FHJ - 14

Chapter 14: Langya

On the journey from Jiankang to Langya, the girl remained unusually quiet.

Bai Song rarely spoke to her. By nature, he was a taciturn man, already impatient with having to undertake such a trip in freezing weather. Unless absolutely necessary, he avoided speaking to her altogether.

The girl, however, was remarkably perceptive. Sensing his impatience, she refrained from troubling him unnecessarily. Aside from pleading with him early on to find a doctor for her mother, she made no further requests.

She did not cry. Each time Bai Song entered the carriage to deliver food, he found her curled into a tiny ball in the corner. The fur cloak given to her by Qi Ying was draped over her still-unconscious mother, while she clung to just the edge of it with one hand. She was deeply worried for her mother, and though the doctor’s visit had improved her mother’s condition slightly, she herself looked haggard. Despite her own illness and discomfort, every time Bai Song brought food, she quietly thanked him with a polite, “Thank you,” even though he rarely offered her a kind glance. Yet, she never neglected proper etiquette.

By then, Bai Song already knew she was the illegitimate daughter of the disgraced Chief Minister. Initially, he harbored some disdain for her lineage, but later he reflected that the Shen family truly lived up to its reputation as an aristocratic clan—they had raised their children… quite well.

They might have continued on this uneventful journey all the way to Langya, had tragedy not struck one night when her mother passed away.

Bai Song wasn’t particularly surprised. When he had first seen her mother in the depths of the forest outside Jiankang, he sensed her time was limited. The doctor had also hinted as much, but after deliberation, Bai Song chose not to inform Shen Xiling. On one hand, he dreaded the trouble her grief might cause; on the other, he felt a pang of pity for her. Since she was powerless to change anything, why burden her with sorrow prematurely?

The night her mother died, she finally cried.

That night, they traveled without rest. Bai Song sat outside the carriage, listening to the rhythmic sound of hooves on the official road, unable to drown out the girl’s heart-wrenching sobs behind him. Though Bai Song had witnessed countless tragic scenes—he was Qi Ying’s loyal retainer, accustomed to life-and-death matters—he had never felt compassion before. Perhaps it was because she was only eleven years old, or perhaps it was the purity in her eyes when she quietly said “thank you.” Or perhaps there was no reason at all—perhaps he was simply losing his mind for feeling sympathy for her.

He arranged for a fine coffin for her mother. On the day her mother was laid to rest, she no longer cried. Her face was deathly pale, her expression vacant as she knelt beside the coffin. Her tear-swollen eyes were devoid of any light, and Bai Song couldn’t help but think that perhaps she, too, had died—only her shell remained.

After some thought, Bai Song crouched beside her and spoke to her for the first time of his own accord: “We’ll reach Langya soon. Once we arrive, your relatives will arrange a proper funeral for your mother.”

She either didn’t hear him or chose not to respond, remaining silent for a long while. Bai Song, unusually patient, waited for what felt like an eternity before hearing the girl murmur softly, clutching the coffin: “My... relatives?”

She propped herself up on her frail frame and looked up at him, asking, “Do I still have any family left?”

Bai Song had heard that her mother hailed from Langya and that her maternal family was relatively prosperous, so he assumed there were still relatives living. He nodded to her and added, “It’s best to lay her to rest quickly. Let’s continue the journey.”

At the mention of “laying her to rest,” Shen Xiling’s gaze wavered slightly. Bai Song couldn’t tell what she was thinking but waited patiently until she finally nodded.

Shen Xiling’s maternal family bore the surname Wei. They were indeed based in Langya, relatively well-off, and still had living relatives. However, by this time, both her maternal grandparents had passed away, leaving her eldest uncle as the head of the household. She also had two uncles and an aunt.

She entered the Wei residence alone, with Bai Song dropping her off at the gate before departing. All she carried with her was her mother’s coffin and the fur cloak left to her by Qi Ying.

When she knelt before these strangers, presenting her mother’s coffin, the faint hopes she’d harbored about reuniting with “family” began to fade. Her uncles and aunts wore expressions far from welcoming, their gazes toward her mother’s coffin devoid of sorrow.

Inside, she was terrified. Though her childhood had been marked by poverty, her mother had always cherished and protected her, and her father, despite his infrequent visits, loved her deeply. Beyond their financial struggles, she had never truly suffered. Now, standing alone amidst unfamiliar faces, she felt a profound sense of isolation. She missed her mother and father desperately—her mother was gone forever, and her father’s fate remained uncertain.

Kneeling in the main hall, she pleaded with her uncles and aunts to help bury her mother.

Her eldest aunt, with a kindly face and plump figure, smiled warmly at her. “Good girl, get up and come closer to your aunt.”

Shen Xiling obeyed, rising and walking over. The woman took her hand affectionately, though Shen Xiling, unfamiliar with her touch, felt uneasy. Still, she was grateful for the gesture and stood meekly by her side.

