Chapter 11: In Collusion

Boom! It was as if thunder exploded above Chen Nianqin’s head!

She’s been reborn, so why is it so difficult to defeat Chen Siyu?

Only after everyone in the courtyard had gone to sleep, in the dead silence of midnight, did someone knock on the door: “Xiao Ang, open up!”

Chen Xuan’ang was alert: “Old Mao’s here.”

Chen Siyu was alert too. She remembered the book said Old Mao was an old eunuch, and from the voice, it indeed had that duck-like quality.

She sat up and laughed, pulling the door wide open. Chen Siyu said, “It’s midnight. Uncle, why come in person? You could have sent someone to call. If there’s something, we can come to you.”

Though his hair was white and his skin wrinkled, his movements were quick, indicating he wasn’t actually that old.

Also, Chen Siyu had read in the book that eunuchs often had a sour urine smell—but this old man didn’t.

Curious, she pulled over a stool for him. He sat down and pulled out a tobacco pipe bag.

Clearly, Chen Xuan’ang had been trained to serve him. When the old man stretched out his hand, the boy bent his knees and promptly helped light the pipe and load the tobacco.

Old Mao crossed his legs, smirked, and started smoking.

There was no tea at home, only water. In a corner was a dirty cup Chen Siyu had cleaned but never used. She planned to use it now to give Old Mao some water, then throw it away afterward.

But seeing her brother kneeling and bending before Old Mao, she moved the cup away.

She was disabled and sympathetic to all physically challenged people, wanting to be kind to them.

But it was the early morning of the end of the Qing Dynasty, in an era where the people ruled. Her brother was being coerced, cramped into a hot boiler room, treated like a little eunuch for this dead old eunuch to command. No wonder Xuan’ang hated him so much.

Clenching the rolling pin, Chen Siyu wanted to smash this dead eunuch’s head!

Old Mao croaked in a duck-like voice: “Heard you steamed the best buns in the city today.”

Chen Xuan’ang looked at his sister. Seeing her grit her teeth, he knew she didn’t want to give in, so he said, “They’re all eaten already.”

Old Mao coughed heavily: “So that’s what you meant. From now on, you’ll properly respect me?”

Respect?

The rolling pin was too soft to hit him with, so Chen Siyu grabbed the fire tongs instead, ready to give the dead eunuch a proper lesson.

Old Mao said, “In ’37, the Japanese came. Mr. Hu and his sons hid, leaving only Hu Yin to guard the house. We stood at the door to protect her; otherwise, she’d be dead.”

He was bragging about his past kindness to Xuan’ang’s mother.

Chen Siyu clenched her fists, sneering, “Then you must be the number one good uncle in North City.”

“In ’45, when the regime changed again, the Hu family was surrounded. My sister worried about Hu Yin, risking her head climbing the wall to bring food and drink to save her,” Old Mao said again.

Chen Siyu grit her teeth, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes: “You two really were the sleeping dragon and crouching phoenix—such good mother and uncle.”

Old Mao waved dismissively: “Don’t flatter me. Besides, we risked our lives all for Xiao Ang.”

He took a puff, then said, “But Xiao Ang, after all that, learned to be ungrateful.”

Chen Siyu’s anger was about to explode. Using what little composure she had left, she said, “Uncle, the Qing Dynasty is over. In the new society, everyone is equal. Xuan’ang is your nephew, not your servant.”

But Old Mao didn’t understand and said, “Girl, I heard you’re an actress. Well, we’re people of the same trade—been through it all, served in the palace. We see this world clearer than you. Listen to me—Xuan’ang carries a crime. You won’t get anywhere here.”

Basically, after threatening her, he wanted to kick her out.

Chen Siyu laughed angrily and said deliberately, “I see you’ve trained my Xiao Ang pretty well.”

Old Mao thought she was praising him, replying, “When it comes to knowing the boss’s mood and serving skillfully, I’ve been in the imperial city, so training people is easy. Xiao Ang’s background is like mine was in the old society—rooted in something bad. So he has to learn to be subservient, or he won’t survive.”

