Chapter 8: A Clever Battle with the Wicked Mother-in-Law

Her cries tore through the cold night, startling the chickens under the eaves into frantic flapping and scattering. Aunt Liu was carrying a basin of hot water home when she heard the noise and shivered sharply. She hurried over, followed by several villagers who had been out at night.

“Guilan! What’s going on?” Aunt Liu knelt down, reaching out to help her, but Guilan clung tightly to her sleeve.

Guilan lifted her tear-streaked face, her voice trembling almost beyond recognition. “Aunt Liu… the cured meat you gave me yesterday… I wanted to use it to help Xiuwie regain her strength… but my mother-in-law said… said Xiuwie is a burden, not worthy of good food… she even smashed the bowl… I tried to snatch it back… but my mother-in-law pushed me against the wall… I… I’m a widow, managing this whole family alone… refusing to remarry for the sake of my child… but my mother-in-law… how can she be so heartless—”

As she spoke, she shakily lifted the package of cured meat above her head, the meat still smeared with stove soot and broken porcelain shards.

Aunt Liu’s eyes immediately reddened. She turned sharply to glare at Mrs. Zhang. “Sister Zhang! Xiuwie is your son’s own flesh and blood, your own granddaughter! How can you only care for Yongzhi and ignore the mother and daughter’s well-being? Look at them—they’re as thin as bamboo poles, their faces pale. They don’t look like they’ve had a warm meal in days!”

“That’s right!” an old man leaning on a cane stepped forward. “Mrs. Zhang, your son Yongzhi eats thick gruel every day, but Xiuwie can’t even get rice water to drink. What kind of fairness is that?”

“Guilan works so hard gathering firewood, growing vegetables, raising chickens—she earns everything herself! And you, doing nothing yourself, stop her from giving her child even a bite of meat?” another woman said indignantly.

Mrs. Zhang’s face turned ashen with rage. She stormed out, pointing at the crowd and shouting, “Get out! Get out of here! These are the Shen family’s private affairs. What business do you outsiders have meddling? I’m the one in charge here!”

“Just because you say so?!” a steady voice interrupted.

The crowd parted as the village chief approached, leaning on his bamboo staff, followed by several elders who had hurried over upon hearing the commotion.

He bent down to help Guilan to her feet. Her hair was wild like tangled grass, her hands cracked from the cold, and she clutched the package of cured meat tightly. A flicker of pity crossed his eyes.

Turning to Mrs. Zhang, his tone was stern. “Mrs. Zhang, we sympathize with your hardships—losing your husband early, your son gone too soon—we’ve let you manage the household out of respect for you. But you cannot treat your daughter-in-law like this, nor mistreat your granddaughter! Guilan is a widow who manages her home and cares for her elders dutifully; who in the village doesn’t praise her for her virtue? Yet you snatch even a bowl of porridge away, being so harsh even to a child!”

He paused, his voice dropping lower. “If this happens again, and we find you still so cruel and ungrateful, don’t blame us for showing no mercy—the ancestral hall and clan laws will deal with you!”

Mrs. Zhang trembled violently, her lips quivering as she could not speak.

Guilan collapsed into the village chief’s arms and finally broke down into loud sobs, as if releasing all the grievances, fears, and anger bottled up inside her over the years.

Xiuwie stumbled out from the kitchen and threw herself into her mother’s arms, her small hands gripping tightly around Guilan’s waist.

The north wind whipped snowflakes swirling through the courtyard. The villagers’ murmurs gradually softened, leaving only a few sighs and head shakes. The village chief gently patted Guilan’s shoulder and whispered, “Go home now. After tonight, no one will dare lay a finger on you again.”

Guilan slowly straightened, her tangled hair clinging to her face, but her eyes shone with the fierce brightness of tempered steel. She looked down at Xiuwie in her arms, whose small hands still clutched the edge of her garment, nails pinching a tiny fold in the fabric.

She bent to embrace Xiuwie, pressing the girl’s cold little face to her neck and softly rubbing it.

Squatting down to meet her daughter’s gaze, she wiped away the tears from Xiuwie’s cheeks with her fingertip. “Don’t be afraid, Weiwei. Mama’s here.”