Volume One, Chapter Six: A Bolt from the Blue! Father and Mother Collapse on the Spot!

Chen Pingchuan led the gaunt old ox home, returning much earlier than usual. The courtyard gate was ajar; he pushed it open and tied the ox beneath the crooked-necked tree in the corner.

Chen Zhonghe was crouched under the eaves, repairing a chipped hoe, sweat beading on his brow.

“Father.”

Hearing his son call, Chen Zhonghe looked up, surprised. “Pingchuan? Why are you home so early today?”

Pingchuan didn’t answer right away. He strode over to his father, grasping his arm, his expression unusually grave.

“Father, let’s speak inside.”

Noticing his son’s troubled face, Chen Zhonghe’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly set down the hoe and followed him into the house.

Pingchuan shut the shaky wooden door behind them, sliding the bolt in place with practiced ease.

From the kitchen, Mrs. Luo heard the commotion and lifted the curtain to step out. Seeing the father and son’s strained faces, her heart sank, sensing something was amiss.

“Husband, Pingchuan, what’s the matter?”

Pingchuan said nothing. He walked to the battered square table, drew a bulging cloth bag from his coat, and upended it.

A cascade of silver ingots mixed with copper coins spilled onto the table, dazzling even in the dim room.

Mrs. Luo and Chen Zhonghe froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Pingchuan… my boy, where did this money come from?” Mrs. Luo’s voice trembled as she edged closer, pointing at the silver, too afraid to touch it.

She feared—it might be ill-gotten, earned by her son through wayward means.

Chen Zhonghe was equally shocked, mouth agape, unable to utter a word.

Pingchuan raised his head, his gaze steady as he looked at his parents.

“I sold myself to the Zhang family, to serve as their young master’s study attendant.”

The words struck Mrs. Luo like a bolt from the blue, blinding her with anguish.

All color drained from her face; lips quivering, she snatched the broom from the corner and swung it at Pingchuan.

“You wretched child! Who told you to sell yourself? I’ll beat you to death!”

But the broom, raised high, stopped short mere inches from Pingchuan’s head.

Mrs. Luo’s arm trembled violently; with a clatter, the broom fell to the floor.

Unable to stand, she collapsed, tears bursting forth like a flood after years of restraint.

“My child… my Pingchuan…” She pulled him into her arms, her frail shoulders shaking as she wept, heartbroken.

“You foolish child! Why would you do this? You’re tearing your mother’s heart out!”

“It’s all my fault! I’m useless! I couldn’t protect you and your sister! Oh, heavens!” She beat her chest, wailing in despair. “Open your eyes and look! Why must our family suffer so? What wrong have we done?”

Beside her, Chen Zhonghe was pale as death, trembling all over.

He seized the money bag, frantically stuffing the coins back in, eyes red, grabbing Pingchuan’s wrist and dragging him toward the door.

“Pingchuan, come with me! We don’t want this money! I’ll go to the Zhangs, even if I must kneel, I’ll buy you back!”

Pingchuan let himself be pulled, but his small body remained rooted, unmoving.

“Father, it’s no use.” His childish voice held a calmness beyond his years.

“The deed is signed, fingerprinted. The Zhangs won’t return the money.”

Chen Zhonghe turned, staring into his son’s clear, eerily tranquil eyes.

That gaze belonged not to an eight-year-old boy, but to someone who had weathered the storms of life.

“Besides,” Pingchuan continued, “even if they did return the money, what about my sister?”

“In three days, where would we find another twenty taels of silver?”

The questions struck Chen Zhonghe like hammer blows, leaving him speechless.

The bag slipped from his grasp, coins spilling onto the floor.

The crying awakened Chen Pingyu, who had been sleeping in the inner room.

The little girl rubbed her sleepy eyes and ran out barefoot, seeing her mother sobbing on the floor and her father standing in despair.

When she saw her brother being pulled by their father and the scattered money, her face turned ghostly pale.

“Waa—Father! Mother! Don’t sell my brother! I don’t want him to leave!”

Pingyu, like a frightened little animal, lunged forward, clinging desperately to Pingchuan’s leg, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Sell me instead! Please… don’t sell my brother…”

Pingchuan crouched down.

He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Silly girl, don’t cry.”

“Brother isn’t being sold.”

“Brother found himself a good place. There’s food, clothes, and he can learn skills.”

He tried to make his voice sound light.

“When brother learns enough, he’ll earn lots of money, so you and Father and Mother can live well.”

Pingyu hiccuped, clutching her brother’s sleeve, tears still hanging from her long lashes, but her crying paused.

“Really…?”

“When has brother ever lied to you?” Pingchuan teased her nose.

The little girl finally managed a smile through her tears, though she still clung to his arm, nuzzling her head against him.

Pingchuan stood, looking at his pale-faced parents.

He separated three extra taels of broken silver and placed them on the table.

“Father, Mother, Master Zhang is not a bad man. He thinks I’m clever and well-behaved, and rewarded me with these three taels.”

The words were half true, hinting at Zhang Shengcai’s appreciation, suggesting he would be treated well.

It brought a small measure of comfort to the desperate Chen Zhonghe and Mrs. Luo.

“Though the Zhangs are a wealthy family with strict rules, their young master doesn’t seem hard to get along with.”

“I’ll work hard, and try to come home sooner, so our family can live well.”

Mrs. Luo’s heart felt squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain almost suffocating her.

She knew her son was trying to comfort them, but the thought of him, so young, serving as a houseboy, subject to others’ whims, was unbearable.

Yet at this point, no amount of tears or longing could change the cold reality.

Mrs. Luo’s eyes were swollen and red as ripe peaches.

She reached out, trembling, and gathered the scattered silver coins together.

Among them, twenty taels were her daughter’s hope for survival.

The other three taels were the faint light her son had exchanged for his freedom.

She picked up those three taels carefully.

Then she found a strip of faded but clean cloth.

Layer by layer, she wrapped them tightly.

She walked to the battered wooden chest in the corner, opened the lid.

She tucked the little bundle into the very bottom, beneath patched, soap-scented old clothes.

There, in the most hidden place of the house.

Having finished, she turned around slowly.

Her voice was hoarse, but every word rang with a mother’s resolve.

“My son, these three taels, I’ll keep safe for you.”

“From now on, your father and I will tighten our belts, eat less each day, and save every coin to buy back your freedom!”

Chen Zhonghe crouched nearby, his broad back slightly hunched.

He clasped his head in both hands, silent, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

This man, always reserved and taciturn, felt pain no less than anyone else.