Chapter 22

The woven grass basket sat on the ground, bulging at the seams with a chaotic mix of dried fruits and vegetables, crammed in so tightly it looked like it might burst. Third Granduncle Song’s family never had to buy fruit—though, to be fair, they never could have afforded to, even if they wanted to.

Whatever they had at home came from two possible sources: gifts from their own relatives, mostly from Sixth Uncle’s family, or the far less honorable methods of foraging, pilfering, and outright swiping from wherever seemed convenient.

The children, quick-footed and sharp-eyed, had a knack for plucking fruit from the mountain—some legally, some not so much. And it wasn’t just fruit in that overflowing pile. Among the dried goods were shriveled potatoes, sweet potatoes, even eggplants, all tossed together in a haphazard collection that made anyone with a sense of order shake their head in silent disbelief.

The Song Dingxiang family, to be honest, couldn’t have cared less about what kind of New Year gifts Third Granduncle Song's family could send. After all, they were poor—no denying that. But even in their poverty, they were doing better than most rural families.

Their financial struggles were relative to the wealthier branches of the Song family, though, so it was all about comparison.

As far as the New Year gifts went, it didn’t matter if they weren’t the most extravagant—if they were neatly arranged, presentable, and thoughtful, they could still be displayed with pride. For many ordinary families, a simple offering of dried fruits and vegetables was more than enough.

But this? This was something else. They’d never seen such a careless, slapdash pile of items sent to them. It looked more like a heap of discarded rubbish than a thoughtful gift.

Song Xingyi, his face dark with displeasure, absentmindedly tapped his tobacco pipe, clearly irritated. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Li Shi, as if searching for an explanation—or perhaps a reason to explode.

Li Shi’s smile was more of a mask than anything genuine, her voice soft but carrying an edge of subtle command. “It’s not easy for Third Brother and Third Sister-in-law to gather all of this. My dear, go fetch our return gift, don’t leave Fifth Son and Fifth Daughter-in-law waiting too long. It’s cold outside—hurry back so we can settle in and enjoy some hot soup and noodles to warm up.”

Zhang Shi let out a resigned sigh, lifting the curtain as she stepped outside. Moments later, she returned with a box of pastries and a bag of dried fruits, placing them neatly on the table. She flashed a quick smile at them, before turning and sitting on the edge of the kang bed. Her fingers continued to sift through the fabric scraps, as if lost in thought.

Even though the Song Dingxiang family was considered fairly well-off in the village, there was a certain frugality that ran deep within them. A poor family might be worth ten thousand strings of cash, but not a single scrap of cloth went to waste in their home. Every torn piece, no matter how small, had its purpose. It would later be collected, patched together, and used to fix shoes—nothing was ever discarded.

Song Zhishen took the return gift with a smile, his face betraying a mix of politeness and faint amusement. "Fourth Uncle, you're really too generous. To be greeted with such a valuable gift right from the start—quite the grand gesture."

It was then that Song Xingyi interjected, his voice sharp with a mix of sarcasm and challenge. "This isn't about how wealthy my family is. Even if you were to visit your Fifth Uncle or Sixth Uncle, they wouldn't insult you with a heap of useless junk. Fifth Son, if your family is really so poor, can't you still manage to put together a decent New Year's gift? Have you become so wrapped up in your own self-righteous poverty these past few years that you feel entitled to treat your uncles like this?"

Song Zhishen froze, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of the words. He quickly regained his composure and responded, "Fourth Uncle, where is all of this coming from? How have we ever treated you poorly? Sure, you might not care for these dried fruits and vegetables, but they’re presentable—enough for a family like ours. I know your family’s doing well now, but can you truly look down on your less fortunate brothers?"

Song Xingyi's eyes narrowed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Don’t speak such nonsense in front of me. If I truly looked down on your family, don’t you think I would have cut ties with you long ago?"

