Chapter 2, Crushed With Worry

Translator: StarReader

 

Su Chen rowed a small bamboo raft loaded with a basket filled with fish and shrimp, heading toward an old fishing boat docked along the riverbank of Zhou Village. His excited little face was flushed as he returned to the old fishing boat to see his father and mother.

 

Mist shrouded the riverside at dawn, revealing only a few scattered fishermen’s lights against the gloomy backdrop. Along one of the riverbanks in Zhou Village, the old fishing vessel belonging to the Su family was docked.

 

The Su family had been engaged in fishing for generations in Zhou Village, with all five members of their household residing on this old fishing boat.

 

The boat featured a makeshift shelter constructed from bamboo strips and dry rice straw, coated with a layer of yellow mud to protect against the cold, though it was now cracked and riddled with gaps. A tattered and weathered curtain hung over the entrance, offering little protection from the piercing wind that whistled through the gaps, sending chills throughout the boat.

 

The interior of the shelter had a darkened ceiling where a dim oil lamp hung, its flickering red light barely illuminating the cramped space. Near the entrance, a small earthen stove was built using red clay, with a pot simmering over it containing a thin porridge dotted with a few cabbage leaves—utterly devoid of any oil or salt.

 

The hearth had a single dry piece of firewood burning, sending out sparks and smoke into the cold air. Beneath the harsh winter sky, inside their tattered hut, the warmth from the hearth barely held back the encroaching chill. Next to the hearth stood an old wooden bucket, holding several small crucian carp gasping for air. At the back of the hut was an old plank bed with mildewed blankets, where two dirty-faced toddlers of about three or four years old slept huddled together, their faint whimpers barely audible.

 

This was the destitute life most fishermen of the village lived; getting a bit of oil, salt, or meat during festivals was considered a rare treat. Father Su, with his weathered and darkened face full of wrinkles, crouched beside the hearth, smoking vigorously on a crude tobacco pipe. The low-quality dried tobacco was harsh, causing him to cough now and then. Mother Su worked tirelessly by the bed, mending an old fishing net, her face etched with worry.

 

“We haven’t saved much this year again,” Mother Su said, her voice filled with worry as she mended an old fishing net. “We worked all year and only got a few taels of silver. We need to pay the boat tax to the constable in Gusu County before the New Year, but that will leave us penniless. We have yet to pay the Whale Gang the weighing fee, even though we caught fish and brought them to town to sell. We won’t survive the winter like this.”

 

Mother Su continued her monologue, her tone heavy with despair.

 

In Gusu County, the boat tax imposed by the constable was five taels of silver per year, and it had to be paid before the New Year. Failure to pay would result in the constable’s ruthless enforcers descending upon their village, seizing their fishing boats, and preventing them from setting sail.

 

The Whale Gang, one of the Five Major Groups in the thirteen counties of the Wu Region, operated with impunity around Vastest Lake. For over a century, they had terrorized the region, monopolizing trade routes across hundreds of miles of lakes and rivers. Each month, they demanded one tael of silver from the fishermen of Zhou Village as a weighing fee. If the fishermen failed to pay, the Whale Gang would block them from selling their fish in town.

 

Without being able to sell their catch, the fishermen would lose their livelihood, and death would soon follow.

 

To the honest villagers of Zhou Village, the Whale Gang were nothing short of monsters. They preyed on the weak, extorting and harassing with no regard for justice, even worse than the lawless constables themselves. The villagers dared not resist them in fear of their violent reprisals.

 

As Mother Su spoke, she paused to let out a heavy sigh, her voice trembling with emotion.

 

Father Su, the old fisherman, knew very well their situation.

 

He still owed two taels of silver, or two thousand copper coins. The coming winter would be harsh.

 

Each New Year was a trial.

 

If he survived this trial, things might improve by next spring, when the lake would have more large fish and his income could slightly recover.

 

There was no other way; he had to go out on the lake before dawn every day and catch as much fish as possible. As an honest, hardworking fisherman, that’s how he’d always lived.

 

But it was now the dead of winter, and there were few large fish in the lake. With the new year just around the corner, in this short month, no matter how hard he worked—even if he didn’t sleep at all—he couldn’t earn two taels of silver.

