Chapter Seventy: Transgressing the Taboo!

In the days leading up to New Year’s Eve, those working away from home began to trickle back into the village. In Wanglong Village, the return of the younger generation—most of whom had left for the city—brought early festivities: drums and gongs echoed, lanterns and banners were hung, and everywhere was alive with celebration.

Some young people, who had climbed to notable positions in the city or its subsidiaries, returned to admiring crowds of children eager to catch a glimpse of their newfound glory. The Jiang family, in particular, had gained prestige thanks to Jiang Zheng, who had rapidly risen to the position of department chief within a few short years. In Wanglong Village, the Jiang family was now seen as having the makings of the leading clan. Yet Jiang Zheng himself, busy with official duties, would not make it back before New Year’s Eve.

At this moment, it was time for the late-night meal. In the ancestral Jiang home, the three branches of the family were gradually returning. The first to arrive were Jiang Haishan and Qiu Shuixia. As soon as Qiu Shuixia set foot in the village, she bought the freshest ingredients and busied herself in the kitchen, while Jiang Haishan sat in the main hall with grave earnestness, poring over the day’s newspaper.

The next to arrive was a man with a radiant face, slicked-back hair, gold-rimmed glasses, and a tailored suit hugging his frame. “Cough, cough—no matter what, the countryside is still the countryside. Compared to the city center in Jiangcheng, it’s absolutely suffocating,” he said, pinching his nose in a gesture of distaste.

This was the second uncle, Jiang Hongzhi, accompanied by his wife Han Ying, resplendent in gold and jewels, her figure radiating affluence, and their thirteen-year-old son, Jiang Yang. In days past, this family had relied on the old patriarch's favor to make life hardest for Qin Mu. The night Qin Mu had been driven out on New Year’s Eve, it was this very household whispering in the old man’s ear.

“Just now, there were some children by the roadside setting off firecrackers—so uncivilized!” Jiang Hongzhi turned his eyes heavenward and scolded, “Haishan, I’m telling you, in the city center of Jiangcheng, people are all about personal refinement—not like this wretched countryside, where they’ll always be peasants at heart.”

Jiang Haishan glanced at him, replied perfunctorily, and ignored him. This second brother had always been this smug and condescending, though he seemed to forget that he too had come from this very “wretched countryside.”

“Yangyang, remember, don’t ever imitate those wild children,” Jiang Hongzhi admonished.

Jiang Yang, licking the lollipop in his hand and drooling all over his face, nodded, “Got it, Dad. Those wild things are nothing like us city folk.”

“You’re absolutely right, Second Brother. If I had the time, I’d go visit their parents myself and see how they’re raising their kids!” said a voice from the doorway as the third uncle, Jiang Zhengde, entered.

He wore a sycophantic grin, rubbing his hands together, the picture of slick opportunism. Always currying favor with the powerful and bullying the weak, many of Jiang Yao’s worst habits could be traced straight back to him.

Soon, Qiu Shuixia, who had been working in the kitchen, began to bring out dish after delicious dish. The aroma filled the air, a dazzling spread that made mouths water.

“Wow, a big chicken leg!” Jiang Yang, spotting a plate of white-cut chicken, crunched down his lollipop, and, before anyone else could react, dashed to the table, grabbed a drumstick with unwashed hands, and ran off.

“You child…” Qiu Shuixia called after him, but to no avail.

“Oh, let him be—chicken legs are for kids anyway, don’t fuss over it,” Han Ying said magnanimously, holding herself with an air of grace.

“Where are the other youngsters? Why aren’t they back yet?” Jiang Hongzhi checked the time and asked.

After another ten minutes with no sign of them, Qiu Shuixia reluctantly took the dishes back to reheat. “Let’s not wait any longer. We’ll start eating first,” Jiang Hongzhi, the eldest, declared, ushering everyone to the table.

Five or six minutes later—

“Dad, Mom, Second Uncle, Third Uncle, I’m back,” Qin Mu announced as he entered with Jiang Zheng.

But as soon as they stepped inside, they were met with unfriendly stares.

“Why is that bastard back?” Han Ying muttered in disgust, her voice dripping with contempt.

Jiang Hongzhi set down his chopsticks, snorted coldly, and lectured, “He’s not a true son of the Jiang family—so unruly, and now leading Jiang Zheng astray!”

“You two, stay by the door and wait until we finish eating before you sit down. Jiang Zheng, you too. If we don’t punish you, you’ll end up just like that bastard—disrespecting the family.” Jiang Hongzhi spoke with self-righteous authority. Jiang Haishan, reluctant to argue, could only remain silent, though the repeated use of “bastard” to describe his son was deeply unsettling.

Qin Mu couldn’t be bothered to quarrel with Jiang Hongzhi; the truth was, he had no desire to share a table with these people anyway. He waved to Wu Mu, who slipped outside to buy some food. Qin Mu could go hungry, but he wouldn’t let Jiang Zheng suffer the same fate.

Not long after, a Jaguar pulled up outside. Jiang Tao had taken Jiang Yao to the hospital to have her hand checked. According to the doctor, Qin Mu had shown restraint; the injury would heal in a month or two.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jiang Tao said with a forced smile, apologizing as he entered.

“Oh, my precious daughter—what happened to your hand?” Jiang Zhengde rushed to her side when he saw the bandages.

“It’s nothing serious. The muddy roads—just slipped and fell,” Jiang Yao replied, her excuse already prepared. She certainly couldn’t admit she’d smashed a vase at Zhao Yinghao’s place and was beaten up by Qin Mu.

“Hurry upstairs and eat something good. Your Aunt Qiu made a table full of delicious food,” Jiang Zhengde said, pulling Jiang Yao and Tan Song up to the second-floor dining room.

“You shouldn’t just stand there—come up and eat,” Jiang Hongzhi said to Jiang Tao, taking the opportunity to nod his approval.

“Sure, I’m starving—I haven’t eaten all day,” Jiang Tao replied with a grin, bounding up the stairs. On his way, he glanced back at Qin Mu and Jiang Zheng, who were still standing as punishment.

So what if you can fight? In the Jiang family, you’ll always be the lowly outcast.

“Why should they get to eat upstairs when they came back later than us, while we have to stand here?” Jiang Zheng whispered, aggrieved.

But upstairs, laughter and lively chatter drowned out her voice. Qin Mu hugged her briefly, then took the food Wu Mu had brought back. “We’ll just eat downstairs,” he said calmly.

He seated himself at the table with quiet dignity and laid out the food. Wu Mu had chosen the village’s most famous specialties. The fragrance quickly filled the room, wafting even to the second floor and drawing glances from above.

“Brother, you’re the best,” Jiang Zheng said sweetly, inhaling the aroma before donning plastic gloves and reaching for a goose leg—she was hungry, too.

“Wow, it’s roast goose! Mom, I want some!”