Chapter 16

On the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, the weather suddenly turned cold and snow began to fall. By early morning the next day, the world was blanketed in white, and a thin layer of ice had formed on the water jars.

After the snow cleared and the sky brightened, the three siblings hurried back to Gao Family Village on their uncle’s ox cart.

At first, the elders of the Yu family were hesitant about adopting a child from a different surname, but Yu Lun cited the precedent of their ancestors who had once adopted an outsider as heir, and so the elders relented.

The Gao siblings had to find a way to persuade Gao Mingjin to agree, which was no easy task. He had remarried the year after his first wife passed, fathered a son, and then transferred his late wife’s children to another family. No matter how deeply he pretended to care, no matter how artfully he concealed his motives, people would gossip, and he inevitably had his reservations.

As soon as they arrived at the market in Stone Township, they ran into Lü Dalang, the butcher, who had been helping their uncle’s household these past two years.

Lü Dalang waved from afar, then came over to ask, “Does Young Gao have time to copy books?”

Yiwenshu Bookshop hadn’t been doing well lately, and in the last half year hadn’t hired Gao Zhao for any copying.

“Has the bookshop acquired new books?” Gao Zhao asked.

“No, it’s two old books—recently, demand for them has increased again.”

Gao Zhao had copied those books before and could recite them nearly by heart; copying them again would bring him little benefit. It was a time-consuming task, and he had more urgent matters to attend to, so he found an excuse to decline.

Lü Dalang looked disappointed but managed a smile. “Well, I’ll ask you again next time you’re free.”

Back at the old house, the siblings planned the adoption and considered ways to earn more money before the New Year.

This visit to their uncle’s had cost several taels of silver for his medicine, leaving them short on funds. Arranging the adoption would require the help of both clans, which would certainly entail expenses. Next year, Gao Zhao was to sit for the county examination, another hefty sum. Their uncle would need medicine for some time yet—every item demanded money.

Gao Zhao thought to earn quick cash by writing memorial texts and couplets before the year’s end; Gao Nuan’s skills were limited to embroidery. Embroidery was steady—each piece could fetch dozens of coins—but each took two or three days to complete, so she could save little in a month.

Yu Shensi knew these days Gao Nuan was troubled by these matters. She was only thirteen or fourteen; girls of her age in other families worried about finding a suitable husband, but she fretted over keeping the family afloat, never considering her own future. These past two years, she had done her utmost to fulfill the role of eldest sister as mother, which inspired both sympathy and admiration.

He took a sheet of paper from the table and sat beside Gao Nuan, smiling. “Big sister, you know how to cut window decorations—why not sell them? I saw some in town, but none were as well-made as yours!” Now that he was older and literate, he could speak frankly with his siblings.

Gao Nuan thought it over and realized it was a good idea. She had learned to cut window decorations since childhood; every New Year, the family’s were made by her, never purchased. She had overlooked this as a potential business. Pinching her younger brother’s cheek, she praised, “You really are a clever one.”

The next day, Gao Nuan bought a stack of red paper and began cutting window decorations.

Farmers rarely used window decorations—they weren’t necessities, so people economized, unlike the townsfolk. Gao Nuan’s window decorations could only be sold in the county town.

Gao Family Village was over thirty li from the county town. If she arrived late to the market, she couldn’t secure a good spot, and sales would be limited. Gao Nuan thought of finding a large general store to sell her decorations wholesale—even if the price was lower, since she cut them herself and only paid for the red paper, everything else was profit. Each pair of window decorations could net five coins, and selling to the store would save her much trouble.

A few days later, Gao Nuan went to town again, seeking another store to compare prices. The shopkeeper saw her decorations and bought them all on the spot, even offering an extra coin per pair. He smiled politely, “Window decorations sell best before the New Year. If you have more, bring them here before the festival—I’ll take them all.”

Leaving the store, Gao Nuan deliberately inquired about the market. She learned that the last batch had sold well in another shop, and this store wanted to corner the business.