Song Xingyi felt a sharp surge of irritation. With a deliberate, almost theatrical motion, he straightened his posture, tapping the wooden handle of his pipe against the edge of the kang bed. A mocking sneer crept across his lips as he looked over the mixed-up, thoughtless assortment of New Year gifts. "So, this year’s 'return gift' is a pair of shoe uppers? How... auspicious," he said, the sarcasm dripping from every word. "But I didn’t say anything about that, did I? Now, you send me this pile of random junk all jumbled up, and you expect me to take it seriously? Is this really how you’re supposed to give gifts? Or are you just doing this to make things difficult for me? I can’t even be bothered to argue. After all, it's clear your family doesn't make decisions for themselves." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Go back and tell your parents—since you’ve made this mess of my New Year, just treat us like any other distant relatives from now on. Don’t bother coming to my house again."

Song Zhishen stood there, feeling both humiliated and furious. His heart pounded as the sting of his uncle’s words hit home. He clenched his fists, his temper barely contained.

After a beat, he forced himself to calm down enough to ask, his voice tinged with frustration, "Fourth Uncle, our family has never wronged you. Is this really all because my younger brother's daughter married the Xu family’s son? That marriage was written in the stars. Dingxiang didn't have the luck for it. Can you really blame us for that?"

At this, Fang Shi’s temper flared. She shot up from the kang bed, throwing the blanket aside in a burst of indignation. "What a shameless thing to say! You really don’t know how your own niece, Song Taohong, ended up married, do you?" she snapped, her voice sharp with fury.

"Second Son's family!" Li shi shouted angrily, "You really don't know your current situation? Still standing on the kang bed and jumping around, can't fit inside the room anymore? Sit down!"

Fang shi sat down angrily, and Song Dingxiang quickly pulled the blanket and covered her.

She flashed a sly smile at Song Zhishen and said, "Honestly, Fifth Uncle, what you're saying doesn't make a lick of sense. Our family didn't confront you earlier because, despite my attempt to hang myself—yeah, you heard me, I nearly ended it all—nothing happened, and now here I am, married to a good man. But tell me, if something had gone wrong, if I had actually… you know, done it, would you still be standing here, looking all smug and untouched? Think about it—do you really believe my family wouldn't have made sure you didn't walk away unscathed?"

Fifth Aunt quickly grabbed her husband's arm, a forced smile on her lips. "Alright, alright, maybe that was a bit much," she said, trying to smooth things over. "But Fourth Uncle, you know the situation with our family. Why didn’t we bring the New Year’s gifts earlier today? It's just that… well, my parents are so concerned with appearances, they didn't want anyone to see something less than perfect. With the New Year fast approaching, we haven’t even gotten our house in order. This whole thing? It was thrown together by me and Eighth Sister-in-law in a rush. It’s not exactly elegant, but hey, we did our best. So, Fourth Uncle, could you cut us some slack? Don’t hold it against us, alright?"

Song Dingxiang had started to take a different look at Song Zhishen's wife.

When they went to Third Granduncle Song's house to deliver New Year gifts, it was this Fifth Uncle's wife who helped smooth things over when things went wrong, showing that she was a refined person.

Today, with a few words, Song Zhishen had annoyed Fourth Grandpa Song, and Fifth Uncle's wife had once again come to smooth things over, taking all the blame on herself and Eighth Auntie, perfectly maintaining the face of Third Grandpa Song and Third Grandma Song, without making their own men look bad.

Song Xingyi couldn't say anything to his nephew's wife. He just leaned back against the cabinet, not saying anything.

Li Shi, with a cool and composed demeanor, spoke sharply, "Now that you're aware of how inappropriate the whole Song Taohong debacle was, let's just drop it, shall we? It's not something we need to discuss any further among ourselves. Do you hear of younger sisters breaking off engagements or older sisters rushing to get married in our village? No, and if word gets out about this, not only will it become the village joke, but it'll also tarnish the reputation of our girls. People will start thinking the Song family’s daughters are unmarriageable. Even these heartless families, willing to flatter us, will be seen in a bad light." She paused, her voice firm as ice. "Enough said. It’s freezing outside—everyone should head back."

