The prince had gone far, and Dingyi straightened up. A figure emerged from the corner of the room—it was Advisor Bai. She exclaimed, "Advisor, you're still here? It's so late, you should hurry back!"
Advisor Bai waved it off. "Didn’t expect you’d have such luck—Prince Chun actually agreed to your request. So, how about Xiazhi’s matter..."
Before he could finish, someone was thrown out from the side gate. Xiazhi tumbled twice on the ground and lay there, unable to get up. The guards from Prince Xian's Residence were still cursing, "Lucky for you today, kid. The Twelfth Prince spoke up for you, so your life isn’t over yet. Tighten your skin when you get back. Don’t let me see you again—if I spot you on the street, I’ll snap your third leg without a word!"
With a loud thud, the side gate slammed shut. Dingyi and Advisor Bai hurried to help Xiazhi up. His face was smeared with mud, and when Dingyi wiped it, he groaned at the slightest touch to his chin. "Almost knocked my teeth out, those lackeys hit like savages..."
At least he could still talk—probably wouldn’t die. They hauled him up and supported him as they walked back. By the time they reached Di’anmen, Dingyi thanked Advisor Bai profusely. It was the middle of the night, and they’d ruined his sleep—she felt terribly guilty.
Working in the same office, there were always small favors exchanged. Advisor Bai said, "As long as he’s alright. Take a leave tomorrow to recover. What’s done is done—just remember this lesson next time."
The two agreed and parted ways with him, slowly making their way through the quiet alley. Xiazhi couldn’t keep his mouth shut, rambling about how the Seventh Prince had beaten him mercilessly, leaving him covered in wounds. He had no idea how to explain it to their master when he returned tomorrow. Then he added, "Gotta thank you today. If you didn’t know Prince Chun, I might not have made it out alive. Hey, what’s your connection with Prince Chun anyway? You ask, and he just agrees? Let me tell you, some people aren’t as decent as they seem—all proper on the outside but beasts underneath. British officials aren’t allowed in brothels, but they can patronize male brothels. That’s why the alleys around Yanzhi Hutong are packed with them. You gotta be careful."
Dingyi glared at him. "Too bad they didn’t smash your mouth shut! He saved you, and you’re already badmouthing him?"
"I’m just worried about you..."
"Worry about yourself first. If you’d listened to me, would you be in this mess?" She scolded him all the way until Xiazhi fell silent, and soon they arrived at Tongfu Lane.
The next day, when Wu Changgeng returned and saw the sorry state of his disciple, he couldn’t help but grab him by the ear and berate him. "You little troublemaker! The moment I left, you stirred up this mess. You’re lucky Xiaoshu could pull strings for you. If you’d died in that mansion, who’d have fought for justice? Serves you right!"
After the scolding, punishment was inevitable—kneeling. Kneel by the south wall, and don’t get up until told. With no one to cook, the master went to the office for roll call, leaving Dingyi at home to tend to him. The kitchen in the tenement wasn’t shared, but in summer, everyone set up stoves outside. A small awning under the eaves, a makeshift clay stove—just enough to hold a pot.
Dingyi mixed water and flour to make cornbread. San Qingzi’s wife came out to cook too and greeted her. "You’re cooking today? Your shixiong got quite the beating, huh? Not to be harsh, but he deserves it—should’ve broken a couple ribs. Working that shady government job, still running his mouth. Serves him right!"Headsmen earned their living through unvirtuous means, and Dingyi wasn’t too pleased to hear it. Seeing her expression darken, Sanqingzi’s wife quickly tried to smooth things over, “I wasn’t talking about you, don’t take it to heart.” After a pause, she struck up another conversation, “So, how old are you this year, kid?”
Dingyi placed the steamed buns into the steamer and answered casually, “Seventeen.”
“Time to find a wife,” the woman exclaimed loudly. “I’ll matchmake for you—there’s a good girl, you’ll definitely like her once you see her.”
Women with too much time on their hands loved playing matchmaker. If she dared to agree even half-heartedly, they’d bring a girl over the very next day. She waved her hands repeatedly, “I appreciate your kindness, but I can barely earn enough to feed myself right now—how could I support a family? Besides, my senior brother is still single. As his junior, I can’t jump the queue. If you know anyone, introduce them to my senior brother first. He’s not getting any younger either. With a wife to keep him in line, he might finally grow up.”
