Chapter 33: Stitching Lips Shut Is Worse Than Cutting Out the Tongue

The third morning, just as the sky began to brighten, the heavy wooden door of the ancestral hall was slowly pushed open with a harsh, grating creak.

A stench of blood mixed with rot and medicinal odors surged out, forcing the onlookers to instinctively step back. Shen Yongzhi was dragged out, supported by others. His face was deathly pale, his lips chapped, and his eyes were vacant, as if his soul had been plucked from his body. The fabric of his trousers was matted to the flesh of his knees, congealed with dried blood and pus. With every step, he trembled violently, a muffled groan escaping his lips as his body shook uncontrollably.

"My son!" Madam Zhang shrieked suddenly.

She lunged forward like a madwoman, though she dared not touch his legs, opting instead to clutch his arms and wail, "Open your eyes and look! He is just a child, and you have tortured him to the brink of death! If his legs are ruined, his life is over! Shen Guilan, you heartless mother, to think you would not even spare your own son for the sake of a few coins!"

As she wept, she glared at the surrounding crowd, her gaze sharp as a blade, as if accusing them all of being accomplices. Some of the tender-hearted women began to wipe away tears. Seeing their reaction, Madam Zhang cried even more fiercely, casting a sharp, secret look at Zhao San behind the crowd.

Zhao San understood immediately and slipped away quietly.

Within the time it took to burn a stick of incense, a new rumor swept through the village.

"Have you heard? Shen Guilan’s punishment of her son was just for show!"

"Indeed! I heard she had already arranged for a human trafficker to sell Shen Yongzhi to a black coal mine to pay off her debts!"

"Heavens! A mother selling her own son—is there any hope left for the child?"

These words were like knives, piercing Shen Guilan’s heart with every syllable. Yet, though she heard them, her face remained calm, devoid of any reaction.

At noon, when the village square was most crowded, she set up a new embroidery frame. Under the sun, she sat motionless, her hands moving with such steady speed that her needlework was a blur. As the villagers gathered, they saw a terrifying image emerge on the white cloth: a woman’s face, twisted in agony, her mouth sewn shut by a hand using needle and thread, blood streaming down her visage. In the upper right corner, four large characters slowly took shape: Portrait of the Slanderous Tongue.

As the final stitch was set, she put down her needle and spoke clearly, "I ask Scholar Li to read a passage from the Shen Family Code."

The young scholar hesitated but quickly opened the old genealogy book and read aloud, "Article Thirteen of the Shen Family Code: Any clan member who is unfilial, lacks brotherly love, steals family property, or brings disgrace to the family name shall be punished by kneeling in the ancestral hall for three days as a warning to others. Note: Kneeling is not expulsion from the family, and stripping of authority is not a severance of kinship. This is a warning, not an act of heartlessness."

Once he finished, Shen Guilan took over, "The clan code is written in plain sight: kneeling is a lesson, not an execution! No matter how poor I, Shen Guilan, may be, I would never sell my son for money! From this day forth, anyone who spreads the rumor of ‘selling a son to pay debts’ is slandering the clan code and corrupting the morals of our village!"

With that, she picked up the *Portrait of the Slanderous Tongue* and walked to the entrance of the ancestral hall, hanging it squarely upon the gate.

"A mouth can kill, but a needle can seal it; I use needle and thread to restore my honor."

These sixteen words struck heavily at the hearts of everyone who had been wagging their tongues.

Even more shocking was when she produced four gleaming copper coins from her bodice and used nails to hammer them, "clink, clink, clink, clink," into the four corners of the embroidery.

"Isn't that the silver coin Shen Yongzhi stole?" someone shouted.

Shen Guilan said coldly, "Indeed. He stole five, and I recovered one. These four copper coins are nailed here today as a fine, to be given to the clan school to buy ink and brushes for the children. I hope that every descendant of the Shen family will understand the rules, keep to their place, and never again produce such a degenerate."

This move effectively strangled the rumors and turned a family disgrace into a lesson for the entire village. The women who had just been gossiping felt their faces burn and lowered their heads, not daring to look up.

Inside her home, Madam Zhang heard the news and trembled with rage. She kicked over a water bucket and roared at Zhao San, "Burn it! Go tonight! I want to see what she has left to shut people up once that picture is gone!"

