Chapter 32: Drag the Pig to My House

As soon as the old man went out, Old Madam Song quickly got off the kang bed. While putting on her shoes, she hurried after Song Dashí.

Although the old man was strict, he wasn’t good with words. If she went along, she might be able to help him somehow.

Song Dazhu was sitting in the courtyard tidying up the farm tools. When he saw his Father and Mother heading out, he exchanged a glance with his wife. At once, the eldest daughter-in-law of the Song family put down her work and followed after them.

When Song Erzhu’s wife saw this, unwilling to fall behind, she too ran out after them.

Song Sanzhu also wanted to follow, but Widow Sun grabbed him by the arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to help out,” Song Sanzhu said. “Those ungrateful brats are strong. What if they start a fight with Father?”

“So what if they do?” Widow Sun snorted. “They’ve already cut ties. They don’t recognize their grandparents anymore—do you really think they’ll still treat you as their Father?”

Now that those little wolf cubs were finally out of sight and no longer an eyesore, there was no way she would let Song Sanzhu go over there.

What if that father-son bond rekindled and they got taken back in? Wouldn’t that be disgusting?

With that thought, Widow Sun softened her tone and said gently, “Sanzhu, don’t be upset. Even without those children, don’t you still have the one in my belly?”

As she spoke, she leaned in closer, guiding Song Sanzhu’s hand to rest on her stomach.

“Feel it,” Widow Sun said softly. “It’s just over two months, and I can already feel it moving. Most babies don’t start kicking until four months, but look at our two children—both started moving at just two months. This one’s definitely no different. It’s sure to be another smart one.”

Song Sanzhu gently rubbed her belly for a while, then nodded hesitantly.

To be honest, he didn’t really feel anything moving. But back when it was just two months, he had thought he sensed something.

Widow Sun said early movement meant the child was clever.

So Song Sanzhu convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, he really had felt a little kick.

What he didn’t know was—how could a fetus move at just two months?

But he believed Widow Sun’s words without question. He thought she truly loved him deeply—after all, she had endured five or six years of patience for the sake of his family’s harmony before finally marrying him. How could she possibly lie to him?

Not like his ex-wife, that wooden block—every word from her had to be dragged out, every movement forced, and she only showed a trace of gentleness after a beating.

And as for those children—they truly weren’t as clever as Youcai. Youcai could already recite the Three Character Classic, while those others couldn’t even recognize a single character.

Widow Sun’s voice rose again, soft and coaxing. “Sanzhu, the teacher praised Youcai’s handwriting again today.”

“Don’t worry, our Youcai is smart—he’s sure to pass the county exam and become a xiucai, maybe even a juren someday.”

“By then, you’ll be the juren laoye’s very own Father. People will address you respectfully as ‘Old Master.’”

Song Sanzhu was overjoyed, his heart blooming with delight. When he looked at Widow Sun again—her bashful, coquettish expression stirred something in him, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her and pull her into the house for some intimacy.

Meanwhile, Song Dashí and the others were stopped along the way by someone who asked, “Where are you headed?”

Song Dashí sighed helplessly. “If a child goes astray, the fault lies with the Father. Sanzhu didn’t raise his children properly. As their Grandfather, I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“Uncle Shitou, are you going to look for Chunseng? Didn’t you already sever ties with them? Why bother getting involved again?”

“Ai,” Song Dashí sighed, “I’m old now, and I can’t control my son anymore. The child got upset with his Father, and they cut ties—but even so, he’s still my grandson. If his Father won’t discipline him, then as his Grandfather, I can’t just turn a blind eye.”

Every time he said “real grandfather,” it was aimed squarely at Grandfather Lizheng’s ears.

What second grandfather? That man was still holding the children’s money—he was their real grandfather. When it came to handling money matters, shouldn’t it be him in charge?

At that moment, Song Jinxiu was discussing preparations for the beam-raising banquet with her Big Brother and Grandfather Lizheng.

“Big Brother, Grandfather Lizheng, I just feel that all the uncles and clan brothers have worked really hard helping us build the house. Even though much of it was because of the kindness shown by Grandfather Lizheng, Big Uncle, and Second Uncle, none of them have been slacking off.

“And when my brother was getting treatment for his leg, everyone chipped in with donations. We were really touched by that. Then, just as we were thinking how to show our gratitude, we saw Uncle Zhong had hunted a wild boar, so we thought—we could treat the villagers to a pig-slaughter banquet.