The eldest aunt continued, “It is only right that we bury your mother. As for taking you in, it’s no great burden—just one more pair of chopsticks at the table. But remember, when your mother eloped, it greatly displeased my late father-in-law, who declared he would never acknowledge her again. Though he has since passed, we must respect his wishes as his descendants.”

Hearing this, her second aunt chimed in with a smile, “I married into the family later, so I don’t know much about your mother’s story. But I’ve heard she was once betrothed to the son of the Langya governor—a most prestigious match. Yet she fled and eloped instead?”

Her second uncle snorted derisively, muttering curses under his breath. “A disgrace to the family! Such filth upon our reputation!”

Her third uncle joined in, “When she abandoned the governor’s son, we thought perhaps she’d found better prospects. Only later did we learn she became someone’s concubine—and not even a legitimate one! A few years ago, when Yao’er wanted a position in Jiankang, I personally wrote to her. But she ignored her own nephew’s request. Now that she’s dead, she suddenly remembers us? What a convenient calculation!”

Her third aunt waved her embroidered handkerchief, frowning delicately. “As her sister-in-law, I shouldn’t speak ill of her, but her actions were utterly disgraceful. Who knows how she died? If it was from some vile disease, it would be inappropriate to bury her in our family plot.”

Their words swirled around her, incomprehensible yet unmistakably cruel. Though she didn’t fully grasp their meaning, she understood they were insulting her mother—just as her father’s wife had done years ago. Their expressions mirrored that same disdain. Her mother, though burdened by hardship and misfortune, had always been content. She loved her father, and he loved her in return; their moments together were filled with laughter and tender gazes.

She wanted to shout back at them, just as she had confronted her father’s wife years earlier. But fear held her tongue. If she angered them, they might refuse to bury her mother, leaving her unable to rest in peace. So she said nothing, only kneeling pale-faced at her eldest aunt’s feet, pleading, “I’ve grown up now and won’t impose on you for support. Please, have mercy and bury my mother. I’ll serve you as a slave to repay your kindness. I beg you—please bury my mother...”

Her eldest uncle, stern-faced, had sat silently throughout the others’ tirade. Her eldest aunt, clearly deferential to him, glanced at his cold, disapproving expression and understood his stance. Turning back to Shen Xiling, she said gently, “Child, don’t blame us for being harsh. It’s your mother’s actions that are shameful. She ceased to be part of the Wei family long ago and cannot be buried here.”

She pried Shen Xiling’s fingers, tightly gripping her skirt, loose one by one, smiling benignly as she said, “Don’t resent us. If anyone is to blame, it’s your fate.”

Shen Xiling was driven out by the Wei family servants, along with her mother’s coffin.

The winter in Langya was bitterly cold. Though no snow fell as she was cast out, the sky was overcast, and biting winds whipped through the air. She clutched the fur cloak tightly around her, standing beside her mother’s coffin, unsure where to go next.

She was too small and weak to lift the coffin alone, and the Wei family refused to help. She knew she should bury her mother, but Langya, though her mother’s birthplace, felt alien and unwelcoming. Her relatives had treated her with such cold indifference—it seemed unlikely her mother would wish to rest here. Before dying, her mother had gripped her hand tightly. Though their carriage had sped toward Langya, her gaze had remained fixed on the direction of Jiankang. Life in Jiankang hadn’t been easy, but it was where her father was. Surely, her mother wouldn’t want to be separated from him.

Shen Xiling leaned against her mother’s cold coffin for a long while before finally staggering to her feet. She removed the fur cloak from her shoulders and headed toward the marketplace.

She went to a pawnshop.

Pawnshops, it seemed, had a peculiar connection to her life—she had been a frequent visitor since childhood. Though Langya differed greatly from Jiankang, their pawnshops were strikingly similar: filled with treasures awaiting redemption and people wearing expressions of sorrow.

Shen Xiling pawned Qi Ying’s fur cloak.

In truth, the cloak wasn’t hers to pawn—it belonged to him. But it was the only valuable thing she had, and she needed the money to hire a carriage back to Jiankang, to bring her mother home to her father. Perhaps she wouldn’t see her father again; perhaps she’d be captured by soldiers upon her return. Even so, she was determined to take her mother back—Jiankang was where they truly belonged.

The pawnshop clerk gave her twenty silver taels.

Though young, Shen Xiling was no stranger to pawning items, having accompanied her mother countless times. She knew the market well and understood that the clerk had undervalued the cloak, likely taking advantage of her youth. The fur cloak was exquisite and worth far more than twenty taels, but she said nothing, quietly accepting the money and heading to the carriage station.

As the Lunar New Year approached, the carriage drivers hesitated to take her from Langya to Jiankang, citing the journey’s length and difficulty. After much pleading and offering extra payment, one finally agreed, promising to depart the next morning.

Shen Xiling felt a flicker of relief, believing she had finally accomplished something for her mother. She didn’t pause to consider where she would stay or what she would eat that night—she simply felt glad.

When she returned, exhausted, to her mother’s coffin, she found Bai Song waiting beside it.