Song Zhishen opened his mouth to protest, but his wife’s sharp pinch shut him up instantly. Forced to swallow his words, he gave a stiff smile, grabbed the items, and left, though it was clear he wasn’t happy about it.

Once they were gone, Song Xingyi let out a heavy sigh. "This Third Brother’s family is getting worse and worse..." he muttered, the frustration clear in his tone.

Li Shi, undeterred, didn’t respond to his comment. Instead, she began directing her daughters-in-law and granddaughters to tidy up the old clothes scattered around. Her focus on the task at hand made it clear she had no time for complaints.

Song Xingyi scratched his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he turned to his sons. "Alright, alright, don't pay them any mind. Let’s just move on. Eldest son, how about you and your brothers take care of this mess? It’s a disaster."

Song Zhicheng set the basket down on the table by the window, signaling for others to help. The items inside were undoubtedly good, but the haphazard way they were all mixed together made it a chore to sort through.

Zhou Yinuo finished washing the dishes, tidied up the living room, brought in a kettle of hot water, placed it on the kang table, and then joined in sorting the dried vegetables.

Song Xingyi scratched at his face again, eyes narrowing as he gazed at his wife, his expression softening with a sigh. “Ah… You know, your third brother-in-law wasn’t always like this. Back when I was a kid... we weren’t exactly rolling in wealth. Our family was still trying to make ends meet, but Grandpa and Grandma had managed to scrape together enough to buy some land. I was just a little guy back then, and every time your third brother-in-law went out to work the fields, he’d carry me on his back. He wouldn’t feel right unless I was there with him. And it wasn’t just me—your fifth and sixth brothers-in-law? They were all raised by him too…”

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting as memories took him back. “You know, the eldest and second sons of the Song family were the ones who grew up to be the real laborers—the backbone of the whole operation. Grandma didn’t have any daughters, and back then, there were no daughters-in-law either. So, she had to take care of the whole family, managing everything from clothes to daily needs, all on her own. She was too busy just surviving to think about anything else.”

It was a quiet moment, but there was a sharpness in his tone—a mix of nostalgia, affection, and an edge of unspoken tension. The kind of rawness that only time could bring, a reminder of how much had changed—and how little some things ever really did.

When Song Xingyi and his two younger brothers were still just children, the responsibility of raising them fell entirely on the shoulders of their eldest brother, Song Xingren. He was the one who ensured they were fed, clothed, and kept safe. But as time passed, things inevitably changed. By the time Song Liu, the youngest of the three, turned five, their eldest brother had married, and with that, the duty of looking after the younger ones shifted to their new sister-in-law.

The two younger boys were, in many ways, fortunate. They had the luck of being born into a family that, while not wealthy, was at least stable enough to provide for them without struggle. But for Song Xingyi, the middle child, his childhood had been a different story entirely. His memories weren’t of easy comfort but of clinging to his third brother’s back, relying on him entirely. That was the reality he grew up with—the warmth of an older sibling’s protection and the unspoken understanding that some burdens simply couldn’t be put down.

Li Shi smirked, her words sharp and tinged with mockery. "Your third brother’s been treated better than fair by this family for years. Ever since the split, we’ve all gone our separate ways, but have you noticed? His life’s been spiraling downward year after year. Remember when he went out to work with the caravan? Hurt his back, didn’t he? Your third sister-in-law never let us hear the end of it, and we even covered the cost of his medicine back then. And what did he do? One trip with the caravan, and he came crawling back home, scared out of his wits, saying he’d rather stick to farming. Ring any bells? And you – didn’t you hand over half of the money you made to him? Did I ever say a word against it?"

Song Xingyi cut in quickly, her tone uneasy, trying to diffuse the tension. "I wasn’t trying to start anything... I just said it casually, that’s all."

