Chapter 32: Entanglements from Over Two Decades Ago

A few tears welled up at the corner of his eye, blending silently into the night—unnoticed by anyone.

Since childhood, among the brothers, his bond with the eldest was the strongest. But after the eldest married, their relationship was gradually worn down by Feng, and visits between them grew scarce. The eldest would never divorce, and neither he nor Yunmei liked Feng at all, so their interactions with the eldest became even more infrequent.

Yet, despite his dislike for Feng, there was one thing Gu Lizong had to admit—his life was indeed saved by his eldest brother.

More than twenty years ago, during that devastating epidemic, though he was fortunate to avoid the illness, his parents had died, and his second brother, third brother, and fifth sister had all succumbed to the disease. With no food left at home and even a handful of the so-called “Guanyin soil” snatched away outside, surviving the epidemic was only half the battle; starvation and cold would finish the rest.

His eldest brother, who had been working as a peddler in town, hurried back but still couldn’t see their parents one last time.

Gu Litang had already heard from town about the outbreak in Maoping Village and surrounding areas. In just a few days, many villagers had died, and food prices had soared to astronomical levels. Ordinary folk couldn’t afford any grain, while wealthy families in town hoarded ample supplies. On one of his trading routes, Gu Litang had rescued the grandson of a prominent Tang family.

In these desperate times, he shamelessly sought out the head of the Tang household. Grateful for his life-saving aid to the grandson and with plenty of grain to spare, Tang commanded his servants to allocate a month’s worth of rations for Gu Litang’s family of four—if they rationed carefully, it would suffice.

After receiving the grain, Tang even sent several guards to escort Gu Litang to the village entrance. Not daring to bring all the grain into the village, Gu Litang chose a secluded spot in the nearby mountain, dug a pit, and buried the grain there. Each night, he would secretly retrieve just enough food for five people to eat the next day.

When Feng discovered he intended to share the grain with Gu Lizong, she adamantly refused and quarreled with him fiercely.

Fearing he might continue to smuggle food to Gu Lizong secretly, Feng accompanied him to the mountain every night, meticulously counting the leftovers each time.

With no choice, Gu Litang began to pinch his own rations, secretly hiding half a steamed bun or a piece of bread during meals when Feng wasn’t looking.

After Feng fell asleep, he would sneak into the neighboring courtyard to slip the food to Gu Lizong.

Fortune favored Gu Lizong’s body; his life clung on stubbornly, sustained by those few morsels.

But after about fifteen days, one night Feng woke up to find Gu Litang stealthily feeding Gu Lizong. She immediately snatched the food away, flopped onto the ground, and threw a fit—crying, rolling, screaming. When that didn’t satisfy her, she stormed into the neighboring yard, smashing everything she could find and cursing in the harshest terms imaginable.

Her ruckus woke her two children, who had been asleep, and groggy and confused, they got up to find their mother. Without any lanterns, the two children held hands and, guided only by moonlight, wandered into other villagers’ homes.

By the next day, when they were found, both children had contracted the epidemic. Fever, coughing, vomiting—symptoms lingered without relief, and within days, they were gone.

The blow shattered Feng’s mind. Her poor children—one barely over three, the other only a year and a half—were lost alive. She became crazed, obsessing over Gu Lizong as the culprit who killed her children. Though the children had clearly died from the disease, she insisted they starved to death.

Saying it often enough, she came to believe it herself, and for decades, her hatred for Gu Lizong remained unyielding.

Three days after the children died, the epidemic was finally brought under control. Officials came to distribute medicine and grain, but the village was left with barely two hundred young souls; most of the elders had perished. Gu Litang, burdened with caring for the occasionally deranged Feng, abandoned his peddler trade.

Years passed, and the couple had a daughter and a son. Feng slowly regained her sanity, but her hostility toward Gu Lizong only intensified.

She frequently caused trouble at their quarter—one day poisoning all their chickens, ducks, and pigs, the next sneaking in at night to uproot all the seedlings in their fields.

Out of gratitude for his eldest brother’s past kindness, Gu Lizong endured her antics. But when Zhou was eight months pregnant with Gu Tingzhi, Feng disguised herself as a ghost and hid in their outhouse. When Zhou went to relieve herself, Feng suddenly lunged out, nearly causing a miscarriage.

That incident severed all ties between Gu Lizong and the eldest household. Though their homes were adjacent, they rarely interacted afterward.

Gu Litang had long since reached his limit. Watching Feng’s relentless escalation, he finally declared that if she continued this way, they would divorce. Only then did Feng gradually quiet down.

For many years afterward, the two brothers stopped visiting each other. Whenever Gu Lizong thought of this, a pang of guilt flickered in his eyes.

Meanwhile, in the carriage ahead, Zhen Mi’er had learned from Gu Qingsong about the bitterness between the patriarch and the eldest Gu household. She sighed inwardly. The eldest Gu was truly a good man; his selfless assistance tonight made that clear. Alas, he had never married a good wife.

Zhen Mi’er kept a close watch on Gu Qingbai’s condition, fearing something might happen to him. The night was bitterly cold, and worried he might catch a chill, she draped a warm blanket over him inside the carriage. His wounds must not become infected.

Gu Tingzhi, noticing that Manman was no longer paying attention to him but only to his second brother, pouted with a face full of grievance.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

Gu Tingzhi looked more upset and pointed to his head, whining, “It hurts.”

“Your head hurts? Did you just get hurt? Let me see.” Zhen Mi’er hurriedly lifted the oil lamp to get a better look.

“It hurts here,” Gu Tingzhi indicated.

Zhen Mi’er then noticed a large swelling on the back of his head, likely from when he was knocked down by the wolf.

“If I rub it, it’ll stop hurting. Hang in there, darling. I’ll massage it for you.”

Her hands warmed from rubbing together, she gently kneaded the swollen spot.

Gu Tingzhi closed his eyes contentedly, resembling a lazy big cat, even nuzzling her palm. At that moment, blurred scenes flickered rapidly through his mind. Just as he tried to focus on them, the memories slipped away.

He shook his head. Forget it—if he couldn’t remember, he wouldn’t try.

By the time they reached home, it was already late at night.

Su Hehua, seeing Gu Qingbai covered in wounds, covered her mouth to stifle her sobs. Zhou and Gu Qinghe both had reddened eyes, their faces filled with worry and sorrow.