After their bath, Little He Ran looked clean and adorable again. He Zifeng held his hand as they walked home together.
The child, knowing he never had to return to the He family, bounced with every step, holding his father’s hand and occasionally looking up at him with a big smile.
He Zifeng patted his son’s head, unable to get enough of his precious child. Just looking at him filled him with joy.
Along the way, several villagers greeted He Zifeng.
Regardless of their prior relationship with him, everyone now offered kind words:
“From now on, you can finally live in peace.”
“Who would’ve thought your father was like that.”
While favoritism existed in most families, the He family’s extreme bias was rare.
Some, however, hesitated, as if holding back their words.
“What’s wrong?” He Zifeng asked.
This man, an honest fellow named Huanzi, had grown up with He Zifeng. He finally said, “Wan Hai is spreading word that anyone who gets close to you will be his enemy.”
Though He Zifeng had received ten taels of silver after the family split, it was clear to everyone that he got the short end of the stick. The profitable sauce workshop and farmland remained firmly under Wan Hai’s control.
Huanzi felt indignant on He Zifeng’s behalf. In a small village where social ties were crucial, isolating He Zifeng would make life difficult.
But He Zifeng didn’t seem bothered. “You can’t rely on anyone anyway,” he said lightly. “If we can get along, great. If not, we’ll just go our separate ways. After all, we live far from the village. What can they do?”
Huanzi nodded. “We’ve been like brothers since we played in the mud as kids. No matter what others do, you can always count on me.”
“Thanks,” He Zifeng said with a nod.
They exchanged a few more words before parting ways.
A short distance ahead, someone else stopped He Zifeng. “Hey, when did you go to the county town? That’s quite a trek from our village.”
Visiting the county required setting out before dawn and walking for two or three hours on foot. No one had expected He Zifeng to dare report to the authorities.
The villagers were both curious and impressed. They couldn’t imagine going to the county office themselves—they didn’t even know where it was. The thought of ending up in jail terrified them, as they had no connections to rely on.
“Did you meet the county magistrate?”
“What does he look like?”
“Were you scared talking to him?”
Despite Wan Hai’s warnings against associating with He Zifeng, the villagers’ curiosity got the better of them. They wanted to know if the county magistrate was as just as the “clear-sky lord” depicted in operas.
“I was too anxious at the time to notice,” He Zifeng replied.
Not far away, Xu Village Chief and Wan Hai, heading home together, saw He Zifeng surrounded by villagers. Their expressions soured, but hearing the mention of the county magistrate, they didn’t dare approach.
Xu, now deposed, was fuming. His rival, Liuzi, had taken over as village chief. Frustrated, he lashed out at Wan Hai, cursing both him and the He family. “It wasn’t even my business, but they insisted I intervene. Now look what’s happened—I’ve lost my iron rice bowl!”
Each year, Xu profited from overseeing grain collection and taxes. He also took a cut from weddings, funerals, land sales, and family divisions. Even without farming, his family lived well. Now, all those perks were gone, and his public dismissal humiliated him.
After storming into the He household and extorting another ten taels from Xiao Wanshi, he finally left.
Though ten taels sounded like a lot, Xu thought it paled in comparison to the benefits he’d lost. “I know you’re capable, Wan Hai,” he said. “You must surpass He Zifeng!”
“Don’t worry, Father-in-law. I won’t stop until I’ve crushed him,” Wan Hai replied.
“Good, that’s the spirit. Let’s see how he survives once he’s spent that little bit of silver,” Xu muttered.
As they walked away, they harbored nothing but resentment toward He Zifeng, failing to realize their own actions had driven him to this point.
Meanwhile, He Zifeng returned home, carrying his son.
Back at the house, Qiu Yu had already kneaded the dough and prepared the filling. He was shaping dumplings, each plump and round.
Little He Ran immediately ran to Qiu Yu, acting coquettish.
“Stop bothering me. Go play,” Qiu Yu said, smiling.
The child obediently ran off to play with a grass-woven rabbit. Having rarely been doted on, he was content playing by himself.
After washing his hands, He Zifeng offered to help wrap the dumplings.
“No need,” Qiu Yu replied. “Go check if the water’s boiling. I’m almost done here.”
This batch of dumplings was nearly all meat, with plenty of oil mixed in. The aroma was mouthwatering, and the dough was made from fine white flour—truly a feast.
Splitting from the He family was worth celebrating.
“The water’s boiling,” He Zifeng called out.
Qiu Yu handed him a tray full of dumplings.
He Zifeng carefully lowered them into the boiling water. Once the water came to a rolling boil, he added cold water three times, as meat dumplings required extra care to cook properly.
The dumplings floated to the surface, plump like little ingots, and were quickly scooped out and drained. Another batch went into the pot.
After washing his hands, Qiu Yu set the table and placed Little He Ran on a stool. “Time to eat.”
The child, already drooling, eagerly waited.
He Zifeng brought over the dumplings and served everyone a bowl of dumpling soup. Without even dipping them in sauce, the dumplings were flavorful. The meat filling was dense and savory, like a tender meatball, while the delicate dough was smooth and soft. It was easy to eat many without realizing. A sip of warm soup added to the comforting meal.
“Father, I wish we could eat this every day,” Little He Ran said.
Qiu Yu chuckled. “Little glutton, even the village chief doesn’t eat dumplings every day.”
He Zifeng smiled. “Whenever you want dumplings, just tell me, and I’ll get them for you.”
“Thank you, Father,” Little He Ran said sweetly.
Qiu Yu shot He Zifeng a look. “Spoiling the child again.”
“As long as Ranran is happy,” He Zifeng replied.
“…”
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