Chapter 673

Speaking of the old saying that He family men are partial to widows.

He Yushui felt a faint melancholy rise in her heart, and suddenly thought of Hexiao.

He Daqing, for the sake of a widow, could abandon his son and daughter; He Yuzhu, for a widow, ignored his sister's life or death and had no contact with his own son; Hexiao, as the He family's third-generation sole male heir, could hardly avoid inheriting the He men's innate fondness for widows.

Shazhu ruined himself for a widow; surely Hexiao won't also be schemed to death by a widow someday.

A myriad of feelings.

His mood worsened as well.

His gaze fell on Lou Xiaoe, wondering how to speak.

Seeing He Yushui hesitant, Lou Xiaoe guessed she had something to say but didn't know how to express it, and for a moment she felt troubled.

She then gave He Yushui a reassuring pill, telling her to speak freely—mistakes didn't matter.

Upon hearing Lou Xiaoe say she could speak freely, He Yushui stopped overthinking; raising the issue now was better than Hexiao later following in Shazhu's footsteps.

After mentally drafting for over ten seconds, she looked at Lou Xiaoe with a serious expression.

"Little Sister-in-law Xiaoe, I just remembered something: my father fell into a widow's hands and was made to pull a cart for her; my brother spent his life pulling carts for widows. You said Hexiao—he, well, just as I said, He family men are born with a liking for widows, and I'm worried."

Lou Xiaoe also panicked.

Dragons beget dragons.

Phoenixes beget phoenixes.

Rat pups are born knowing how to dig burrows.

As Shazhu's son, Hexiao is very likely to have inherited the fondness for widows from He Daqing and He Yuzhu.

He stared blankly at He Yushui.

He didn't know how to answer.

"Yushui, I—"

He uttered a few words.

He then stopped worrying about much, greeted his driver, and left the cemetery.

He Yushui had originally wanted to go along, but when she drove out in pursuit, Lou Xiaoe's car had vanished; moreover, at the cemetery gate she ran into Qin Huairu, who had just finished burning paper for Shazhu.

She deliberately rolled down the window so Qin Huairu could see her, but didn't stop; instead she floored the accelerator and sped past Qin Huairu's side.

Even speaking to Qin Huairu was seen by He Yushui as an insult to her.

Just now, Qin Huairu's sobbing at Shazhu's tombstone was partly heard by He Yushui; the widow wailed that she had not borne Shazhu a son or daughter, apologized to him, and vowed to repay his kindness in the next life by toiling like an ox or horse.

He Yushui wanted to curse her mother, to curse Qin Huairu's mother.

When Qin Huairu first married Shazhu, He Yushui, suspecting Qin Huairu had an IUD, pretended to bump into her by chance several times.

Each time she questioned Qin Huairu about why her belly showed no reaction; Qin Huairu offered various excuses—sometimes Shazhu's poor health, sometimes being too busy to conceive, even blaming Shazhu, claiming she was ready for a child but Shazhu was unwilling in every way.

It was obvious she was lying.

Pressed, He Yushui had to confront Qin Huairu directly, asking whether she had an IUD, whether she still hadn't removed it, and whether she wasn't planning to bear Shazhu a child.

I thought I could manipulate Qin Huairu, but instead she turned the tables, telling Shazhu these things; Shazhu, poisoned by Qin Huairu, told He Yushui not to involve herself in their affairs, saying if Qin Huairu bore a child Shazhu would have a son, if not he still had Hexiao, and if Hexiao didn't acknowledge him, Shazhu said he still had Bangeng and the others, so he needn't worry about old age.

Shazhu ultimately proved, with his miserable fate, that the saying 'dog days don't stick to sheep' holds true once again.

……

The residents of the siheyuan.

Were watching the Jia family's farce with strange looks.

Jia Zhangshi didn't know what was happening; early in the morning she held a lit incense stick, wandering around the siheyuan, muttering incomprehensible sounds as she walked, and when she reached a corner she dropped to her knees and kowtowed, ignoring her age of over eighty.

The neighbors were puzzled, wondering what had happened to the Jia family.

Some older neighbors, like Yan Fugui and Liu Haizhong, changed expression; last night should have been Shazhu's seventh-night soul-return.

How the Jia family treated Shazhu was seen by Yan Fugui and Liu Haizhong; although they didn't know why Shazhu crawled out and died, they felt it all seemed connected to the Jia people.

However, since He Yushui and Lou Xiaoe kept silent, these neighbors who had no ties to Shazhu also found it hard to speak up.

