Chapter Thirty-Six: The Little Beggar

This was the first time in her life that Banxia had ever encountered someone like Shang Zhi—a woman utterly spoiled by affection, a little princess before marriage, a grand queen after. Since it wasn’t her place to meddle in other people’s family affairs, Banxia could only discreetly send word to Magistrate Lin.

Shang Zhi was truly headstrong. She ran away from home without so much as a maid, simply shouldering her bundle and heading straight for the provincial city. As noon approached, Banxia, mindful that there was a pregnant woman in the house, decided to close the shop and prepare lunch.

“Why close the door? I’m still here. I’ll watch the shop for you,” Shang Zhi offered.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. If you tire yourself out, I’ll have no way to explain it,” Banxia replied.

“Don’t worry, I know my own health best. I’m not one for such delicate airs.”

Somehow, when the word “delicate” came from Shang Zhi’s lips, Banxia found it oddly out of place.

She went to the market with her basket, planning to cook crucian carp and tofu soup for Shang Zhi. Realizing there was no one at home to kill the fish, she even asked the vendor to do it for her, which took a bit of extra time. When she returned to her shop, she found a noisy commotion at the door. Had something happened? Banxia hurried over to see Shang Zhi lifting two men and tossing them out. It was no exaggeration—the two were literally thrown out.

“How dare you come to my shop and demand protection money! When I was collecting protection money, you brats were still nowhere to be found. Get lost!”

The two ruffians, terrified, scrambled away.

Banxia entered with her basket, face grave as she looked at Shang Zhi.

Shang Zhi looked a little sheepish. “I know I shouldn’t have caused trouble in your shop.”

“That’s not the point. You’re in a delicate condition. If anything happened to the baby, how could I answer to Magistrate Lin?”

“The baby, the baby—everyone only thinks of the child,” Shang Zhi burst out emotionally.

Banxia sighed. “Let me put it another way—if you got hurt, I’d still have no way to explain.”

Shang Zhi wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Feeling a little embarrassed at being fussed over by someone younger, she replied, “I can handle myself, don’t worry.”

“Why don’t you rest for a bit while I prepare lunch? If you feel unwell, just call for me.”

Banxia retreated to the kitchen, desperately hoping Magistrate Lin would arrive soon. She had no experience caring for a pregnant woman and feared one misstep might harm the child.

Lunch was a silent affair, both still brooding over the earlier incident. The food tasted like sawdust. Afterward, Banxia suggested Shang Zhi rest upstairs, while she busied herself with the shop, anxiously awaiting Magistrate Lin’s arrival.

But the whole afternoon passed without any sign of him. Banxia’s eyes ached from staring at the door, but he never came. Instead, it was Shang Zhi who repeatedly asked her what she was looking at, to which Banxia could only laugh it off.

Could it be that Magistrate Lin hadn’t received the message? Or perhaps he was letting Shang Zhi stew for a while? Either way, Banxia felt uneasy.

The reality was quite different. Magistrate Lin had received the message, but at that very moment, he was embroiled in a bandit case. These criminals were ruthless, having already taken many lives in the neighboring county. Now, they had fled into his jurisdiction. Constable Wang had nearly tracked them down, just waiting for the perfect moment to lay the net.

He had worked all morning without so much as a sip of water, finally sneaking a bite to eat and taking the chance to ask how his wife was doing. Entering the inner courtyard, he found chaos. On inquiry, he discovered his wife had left a note and run away.

He broke out in a cold sweat. His wife was pregnant, and the thought of her encountering those vicious bandits was unbearable. Fortunately, Banxia’s messenger arrived just then, confirming his wife’s safety. Magistrate Lin finally breathed a sigh of relief, only to realize his legs had gone weak.

He thought about fetching Shang Zhi home, but the county’s troubles weren’t yet resolved. Best to settle things first before seeking her out—if danger arose, she’d be safer this way.

Magistrate Lin’s mind was wholly occupied by Shang Zhi. Meanwhile, as night fell and still no one arrived, Banxia was beside herself with worry, whereas Shang Zhi seemed utterly unbothered—eating, sleeping, perfectly at ease. Her heart was truly untroubled. As they talked, Shang Zhi reached for another slice of watermelon, but Banxia quickly moved the plate away: “It’s too cold. One piece is enough, any more and you’ll feel unwell.”

Shang Zhi looked at her with pleading eyes. Banxia pretended not to notice and placed some greens in her bowl. “Eat more vegetables.”

“I don’t want those. I want meat.”

“That’s fine too.” Banxia added a piece of braised pork to her bowl. “You should also have a bowl of tofu and fish soup later—it tastes lovely after simmering all afternoon.”

“Aren’t you worried Magistrate Lin will be frantic, unable to find you?”

“Worried? That’s exactly what I want. You don’t understand, little girl—men only care more when you make them anxious.”