Seeing the opportunity, Gao Nuan prepared more upon returning home.

Meanwhile, Gao Zhao finished memorial texts for two families. As Stone Township held its market, the three siblings went to set up a stall.

The market before the New Year was busier than usual. People wanted to buy early, as prices rose closer to the festival, sometimes making goods scarce.

The siblings set out before dawn, but it was still late; all the best spots at the crossroads were taken, and they had to settle for a lesser location.

They unloaded the table, covered it with cloth, set out brushes, ink, and red paper, and displayed pre-written couplets—two hung on the table’s sides, others laid on the ground. Beside them, Gao Nuan spread another cloth on the ground, weighed down its corners with stones, and arranged the cut window decorations flat, secured by stones, hoping to sell a few pairs. She sat behind the stall, continuing to cut more.

Just as they finished setting up, an old woman led her grandson over. Her eyes were drawn to Gao Nuan’s window decorations. “How much are these?”

“Six coins per pair,” Gao Nuan replied, offering a lower price than in town.

The old woman gasped and shook her head, finding it too expensive.

She then glanced at the couplets hanging on the table, unable to read, so she asked about the words.

Gao Zhao was about to answer, but Yu Shensi beat him to it, pointing to the characters and reading aloud, “Blessings at the door bring a harvest year; Auspiciousness fills the house for surplus years.”

The old woman was surprised. “Child, you can read?”

“Mm!” Yu Shensi held his head high with pride. “I know many characters and can recite lots of books—my big brother taught me,” he said, pointing at Gao Zhao.

The old woman, astonished, sized up Yu Shensi and then looked at her own grandson—about the same age, but worlds apart. She gazed at the youth behind the stall, barely twelve or thirteen, yet able to teach his brother so well; surely he was well-read himself. The couplets spoke of blessings, harvest, surplus years—all auspicious signs.

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“How much for a couplet?” the old woman asked.

Gao Zhao replied warmly, “You’re our first customer today, so I’ll give you a good price—ten coins per pair.” He had already inquired: villagers who brought their own red paper to have couplets written also paid this price. Since he provided the paper, this was a bargain.

As expected, the old woman was tempted, checking the couplets over several times before finally buying two pairs.

With the old woman’s “lucky start,” a second and third customer soon followed. As the sun climbed and the weather warmed, more villagers appeared.

Some bought pre-written couplets to save time; others requested custom ones to suit their household.

Yu Shensi ground ink; Gao Nuan cut paper; Gao Zhao wrote, drawing a crowd curious to see a twelve- or thirteen-year-old writing couplets in public. Those who could read recited aloud as he wrote: “Welcoming spring, joy, and prosperity; Adding blessings, sons, and peace. Horizontal inscription: May all go as you wish.”

“This is good—easy to understand. We’re marrying this year, so next year we’ll surely have a chubby grandson,” one buyer said happily.

Others who couldn’t read still recognized good calligraphy. The young scholar’s writing was better than what they’d paid for last year—when they’d brought red paper and, out of embarrassment, gifted two pounds of meat. In the end, each pair cost more than buying from the young scholar now! They decided to buy two pairs here.

As the street grew crowded, the siblings’ stall drew more and more people—some bought directly, some wanted custom writing, some brought their own red paper. While waiting, they’d glance at the window decorations, and occasionally someone would buy a pair.

Stone Township’s market lasted only half a day; by noon, people dwindled, and by late noon, few remained. That day, other stalls packed up one after another, but theirs lingered for most of another hour.

As they closed up, the siblings counted roughly seven or eight hundred coins from couplets and window decorations.

They thought that would be the end of it. Hungry, they returned home and had just started cooking when villagers came knocking. They’d seen the siblings at the market but hadn’t gotten through the crowd, so they waited to visit them at home.

“We have our own paper, all cut and ready,” a young wife said, pulling out red paper from under her arm.

Of course, Gao Zhao agreed to help write.

The young wife insisted on paying the market price, but Gao Nuan only took two coins per pair, smiling, “It’s only right to help in the village—these two coins cover the ink.”

