Chapter 40: Wang Sanlang Returns

Jia Matron had been anxious all day, dreading the arrival of the peddler. As fate would have it, her fears were realized, but what she hadn’t expected was Tiger Treasure’s remarkable capability and good fortune—not only did he overcome the difficulty, he secured a sizeable order.

“Tsk tsk, just look at these dragonflies carved from bamboo strips—four coins apiece? That’s nearly the price of a measure of grain. A hundred rolling lanterns, you say? They’re to be collected the afternoon after tomorrow? Ah, if only the fields didn’t need tending, we could all help out and produce even more.”

Old Wang, unaccustomed to the knife used for splitting bamboo, was slowly getting the hang of it. He dismissed his wife’s idea: “They’ve paid two hundred coins as a deposit. They call it a deposit, but really, they only need a hundred. Let’s stick to that—can’t be greedy. A hundred is plenty. If we actually made two hundred, the lanterns would fill their courtyard so full, there’d be no room for people!”

The younger generation laughed at their grandfather’s teasing, their minds filled with visions of elegantly dressed adults tripping and stumbling amidst heaps of lanterns.

Little Jia carried out a basin of dirty laundry and encountered some village neighbors who were all envious, asking, “Word has spread through the village—your niece is truly capable, striking a big deal with the town peddler.”

“It’s not such a big deal.”

“Oh, listen to how tight-lipped Jia is. This is good news—what’s there to hide?”

Little Jia replied, “I just came back from the fields. Honestly, you all know more than I do—I can hardly make things up, can I?”

Madam Li, hearing the word “make up,” immediately thought of Wang Dalang, and sidled closer to Little Jia, saying, “Your branch of the family is really something now. If things keep on like this, you might have to rely on the eldest branch for everything in the future.”

“That’s not how it is—we haven’t split the family. Everyone, young and old, relies on my uncle and aunt, not just any particular branch.”

Madam Li pursed her lips, “So, all the money your niece earns goes straight to your uncle and aunt? Wang the blind... your husband has no selfishness at all, doesn’t save anything for your niece’s dowry? Tsk tsk, I don’t believe it!”

Little Jia chuckled, “You speak of selfishness—if someone really had it, would they shout about it and let me know?”

The women burst into laughter.

Zhao, mother of Zhang Cang, had been walking at the edge, and now spoke, “I can’t speak for others, but Ah Ge is not a selfish child. Jia sister, your Wang family is blessed to have such a girl who brings honor.”

Little Jia replied, “Zhao, your words touch my heart. I truly wish my niece could be even more capable. If she could save enough to buy a draft ox, I’d thank heaven and earth, and my uncle wouldn’t have to labor so hard or beg for a cart when traveling far.”

Zhao blushed. Her son Zhang Cang was learning the craft from Wang Ge, and the Wang family had never demanded anything from the Zhangs. Yet that morning, Wang Sanlang came to borrow the ox cart, politely offering two measures of millet as a fee for the animal’s labor, which the aunt actually accepted.

Madam Li sidled up again, “Jia, you’re so dutiful. Speaking of traveling far, this morning I saw your uncle hurrying off with someone’s ox cart. It’s late now and he still hasn’t returned?”

Little Jia gave Zhao a chilly glance, but said, “I don’t know whose cart he borrowed, only that he went to his maternal uncle’s house. Sha Village is far—it’ll be noon tomorrow at the soonest before he’s back.”

Her prediction proved spot-on. Wang Sanlang did indeed return after noon the next day. He called out as he entered the yard, unloaded the pumpkin food box and bamboo curtain, then went to return the cart to the Zhang household.

Wang Ge went over, and Wang Xing bounced along to help her sister.

The peddler, Feng, arrived in the morning, checked all fifty bamboo dragonflies, and handed over two hundred coins without a fuss. He was quite interested in the Wang family’s courtyard, now strung with several new clotheslines, each draped with swaying bamboo rolling lanterns.

Yesterday, the peddler thought buying these items would be a loss. Today, he almost regretted not taking more. Seeing them round and rolling, he imagined them sewn with vibrant colored covers, lit and spun at night, their dazzling lights sure to elicit delighted shrieks from children.

Perhaps, he thought, he’d buy a few for two coins apiece—if they didn’t sell, his own children could play with them.