At night, the darkness was absolute. Zhao San, carrying a fire starter and a bundle of oily grass, crept toward the ancestral hall. Seeing no one around, he smirked and piled the grass beneath the *Portrait of the Slanderous Tongue*. Just as he was about to ignite the fire—

"Whoosh!"

An arrow tore through the air, precisely striking the fuse in his hand and extinguishing the spark instantly. Zhao San was terrified out of his wits and turned to flee—

A second arrow grazed his scalp, then "thwacked" into the ground, pinning his sole firmly to the earth! He let out a piercing scream and collapsed.

A tall figure emerged from the woods, bow in hand. Gu Changshan stood in the moonlight, his face cold as iron, his eyes burning with an intimidating intensity. He did not look at Zhao San, but fixed his gaze on several shadows lurking in the distance.

"Dare to touch the Shen family again, and an arrow will pierce your throat."

His voice was not loud, but it pierced the bones of everyone present like an icy blade.

Just then, Liu the blacksmith rushed out, looked at Zhao San on the ground and the unharmed embroidery, and raised his hands, shouting, "Well done! A fine shot! Uncle Shan is not just protecting the Shen family; he is protecting the sense of justice in our Qingxi Village!"

"That's right! He is protecting what is right!"

"We cannot let such people ruin our village’s integrity!"

Dozens of villagers spontaneously gathered around, forming a wall, shielding the *Portrait of the Slanderous Tongue* and the ancestral hall behind them.

The next day, Shen Guilan personally took down the embroidery and sent it to the county school with a note: "This woman’s craft is coarse. I embroidered this not to show off, but to let the younger generation know that a mouth can hurt more cruelly than a knife. I hope this picture hangs in the school to remind the children daily that one must be responsible for their words and possess integrity in their conduct."

Instructor Li of the county school examined the embroidery, tracing the stitches and characters, and remained silent for a long time before slamming his desk in approval: "A remarkable woman! Great backbone, and a sense of duty!"

He not only hung the piece in the most prominent spot in the school but also made an exception by recording the incident in the *Qinghe Records of Customs and Morality*.

When the news reached the village, Madam Zhang was in her courtyard cursing; upon hearing it, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a dead faint.

In the woodshed, Shen Yongzhi clutched a pair of old cloth shoes—the ones he had thrown away, only for his mother to quietly retrieve them. The crooked stitches on the uppers pricked his palms. For the first time, he whispered to himself: "Am I... am I truly a beast?"

The turmoil finally settled. That night, snow fell quietly.

Shen Guilan sat under the lamp, reviewing the embroidery shop’s accounts and planning her future business. Suddenly, there were two soft knocks at the courtyard door.

She opened it to see Gu Changshan standing in the wind and snow. He led a donkey laden with mountain goods, and tied to its back was a roll of oilcloth marked with bold characters: *Map of the Nanling Grain Route*.

Snow dusted his brows and shoulders. He looked at her and said softly, "I have to make a journey."

She did not ask where he was going, nor how long he would be, but turned back into the house and brought out a pair of newly made knee pads and leg wraps, stuffed thick with cotton, and tucked them into his pack.

"The mountain paths are treacherous, and the snow makes them slippery. Don't let your old wounds flare up."

He looked at her fingers, reddened by the cold, his throat moved, and he nodded heavily. He turned to leave, then stopped. Hesitating, he reached into the deepest layer of his tunic and pulled out an object, pressing it into her hand.

It was a warped, fire-blackened brass token, cold and heavy. In the lantern light, she could see the blurred inscription: "Night Watch Guard, Seventh Platoon."

"If... I do not return," his voice was hoarse, "ask for me: why were we abandoned in the mountains all those years ago?"

The snow fell silently, dyeing the world in white. Shen Guilan gripped the brass token, still holding his body heat, and looked up at the distant mountains swallowed by the storm behind him. Her voice was soft, yet incomparably firm:

"You go to uncover your past, and I will guard your return—this time, it is my turn to wait for you."

Gu Changshan’s figure eventually vanished into the wind and snow, never to appear again. Shen Guilan stood in the snow for a long time, until her limbs were stiff, before she returned to the house and closed the door. She did not go to her bedroom, but walked into the main hall and placed the heavy oilcloth bundle left by the donkey onto the table.

Her fingers traced the five characters, "Map of the Nanling Grain Route," her gaze profound.

The night was still very long.