The young wife thanked them joyfully and left.

After she departed, more families came throughout the afternoon, all for couplets.

At the last market before the New Year, the siblings set up their stall again. Gao Zhao didn’t raise prices, sticking to the previous rate, and even more people came.

There weren’t many scholars in the countryside; even those who had studied for two years rarely wrote couplets well. Couplets were blessings and hopes for the coming year—everyone pasted them for the festival, and since it was only once a year, no one begrudged the expense.

This time, they packed up even later. The dozens of pre-written couplets sold out, and they wrote dozens more on the spot, earning over a hundred coins more than the last market.

Gao Nuan delivered window decorations to the store twice more. In the half month before the New Year, couplets, window decorations, memorial texts, and embroidery combined, minus costs, earned the siblings nearly four taels of silver.

But this was far from enough for the expenses to come.

After the last market, the siblings focused entirely on the adoption matter, agreed on a strategy, and began to act.

Once again, the money flowed out of their pockets.

*

On the first day of the new year, the clan gathered at the ancestral hall.

Gao Zhao, unlike previous years, did not go to the hall. He stood with his sister and younger brother at the entrance to the village.

This year, there was more snow than usual. A few days earlier, a fresh snowfall had left the roads thick with snow, trampled into mud by carts and horses. The siblings stood on the clean snow beside the road.

“They’re coming,” Yu Shensi said.

Two carriages rolled over Ox Mountain, stopping at the crossroads.

“Zhao’er?” Gao Mingtong lifted the carriage curtain and smiled kindly, “It’s so cold—why are you waiting here for your uncles and cousins?” As if nothing had happened, he spoke with concern.

Gao Zhao felt disgust at such hypocrisy but still bowed politely. “Uncle, I have urgent words to say to you alone. May I have a moment?”

“Whatever you have to say, wait until after the ancestral rites—come into the car first.”

Gao Zhao’s expression cooled. “If I don’t speak now, I fear I won’t be able to hold my tongue before the ancestors, and it would disgrace both my father and uncle.”

Hearing this, Gao Mingtong realized the children knew what was happening. If they hadn’t figured out the connection by now, they’d be hopelessly naive. He pondered for a moment, then nodded, lowering the curtain and stepping out of the carriage.

From the carriage behind, Gao Xi heard the commotion and jumped out, rushing over, only to be stopped by Gao Mingda.

Gao Mingda, perceptive, sensed something unusual about the children today; trouble seemed imminent. Last time, his elder brother hadn’t consulted him, simply sent someone to act. Afterwards, he thought his brother had been ruthless, reckless, and too hasty.

This matter could not yet be revealed to the younger generation.

Gao Xi stood sulkily by the carriage.

Gao Zhao walked a short distance away, making sure their conversation would not be overheard.

“What do you want to say?” Gao Mingtong asked. Even if the children knew, so what? They were juniors—would they dare confront their elders? Mere suspicion without evidence was disrespectful.

Gao Zhao said nothing, but pulled a scroll from his breast and handed it to Gao Mingtong. “Uncle, please read.”

Gao Mingtong paused at the words “adoption,” glanced at Gao Zhao, then slowly unfolded the scroll to read.

When he finished, he snapped it shut and scolded angrily, “Your mother’s funeral has only just passed, and you’re already eager to call someone else father and mother? Do you feel nothing for your father and deceased mother? This is sheer unfilial conduct!” He threw the scroll at Gao Zhao’s face.

Gao Zhao caught the scroll and rolled it up again. He had anticipated this reaction and was mentally prepared, unflustered.

In the past, he’d have obediently bowed his head at his uncle’s rebuke. But now, standing before him was his mother’s accomplice in death, a villain bent on harming the siblings—not the respected elder he once revered.

He spoke calmly, “My sister, brother, and I are filial—Mother in the afterlife sees it more clearly than Uncle. Father’s and Uncle’s lack of kindness, Mother witnessed it all.”