 

He had no choice but to reluctantly ask the local gentry from the Zhou family for some loan money, planning to repay it next year. But interest on their loans compounded, making repayment difficult.

 

Father Su said nothing, smoking his pipe more intensely than ever.

 

“Let’s send our eldest to work as a servant in a wealthy family in the county. He is now twelve, sensible, and can do some rough work. Let’s find a kind and wealthy family for him so he can have a job.”

 

Mother Su pondered for a long time before speaking, her expression filled with sorrow. She came up with an idea.

 

In Gusu County City, wealthy households often took in poor children around the age of twelve during Lunar New Year. These children were raised to serve as household servants or maids, receiving a one-time settlement fee of ten taels of silver but signing a lifelong servitude contract. Once the contract was signed, they were no longer considered free citizens but servants, entirely belonging to their masters.

 

If the masters were unfair and mistreated or even killed their servants, it wasn’t against the law; they might only have to pay a bit more in silver as compensation. Therefore, any poor family with even a sliver of hope would never send their children to work as servants in wealthy households, risking their lives in someone else’s hands.

 

Yet this winter was unbearable, and the family had no other choice but to send their eldest to work as a servant for a wealthy household rather than leaving him at home with no means of survival. Although it meant becoming a servant, the servants in these county city households dressed decently and ate better meals than those from fishing families, which was still better than starving or dying from illness.

 

If there were other options, Mother Su wouldn’t want her child to end up as an indentured servant in someone else’s household.

 

But life was harsh, and Mother Su had long since understood a cold, hard truth: survival was all that mattered. This was their fate and Su Chen’s fate.

 

“Shut your mouth! Do you think we can sell our child?”

 

Father Su erupted in anger, his body trembling with rage as he pointed at Mother Su, seemingly furious that she could even suggest such a thing.

 

The idea of selling their eldest son was unbearable to him—it felt like ripping out his own heart and soul.

 

“He is my flesh and blood too. If there were other ways, I wouldn’t resort to this! Remember his condition. His life is at stake. If he falls ill again, what then? How would we survive?”

 

Mother Su broke down in tears, her elderly eyes overflowing with sorrow as she recounted the tale.

 

When their eldest had been born, Mother Su hadn’t produced enough milk to feed him. Desperate, the child cried out, and his tears of despair fell onto the bed, hardening into two small blue stones.

 

His condition quickly deteriorated, his face turning ashen and lips purpling, clearly in serious illness. They had never heard of ‘petrified tears’ before.

 

That night, they rushed the infant to the county city to find a healer. They scoured dozens of pharmacies throughout the city, but healers were stunned, claiming this was unprecedented, with no record in medical texts. Some suggested it was ‘heaven’s hate’ disease, doomed to die young. Despite this, Father Su and Mother Su refused to abandon him. They had heard that the Han Mountain Daoist Temple, with its renowned Daoist Han Shan, might have the power to help. So they traveled to the west gate of the county town, where the temple lay, and kneeled there for three days and nights.

 

After persistent pleading, the Temple Abbot finally agreed to examine him. Upon seeing the critically ill boy, he explained that the child’s condition was peculiar—it was the infamous ‘heaven’s hate’ disease, a curse from heaven itself, denying him life. The stone that fell from his eyes was a ‘heaven’s hate stone,’ sapping his life force. His advice was simple—use ginseng to boost his vital energy—but the herbs were costly.

 

They hastily spent half a year’s savings at the herbalist’s shop, purchasing a decade-old wild ginseng, which successfully saved his life. He was nursed back to health and cared for until today.

 

The Su family set aside one or two silver taels each year specifically for him to buy ginseng. If the eldest were to cry stone tears, they would immediately use the ginseng medicine to replenish his vital energy and save his life.

 

The fishing harvest had been meager this year, leaving them two silver taels short for the county constable’s boat tax and the Whale Gang’s weighing fee. A grim silence settled over the small shelter. “If our son were to suffer another episode without ginseng to ease his suffering, he wouldn’t survive the winter.”

 

“But we simply don’t have any extra money to buy such medicine.”

 

“Why not send him to a wealthy household in town as a servant? He would at least have his basic needs met and might even save up enough to marry someday. If he stays here, though, what if he falls ill again? We wouldn’t have the means to save him then.”

