Chapter 5
Chapter 5: First Form
Li Tao Hua couldn’t bring herself to trade away Qin Hui Yin’s clothes for a few jin of peas. In the end, she picked out her own oldest outfit and carried it next door to Madam Wang.
Qin Hui Yin lingered by the wall, listening to the voices on the other side.
“30 jin?” Madam Wang’s voice cut through the yard, sharp as a cleaver. “Your clothes are more rags than clothes, and you want to swap them for 30 jin of peas? My, my—are your rags spun from gold? We can’t afford that.”
She was hanging freshly washed laundry on the line, slapping each piece over the rope as if the fabric had offended her.
Li Tao Hua kept her tone steady, but her jaw looked tight. “Auntie, this outfit doesn’t even have a single patch. The fabric, the cut, the stitching—ready-made, a shop would sell it for 150 wen.”
“A shop sells new ones for 150 wen,” Madam Wang snapped. “Do they sell used ones? Their cloth hasn’t touched water, hasn’t touched skin. We’re poor folks. We can’t wear something that good. Hui Yin’s mother, take your clothes and go. I’ve got a mountain of work, and I don’t have time to waste on this.”
Li Tao Hua drew a breath through her nose. “Then how many jin of peas do you think is fair?”
Madam Wang glanced back like she was doing Li Tao Hua a favor just by answering. “Well… five jin.”
“Five jin?” Li Tao Hua’s face darkened. “For 10 wen? You think my clothes are rags?”
“Hui Yin’s mother,” Madam Wang said, and her voice turned syrup-sweet in the nastiest way, “the clothes you’ve worn are worse than rags. Some things aren’t pleasant to hear. I didn’t want to say them, but since you insist on being foolish, I’ll say it straight.”
The laundry line creaked as she jerked another garment into place.
“Look at your fate. Your first man died. Then disaster hit your hometown and you fled here with your daughter. Your second man was Hunter Song—he lived just fine before you came. Then you married him, and he died the next year.” Madam Wang clicked her tongue. “And this third one… I won’t spell it out. You know it yourself. Your luck is cursed. People get scared just being associated with you, afraid they’ll catch it. Who would dare use something you’ve used?”
Li Tao Hua’s breath went ragged, fury lighting her eyes. “You—”
Then she bit down hard and threw the words back like stones. “Sister-in-law Wang, if you don’t want to trade, then don’t. There’s no need for all that.”
Her voice rose, sharp with something that had been building for days. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re really mad about? You wanted to introduce your widowed sister to Tang Da Fu, but he didn’t fancy her—he fancied me. Now you’re unhappy, so you’ve been holding a grudge and looking for trouble at every turn.”
Madam Wang spat, literally and figuratively. “Pah! Who told you that? My little sister has good prospects—why would she want Tang Da Fu? That unlucky bastard is only good enough for a slut like you. See? You just got married and already ran into bad luck. Men who are lustful don’t come to a good end.”
Li Tao Hua’s restraint snapped. “Who are you calling a slut? Who are you calling unlucky? I’ll rip your mouth apart!”
She lunged.
Madam Wang was broad-shouldered and sturdy, built like someone who’d hauled water buckets since childhood. Li Tao Hua hit her hard anyway, driving her down. In a heartbeat they were on the ground, claws and fists, hair yanked, sleeves torn—two women fighting like cornered animals.
The shouting had been getting louder and uglier, and Qin Hui Yin had already felt the wrongness brewing. She ran over, but she was still a step too late.
By the time she reached them, they were tangled together in the dirt.
“Mom!” Qin Hui Yin grabbed at Li Tao Hua’s arm. “Stop—stop fighting!”
Then she turned, eyes cold, voice cutting. “Auntie Wang—if you tear my mom’s clothes again, you’ll have to compensate us 50 jin of peas.”
Madam Wang jerked her head up, face smeared with dust. “Pah! Have you gone crazy from poverty?”
Her hand flashed, nails catching skin.
Qin Hui Yin sucked in a breath as a sharp sting flared across her neck.
Li Tao Hua saw it—saw the long red mark blooming on her daughter’s throat—and something in her went wild. “You Wang bitch,” she snarled, seizing Madam Wang by the hair. “You dare lay hands on my daughter? I’ll fight you to the death!”
“What’s going on here?” A man’s voice broke in, rough with alarm.
Tang Jiang came in from the road with a hoe on his shoulder. He took one look at the tangle of bodies and bolted forward, dropping the tool with a clatter. He hauled Madam Wang up and wrapped his arms around her to hold her back.
