Chapter 3

# Chapter 3

Third Sister-in-law loved pretty things. She pulled her bangs down over her birthmark and tucked a red velvet flower in her hair.

I thought Mother wanted us to look beautiful when we died.

The bandits thought otherwise.

“Well, look what this mountain hollow was hiding!”

“Hiding? They’ve been waiting for us.”

“Getting impatient for your men, were you? Hahaha!”

The thick stench of blood spread through the room, making me gag.

I buried my face in Mother’s arms and greedily breathed in her peaceful, sweet scent, too frightened to look up.

The bandit chief looked like a monk. Ordination scars dotted his shaved head. Yet he was broad-boned and powerful, with a leopard’s head and round, fierce eyes-nothing like an ordinary novice.

Fresh scraps of bloody flesh still clung to the great executioner’s blade on his shoulder.

He was the living King of Hell.

When he saw Mother, he gave a startled grunt.

A one-eyed bandit leaned over. “Big Brother, an old sweetheart of yours?”

The chief roared with laughter. “Why, isn’t this Scholar Wang’s young lady?”

“She fell into the lotus pond while burning incense at the temple. Some muddy mountain peasant pulled her out.”

“Her clothes were soaked through. We got quite the eyeful!”

“Her father was so ashamed he paid the peasant twenty silver dollars to take her away, and forbade her from ever returning home.”

With a lecherous grin, he lifted Mother’s chin on the sheath of his blade. “Who would’ve thought? More than twenty years later, and you’re still this beautiful.”

Mother had willow brows, phoenix eyes, and a face like peach blossoms. In the wavering firelight, she smiled faintly, as lovely as a bodhisattva.

The chief stared, transfixed.

His men immediately began to jeer.

“A whore whose family paid to give her away! No wonder she’s pretty!”

“Big Brother, take her and make her your mountain bride!”

The chief flicked his blade. Mother’s collar split, exposing her long, pale neck.

Furious, terrified, and frantic all at once, I clung to Mother’s sleeve.

Then a tiny figure shot out from behind me and shoved the chief with all her strength.

“Stinking monk! Don’t touch my grandmother!”

Caught off guard, the chief staggered. Rage blazed across his face.

His blade swept down.

A small severed hand landed on the floor, twitching pitifully.

Chunhuazi clutched her blood-soaked wrist, crying so hard no sound came out.

Eldest Sister-in-law screamed, seized the scissors from the table, and lunged at the chief. The bandits pinned her arms at once.

The chief raised his blade again, eyes bloodshot.

I squeezed mine shut-

But the next scream never came.

Trembling, I cracked one eye open and saw Mother steadying his sheath with one hand.

She leaned against him, her gaze seductive and her voice soft in a way I had never heard before.

“My lord, she’s only a worthless little girl. Don’t dirty your precious blade on her.”

Then Mother turned and cursed Eldest Sister-in-law viciously. “Get Chunhuazi out of here! Have you no sense at all?”

“Who told her to get in the way? She deserves to die!”

I froze.

Heaven knew Mother adored Chunhuazi, more even than she loved some of my nephews. How could such poison come out of her mouth?

Yet those very words made the chief smile.

Mother’s voice grew more coaxing still.

“The mountain road is long. My lord must be tired. Why not rest here for the night?”

“Unless my lord finds our house too shabby to stay.”

Now every bandit joined the chief in lewd laughter and hooting.

Amid their jeers, he slung Mother over his shoulder and carried her into the bedroom.

Mother raised her head. Her eyes were full of sorrow and compassion as her lips silently formed two words for us.

Stay alive.

That night, every one of us suffered worse than death.

But we all survived.

I huddled beside Mother’s bed, tending Chunhuazi and heating water for the bandits.

I thought: when Father comes home, surely he won’t let us into the Chaste Women’s Hall after all.