 

Mother Su rambled on about their years of hardship.

 

Father Su remained silent, the end of his pipe glowing red in the dim light as he lowered his head. Her words were nothing new to him—a constant reminder of their precarious existence.

 

Their boy’s name, Chen, was given by Daoist Master Han Shan. He said that of all things under heaven, dust was the lowest and least envied by heaven, making it easy to survive.

 

Their eldest had always been sensible since childhood, rarely shedding tears; in fact, he hardly ever cried at all throughout the year.

 

However, over the past decade or so, Su Chen had cried on a few occasions—about ten or twelve times in total. Each time, it cost them a significant amount of money for ginseng.

 

Father Su had been hoarding every copper coin, meticulously setting aside the money spent on those remedies. How could he not be acutely aware of the mounting debt?

 

The annual five-tael ship tax to the county constable and the Whale Gang’s monthly one-tael weighing fee were a relentless burden. Su Chen’s mysterious illness felt like an unbearable weight added to an already strained existence.

 

And then there were Su Chen’s occasional bouts of his mysterious illness—it felt like adding another hefty stone onto an already crushing load.

 

Father Su had been gritting his teeth and stubbornly enduring all of it.

 

This winter, however, the fishing season had been disastrous, leaving their family with a massive shortfall in silver. There simply was no extra money to spare.

 

No one knew when the eldest would cry again—or if he ever would.

 

If the firstborn were to shed tears again, without money to buy ginseng medicine to prolong life, they might truly die young.

 

Father Su fell silent, his brow furrowed as he smoked his old tobacco fiercely. Perhaps the mother was right. Sending the firstborn to work in a wealthy household in town would be harsh, often enduring beatings from their masters, but at least it could bring back ten taels of silver to buy medicine and save a life.

 

In these harsh times, being able to survive was already a favor from heaven; one couldn’t dare to hope for more. If they had no money for the medicine, losing the firstborn would mean losing everything.

 

The old fishing boat was shrouded in smoke, with a dim yellow oil lamp casting a low glow. In the shelter, Mother Su sighed faintly.

 

Father Su remained lost in thought, contemplating how to break the news to Su Chen upon his return. “Perhaps he’s old enough to understand…”

 

…

 

Outside the weathered hull of the Su family’s fishing boat, the wind whispered a mournful song.

 

Su Chen stood alone on a small bamboo raft, the joy of returning from fishing long since vanished. His face was as pale as snow, his eyes hollow with despair, and his thin, frail body trembled uncontrollably, tightly gripping the bamboo pole in his hand.

 

His lower lip was bitten hard between his teeth, almost drawing blood.

 

Su Chen knew that from a young age, he had been afflicted with a strange illness. Whenever his tears turned into blue stone, it would leave him severely weakened and dangerously ill, nearly claiming half of his life. It also brought calamity to this family, already battered by misfortune.

 

His fragile life was like the flickering bamboo lamp on his raft, ready to die at the slightest breeze. Whenever that happened, his parents would worry deeply, spending a large portion of their savings over several months to buy a single ginseng root from the pharmacy in the city to boil into his fish soup for nourishment.

 

Su Chen has always carried a heavy burden of guilt regarding this matter. Since he was five or six years old and began to understand things, he had been helping his parents with small chores. By his teens, he could already venture out on his own to catch fish and shrimp for a bit of pocket money, trying his best to ease the financial strain on his family. He saved up copper coins to buy medicinal herbs, all while striving to stay alive.

 

However, hearing his parents’ plan to sell him was like being struck by lightning, piercing his heart. His parents no longer wanted him!

 

Su Chen’s mind went blank. He forced back the stinging tears welling up in his eyes. All this time, he had been dreading this awful fate, and now it had finally come.

 

He looked upward, closed his eyes, and struggled for a long while to process this devastating news. His heart didn’t harbor even the slightest resentment.

 

His father would leave before dawn every day to fish in the large lake, not returning until sunset. His mother would accompany him during the day, helping to cast nets, and at night she would mend fishing nets and weave clothes, often working late into the night.