“Go,” he barked at Li Tao Hua and Qin Hui Yin. “Get out of here.”
Madam Wang thrashed in his grip, shrieking. “You worthless man! You won’t help your own wife, but you’ll help outsiders. Have you been bewitched by that vixen too, so you can’t even walk straight?”
“Tang Jiang,” Li Tao Hua panted, hair loose, chest heaving, “keep your wife’s mouth in her head.”
Tang Jiang’s face tightened. “Kui Er’s mother, stop making a scene. We’re on the same clan register as Da Fu, and we live right next to each other. Can’t you talk things out? Why do you have to make it this ugly?”
Madam Wang’s words grew filthier with every breath. “Tang Da Fu isn’t even dead yet, and you’re already flirting with that vixen. Aren’t you afraid I’ll chop you down?”
Qin Hui Yin grabbed Li Tao Hua by the wrist and dragged her back through their gate before her mother could lunge again. They stumbled into their own yard, still shaking with anger.
Li Tao Hua couldn’t let it go. She turned and shouted back through the wall, “You Wang bitch—are you blind? No matter how low my standards get, I still won’t eat something Granny Wang spat out. Disgusting!”
“If you dare step into my house again, I’ll splash you with shit!” Madam Wang screeched back.
“Who cares about your house?” Li Tao Hua shot back. “Even if you kneel and beg me later, I still won’t cross your threshold!”
“Heh. Thank heaven,” Madam Wang crowed. “May the heavens bless me. If a jinx like you stepped over my threshold, my whole house would be cursed!”
Li Tao Hua clutched her chest, the anger making her breathing shallow. Qin Hui Yin moved fast, hooking an arm around her and steering her inside before her mother could march back out.
She pulled Li Tao Hua into the room she shared with Tang Lu Wu and shut the door.
Li Tao Hua broke the moment it latched. She sank onto the bed and dragged Qin Hui Yin into her arms, sobbing hard enough to shake. “It’s my fault I’m useless… my fault…”
“Mom,” Qin Hui Yin said, letting her cry, then pushing gently at the spiral of despair. “If you really had that kind of power, the Imperial Court would’ve put you to work ages ago.”
Li Tao Hua hiccupped.
“If they made you a princess and sent you to marry into a neighboring country,” Qin Hui Yin went on, voice dead serious, “wouldn’t that country collapse without a fight? If you were truly that deadly, you’d be a hero to the whole realm.”
Li Tao Hua stared at her for a heartbeat—then laughed through her tears, the sound cracking. “You little brat. When did you learn tricks like that to cheer people up? Good thing I still have you, or life would be so dull.”
“It’ll get better,” Qin Hui Yin said. “We’ll live well. Let the whole village see that Li Tao Hua was never a plague.”
Li Tao Hua wiped her face with her sleeve, but her brows were still drawn tight. “What about the peas? I wanted to trade for peas for you—whether you wanted to eat them or do something else, I should be able to give you what you want. After this mess, I’m afraid no one in the village will trade with us.”
“Then we won’t trade,” Qin Hui Yin said. “We’ll pawn. My clothes are still new. A pawnshop will give us more than a neighbor who hates us.”
Li Tao Hua’s expression shifted—reluctance, then resignation. She pushed herself off the bed. “You’re right. Stay here. I’ll go see what I can find.”
She went back to her own room.
Tang Da Fu was sitting on the edge of the bed with a half-finished bamboo basket in his hands. His fingers moved carefully through the weave, but he looked up the moment she entered, eyes tight with worry.
“Tao Hua,” he said, voice low. “Are you all right?”
Li Tao Hua started rummaging through the chest without looking at him. “Can’t you hear whether I’m fine or not?”
His shoulders slumped. “It’s my fault you were wronged.”
He wasn’t young, but there was still a trace of what he must’ve looked like in his best years—clean features, a steadiness that could’ve been handsome in another life. In a village full of sunburned farmhands, Tang Da Fu stood out. Otherwise, even with two taels a month, Li Tao Hua wouldn’t have chosen him. She cared about looks. She always had.
Li Tao Hua’s tongue had a dozen cutting things ready, but Qin Hui Yin’s voice echoed in her head. Since she was going to be living in this house for a long time, she swallowed the worst of it.
She pulled out three outfits she never liked wearing, along with a solid silver hairpin. She held them up like proof. “We can’t even keep the pot boiling. I’m going to pawn these.”
Then she looked at him, eyes hard, pride braced like armor. “And don’t you dare say I, Li Tao Hua, only know how to suck Tang Da Fu dry. I want to live properly with you, too.”