“Of course, a feast like that needs a reason, so I mentioned doing it as a beam-raising banquet. Second Grandfather, do you think that’s alright?”

Grandfather Lizheng stroked his beard with a smile. “Ah, child, it’s a good thing that you know how to be grateful. I’ve heard that in the south, there’s a tradition of holding a beam-raising banquet, but we don’t have that custom here. It’s not a good idea to start something like that.”

As he spoke, he explained further, “If you start this, what happens when others build houses later? If they have money, it’s fine—they can afford a meal for everyone. But if they don’t, they’ll feel pressured. If they host a meal, they’ll resent it. If they don’t, others might talk behind their backs.

“They’ll say, ‘Look, even Chunsheng’s family threw a beam-raising banquet—why didn’t you?’ Wouldn’t that be awkward for them?”

Song Jinxiu was taken aback. “I didn’t think that far, Grandfather Lizheng… then what should we do now? I’ve already told people we were going to hold a beam-raising banquet.”

Grandfather Lizheng chuckled and said, “Then just call it a banquet of gratitude. Chunsheng received so much kindness while treating his leg—even if you didn’t accept the donations, the sentiment still needs to be repaid. So, say you’re inviting the whole village to a meal to thank everyone for their generosity.”

Chunsheng immediately nodded in agreement. “Grandfather Lizheng, you really think everything through. Then this matter—we’ll need your help to extend the invitations.”

Grandfather Lizheng laughed heartily. “Hahaha, of course! If you asked someone else to do it, I’d be unhappy.”

Song Jinxiu said, “Since we’re inviting the whole village, will one pig be enough? Should we buy a bit more meat?”

Just then, Cheng Zhong came in with a basin and smiled at Grandfather Lizheng. “Uncle Lizheng truly is the village’s pillar of wisdom—always so thorough in thinking things through.”

“Unlike me,” Cheng Zhong continued with a chuckle, “when Jinxiu mentioned a beam-raising banquet, my first thought was just—what a generous child.”

Then he turned to the Song siblings and said, “One pig is more than enough. It’s not like people are only going to eat meat. Just buy some vegetables to go with it.”

Everyone chatted and laughed as they finalized the plans. Once everything was settled, Grandfather Lizheng stood up and called for his two daughters-in-law to go buy vegetables.

The wild boar was being prepared on the open ground just outside Grandfather Lizheng’s courtyard. By now, a crowd of villagers—adults and children alike—had gathered to watch the excitement.

Grandfather Lizheng’s young grandson, Song Fugui, was nine years old and already a head taller than little Qiusheng. Ever since Qiusheng started sharing a room with him, Fugui had taken special care of the younger boy.

At that moment, he was holding Song Qiusheng’s hand and saying to the other children, “No one fight over it later—the pig’s bladder is Qiusheng’s. Once it’s blown up, we can all play together.”

In the countryside, children didn’t have many toys. A pig’s bladder, once filled with water, could be inflated and tied off with string to make a balloon-like toy.

Every time a pig was slaughtered, the kids would scramble to snatch the bladder first.

One child quickly asked, “Qiusheng, can I play too?”

“Me too, Qiusheng—can I join in?”

“Qiusheng, count me in!”

“Qiusheng—”

“Qiusheng—”

Song Qiusheng’s cheeks were flushed bright red. It was the first time he had ever been the center of attention like this, and he was a little overwhelmed with excitement.

“Mm… okay, we’ll take turns, one by one.”

“Yay!”

As the children laughed and clamored excitedly, Song Dashí walked over with his hands behind his back.

He glanced around but didn’t see Chunsheng or Jinxiu. When his eyes landed on little Qiusheng, he quickly looked away without acknowledging him.

Qiusheng had been basking in the thrill of being surrounded and adored, feeling almost giddy—until suddenly, he caught sight of that dark, gloomy face.

Startled, he stumbled a step backward and immediately started hiccuping.

Only then did Song Dashí cast him another disdainful glance and muttered under his breath, “No backbone.”

“No backbone” was a local saying—used to scold someone for being cowardly or lacking spirit.

That one sentence from his Grandfather made little Qiusheng shrink back and hide behind Song Fusheng, no longer daring to look up.

Not seeing Chunsheng or Jinxiu around, Song Dashí turned to Cheng Zhong, who was busy butchering the pig, and said, “Hold off for now. Once it’s all cleaned up, just haul the meat straight to my place.”