 

The couple had worked hard to raise him for twelve years, their early greying hair a testament to their immense sacrifices. They had done all they could.

 

But… but when he overheard his parents discussing selling him to a wealthy household in the county as a servant, Su Chen felt incredibly upset, so much so that he wanted to cry.

 

Yet crying would make him seriously ill, and he couldn’t afford expensive herbs to cure himself. Without those herbs, he would die. He didn’t want to die!

 

Su Chen dared not cry, clenching his lips tightly as tears welled up in his eyes, forcing back the urge to give in to his sorrow.

 

He hesitated, suspended between the familiar comfort of the old fishing boat and the daunting uncertainty of his future.

 

At twelve years old, he was more mature and understanding than his peers but still just a naive boy. Faced with such a drastic change in his fate, he felt lost and helpless.

 

His illness seemed incurable, and he couldn’t continue to burden his family. Without him being a liability, the strain on their household would ease considerably.

 

It was time to head to Gusu County City to find work and support himself. Maybe he could even earn some extra copper coins to send back home to help relieve his parents’ burdens.

 

If he had an episode… let nature take its course.

 

Su Chen’s expression hardened.

 

He felt his body grow cold, almost stiff. He rubbed his hands and feet vigorously, carefully placing a bamboo basket loaded with fish and shrimp in front of the old fishing boat.

 

After thinking it through, he unbuckled a small pouch tied to his waistband. Inside were forty or fifty copper coins.

 

Every night, Su Chen would set aside a single copper coin from the proceeds of his fishing catches when he went to sell them in town with the elders from Zhou Village. He did this as a precaution in case his tears of blue stone were shed by accident, allowing him to purchase medicinal herbs to prolong his life.

 

The small pouch of saved copper coins wasn’t much—certainly not enough to buy even one root of ginseng. With the New Year just around the corner, he decided to keep this meager savings for his younger brother and sister so they could have new clothes and ease their parents’ worries a little.

 

Su Chen placed that small pouch of copper coins on the front of the fishing boat as well. All he had left in his possession was a small cloth sachet containing over ten tears of blue stone and half a hard bread from this morning, which hadn’t been finished during his fishing expedition. Beyond that, he possessed nothing else of value.

 

Su Chen knelt with both knees on the soaked bamboo raft, carefully bowing his head three times toward the old fishing vessel in front of him.

 

“I’m leaving,” he whispered to himself, his voice heavy with resolve and sorrow.

 

“Take care, dear parents. Forgive me for being unable to honor you with my filial piety while under your roof.”

 

Turning to his siblings, he added, “Brother and sister, we part ways now. I won’t be able to watch over you every day anymore. Just promise me you’ll grow strong and fulfill your duties to our parents in my stead.”

 

Su Chen’s youthful and delicate face betrayed his sadness as he bowed and rose, struggling to push himself away with his frozen hands gripping the cold bamboo pole, slowly drifting towards the distant river.

 

…

 

Father Su thought he heard splashing near the old fishing boat shed. At first, he didn’t think much of it, assuming it was just another fisherman heading out early to the lake. But then, remembering how Su Chen had risen last night to go fishing on the small river and should have returned by now, his face suddenly paled.

 

Father Su’s lined-up face filled with shock as he rushed out of his cabin.

 

There, on the boat’s prow, sat a neatly arranged fish trap overflowing with fish and shrimp. On top lay Big Brother’s personal pouch, meticulously laid flat without a single wrinkle.

 

Father Su’s weathered face was etched with astonishment.

 

This belonged to Su Chen, but he’s nowhere to be found.

 

[Did he overhear what his mother said earlier?]

 

One shouldn’t mistake his calm demeanor for weakness—beneath a quiet surface lay a fiercely stubborn and resilient spirit. This was a boy who would swallow his pride and pain, keeping silent even if his teeth were broken. If he had heard about selling him off, the shock would surely push him to do something reckless.

 

“Son~~ come back!” Father Su panicked.

 

“Son! It was all a mistake, please come back!” Mother Su’s frantic cries echoed across the river as she stumbled out of the cabin, her heart-wrenching sobs reverberating on the water’s surface.

 

The night river was shrouded in misty gray fog, and there was no trace of Su Chen’s lone bamboo raft anywhere.