One sentence.

The Jia family members were acting a bit odd today.

Watching Jia Zhangshi walk while kowtowing and burning incense, Yan Fugui's cloudy eyes flashed with a sharp light—surely the Jia family must have encountered something last night.

Talk of ghosts and gods.

Passed down since ancient times.

They guessed the Jia family must have experienced something unknown to them; otherwise Jia Zhangshi wouldn't be so bizarre.

They wanted to ask, but didn't know how to begin.

Just as Yan Fugui and Liu Haizhong exchanged glances, Jia Zhangshi suddenly splashed water at a youngster in the front courtyard.

"Who told you to block my old lady's way? Do you know you're delaying her business? Move aside for her now, or my old lady won't let you off, you damn bastard—didn't your parents teach you to respect elders and love the young? And you're still looking—do you believe I'll whip you?"

Having said that,

the scene instantly became a silent ocean.

The onlookers stared, dumbfounded, at Jia Zhangshi screaming at an eight-year-old child, their minds racing with endless speculation.

Has Jia Zhangshi gone mad?

Do they really think it's still decades ago, when Yi Zhonghai was their backer and Jia Zhangshi's word was law?

Nowadays the youngsters truly don't take figures like Yi Zhonghai or Jia Zhangshi seriously; back when Shazhu was alive he could still speak up for the Jia family, but now that Shazhu is dead, Bangeng's conduct is hardly enough to uphold the Jia family's reputation.

The eight-year-old child whom Jia Zhangshi scolded has parents who are no easy folk to deal with.

It's bound to cause a stir.

As expected.

The neighbors had just formed that thought when the little boy's mother rushed out, protecting her child like a hen, and spat a mouthful of saliva at Jia Zhangshi.

Try moving my family's child a bit? Don't think your family has no children.

Do you have the right to speak here?

You're about to hit my son, so how come I don't get a say? I've laid down my words: if you move my son, I'll move your great-grandson. Don't doubt it—do you really think the Jia family has elders while we don't?

Upon hearing the other party compare shamelessness with her, Jia Zhangshi also became anxious and unleashed her usual suicidal antics.

Everything turned out exactly as Yan Fugui had imagined.

Jia Zhangshi herself believed she had encountered something unclean last night.

Just as Bangeng, Xiao Dang, and Huaihua had experienced, the same thing happened to Jia Zhangshi—she did not, however, go and disturb Shazhu's memorial portrait like they did.

Instead, she witnessed the scene on the wall where the memorial portrait would appear for a moment and then disappear.

She was also among the eldest group of elders.

She felt that Shazhu had come back last night.

Thinking of her own inaction that had driven Shazhu to death, Jia Zhangshi worried he would come to the Jia family for revenge; she spent several dozen dollars to obtain from the street-side fortune-teller's so-called master a solution to the problem.

"Ay yai yai, at my age, being embarrassed by a youngster—what's the point of living? I might as well die. I can't go on living."

She engaged in her usual suicidal antics.

This is one of Jia Zhangshi's classic routines.

In the past, she relied on this routine to run roughshod over the Siheyuan.

This is one time.

That is another time.

Now who still takes Jia Zhangshi's suicidal antics seriously?

They simply won't be fooled.

Everyone looked on coldly at the life-or-death Jia Zhangshi, especially the mother of the little boy, who wore a look of utter disdain.

She turned around, fetched a rope from her own home, and threw it directly in front of Jia Zhangshi.

"Jia Zhangshi, take the rope."

The crowd didn't know what medicine she was selling from her gourd.

They stared at each other.

What's going on?

She just threw the rope.

Jia Zhangshi also wore a dazed expression, thinking the other party had been frightened by her own "tortoise aura."

"Jia Zhangshi says she doesn't want to live, wants to go below to find Bangeng's father and Bangeng's grandfather. I think we as people shouldn't lack humanity. Laoqianpo says she doesn't want to live—that means she really doesn't want to live; she certainly wouldn't do it herself. As shameless neighbors, we ought to help the old geezer, letting the old bastard go below to find Bangeng's father and grandfather, so the family can reunite. I'm doing a good deed."

Upon saying that,

the scene became utterly silent.

What a fellow.

"Let's send Jia Zhangshi down to join the Jia family in unity; Jia Zhangshi herself can't bring herself to do it, and as her neighbors we all ought to help her with this."

Is this something a person would say?

