Chapter 272: A Complete Mess

The spring of 1962 seemed intent on compensating all the vitality that the past two years had lacked in one fell swoop.

In the brick cracks of the Siheyuan's corners, tender green shoots strained to push out, and even the half‑dead Old Locust Tree sprouted rice‑grain‑sized new leaves on its branches. Yet this burgeoning spring seemed to bypass the hearts of certain people.

In the back courtyard, Xu Damao's household remained a stagnant pool of dead water. The little ember of divorce‑and‑remarriage desire in Xu Damao's heart was pressed down by Wang Cuihua with that 'confession letter', unable to ignite yet never fully extinguished, scorching his internal organs day and night.

He looked at Wang Cuihua and found her unsightly from every angle, deeming her coarse and stupid, even her breath carrying a whiff of earth, tarnishing his own sense of being a 'cultured person'.

That Sunday, Xu Damao, unusually not sent to the countryside, was strolling in the courtyard and happened to see Qin Huairu carrying a basin to pour water. Having just finished work, fine sweat dotted her temples, a few strands of hair clung to her fair neck; long‑time undernourishment left her waist slender, with a delicate, willow‑like grace, and as her brows and eyes lowered, the restrained sorrow added a few captivating charms.

Xu Damao's small eyes instantly widened, as if a cat's paw had scratched his heart, itching intensely. He mustered what he thought was a dashing smile and leaned in: 'Sister Qin, pouring water? Such menial work can't be yours!'

Qin Huairu startled, recognized Xu Damao, instinctively stepped back half a step and whispered, 'It's fine, I'm used to it.'

'Hey, look at how you say that,' Xu Damao moved closer, lowered his voice, his tone laced with coaxing, 'Sister Qin, you're tired in the Workshop, right? What can that old man Yi Zhonghai teach you? Frankly, with your abilities, staying in the Workshop is a waste... How about I think of a way to get you a lighter job?'

As he spoke, his eyes kept darting restlessly over Qin Huairu, and his hand seemed ready to 'accidentally' rest on her arm.

Just then, a thunderous roar erupted from behind.

'Xu Damao! You bastard! What kind of lecherous tricks are you up to now!'

Wang Cuihua descended like a divine weapon, still clutching a few wilted spinach stalks she had snatched from the market line, eyes blazing, her chest heaving violently.

Xu Damao trembled in fear, the hand he had just extended recoiling as if burned by a hot iron, his face turning pale, stammering, 'I... I didn't... I just said a few words to Sister Qin...'

'Talk? Bah!' Wang Cuihua spat, nearly spitting on his face, hands on hips, pointing at his nose as she raged, 'Do you think I'm blind to your filthy thoughts? You see the east sunrise gone and want to bully an orphaned widow? Let me tell you, Xu Damao! As long as I have a breath left, you won't get away! Don't even pee to check what kind of virtue you have! A crooked‑necked tree still wants to blossom? Damn your mother's grand delusion!'

Her voice, like a booming bell, instantly drew people from both the front and back courtyards. Spectating is human nature, especially in these times lacking entertainment.

Sha Zhu was squatting at his own doorway peeling onions; hearing the commotion, he grinned so wide his teeth showed, raising his voice to fan the fire: 'Hey! Xu Damao, getting scolded by the wife again? You say you haven't been scratched all day, right?'

In the Front Courtyard, Yan Bu Gui adjusted his glasses, stuck his head out from the house, shaking his head as he commented, 'Indecent, indecent! This Xu Damao is truly outrageous!'

Qin Huairu blushed bright red, holding the empty basin, head lowered, darted back into her own house at speed, her heart pounding, feeling both lingering fear and a hint of embarrassment at having her thoughts exposed in public.

Xu Damao, berated by Wang Cuihua to the point of blood‑splattered, and mocked by the neighbors, his face flushed red then white, wishing he could crawl into a crack in the ground. Enraged and ashamed, he pointed at Wang Cuihua: 'You... you are spouting nonsense! Shrew! Unreasonable!'