Banxia didn’t quite grasp this kind of “I secretly care about you to death, but insist on making a scene” kind of love, so she shook her head and fell silent. Shang Zhi, worried Banxia might lose sleep over Gansui’s departure, insisted on chatting late into the night. Banxia didn’t mind conversation, but Shang Zhi’s topics always veered into the morbid—tales of coroner’s supernatural encounters, narrated with such vividness that Banxia felt chills crawling up her spine. After telling her stories, Shang Zhi excused herself for the sake of her pregnancy and retired to bed, leaving Banxia alone, convinced the room was filled with unseen eyes. She clutched her quilt and shivered all night. This was hardly a life for a human being.

The next morning, Banxia dragged herself out of bed, enormous dark circles under her eyes. She yawned as she prepared porridge for Shang Zhi, who woke naturally, only to find Banxia dozing off in the shop.

She hurried to rouse her. “At this rate, someone could empty your shop and you wouldn’t notice. Couldn’t sleep last night, missing your husband? Never mind, I’ll chat with you more tonight.”

Heaven forbid! Banxia’s gloom was thick enough to beat someone with, yet Shang Zhi remained oblivious. Banxia was considering whether to be frank when she saw someone familiar at the door—Constable Wang. At last, someone had come to take Madam Lin home. But why hadn’t Magistrate Lin come himself?

Shang Zhi noticed him too and asked disdainfully, “Why are you here?”

“The magistrate sent me to fetch you home, madam.”

Still sulking, Shang Zhi demanded, “Why didn’t he come himself?”

“He was wounded last night while fighting bandits and is now recuperating at home.”

“What? Those bastards dared lay a hand on my husband! Just wait until I get back—I’ll make them pay!” Fuming, Shang Zhi stomped upstairs to fetch her bundle.

“Is the magistrate seriously hurt?” Banxia asked, worried.

“Not too badly, I suppose.” Constable Wang was a poor liar; his words gave him away immediately. Banxia understood—the magistrate was playing the sympathy card. Madam Lin, worried as she was, didn’t notice a thing.

“When she asks you anything, just keep a stern face and don’t answer. That way, you won’t give yourself away,” Banxia whispered.

Constable Wang nodded in agreement.

“Banxia, I won’t be able to chat with you tonight. I’ll leave my favorite book to keep you company. Take care of yourself, and if anything happens, send word. I’m off—I don’t even know what’s happened to my husband,” said Shang Zhi.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Your husband comes first—hurry on home,” Banxia replied.

Shang Zhi climbed into the carriage and left in haste. Banxia collapsed into her seat—the great troublemaker was finally gone. She was exhausted. Having slept poorly the night before, she decided to close the shop and rest. Just as she latched the door and prepared to go upstairs, someone knocked.

“Surely not—could Madam Lin have returned already?” she muttered, opening the door to find a little beggar. “Please, miss, spare some change.”

Moved by pity, Banxia gave him a few coins. Hearing his stomach growl, she packed up the leftover pastries from the table and handed them to him. “Hide these so no one steals them.”

The little beggar looked stunned at the money and food, then turned and ran. Banxia thought nothing more of it, shut the door, and went upstairs to sleep.

She woke to find it nearly noon. Stretching luxuriously, she relished the feeling of a good rest. Humming to herself, she used the leftover fish soup from yesterday to make noodles, topped with a poached egg. After a satisfying meal, she slumped in her chair, reluctant to move. But business called, and for the sake of money, Banxia forced herself to her feet.

After washing up, she opened the shop, only to find the little beggar curled up on her doorstep, sobbing.

“What’s wrong? Did someone bully you?” she asked.

The boy wiped his tears and handed her the coins. “Take these back. Please buy me—I can do any work you need.”

Banxia felt troubled. The child was only five or six, not even as tall as her counter. She hadn’t planned on hiring anyone, and even if she had, she couldn’t possibly take on someone so young.

“My business is modest and I get by on my own. I’m not looking to hire anyone,” she replied.

Hearing her refusal, the boy immediately knelt. “Please buy me, miss. I’m not asking much—just enough to buy a coffin for my grandfather and bury him. I beg you.” He tried to kowtow, but Banxia hurriedly stopped him.

This was truly a problem. The boy’s sobbing tugged at her heart, so Banxia took some silver, closed her shop, and accompanied the beggar out.

Burying someone was no easy task. Banxia bought a simple coffin—still, it cost over a tael of silver. Not only had she made no money that day, she’d lost some, and her heart ached. But having started a good deed, she couldn’t stop halfway. She spent more coins hiring help to bury the boy’s grandfather outside the city.

The gravestone was a plain wooden plank. Banxia asked the child for details, but all he knew was his grandfather’s surname was Jiang. She wrote “Mr. Jiang’s Grave” and called it done.

Banxia bought offerings and incense. The little beggar knelt by the grave, crying until he nearly fainted. Banxia went to comfort him. “Don’t cry. Your grandfather is watching over you. If you cry, he’ll be sad too.”

“Really? But Grandpa’s gone. No matter how I call, he doesn’t answer.”

“That’s because his body has reached its end, but your grandfather has become the wind. He’ll always watch over you. Can’t you feel it? He’s gently patting your head, comforting you.”

Just as she finished speaking, a breeze stirred. The little beggar exclaimed, “It’s true, I feel it!”

Banxia was stunned. Really? Was she this magical? She was only trying to comfort a child, after all.