Just because Xuan’ang’s background was poor, this old eunuch treated him like a little eunuch, forcing him to learn to grovel and flatter others.

What’s the point of learning that? To corrupt a public servant?

Chen Siyu gritted her teeth and asked, “What if Xuan’ang gives you those antiques? Will you still protect him?”

Talking about antiques, Old Mao coughed and said, “Of course.”

Bang! The fire tongs flew, knocking Old Mao’s pipe bag away. Before he could react, a slender finger nearly poked his eye out: “You old bastard, treating the heir of our new era like a servant! Watch me beat you to death with this stick!”

“Little girl, you believe I could send you to prison with one word?” Old Mao’s neck stiffened. “Try it and see.”

Chen Xuan’ang stared in disbelief but clenched his teeth silently.

Chen Siyu withdrew her finger and said, “Old eunuch, I pity you’re a useless man, so I won’t bother with you. I won’t leave, and neither will Xuan’ang ever go stoke the boiler again. Before I lose my temper, you’d better scram out of my house.”

But her words made Old Mao laugh out loud.

She not only refused to leave, but now she wanted Xuan’ang to stop working in the boiler room? Who did she think she was?

Old Mao was ready to play his trump card. “Do you even know who Xuan’ang’s mother is? Do you realize that if I reveal her background, both of you will end up in prison?”

The fire tongs slammed down on Old Mao’s sparse hair. Chen Siyu cursed, “You filthy old pervert, you lecherous scumbag, you came knocking in the middle of the night just to grope my butt. I’m going straight to the authorities to report you for molestation!”

Old Mao saw stars from the blow, wailing, “I… I’m a eunuch, you know that!”

She had the audacity to accuse a eunuch of molestation?

“Pah! If you’re really castrated, why are you groping me? Come on, pull down your pants and let me see if you’re fully cut. Ah, you’re touching my butt again!” Another swing of the fire tongs.

The fire tongs rained down like hail, clanging loudly against his bald head, each hit echoing in the stillness of the night. After a few strikes, she finished it off with a solid kick. Punching, kicking, swinging—she gave him a proper beating.

The loud thuds reverberated through the courtyard, bouncing off the narrow alley walls.

Chen Xuan’ang knew that Old Mao really had been castrated. He’d even seen the man’s unfortunate bits.

But now he wondered—what did it mean to not be “fully cut”?

Old Mao didn’t even argue back. Dazed and disoriented from the beating, he stumbled and with a muffled thud, fell face-first into the courtyard, landing in a humiliating sprawl.

The courtyard housed multiple families, each crammed into single rooms, living right under each other’s noses.

Seeing Old Mao topple, Chen Xuan’ang grew increasingly anxious, fearing the man would lash out in humiliation and accuse his mother of being an enemy spy right in front of everyone.

Right then, someone opened a window and shouted, “Old Mao, what the hell are you yelling about out there?”

Old Mao, with his head full of fresh lumps, struggled to get up, only to be hit squarely on the head by a flying tobacco pouch.

Chen Siyu stood like a divine warrior, hands on hips, eyes blazing with fury.

She had bet right—this damned old man wasn’t “fully cut.” That’s why he didn’t dare drop his pants and could be beaten into submission.

Sure enough, Old Mao’s voice turned meek, muttering, “I… I just tripped and fell.”

“You eunuch, your body’s really giving out, huh? Barely sixty and you’re already keeling over. Forget it, quit the job. Go home and rest. We’ll find someone else for the boiler room,” said Director Guo from another window.

Old Mao grovelled, “Director Guo, I’m still strong. I can work another ten years.”

“Then hurry up and go collapse at your own house. You don’t even live here. Don’t wander around at night anymore.” Director Guo’s tone was firm.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’ll leave right away.” Saying so, the old man, his head swollen with lumps, scurried off.

What was supposed to be a dramatic confrontation ended with Old Mao getting thoroughly beaten and limping away in defeat.

Under the bright moonlight, the siblings returned to their bed.

Chen Siyu asked with a grin, “How did your sister perform?”