Sanqingzi’s wife scoffed, “Enough of that. It’s not like the girl has no other options and must be forced on you. I think you’re reliable and good-looking, that’s why I wanted to set you up. As for Xiazhi—forget it!”
While they were chatting, a commotion broke out on the other side of the courtyard. It was a tenement, after all—all sorts of people lived there. One family in the yard, the Xis, used to be wealthy, running a gold shop. But each generation grew lazier than the last, refusing to work until the business collapsed. After exhausting their fortune, they moved to Tongfu Lane. A change in environment could humble people, making them appreciate the simple life. Having fallen from grace, they muddled along as best they could. The large family scattered, rarely keeping in touch. Things had been relatively peaceful until one day, the married eldest sister returned home after her husband died and she could no longer stay with his family.
At first, it seemed harmless—just an extra mouth to feed. But this sister turned out to be a sly fox, meddling in her brother’s household affairs while living under his roof. She constantly picked on her sister-in-law, finding fault with everything, worse than a mother-in-law. Eating their food yet acting like the mistress—who could stand that? The sisters-in-law fought daily. The men couldn’t intervene, so they avoided the drama altogether, leaving the women to their battles, turning the place upside down.
Da Nǎinai of the Xi family wasn’t loud, but when she couldn’t outshout her sister-in-law, she resorted to wailing, “You jinx, after ruining your husband’s family, now you’re here to ruin ours. Who do you think you are? Mooching off us without contributing a single coin. We took you in out of family duty, and this is how you repay us—acting like the lady of the house, giving orders left and right…”
The sister-in-law was ruthless. Without a word, she began throwing her sister-in-law’s belongings out of the room. She even had the children scoop sand with a dustpan and dump it all over the bed, sneering coldly, “Let’s see you sleep now! Who am I? I’m a Xi—this is my home. You’re just an outsider, a barren hen who eats without laying eggs. Get out before you snuff out the Xi family line.”
This kind of drama played out every few days, and everyone had grown numb to it.
Sanqingzi’s wife shook her head, “A sister-in-law is worse than ten mothers-in-law—she’s a master at stirring trouble. Girls must investigate thoroughly before marrying—even noble families or mansions with too many daughters aren’t worth it. This Xi sister is something else—a widow without a job, yet so domineering. You won’t find another like her in all of Great Britain.”Dingyi wasn’t one to gossip about others—everyone had their own way of living. If there was no quarreling, some might even complain about the lack of excitement. She was busy frying snow cabbage in hot oil when the noise gradually died down. After a while, she saw her sister-in-law emerge, a wisp of bangs fluttering on her forehead. Tucking it behind her ear, she straightened her ample bosom and strode out proudly with a clay pot to fetch porridge.
“What a temper! She’s really no pushover…” A group of women in the courtyard huddled together, whispering, “She’s harder to deal with than a mother-in-law—more like a living nightmare!”
Dingyi listened carefully but couldn’t hear any commotion from the Xi family. By then, the steamed buns were ready. She carried them out on a bamboo tray and went inside to call Xiazhi for dinner, only to find him already lounging in a reclining chair, humming an opera tune— clang-clang, clang-clang .
“Honestly, what’s the Seventh Prince thinking?” He rolled over and sat at the table, breaking apart a steamed bun. “If that dog’s temperament is ruined, why keep it? Prince Chun already promised to compensate him with a new one—why not just give us the one with the missing cap?”
Mention of the dog gave Dingyi a headache. “Can you stop obsessing over that? Haven’t we caused enough trouble already? If you want to earn money, there are plenty of ways—you don’t have to hunt badgers. We could set up a stall and sell midnight snacks.”
“Those holding government posts aren’t allowed to engage in trade—it’s against Great Britain’s laws. Officials abstaining from business is one thing, but what kind of airs are we putting on? We can’t even eat properly, yet we’re still bound by these rules.” Xiazhi stabbed his chopsticks into the pickled vegetables. “If nothing else works, I’ll have to earn money by making coal briquettes for others—hard labor. At least no one can complain about that!”
While he was scheming about making money, Dingyi was thinking about how to repay Prince Chun for his help. Asking for favors empty-handed twice in a row wasn’t proper. Wanting to follow him to Changbai Mountain was one thing, but in everyday interactions, gratitude was common courtesy.
