Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Talking It Over

“Mother,” Qin Hui Yin said, catching Li Tao Hua’s arm before she could retreat into irritation, “let’s talk for a bit.”

Li Tao Hua let herself be pulled back to the bed, folding clothes with brisk, practiced movements. “Go on. I’m listening.”

When she saw the two outfits already altered, she tapped Qin Hui Yin’s forehead and muttered, half fond, half scolding, “You’re the only fool who’s this generous.”

Qin Hui Yin swallowed the sting and kept her voice steady. “Mother, do you want to live in the Tang family long-term?”

“As if it matters what I want.”

“It matters.” Qin Hui Yin leaned in. “Uncle Tang owes 50 taels of silver in outside debts. That silver will drag the whole family down. Are you still going to keep following him?”

Li Tao Hua exhaled through her nose, eyes flicking away. “Daughter, Mother understands what you mean. Logically, someone like me—who never acts without profit—should pack up and run. But we signed a marriage contract. Even if I want to slip away, I can’t.”

She could make a fuss, demand separation, bring the village elders into it… but then what? Who would marry her? The rumor that she “jinxed husbands” had already spread far enough that even strangers eyed her like bad luck.

And even if some man was willing, he’d likely be a sorry excuse—poor, ugly, or cruel. Li Tao Hua wanted to rely on men, yes, but she wasn’t willing to swallow just anything.

Qin Hui Yin had expected this answer. That was why she was forcing the conversation now, while the road still had room to turn.

Li Tao Hua wasn’t truly clever. Once, she’d been a Yangzhou thin horse, trained to please, then later a wet nurse in a wealthy household. If she’d been smart in the way smart women were praised for, her face alone could have bought her a better fate. But she had only one fierce goal: survive with her daughter. If she could give that daughter a good life on top of it, she would claw for it with both hands.

If you called her evil, she still had her own bottom line. If you called her good, she could be cruel when her own benefit was at stake.

But one thing Qin Hui Yin knew: Li Tao Hua listened to her.

“Mother,” Qin Hui Yin said, choosing her words like stepping stones, “since we’re going to live here long-term, we can’t keep fighting like this every day. Uncle Tang’s leg is ruined, but it’s not like he’ll never stand again. Once he recovers, he can still do some work. And Yi Chen studies well. Maybe someday he’ll pass the exams and earn rank.”

Li Tao Hua’s eyes sharpened with interest at that.

“If we treat the siblings well now,” Qin Hui Yin continued, “then even if they don’t remember our kindness, they won’t remember our faults either. We’re already one family. We should get along.”

She didn’t say the words that burned on her tongue: If you keep bullying them, they’ll grow up and make you pay. If the story follows its path, you’ll die screaming.

She didn’t need to. The fear she’d carried from the book sat behind every sentence anyway.

Li Tao Hua listened, expression unreadable, fingers smoothing folds that didn’t need smoothing. In her eyes, being “Yi Chen’s mother” was already a shield. If Yi Chen earned rank, he couldn’t refuse to be filial—or she could drag him to the yamen for unfilial conduct and shame him into obedience. She believed the law would protect her.

Qin Hui Yin saw the wall and shifted, aiming for the crack.

“Mother,” she said, quieter, “I really like Sister Lu Wu. Don’t make things hard for her. If I get along with Lu Wu, won’t Yi Chen and Yi Xiao treat me better too? Then I’d have three backers on my mother’s side. Isn’t that better than standing alone?”

That made Li Tao Hua pause.

She might scoff at morality, but she understood survival. A daughter with no brothers or sisters could be bullied easily if she stood alone.

Li Tao Hua clicked her tongue, then finally nodded as if granting a small favor. “All right. I got it. The food’s ready. Eat.”

Lunch was cornmeal mash stirred with wild vegetables. The greens were bitter and tough, scraping the throat. Even the faint sweetness of the corn couldn’t hide the taste of poverty. Li Tao Hua ate with a pinched expression the whole time, as if every swallow offended her.

Qin Hui Yin forced the food down, her mind racing.

This couldn’t go on.

After they ate, she pulled Li Tao Hua aside and asked softly, “Mother, is there any money left at home? If there is, we should buy grain first.”

Li Tao Hua’s cheeks flushed. She looked away, twisting her fingers. “The silver from before… it’s all spent.”

Under Qin Hui Yin’s stare, she complained weakly, “Tang Da Fu said he earned two taels a month. He said he wouldn’t let me go without food or clothes. Who knew he’d break his leg after only collecting one month’s pay?”

Qin Hui Yin’s patience thinned. “After Uncle Song died, didn’t you sell his land? You should’ve had silver in hand.”

Li Tao Hua’s eyes widened in righteous grievance. “That day I took the silver into town to buy rouge. Who knew I’d run into a thief on the street? My whole purse was gone!” Her voice rose, anger bright and sharp. “Those black-hearted, rotten-gutted things, bullying a widow like me. Aren’t they afraid they’ll use it to buy their own coffin?”

Qin Hui Yin pressed two fingers to her brow.

Hopeless.

If she couldn’t rely on anyone else, she would rely on herself.

Li Tao Hua loved beauty—new clothes, rouge, hairpins. She had been generous to her daughter too. Even now, despite the empty grain jar, Qin Hui Yin’s chest still held decent fabric and neat stitching.

“Mother,” Qin Hui Yin said, dropping her hand, voice turning firm, “we can’t just sit here and eat through what we have. We have to make money.”

“How?” Li Tao Hua’s eyes narrowed. “All I can do is sing. Are you telling me to go back to my old trade? I’m a married woman now. That wouldn’t be right.”

“Then we sell food,” Qin Hui Yin said. “Auntie Wang’s house has peas. What if I trade one of my outfits with her for 20 jin of peas?”

Li Tao Hua frowned. “Pea cakes? No. No matter how tasty pea cakes are, no one eats them as a meal.”

She wasn’t wrong. In a small town, few people had spare coin. Even if she sang, most would come only to watch and gossip; only a handful would tip. Pastries were for the wealthy, and the wealthy had endless choices—they wouldn’t buy pea cakes day after day.

“Not pea cakes,” Qin Hui Yin said. “Something else.”

Li Tao Hua’s skepticism didn’t budge.

So Qin Hui Yin leaned in and used the one weapon that always worked—her mother’s vanity and her love.

“Back when you were a wet nurse in that household,” Qin Hui Yin said lightly, “I used to play in the back kitchen all day. I learned it from the cook.”

Li Tao Hua had never doubted her daughter’s words. In the years they’d fought to survive, she’d tried every method available. While she worked, Qin Hui Yin had stayed close to the rear courtyard and learned what she could.

Li Tao Hua hesitated, temptation flickering.

Qin Hui Yin latched on, clinging to her arm and shaking it gently, coaxing like a child. “Mother, let me try. I want to share your burdens too. My mother is so pretty, and lately you’ve even started getting wrinkles…”

“Wrinkles?” Li Tao Hua slapped a hand to her cheek at once, alarmed. “Really?”

“Of course not.” Qin Hui Yin couldn’t help a small laugh. “But I mean it. I want to help. We can’t keep living like this. Men can’t be relied on, Mother—you know that. Instead of relying on men, we might as well rely on ourselves. I want a stable home too. I want to live well in the Tang family.”

For a long moment, Li Tao Hua’s eyes searched her face, weighing sincerity against risk.

Then she huffed, half surrender, half pride. “Fine. Try, then.”