“Impudent!” Gao Mingtong raised his hand to punish him, but remembering the cousins nearby, restrained himself.

He hadn’t expected the usually polite, sensible nephew to dare retort. These years without supervision had made him unruly.

Gao Zhao met Gao Mingtong’s gaze, unafraid, his features reminiscent of Gao Mingjin, which only deepened his uncle’s resentment.

“Uncle,” he said, “from the moment you abandoned us on the way home, to driving us here without food, to ignoring Yang’er’s grave illness, and finally bringing someone with smallpox to my mother’s grave—you repeatedly targeted us. As for your motives, we know, and so do you. By adopting us into the Yu family, you achieve your goals and preserve Father’s reputation for loyalty to his wife’s family—a win-win. He now has wife and son, an heir, and keeping us unwanted children only breeds resentment.”

Holding up the scroll, Gao Zhao continued, “I bring this adoption document not to beg Uncle or Father, but to facilitate matters. That way, we needn’t make a scene. Father surely doesn’t want his abandonment and murderous deeds exposed.”

“Unfilial child!” Gao Mingtong shouted. “How dare you slander your elders!”

Gao Zhao, already seething, couldn’t hold back. “If I were unfilial, I wouldn’t be discussing this with Uncle; I’d have dragged that smallpox boy and Liu Ying to the ancestral hall, exposing everything before the clan elders and members. If I were unfilial, I’d risk my life and report it to the magistrate, letting the whole county see how Uncle treats his juniors. Does Uncle think my father would choose career or brotherhood?”

Gao Mingtong was speechless.

That last question struck home. His younger brother had abandoned wife and children for his career—he’d have to weigh their brotherhood carefully. But he knew his brother wouldn’t forsake him, yet it would cause unnecessary trouble and have repercussions for them both.

He hadn’t seen Liu Ying recently and couldn’t find him—now he realized the nephew had him. The smallpox boy must have survived, giving the nephew leverage. He hadn’t anticipated that the usually obedient nephew would dare confront him.

Gao Zhao pressed on, “Uncle, by bringing a smallpox child, you endangered not just us, but the entire Gao Family Village! If we’d caught it, no one would have escaped. I believe the clan elders, faced with life and death, wouldn’t forgive easily. Smallpox is a contagious plague—Uncle used it to harm others, risking an epidemic. The county magistrate would weigh the severity; it wouldn’t be easy to cover up.”

Gao Mingtong had considered this and prepared measures to conceal it. What he hadn’t expected was that both nephews were unharmed, the smallpox boy survived, and Liu Ying had fallen into their hands. More surprising yet, the typically docile nephew dared to accuse him.

Gao Zhao gave him no time to think further. “The ancestral rites begin soon. If Uncle agrees, announce it to the clan at the ceremony. If not, I will reveal the smallpox boy and Liu Ying’s affair.”

“You threaten me?”

“I persuade you,” Gao Zhao corrected. “Urging Uncle to choose a mutually beneficial outcome.”

Gao Mingtong stared at his nephew. Yesterday, he’d been an innocent child; today, he was a youth able to make decisions and bargain face to face. Truly grown up!

In a few more years, neither he nor his brother could control him. Keeping him close, letting him discover his mother’s death, would be a curse, not a blessing. Adopting him out was fortunate.

He stalled, “This matter is not for me to decide—it’s your father’s decision.”

“My father will agree. Signing the adoption papers will take some time; Uncle can send someone with my letter to him. I have a letter here as well—please deliver it. We are father and son; a son does not blame his father. Father is unkind, but I cannot be unfilial. I don’t wish to turn against him; I hope his career prospers and his heirs flourish.” Gao Zhao lowered his tone, offering gentle words to reassure his uncle that he bore no grudges and to ease his suspicion.

He could intimidate Gao Mingtong for now, but not forever. They lacked the strength for a direct confrontation; adaptability was the key to survival.

Gao Mingtong pondered a moment. With no better option, he took the letter and adoption papers. “Uncle agrees.”

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