Still, in the sweltering heat, their respective plans could wait. After lunch, it was time for a nap. Xiazhi had timed it perfectly—once their master returned, he’d have to kneel by the south wall again, so he seized the chance to rest first. Dingyi finished washing the dishes, set out some cooled boiled water, washed her face, and retreated to her own room to rest.
The small room was stifling. She propped open the front and back windows slightly and fanned herself with a palm-leaf fan, gradually drifting into sleep. Just as her eyes were about to close, a sudden wail jolted her awake.
Had something happened? She leapt out of bed and rushed outside. A crowd had gathered outside the Xi family’s door, women whispering behind their hands, their faces a mix of horror and pity. Xiazhi emerged from the back, dazed, and peeked out. “Someone’s dead, huh?”
Sure enough, Da Nǎinai of the Xi family, bullied beyond endurance by her sister-in-law, had taken her own life—slitting her own throat in the sister-in-law’s room, blood soaking the entire kang.
For a frail woman to cut herself like that with a kitchen knife—what courage and resolve that must have taken! Everyone pointed fingers at the sister-in-law. “Now that the thorn in your side is gone, are you satisfied? Don’t be surprised if she comes haunting you at night!” Women weren’t inherently cruel, but when they turned hateful, no punishment was too severe.
Dingyi leaned against the wall, feeling hollow inside. Building a family was hard work, but destroying it was frighteningly easy. In just the time it took to eat a meal, it had all fallen apart.However, determining the cause of such a suicide attempt isn't straightforward. The yamen would need to send a coroner to investigate, interview neighbors, and question the suspects involved. Although everyone despised Da Gū Nǎinai and that useless Uncle Xi, a human life was at stake, so they couldn’t just make baseless accusations. At the time, the Jin family at Dengshikou was distributing porridge for merit-making, and Da Gū Nǎinai had taken the children to get some. The sister-in-law had clearly chosen that moment to end her life, so pinning it on Da Gū Nǎinai wouldn’t hold up. In the end, the clerk ruled it wasn’t a homicide, so the yamen had no jurisdiction. The bereaved family hurried to prepare for the funeral—no point letting the body spoil in the heat.
Family matters are always murky, but the most pressing concern was to lay the deceased to rest properly. A funeral had to be done right—buying a coffin, setting up a mourning tent, hiring horn players. The music and fanfare weren’t for the dead but for the living. Da Nǎinai had relatives on her side, and once they got the news, they’d come rushing over, likely stirring up another storm.
With so many chaotic tasks at hand, Uncle Xi, who had always been all talk and no action, was completely overwhelmed. In this courtyard, only Wu Changgeng and his apprentice had much experience dealing with the dead. Uncle Xi had once looked down on them, but now he swallowed his pride and came seeking advice. The gash on Da Nǎinai’s neck was too long for him to handle alone, and he couldn’t bear to bury her with her head lolling—it had to be stitched up.
"Who can I turn to? I don’t know anyone who does this kind of work outside," Uncle Xi said, his legs nearly buckling, his face twisted in grief. "She didn’t get to live a good life with me, and I can’t let her struggle to swallow in the next life. Uncle Wu, please point me in the right direction. I wronged her—at least let her go whole."
Wu Changgeng finished his pipe and tapped it clean. "There’s a cobbler’s shop near Heniantang that might take the job."
Uncle Xi hesitated. "Do you know how much they charge?"
Xiazhi chimed in, "Last time I asked, it was two taels of silver for a full circle. For your situation, I’d guess one tael would do."
Uncle Xi gasped. "Might as well kill me instead... Any cheaper options?"
Who’d even want to do this kind of work? It wasn’t like stitching shoe soles—this was sewing a head! Xiazhi shook his head. "If you’re worried about the cost, do it yourself. Your Da Gū Nǎinai has nothing better to do—let her put in the effort. A few stitches, and it’s done."
That was just rubbing salt in the wound. Asking Da Gū Nǎinai to do it would be worse than demanding her life. Dingyi nearly laughed but held it back—she hadn’t fully recovered yet. Uncle Xi, however, fixed his dazed eyes on her. "Shu, I saw you mending your master’s clothes last time. You’ve got the guts—how about... you lend a hand?"
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