Chapter 5: Outwitting the Landlord

A foul-smelling, yellowish-brown liquid splashed directly onto Madam Zhang’s head, drenching her completely!

The pungent stench exploded instantly in the frigid morning air.

"Ahh! You murderous wretch! How dare you splash me!"

Completely stunned by the sudden assault, Madam Zhang let out a piercing shriek like a slaughtered pig. Drip-ping with filth and trembling with rage, she pointed a shaking finger at Shen Guilan’s nose, unable to form a coherent insult for several moments.

Shen Guilan slammed the chamber pot onto the ground with a sharp, metallic clang. She took a deep breath and said, "Xiuwei calls you Grandma; she is your own granddaughter. Yet you... you wouldn't even spare a child as young as her! You—"

"Oh my, Sister Zhang! Have you given any thought to what we discussed yesterday?"

At the gate, Matchmaker Wang entered the courtyard with a cloth bag, smiling broadly. She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening in shock. "My goodness! What has happened here? Why is there such a... a stench on you?"

She instinctively stepped back, pinching her nose, her gaze darting between the wretched, dripping Madam Zhang and the cold, observant Shen Guilan.

"Sister Guilan, what are you doing? Your mother-in-law works hard for this family every day, and you splash her with filth?" Matchmaker Wang immediately put on a facade of self-righteous indignation, pointing a finger at Shen Guilan to scold her.

Before Shen Guilan could speak, Xiuwei, who had been hiding behind her, poked her little head out. Looking up at the matchmaker, she said in a clear, crisp voice, "Mother Wang, you are quite the hypocrite. Three years ago, you promised the Li girl to the butcher Zhao, calling it a 'perfect match.' And what happened? Zhao was a gambling addict who forced her to steal money from her parents. When it was discovered, the girl was sent to prison and whipped, and Zhao himself was stabbed to death in a gambling den. The whole village remembers that tragedy! How dare you stand here and talk about 'destiny'?"

Matchmaker Wang’s face turned pale. Her hand shook as she pointed at Xiuwei. "You... you little brat, you’re spouting nonsense!"

Shen Guilan smiled faintly, her tone soft yet sharp as a blade. "You should ask your 'Sister Zhang' about that. She talks about your illustrious achievements at the village entrance every day, saying you are a 'matchmaker who deals in death, earning money from the King of Hell himself.'"

"You—!" Matchmaker Wang turned sharply toward Madam Zhang, eyes burning with fury. Casting aside all decorum, she spat a glob of thick phlegm directly onto Madam Zhang’s face and cursed, "You short-lived, low-down wretch! I came here trying to bring you a fortune, and you let your daughter-in-law and granddaughter expose my past in public! And you’ve been bad-mouthing me in the village too! A luckless pauper like you deserves to rot in this dilapidated yard! You want to marry into wealth? Keep dreaming! Just you wait! I, Matchmaker Wang, have never suffered such humiliation!"

With that, she flicked her sleeves and stormed out of the yard without looking back, her footsteps echoing as she disappeared down the alley.

***

Madam Zhang stood frozen, the phlegm still clinging to her face. Wet, cold, and consumed by shame and fury, she could not utter a single word.

Shen Guilan held Xiuwei, watching her silently. There was no joy of victory in her eyes, only a profound sense of sorrow. She stopped looking at Madam Zhang’s face, which was twisted with rage and humiliation. Gathering the terrified Xiuwei into her arms, she strode out of that nauseating house. Behind her, the shrill, vulgar curses of Madam Zhang were left in the distance.

In the room to the east, Shen Yongzhi had watched the entire scene. He had merely cracked the door open a sliver, and seeing the chaos in the courtyard, he retreated like a turtle pulling its head into its shell, acting as if none of it concerned him.

Walking along the dirt road toward the market, the cold wind bit at her cheeks, yet it helped clear Shen Guilan’s chaotic mind. She felt for the few copper coins hidden in her bodice—the only money left in the house, which she had pilfered from the bottom of a cabinet after Madam Zhang fell into a deep sleep the night before.

With these coins, she carefully selected a few skeins of the cheapest silk thread at the market.

When she returned home, Madam Zhang—whether out of exhaustion from her rage or sheer embarrassment—had locked herself in her room, and the courtyard was uncharacteristically quiet. Seizing this precious opportunity, Shen Guilan pulled Xiuwei into the inner room, closed the door, and took out her needlework. By the faint light filtering through the window, she began to embroider with swift, precise movements. Her fingers were not delicate, even a bit rough, but the needle danced between them like a nimble sprite.

Soon, a colorful butterfly began to take shape on the fabric, its wing veins distinct and lifelike.

Xiuwei leaned against her mother’s knee, her large eyes filled with wonder and envy. She whispered, "Mother, your hands are so clever. I want to learn embroidery too."

Shen Guilan stopped her work, gently stroking her daughter’s hair, her eyes filled with an unbreakable tenderness. "Alright. When Weiwei grows a little older, Mother will teach you."

By evening, Madam Zhang could hold back no longer. Finding the kitchen cold and the pots empty, she began to shriek in the yard, calling Shen Guilan a lazy, good-for-nothing parasite.

Shen Guilan walked out of the room, clutching the half-finished embroidery. She glanced at her mother-in-law and said calmly, "I haven't been idle. I’m embroidering something to sell at the town’s embroidery shop tomorrow. We are about to run out of food."

***

Madam Zhang recalled the hot urine splashed over her head that morning. Though she still felt a lingering fear, her tongue remained sharp. She mocked with biting sarcasm, "You? You think you can support this family with embroidery? Don't tell me you're dreaming of something impossible!"

Shen Guilan did not argue; it was useless to say more.

Days passed, and the north wind grew increasingly bitter, slicing across people's faces like knives. Long icicles hung from the eaves, and the water vat in the yard was covered in a thick layer of ice. Shen Guilan embroidered frantically by day and held her daughter close at night. Mother and daughter relied on each other, living a life of hardship but finding a sliver of peace.

However, as the weather grew colder, the firewood began to run out.

One day, a cold front swept through the village. The north wind howled, whipping up dead leaves like the wailing of ghosts, making the already dilapidated home feel even more desolate. Shen Guilan was worrying over the empty woodpile, wondering how they would survive the long, freezing night, when a dull sound of horse hooves reached them from outside the yard, drawing closer and shattering the morning silence.

This was followed by a few heavy coughs and the "crunch" of leather boots on the frozen earth.

The yard gate creaked open. A middle-aged man in a dark robe, wearing a jade pendant at his waist, walked in, followed by two stone-faced servants. His gaze was sharp as a blade, sweeping slowly over the ruined courtyard before finally landing on Shen Guilan.

His voice was low and authoritative.

"Are you Shen Guilan?"