your devotion!”

His words were lofty, full of emotion, but his eyes, when they turned to Madam Luo, betrayed a hint of impatience—clearly urging her to hand over the silver now that it was in her hands.

Madam Luo hugged herself, her body trembling with fury, her cold gaze sweeping over the greedy, ugly faces before her. The anger boiling inside her nearly consumed her, yet she clenched her jaw and said nothing.

Old Madam Chen’s expression darkened at her stubborn silence, her voice harsh as she barked, “What are you standing there for? Hand over the silver! That twenty taels was always meant for Zhongwen’s exam! Don’t think you can keep it for yourself—don’t even dream of it!”

She advanced, step by step, her withered hand like a chicken claw nearly jabbing Madam Luo’s cheek, her spittle flying as she scolded.