Beating someone up felt incredibly satisfying. Watching that old bully, who had tormented him daily, get his head bashed in, filled Chen Xuan’ang with pure joy.

But what thrilled him even more was knowing that starting tomorrow, he wouldn’t have to work in the boiler room anymore.

However, happiness often breeds trouble. After his moment of glee, his heart suddenly sank. “Sister, now that Old Mao’s been humiliated, he’s definitely going to tell Mao Mu. What’ll you do when she comes?”

This brat, who earlier wanted to drive her away, now looked at her like she was his savior.

Of course, his guard was down now; he was ready to believe anything she said. Chen Siyu smiled and said, “Even though Grandma Mao is your grandmother, I’m your sister. Technically, I should be your legal guardian.”

Chen Xuan’ang caught on quickly. “You want to go to the authorities and have them change my guardian to you.”

Changing guardianship came with bigger implications—namely, the household’s ration coupons and rent allowances. In other words, control over the family finances.

Before Old Mao’s visit, Chen Siyu wouldn’t have dared bring this up. But now, not only could she mention it, she could even jab at this silly brother of hers, “Of course, you could refuse. I mean, you’re doing a great job as a little eunuch. Come on, Xiao Angzi, fetch me a pouch of tobacco to smoke.”

That was a blatant taunt.

Chen Xuan’ang wasn’t good at joking. He sighed, “I don’t care, but I’m afraid the factory leaders won’t agree.”

“If they don’t agree, we’ll persuade them. Why are you sighing already?” Chen Siyu pressed.

Chen Xuan’ang didn’t reply. He simply rolled over and curled up against the edge of the bed.

Chen Siyu teased, “What, are you afraid I’ll become like Grandma Mao—taking your money and not caring about you once I’m your guardian?”

That was nonsense. She knew perfectly well he didn’t think that. Chen Xuan’ang puffed up his cheeks in frustration.

“Alright, alright. You’re worried that if Grandma Mao gets desperate, she’ll bring out some so-called evidence that your mom was an enemy spy. Then we’d both be sent to the labor camps. You don’t want your sister dragged into this with you, right?” Chen Siyu’s voice softened.

Chen Xuan’ang muttered, “It’s my mother’s issue. It has nothing to do with you. Besides, Grandma Mao did treat her well in the past. Mom enjoyed the good, so now it’s only fair that I bear the bad.”

Oh? Look at him, trying to shoulder the burden all by himself.

This little brother of hers—handsome and, deep down, probably kind-hearted. In the novel, he managed to protect his inheritance across two lifetimes. And even though he was suspected of causing two deaths, the police never found any evidence. That meant he was meticulous and calculating.

Very well. Chen Siyu was ready to team up with him and become partners in crime.

“Xuan’ang, have you ever thought about this—if your mom really was an enemy spy, but Grandma Mao has been hiding the evidence all this time, wouldn’t that make her guilty of harboring a criminal? Besides, you and I both know your mom wasn’t a spy.” Chen Siyu began.

Then she added, “Since her so-called evidence is fake and fabricated, we just need to get our hands on it and burn it to ashes. Problem solved.”

Burn the fake evidence?

Wasn’t that another round of black-eating-black?

The boy was stunned by his sister’s audacity. After a long pause, he asked, “Do you think she’ll fall for it?”

“That depends on how greedy she really is,” Chen Siyu said, her tone full of meaning.

The window had no curtains, and moonlight poured in.

Chen Siyu lay on her back, eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips as she drifted off to sleep.

In the corner, her brother curled up like a little shrimp.

Under the moonlight, the confident smile on her lips gleamed, as radiant as fire.

Of course, she had always been this confident. In the past, she’d ride through the city on the back of a tall bicycle with a different handsome man every day. Half of North City knew her as the boldest, most stunning beauty—the sharpest little pepper in town.

She was not a benevolent person. The plan she was devising now, if mishandled even slightly, would land them both in the cowshed.

The boy was silent for a long moment, then softly replied, “However you say to do it, that’s how I’ll do it.”

Even if things spiraled out of control in the end, he would shoulder all the blame to clear his sister’s name.