Chapter 3

The man proposed was a provincial graduate who would sit the metropolitan examination the following year. His family was poor, so married life would likely be difficult.

My father’s wife accepted at once. In her eyes, this impoverished scholar was already far better than I deserved. Had a mere county graduate asked for me, she would have thanked heaven.

Only after the matchmaker left did she and my mother remember one small problem: no one had asked whether the madwoman herself wished to marry.

Protected by four or five broad, strong matrons, they summoned me to the front hall and cautiously asked my opinion. Someone had told them I could punch a pit into the ground. With strength like that, they suspected I could kill an ox with one blow.

If I went mad now, every woman in the room would suffer.

I did not. I said only, “Bring Elder Sister home.”

My father’s wife understood at once and sent for her. Soon both my sister and my father returned.

My father was delighted to be rid of his burden and showed me a rare smile. My sister looked unwell, but she forced a gentle expression and took my hand.

“Qing’er, marry him. A woman must find a home sooner or later.”

“Elder Sister, are they bullying you?”

The question caught her off guard. She shook her head quickly. “No. They treat me very well.”

“They don’t. You aren’t happy.”

Something vicious entered my eyes. Everyone flinched, and my sister tightened her grip on my hand.

“Qing’er, let me solve my own troubles, all right? I am married now. I must learn to stand on my own.”

I studied her, understood, and nodded. “Will my marrying make you happy?”

She stroked my hair. “It will.”

“Then I’ll marry.”

Marriage or no marriage made little difference to me. I would merely live in another house. If it made my sister happy, why refuse?

Eager as my family was to send me away, I was still a daughter of the Vice Minister’s residence. They had to make a show of investigating the prospective groom.

The matron sent on this ceremonial errand proved unexpectedly capable. She found an old neighbor who hated the Sun family and exposed every filthy secret they possessed.

Scholar Sun lived alone with his mother, a famously shrewish, petty, overbearing woman. Their two maids were rumored to be his bedmaids, and his mother had already tormented them nearly beyond recognition.

Scholar Sun himself appeared to be a talented gentleman. In truth, he was violent. The neighbor was often woken at midnight by screams from next door. The two maids were always the victims.

Thanks to that neighbor, Scholar Sun had failed to deceive a daughter from any respectable family. He had lowered his expectations again and again until he asked for the allegedly insane Second Young Lady of the Vice Minister’s household.

My mother and my father’s wife hesitated. They wanted me gone, yet even they were ashamed to push me knowingly into a pit of fire. If they rejected him, however, perhaps no one else would ever marry me.

In the end, my father gave me the choice. He had told me the truth, he said; if I suffered later, I could blame no one.

“I’ll marry him.”

I agreed without hesitation. For some reason, a husband who liked to beat people suited my tastes perfectly.

My father realized what that meant but swallowed his warning. All his thoughts became one sentence: “Don’t kill him. It would damage your sister’s reputation.”

I nodded. “All right.”

The wedding came quickly. My sister returned to see me off and remained anxious even as I climbed into the bridal sedan. She had repeatedly urged me to wait for someone better.

I was almost eager. I promised I would never beat him to death—cripple him at most.

My sister fell silent. Better, she decided, for her little sister to torment Scholar Sun than for Scholar Sun to torment some other woman.