Chapter Thirty-Five: A Man Must Persevere to the End

At dinner that evening, Su Youcai spoke to his eldest uncle, “Big Brother, hand me He’s promissory note. I’ll collect this debt myself.”

“It’s better if I go. You’re a gentle scholar—people won’t be intimidated by you.” Eldest uncle’s voice betrayed his unease. “They’ll be home soon, just wait a few days.”

“My sister-in-law has already explained everything. There’s no need for you to be troubled.” Su Youcai replied coolly.

Eldest uncle grimaced as if suffering from a toothache, blowing his moustache and glaring at his wife. “You wretched woman! How many times did I tell you not to speak of this? Not a word!”

“I’d have suffocated if I kept it inside,” his wife muttered.

Eldest uncle sighed helplessly. “Second brother, your elder is useless…”

The old patriarch fixed them with his triangular eyes, unable to bear the scene any longer. But the household was run by the eldest and his wife, so he restrained himself from embarrassing them.

“I’m done eating!” With a sweep of his sleeve, the old man went downstairs for a walk to cool his temper.

In the end, eldest uncle handed Su Youcai the promissory note, sighing again, “That widow’s not easy to deal with. Be careful.”

“She’s not easy to deal with as a widow—do you think I’m easy as a widower?” Su Youcai declared, voice brimming with vigor. “If we don’t get our money back, the three of us will spend the New Year at her house!”

“That’s not necessary. You should return home for the festivities…” eldest uncle hurried to reassure him.

~~

Early the next morning, the three men set out for He’s distillery at the northern edge of town, intent on collecting the debt.

The He family, like the Chengs, had been exiled here. The difference was, the Hes were implicated in the ‘Cao Shi Incident,’ and sent here only forty years ago, barely enough time to establish roots.

In this generation, there was just one He family in Erlangtan. Locals referred to the three remaining men as ‘Old He,’ ‘Big He,’ and ‘Little He.’

Their numbers were sparse, but the He family possessed a sharp business sense. After settling in Erlangtan, they joined the ranks of brewers. However, they made fruit wine, catering exclusively to women. This niche allowed them to survive between the two dominant clans.

Of course, fruit wine fetched low prices—only women drank it—so He’s business wasn’t exactly thriving, just enough for modest comfort.

A few years ago, Old He passed away, and Big He and Little He took over the distillery. The brothers, ambitious and unwilling to settle for mere subsistence, decided to try their hand at distilling spirits.

To their credit, the brothers had a knack for brewing. In just a few years, they developed a unique recipe—‘Crushed Sand.’ This method yielded wine quickly, with high output, a smooth taste, and distinctive flavor.

Though its quality couldn’t compare to the traditional ‘Phoenix Qu Process’ spirits produced by the two major distilleries, its low cost made it a fierce competitor in the bargain market.

The He brothers brimmed with confidence. Last month, they personally escorted a boatload of their new ‘Crushed Sand’ wine to the county, hoping to break into the market. But disaster struck at Dabingtan—the boat was wrecked, and both brothers perished…

With their deaths, Erlangtan had no He men left. The distillery remained, but all the debts incurred by Big He and Little He now fell upon Big He’s widow.

As for Little He, his obsession with brewing had delayed marriage. When the Cheng family patriarch discovered his daughter’s affair with Su Youma, he considered marrying Cuicui to Little He as a solution. Little He was delighted, but nothing came of it. He died never knowing why the Chengs changed their mind…

~~

After explaining all he’d learned to his sons, Su Youcai sighed, “This family’s been through hell. You two must never board a boat together.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Mm, old man, I’ll remember.”

As they spoke, the three arrived at He’s distillery nestled in the mountain hollow. The He family lived entirely within the distillery. When Big He married, Old He spent lavishly to renovate the place, making it the finest residence in Erlangtan even to this day.

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They saw white walls and black tiles, stone-brick entrance with gate finials above and threshold stones below, far grander than the cramped stilt houses. But white paper was pasted on the door, mourning banners hung from the lintel, and scattered yellow funeral paper littered the ground—a sense of decay pervaded the air…

“Without descendants, even the best house is useless,” Su Youcai sighed, stepping with his sons over the lofty threshold.

Business households built thresholds higher than others—said to prevent wealth from flowing away.

The residence lay in front, the workshop behind, so stepping inside felt no different from entering the home of a wealthy family: main hall, side rooms, rear rooms, all enclosing a vast courtyard.

By now, both Hes were buried, but the mourning hall hadn't been fully dismantled. Four thick bamboo poles stood in the courtyard, traces of talisman paper clinging to them.

The three headed straight for the main hall, lifting the blue cotton curtain to find a circle of people already seated, idly chatting over water.

With the New Year approaching, anyone lingering here instead of returning home was, like Su Youcai, a creditor.

“Another one’s arrived!” Seeing the trio enter, a creditor called out toward the inner room, drawing laughter from the others—dark amusement in their hardship.

“You all came so early,” Su Youcai smiled wryly, greeting them with a respectful gesture. The room contained his kinsmen, members of the Cheng family, and several from other surnames—nearly twenty in total.

