Chapter Twenty-Three: The Husband's Low Growl

I am not retracting my word, I am merely stating that I feel at a loss and want to be clear about it. I have many sheep; I do not care about the loss of one.

Wu Zidan paced around the dead sheep sprawled on the ground, mocking himself as he spoke, "From now on, I will not engage in such losing business. I will slaughter and sell my own sheep."

The butcher, feeling a bit guilty and realizing that Wu Zidan had not come to pick a fight but was merely venting, felt his anger dissipate. He reached into his basket of slaughtering tools, pulled out a gleaming de-hairing knife, and handed it to Wu Zidan. "Take this," he said. "From now on, slaughter and sell your own sheep, and go make your own fortune."

Wu Zidan took the knife and replied, "Then I won't stand on ceremony."

He pulled a piece of toilet paper from his pocket to wipe the blade, then asked the vegetable vendor for a used, flimsy plastic bag to wrap the edge of the knife securely before tucking it into his waistband. He then headed to the south side of town to the agricultural supply company, where he bought a sack of urea, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and set off for home.

After only about ten minutes, he passed a reservoir dam, two fields, three bridges, and a low hill, reaching his doorstep before setting the sack of urea down against the wall of the main room.

Drenched in sweat, he was about to reach for a towel to wipe his face when his mother, Madam Shen, emerged from the kitchen. She held an unopened letter, which she handed to him, saying, "Son, this is strange. About ten minutes ago, I came to the main room to open the front door, and this letter fell through the gap in the latch. I can't read, so I didn't open it. You open it and read it to me—who could have written this?"

Wu Zidan took the letter, feeling quite puzzled, as the envelope only bore his name, "Wu Zidan," with no sender or recipient address. He mused that the person who sent it must have either come themselves or entrusted someone else to find his address and deliver it.

As he opened the letter, he asked his mother, "Ma, did you see anyone come by?"

Madam Shen shook her head. "How would I have seen anyone? Quickly, read it to me."

Wu Zidan unfolded the letter, which contained only a single sheet of white paper with one line of text: "Wu Zidan, your wife is committing adultery with a wild man; hurry back and catch them in the act."

It was written in pencil, but the handwriting was not that of a child; it was clearly the hand of an adult. He felt a surge of fury and wished he could rush home immediately.

At that moment, Madam Shen urged, "Read it to me, quickly."

Wu Zidan could not bring himself to read such words to his own mother, so he made up a lie to soothe her. "Ma, it says here that Cai Zhongsheng says your granddaughter, Wu Ying, is sick again, and I need to rush back."

Madam Shen believed him, saying, "Oh! No wonder your face changed as you read it; you must be anxious. Go on then, hurry back and see."

Wu Zidan said no, he still needed to tell his father, who was watching the sheep on the mountain.

"No need, your father will be back soon; I will tell him," Madam Shen insisted, urging her son to get home quickly.

Wu Zidan nodded, folded the white paper back into the envelope, and tucked it away. He had wanted to rip it to shreds, but he could not do so in front of his mother.

He did not head directly home, but instead crossed the fields to the mountain to tell his father, repeating the same lie he had told his mother—that he had received a letter saying his daughter, Wu Ying, was seriously ill.

He patted the bulging pocket on his right hip and said, "Dad, I bought a bag of urea; it’s at the house. When you have time, spread it on the fields. I’m going to stay at the Qiu family estate in Liulin Village for a few days. The money in this pocket is what was left from buying the urea; consider it a loan, as I need to pay for Wu Ying’s medical expenses. That’s it, I’m leaving."

Wu Guang, his father, said with some displeasure, "Just take it and use it; don't talk about loans." He glanced at the sheep frolicking on the mountain and added, "When you return, once that ewe has her lamb, take one of the females to your new home at the Qiu estate to raise and breed. There are plenty of mountains there with rich grass, which is good for developing goat farming. I hope you strike it rich one day, so you won't always be sponging off your old man."

Wu Zidan offered a forced smile, stuck out his tongue, and turned to leave.

Watching his son’s back, Wu Guang said, "Go on then!" He shook his head, thinking to himself: *Next time I’m short on cash, I won't have you help me sell the goats. You have hands like sticky rice cakes; money just clings to them and disappears, leaving nothing behind.*

After descending the mountain, Wu Zidan left Liushu Village. As his home in Liulin Village was over twenty kilometers away with no direct road, he had to follow a winding country dirt path along a mountain range running east to west.

The path was impassable for vehicles. By the time he had walked halfway, dusk had fallen; as he continued, the night deepened. The stars that had been twinkling in the sky were soon swallowed by dark clouds, which seemed to shroud his own spirit. He felt that it was not just the road that was gloomy, but his own path ahead.

As he walked, he kept turning the contents of the anonymous letter over in his mind. Before night fell, he had taken it out to look at it repeatedly. It filled him with rage, and he longed to tear it to pieces.

But he didn't. He crumpled the letter up in a fit of frustration and stuffed it back into the envelope. Considering it might serve as evidence, he kept it on him, intending to confront his wife about which man she was involved with once he got home, so he could settle the score with both of them.

When he reached Liulin Village, the night was so dark he could not see his own hand in front of his face. The village houses were scattered, some with lights still on, others dark, clearly indicating that most had already retired for the night.

His own house sat in the middle of the cluster, and it, too, was shrouded in darkness.

He crept forward and heard voices whispering inside. The sounds came from the bedroom, mixed with a man's voice, though he could not make out the words.

He suddenly remembered the words of the strange letter his mother had received in Liushu Village and realized it was true. Consumed by rage, he reached the wall beneath the bedroom window and shouted, "Zhongsheng! You damn woman, who is the man you're fooling around with while I'm away? Open the door for me! Open it!"

The room fell silent instantly. He heard the rustle of clothes, the sound of someone getting out of bed and putting on shoes, and then footsteps moving toward the main room.

Thinking the front door was about to open, Wu Zidan guarded the entrance. A moment later, he realized something was wrong—he heard the back door creak. Someone was clearly slipping away. Convinced it was the man, he immediately circled around the house to intercept him at the back.

But he was a step too late. When he reached the back door, there was no one in sight; the area behind the house was deathly still.

He entered through the back door, passed through the main room, and walked into the now-lit bedroom. He saw Cai Zhongsheng, her hair disheveled, having thrown a coat over her shoulders. She dared not meet his eyes.

At that moment, their child, Wu Ying, began to cry in the cradle.

Cai Zhongsheng picked her up to nurse her. Wu Zidan held his tongue, but his face was twisted with fury.

Once the nursing child’s eyelids grew heavy and she fell asleep, Cai Zhongsheng placed her back in the cradle. Wu Zidan stared at her, his voice a low growl: "Tell me clearly, who is the man you were fooling around with? If I had caught him at the back door, I would have killed him with a single stroke."

As he spoke, he touched the de-hairing knife at his waist, as if eager and ready to kill someone to vent his rage.