'Me, a shrew? I'll show you what a real shrew is!' Wang Cuihua, fully enraged, flung the spinach to the ground, leapt forward in a split‑second, employing the rural woman's signature move—Jiu Yin White Bone Claw—scratching at Xu Damao's face and neck.

'Ah!!' Xu Damao cried miserably, his face instantly streaked with several splatters of blood. He tried to resist, but Wang Cuihua, accustomed to hard labor, was far stronger, and with his momentum completely crushed, he could only take the blows passively.

'I caught you with perverse thoughts! I caught you being unfaithful! I'll sacrifice my reputation, but today you'll learn a lasting lesson!' Wang Cuihua shouted while striking, her blows were steady, precise, and ruthless.

The scene became wildly chaotic. Sha Zhu, beside it, slapped his thigh with glee: 'Right! Scratch him! Sister-in-law Cuihua, scratch his right side! That's it! Ouch, Xu Damao, your face is turning into shredded radish!'

In the end, Yi Zhonghai and Liu Haizhong, who arrived after hearing the commotion, strained their old noses to pull the raging Wang Cuihua away. Xu Damao curled up on the ground, his clothes torn, his face and neck covered in blood streams, his hair a mess like a chicken coop; any trace of his usual 'cultured person' demeanor was gone, leaving only a pathetic, comical sight.

'Unthinkable! Absolutely unthinkable!' Liu Haizhong, chest out, assuming official authority, said, 'How can you resort to beating someone?'

Yi Zhonghai also frowned, 'Cuihua, if you have something to say, speak properly; this impact is very bad.'

Wang Cuihua, panting heavily, tidied her disheveled hair, and sneered, 'Speak properly? With this kind of shameless scum, you have to be hard! I tell you all, and everyone in the courtyard, that Xu Damao is my man, Wang Cuihua. If anyone dares to have perverse thoughts again, or if he is unfaithful outside, I'll go to the factory, to the street office, and expose all his petty deeds! No one will have it easy!'

Her words were addressed both to the feigning‑dead Xu Damao on the ground and to the onlookers, and they also subtly struck at Qin Huairu, who had just been harassed by Xu Damao.

The crowd, seeing Wang Cuihua's fierce demeanor and considering the possible leverage over Xu Damao, felt a pang of sympathy; no one dared speak further. After the spectacle ended, they dispersed, though behind them continued a round of gossip and ridicule.

This farce, sparked by Xu Damao's lecherous intent, ended with him utterly ruined and his face completely disgraced. Lying on the ground, feeling the burning pain on his face and the strange stares of those around, his heart held nothing but hatred, endless remorse, and fear.

He knew that in his life, he had been completely undone by this 'rural shrew' he despised.

In the Xi Kua Yuan, Li Ping'an stood by the window, taking in the whole back‑courtyard spectacle. Lin Xueqing gently shook her head beside him: 'That Xu Damao, really... why bother?'

Li Ping'an said calmly, 'The heart aspires to the heavens, but fate is as thin as paper. Always seeking shortcuts, yet unaware that some shortcuts are bottomless abysses.'

He understood clearly that Xu Damao was getting what he deserved. And Wang Cuihua, using this most primitive yet effective method, defended her pitiable 'sovereignty' in this twisted marriage.

The back courtyard gradually returned to calm, leaving only Xu Damao's suppressed breathing and Wang Cuihua's rustling as she cleaned up. In the air lingered the muddy scent of crushed spinach and a faint trace of blood.

The spring sunshine remained warm, yet it could not penetrate the cold, scheming hearts of some, nor warm the already twisted relationships.

The tragicomic drama of this Siheyuan continues, but some people, under the iron fist of reality and their own folly, live increasingly like a joke. The sober ones, like Li Ping'an, grow ever more resolute on the difficult yet grounded path they have chosen.