“If you come late, there’s no chair—your back won’t survive a day,” his cousin Su Youbing joked. “Your big brother’s been arriving before dawn.”

“Well now…” Su Youcai hadn’t expected such determination from everyone.

Su Lu was also astonished. Erlangtan had fewer than a hundred households. Yet a fifth of them were He’s creditors—what fierce competition…

Just then, the inner curtain lifted, and a gray-haired old woman appeared, carrying a tray, her face sour. “Latecomers get only a bench—make do.”

The three settled in a corner on the long bench. The old woman served each a bowl of water.

“No more bowls, no more tea—make do with plain water.”

“At least give us hot water,” Su Youcai said, accepting the porcelain bowl, chilled to the touch.

“No more firewood.” The old woman retorted.

“See that? What’s this attitude toward creditors!” Before Su Youcai could speak, other creditors protested, “Bring out your mistress!”

“Is the mistress gone too?” one mocked.

“Who knows? Haven’t seen her today—maybe she’s run off?”

“No point waiting—let’s go find her in the back!” someone rose indignantly.

“That’s the inner quarters—men can’t enter!” The old woman hastily blocked their way.

“Out of the way, crone! The more you stop us, the more it looks suspicious!” The creditors shoved her aside.

“Don’t worry. I’m here.” A slightly husky female voice sounded as the young widow lifted the curtain and entered.

She clutched a white handkerchief, her hair wrapped in a white cloth, dressed in a white silk jacket. No makeup, in the plainest attire, yet more captivating than any painted, gold-adorned woman. She was like a white plum blossoming silently in winter frost—icy yet tinged with an inexplicable charm.

At her appearance, the previously aggressive creditors calmed instantly. They stopped pushing the old woman, their voices softened. “It’s good you haven’t run—otherwise, who would we seek for repayment?”

“I won’t run, nor will I repudiate the debt,” He Chengshi sighed softly. “But now, with both people and wealth gone, even if you kill me, I couldn’t repay you.”

“We don’t want your life, just our money,” the creditors insisted. “We worked all year for this—mistress, you can’t withhold payment!”

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“Exactly! We worked for your family all year, and now there’s no wages—we’ll starve for the New Year!”

“You promised to repay by year’s end. If you default, there’ll be deaths in our families too!”

The creditors grew angrier—a less attractive mistress would have been cursed out long ago.

He Chengshi waited quietly for their clamor to subside, then spoke sorrowfully, “With things as they are, I’m truly sorry, but there’s nothing of value left… Perhaps I could offer the distillery and this house—clear the debt for good?”

Everyone glanced at each other, hoping someone would accept, but none dared.

The He family had invested heavily in the house and distillery, but in Erlangtan, no one could turn them back into money. The debts were real, requiring solid silver for repayment… The hole was too deep—no one could bear it.

Besides, rumor had it the house was unlucky, having taken the lives of all the men… Who would dare take on such a curse?

“Can’t you ask your mother’s family for help?” someone suggested. “If they took over the distillery, everyone would be happy.”

“I’m a married woman—water poured out. Besides, my mother’s family prides itself on literary lineage; they’d never risk gossip about profiting from an orphan’s estate.” The mistress shook her head, her voice bleak.

“In these past days, have you seen any of my brothers here?” she asked.

“No…” the creditors admitted. Were it not for several Cheng kinsmen present, they’d have cursed the scholar’s family outright…

Yet her words had some effect—the creditors’ tempers cooled, and they returned to their seats to continue their verbal siege.

Su Youcai had come with a bellyful of questions for the mistress, but seeing the scene, realized words were pointless…

“Old man, what do we do?” Su Tai whispered. “She seems so pitiful.”

“Are we not pitiful?” Su Lu, fearing his father would weaken, quickly whispered, “Don’t let pity stop you from collecting. If you collect, don’t pity.”

“Autumn’s right,” Su Youcai agreed. “He Chengshi is no ordinary woman—worthy scholar’s daughter. In just moments, she’s used beauty, suffering, the empty fort strategy, and most importantly, the delaying tactic…”

“Really?” Su Tai stared, dumbfounded. “I didn’t notice any of that.”

“Autumn, explain to your brother,” Su Youcai prompted.

“Ah…” Truthfully, Su Lu hadn’t noticed either, but if his father said so, it must be true.

With nothing else to do, he explained each strategy to his brother.

“…‘Delaying tactic’ means stalling for time, hoping circumstances will turn in your favor.”

“Oh, I get it!” Su Tai exclaimed, enlightened. “She wants to drag things past New Year, so everyone’s less urgent, giving her a few months’ reprieve.”

“That seems right.” Su Lu nodded. After all, debt collection was most pressing at year’s end; afterwards, urgency faded.

“We stick to the plan,” Su Youcai whispered. “A dead camel is still bigger than a horse—she must have money hidden away, enough to repay us at least. But with so many wolves and so little meat, it’s useless to show it now. So, we need to drive the others away. When only we remain as creditors, watch your father’s true skill!”

“Mm!” Both sons nodded fervently, gazing at him with admiration—this man was truly reliable.

Su Youcai kept his word. He immediately sent his sons home to fetch bedding. While others clocked in and out, he and his sons moved in, taking up residence at He’s house.

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