Li Shi’s voice cut through the room, sharp and unyielding. “What else do you want, exactly? You’ve already paid back what you owed, and our family has supported them for years. If he isn’t doing well, then compared to whom? Ordinary village families? By those standards, can anyone really claim he’s suffering? He’s got twenty acres of land. Twenty. Each of his three sons has five acres, and there’s still five left for him to retire on. You might feel guilty toward him, but do I owe them? Do our children? Does our second granddaughter owe them a thing?”

Song Xingyi sighed heavily, running a hand over his weathered face as though trying to rub away the weight of her words. “Alright, alright, you old woman. I didn’t say anything! I was just wondering, after all these years… how did their family end up like this?”

Li Shi snorted, the sound laced with equal parts disdain and satisfaction. “I used to think they were just too honest, too simple to get ahead, and that’s why they were struggling. But now? Now I see it clear as day. They’ve been playing us this whole time, counting on our unwillingness to cut them off completely. And yet, somehow, they still think they deserve more. Their arrogance is laughable.”

Song Xingyi had nothing more to say. He reached for his tobacco pipe and shuffled toward the door, retreating to the quiet outside. There, he squatted down and lit the pipe, letting the tendrils of smoke curl around his silence.

Inside, Song Dingxiang exchanged a quick glance with Zhou Yinuo. Without a word, Zhou Yinuo grabbed a thick coat, moving brisk but gentle, and followed grandfather outside, draping the coat over his hunched shoulders.

Grandpa took two puffs of smoke and held Zhou Yinuo back, sighing, "Look at your grandma, as soon as I say something, she jumps on me like that, leaving me no room to talk."

Although Zhou Yinuo was the grandson-in-law, he shouldn't have taken the conversation, but he still said, "Grandpa, Grandma was just defending Dingxiang from being bullied. Their family is like this, it's making her angry."

"I said before that your Third Granduncle's family is getting worse and worse, it's just that he is my brother after all, your Third Granduncle, no matter how much he changes, we can't change the fact that we share the same roots. Even if we have to give face when necessary." Song Xingyi was truly distressed, feeling that his third brother was really going too far, but also remembering how soft and sentimental he was when he was young.

Zhou Yinuo thought for a moment and said, "Grandpa, after all, you and Third Granduncle are siblings, it's normal to talk and visit more often. But they bully Dingxiang too much, I can't stand these relatives in the future, after all, my surname is Zhou, right? My parents-in-law are straightforward people, in the future, they will just let things slide with Third Granduncle's family, they're not expecting them to treat us like a close relative anymore, that might be a bit difficult..."

"I know, alright? Ugh… What don’t I know?" Song Xingyi let out a sharp exhale, frustration pressing against his ribs like a locked door he couldn’t quite force open. His voice dipped lower, rough around the edges, as he muttered, "I just feel so damn bottled up inside." He took another slow drag from his cigarette, the ember briefly flaring before he flicked away the ash. Then, tugging Zhou Yinuo forward by the wrist, he said, "Come on. Let’s go. I need to get out of here."

Zhou Yinuo hesitated, pulling back slightly. "It’s freezing out there..."

"We’re not going far," Song Xingyi shot back, his tone edged with impatience, though not at her—at himself, at everything. "Just a quick walk. Past the gate, to that tree, and back. I need air. I need to move. I can’t just sit here feeling like this." His usually sharp eyes were clouded, weighed down by something unspoken.

From the side, the old man watched, his expression troubled. "Go on, let him walk," he murmured, almost to himself. "If he stays inside, he’ll just keep thinking himself in circles."

Zhou Yinuo nodded, then turned back toward the house. "I’ll let them know," he said before slipping inside.

Li shi barely looked up when she spoke. "Let him go," she said simply, her voice lined with quiet understanding. "Fresh air will clear his head. Just make sure you’re both dressed warmly. No point adding a cold to his problems."

Zhou Yinuo sighed, then pulled on an extra layer before stepping back out into the biting wind, bracing herself for whatever this walk was about to turn into.