At that moment, Wang Ge approached with a bright smile, holding the food box. “Uncle, this is the food box I made. The bamboo curtain was damaged on the road, so I won’t sell it.”

Feng the peddler, sharp as ever, didn’t ask further. Saying “Good, good,” he fixed his gaze on the food box, marveling inwardly: Are apprentices’ skills nowadays so refined? It feels as though this is better than the work of local craftsmen.

He opened the lid and was pleasantly surprised—the inside of the lid was firmly embedded with a small pumpkin made of fine bamboo strips! Even more striking, through the hollowed openings of the pumpkin, you could see an even smaller pumpkin nestled inside.

“Wang apprentice, I’ll take this food box. Name your price!”

The old Wang and his son were puzzled—wasn’t it usually the peddler who named the price?

Just then, Wang Sanlang returned the ox cart. Seeing his nephew Wang Xing standing by the gate, eyes red and chin trembling, he asked, “Tiger Head, what’s wrong? Who bullied you? Tell your third uncle.”

Wang Xing sniffled, avoiding his uncle, shook his head, and wiped his tears before they could fall.

Suddenly, laughter erupted in the courtyard. Wang Sanlang picked up Wang Xing and entered, wondering at the abundance of bamboo cages hanging everywhere, and tried to cheer his nephew up by joking, “Why so many round cages? Tell your third uncle—are they for trapping rabbits on the mountain?”

Wang Xing didn’t respond, twisted away, and buried his face in grandfather’s chest, seizing the moment to shed a few tears.

In the end, it was the peddler who named the price for the pumpkin food box—seventy coins! More expensive than a bushel of rice, exceeding Wang Ge’s expectations.

He told Wang Ge that if it weren’t for the two little pumpkins inside the lid, he would only have offered fifty coins. He added, “Who needs a food box these days? Those who buy such an item don’t really use it for meals. Usually, it’s for outings or gatherings, to carry fruit preserves or ink. When you open this box, turn over the lid like this—tsk tsk…”

The peddler hesitated and ultimately decided not to buy the bamboo rolling lanterns.

After the peddler departed, the Wang patriarch’s face shifted from joy to anger. Glancing at the rolled-up window mat by the wall, he understood everything. No wonder Tiger Head was so upset earlier. Wang Ge had clearly woven a fine bamboo curtain of interlaced green and yellow strips, but what Sanlang brought back from Sha Village was a crude curtain made of wheat stalks and hemp rope!

“Good-for-nothing! Useless fool! It’s one thing to be so poor as to patch your own clothes, but to give away your niece’s painstakingly woven curtain as a gift! I’ll teach you to give gifts, I’ll teach you to make decisions on your own!” The old Wang thumped Sanlang with the straw curtain.

Wang Xing burst into tears, “Stop hitting him, Grandpa, please stop, don’t hit Third Uncle!”

Wang Ge saw her father, anxious and reaching for his cane, get tangled in the lanterns hanging overhead. She scooped up Tiger Head and dodged aside.

Behind them, Wang Sanlang only dared to shield his face, explaining, “Father, listen to me! I was late; our maternal aunt had already hung up the curtain Ah Ge made. If I tried to take it down, it would be ruined and unsellable. This straw curtain was woven by our aunt too, and it’s new, so I used it instead.”

“Instead? How can… cough, how can that be?” The straw mat fell to the ground as the old Wang coughed furiously, his face flushed.

Wang Ge, hearing her grandfather cough, hurried back, kicked the straw mat aside, and turned to see him raise his hand. Startled, she immediately clung to his arm: “Grandpa! If you blame Third Uncle for everything, he’s wronged! Besides, don’t let outsiders hear and laugh at us.” She was angry at Third Uncle, but slapping him in front of the children was quite different from venting her anger with the straw mat.

The old Wang dreaded family shame being aired, and angrily stormed off. In his distraction, he too got his hair tangled in the bamboo rings hanging from the clothesline.

Wang Sanlang reached to help but was shouted away.

“Get out of the way!”

Wang Ge truly couldn’t reach the tangled hair, and her father’s eyesight was poor, so it fell to Third Uncle to untangle it once more.

A bamboo curtain’s value is secondary—the important thing is that one branch mustn’t touch another’s belongings, and to secretly swap for an inferior straw curtain is even more unacceptable. This matter must be rectified for the eldest branch.