Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My father was a poor xiucai with a beautiful face.

After he passed the provincial exam using the money my mother earned through hard labor,

he immediately brought Mother and me to the capital.

Those were the happiest days of my life.

Although Father was busy with official duties, and Mother spent every day working by lamplight, embroidering pieces to sell for money,

our family squeezed into a tiny rented house together.

We were poor, but we were extraordinarily happy.

After Father became an official, he was invited to more and more banquets.

At one of the Hou residence’s endless feasts, the Prime Minister’s legitimate daughter fell in love with him at first sight and swore she would marry no one but him.

The Old Prime Minister had only this one daughter and treasured her like a jewel.

If she shed two tears, even if she wanted the moon in the sky, the Grand Chancellor would find a way to fetch it for her.

Let alone a mere low-ranking official.

No one expected Father to refuse the marriage.

He said Mother was the wife who had shared his hardships, and he could never make her a concubine.

Mother was so moved that tears streamed down her face.

To repay Father’s deep devotion, she worked without rest, needle in hand, embroidering handkerchiefs to sell.

She ruined eyes that had never been very clear to begin with, bent a neck that had already begun to droop, and the calluses on her hands grew thicker and thicker.

She was not even twenty, yet she looked like a woman of thirty.

Everyone thought the Grand Chancellor would abuse his public power to avenge a private grudge against my father, but he did no such thing.

Not only that, he publicly praised my father as a rare gentleman and took him in as a protégé to cultivate.

In just one short month, Father went from being the most insignificant little official in the Hanlin Academy to taking a lucrative post in the Ministry of Revenue.

The colleagues who used to despise his humble origins seemed to change overnight, all fawning over him now.

Watching those sons of noble houses, who had once looked down from on high and disdained serving in court beside him, suddenly start currying favor,

my father sneered at them, but he could not help feeling rather pleased.

That was probably the first time he tasted the convenience and “dignity” that power could bring him.

After one wine party and flowing banquet after another, Father filled out quite a bit, and he changed a great deal too.

When colleagues held banquets at their homes, he began declining on Mother’s behalf.

After receiving his monthly salary, he brought back quite a lot of silver.

He was drunk again.

He told Mother she no longer needed to embroider. Never again. He could support our whole family now.

The Grand Chancellor made the arrangements and moved us to a new home.

My father hedged and tried to refuse.

The Grand Chancellor said my father lived too far away, and the Ministry of Revenue was terribly busy; sometimes, if they needed him at night, they still had to send a carriage.

He also said the residence had been left behind by an old servant of their household, and was not considered large. He would charge us rent and simply treat it as leasing the place to us.

After such words, Father was too embarrassed to refuse, and could only agree.

Father no longer prepared breakfast for Mother every morning before going to court. He said he was very busy.

Every day when he came home, he reeked of alcohol and fell asleep the moment he hit the bed.

Half drunk and half awake, he told Mother, “Now that I am already a fifth-rank official and will soon be establishing my own household, you need to get rid of those country habits of yours and learn to be a proper mistress of the house.”

Mother lifted her head, disbelief flashing through her eyes.

Slowly, her lashes lowered, hiding the disappointment in them.

It was as if she had long known this day would come. Her emotions did not fluctuate much. She only answered softly, “I understand.”

Father then started saying Mother’s clothes were poorly matched, and her hairstyle was ugly too.

He took Mother’s fingers, then quickly let go. The desire in his eyes faded. “How did they get so rough?”

He no longer felt heartache for Mother’s cracked, wounded fingers.

It was as if he had forgotten.

Forgotten how he had once held Mother’s coarse fingers, ravaged by life, with reddened eyes full of deep affection and guilt, pressed them against his fair, jade-like cheek, and said with pain that he had wronged her.

Forgotten, too, the lingering tearful words he once spoke: “It has truly been a bitter fate for you to marry me.”

That night, he was drunk and said many, many things.

Every single sentence was a condemnation of Mother.

He really had forgotten everything.

Forgotten that Mother’s aging had been for him.

Forgotten that Mother did not dress up because she had saved every coin to support our family’s life.

He drifted into a heavy sleep, while Mother held me in her arms and sat outside the house, watching the moon all night.

I tried to wipe away Mother’s tears, but no matter what I did, I could not wipe them clean.

She grinned at me, a little awkwardly, yet so very gently. “Mother has nothing left.

“Oh, wait, that’s not right. Mother still has our little treasure!”

She kissed me hard and tried her best to smile at me. Her salty tears slid into my mouth.

So bitter.

I tried hard to kiss her face, hoping to give her some comfort.

That night, Mother lost her husband, and I lost my father.

From then on, Mother and I depended on each other for survival. We were each other’s only family in this world.

As for “him,” he was nothing more than a stranger living under the same roof.