"Gou Niang, you shouldn't speak in anger," Yan Fugui said. "Hurry up and put the rope away—old saying goes, keep your head low and you won't have to look up. After all, we're neighbors in the same Siheyuan."

"Teacher Yan, I'm not causing trouble—it's Jia Zhangshi who's causing trouble. My eight‑year‑old son—what did he do to you? You didn't even curse, yet you want to hit the child. Do you think our family is easy to bully? No matter how small the child, he's flesh from my body; if you cross him, you cross me."

His gaze fell on Jia Zhangshi.

"Jia Zhangshi, are you dead or not? If you want to die, hurry up—are you unable to do it yourself? I'll help you tie the rope, saving you a step."

Saving a step.

Thank you, Jia Zhangshi.

Jia Zhangshi, inwardly complaining about Gou Niang, widened her eyes.

Because Gou Niang had taken back the rope she'd thrown in front of Jia Zhangshi, one end of it was looped around Jia Zhangshi's neck, and she gestured with both hands.

I'm borrowing Gou Niang's own words to describe it.

I'm actively helping Jia Zhangshi.

Watching Gou Niang play outside the pattern, Jia Zhangshi didn't know what to say, feeling only fear; she suddenly recalled Shazhu's kindness—if he weren't dead, he'd surely have run out by now to back her up.

Too bad.

Shazhu is dead.

That damned Gou Niang—she's come to take my old woman's life.

Is this something a person would do?

With a calm face and a flat tone, in this utterly bland atmosphere, a rope for Jia Zhangshi to hang herself was handed over, accompanied by an offer to help.

A creepy feeling surged into Jia Zhangshi's heart; her scalp went numb, and the hairs on her head stood up one by one.

"Jia Zhangshi, take the rope, don't dodge," Gou Niang said to her. "You want to see Bangeng's father, don't you? Take the rope—if you don't take it, how can you go see him?"

Jia Zhangshi looked as if she had seen a flood‑beast, her eyes filled with extreme terror.

Just now, when the rope was looped around Jia Zhangshi's head, that sense of terror grew even stronger.

It was like the grim reaper at the door.

Jia Zhangshi's body went cold; in a daze she seemed to see Old Jia and Little Jia waving at her, one calling "Jia Pozi," the other calling "Mom."

The script is wrong.

Nor should it be this sort of script.

"Gou Niang, my old woman didn't dodge." Jia Zhangshi's tone suddenly softened a lot: "It's my old woman who's wrong—she shouldn't have confronted your eight‑year‑old son like that. She harbors no ill will; I'm just flustered. Our family has run into something—I can't say exactly what, but it's a big deal."

"Gou Niang, Jia Zhangshi has apologized—let's just let this go, not mention it again, and remain neighbors as before."

The neighbors began to smooth things over.

It can't really be a case of causing a death, can it?

Spread it.

Lose face.

"A matter of life and death is a major issue; Jia Zhangshi also knows she's wrong. Don't bother with her. Spread it out—you'll lose face."

"Teacher Yan, you're absolutely right—this is a matter of life and death. But even in a matter of life and death, one must speak with reason. On what grounds do you scold my son? On what grounds? If something were to happen to my son, would my father-in-law and mother-in-law still be alive? Do you really think this Siheyuan belongs to the Jia family?"

……

Outside the Siheyuan.

Bangeng tightly grasped the talisman in his hand.

This was a talisman he asked a friend to obtain for him, paying two hundred yuan.

The price was a bit steep.

What that friend said made sense.

Compared to money, which is more important—life or wealth?

If life is gone, what good is any amount of money?

Bangeng thought the other party was right, so he didn't quibble over the amount of money. In his mind, if it could truly solve the problem and keep Shazhu from returning to the Jia family to cause a scene, he would gladly pay not just two hundred but even two thousand yuan.

When he reached the doorway, he tidied his clothes, trying to make himself as calm as possible.

That friend instructed Bangeng, saying people fear ghosts and ghosts also fear people; if you are full of vigor, ghosts won't dare to touch you.

After his mood had calmed.

He entered the Siheyuan.

His brows furrowed.

Inside the Siheyuan, how come there are so many lit incense sticks?

Some intermittent sounds flew into Bangeng's ears; after listening to these complaints, he learned the truth of the matter—this was all Jia Zhangshi's doing.

Outsiders don't know what's going on, but Bangeng guessed roughly that Jia Zhangshi must have encountered the same sort of supernatural incident as he did, which is why she acted this way.