Yang Shi fell hard onto the ground, nearly losing her breath from the impact.
In a panic, she reached out and yanked the hair of the woman in front of her, causing the woman to let out a sharp scream of pain.
Luckily, someone nearby was quick to react and caught the woman before she fell, but even so, a whole lock of hair was torn right out by Yang shi, exposing a bald patch the size of a fingernail on her scalp.
That woman was the wife of Zhang the butcher from the village, a famously fierce and unreasonable woman. If a cucumber went missing from her vegetable garden, she could scold it for two whole hours without stopping.
Now, seeing that it was Yang Shi who had pulled her hair and that Yang Shi was still sitting on the ground baring her teeth and cursing without so much as an apology, the expression on Zhang's wife's face instantly darkened.
With her hands on her hips, she spat viciously at Yang Shi's powdered, glossy face. "You black-hearted, horse-faced wretch! Can't even stand steadily on your own two feet and end up falling like a sack of potatoes, and yet you dare pull my hair? You deserve a bad end, you hear me…"
Yang Shi wiped the spit from her face with one hand, howled angrily, and clutching her aching back, she climbed up from the ground.
Without a word, she planted her hands on her hips, bent her back like a wild, crazed cow, and lowered her head before charging straight at Zhang's wife's stomach like a mad bull!
"Aiyo!"
Zhang's wife let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered, her eyes rolling back from the pain. Regaining her senses, she reached out and grabbed a fistful of Yang Shi's hair in retaliation.
The two women instantly tumbled together in a chaotic heap on the ground in the Yang family's courtyard, rolling around and clawing at each other, all while cursing at the top of their lungs.
Meanwhile, the instigator of all this—Yang Ruoqing—had already squeezed her way into Sun Shi and her father Yang Huazhong's room.
The room was crowded with people as well, but compared to the chaos outside, it was relatively quiet here. No one dared make a sound as they all focused on the diagnosis of Uncle Fu, who sat by the bedside.
Yang Ruoqing quietly moved to a corner of the bed, standing behind Sun shi. Her gaze landed on the man lying on the bed, her lips pressed tightly together.
Her father, Yang Huazhong, was lying there motionless, his eyes tightly shut. The blood on his face had been wiped off somewhat, and the wounds on his feet had been treated, now wrapped up thickly like giant dumplings. Uncle Fu was still examining other parts of his body.
Old Yang, along with Fifth Uncle Yang Huazhou and Eldest Uncle Yang Hua'an, were craning their necks by the bedside. Tan Shi sat on a long bench off to the side, supported by two village women, her face streaked with tears.
Sun Shi's tears wouldn't stop flowing either, but she didn't dare cry aloud. She covered her mouth tightly with her hand, eyes fixed desperately on Uncle Fu.
Yang Ruoqing glanced at everyone, then focused back on the bed.
By now, the sun was setting, and the lighting in the room was already poor. With so many people crowding in, Yang Huazhong's face, covered in blood and mud, couldn't clearly show his complexion—making it hard to judge his condition from appearance alone.
Fortunately, from her angle, Yang Ruoqing could see that the village doctor, Uncle Fu, was gently pressing along Yang Huazhong's legs. The old man's expression didn't look good.
Yang Ruoqing's heart sank. Could it be that although his life was saved, he might be left crippled?
As feared, just as that thought crossed her mind, Uncle Fu finished his examination, stood up, and after thinking for a moment, addressed the gathered members of the Yang family at the bedside:
"Brother, your third son is very fortunate—he's managed to keep his life. In a bit, have your fifth son come with me to fetch two sets of medicine from my place. He's lost a great deal of blood this time, and blood is the foundation of the human body. You'll need to cook him something nourishing to help him recover, otherwise it might leave lasting damage."
"Yes, yes, of course," Old Yang quickly nodded in agreement. "But aside from that, my third son—there's nothing else serious, right?"
Uncle Fu paused, his expression suddenly becoming grave. His gaze drifted to Yang Huazhong's legs, and his brows furrowed deeply as he spoke in a low voice: "I'm afraid… your third son's legs—are going to be crippled!"
The first half of Uncle Fu's words made Old Yang and Sun breathe a sigh of relief. But the second half that followed was like a bucket of ice water poured over their just-warmed hearts, dragging them back into despair!
Sun Shi couldn't take the blow. Her eyes rolled back, and she slid right off the stool.
Fortunately, Yang Ruoqing reacted quickly and caught her, or else Sun Shi's forehead would've smashed into the ground, surely splitting open a bloody gash.
No one had the heart to care about Sun Shi at the moment. The room was filled with heavy sorrow, and Tan Shi's wailing cries rose again, mournful and drawn out.
Yang Ruoqing struggled to hold Sun Shi steady, her own heart weighed down heavily as well. Her gaze fell on Yang Huazhong's legs, and she thought to herself—most likely the cart had rolled over his legs, crushing the bones and tendons beneath.
Given the limited medical skills of this ancient era, Yang Huazhong's ever standing on his own feet again... was slim to none!
At that moment, Old Yang, worthy of being the family patriarch, though his complexion was pale, still forced himself to ask Uncle Fu, "Is it one leg… or both?"
"Both."
"Truly… no hope at all for recovery?" Old Yang pressed on.
Uncle Fu sighed deeply. "If this were one of those rich, powerful lords in the county, perhaps there'd still be a forty percent chance. But for us poor peasants here in the countryside… ai…"
He didn't finish the sentence. Shaking his head, Uncle Fu got up and began packing away his medicine box, ready to leave the room.
...
The news of the Yang family's third son breaking both his legs, becoming a cripple who would spend the rest of his life in bed, unable to take care of even his own bodily needs, spread from one end of Changping Village to the other in the time it took for everyone to eat their evening meal. It had already become the main topic of conversation at nearly every dinner table in the village.
In the Yang family's backyard, the air felt oppressively heavy, like a massive stone pressing down on everyone's chest, making even breathing feel difficult.
A waning moon hung in the treetops. It should've been time to light the stove for dinner, but the Yang family's kitchen remained cold and dark. Except for the rooms where Yang Huazhong and Old Yang with Tan Shi stayed, every other room in the house was pitch black.
When Yang Ruoqing pushed open the door to Yang Huazhong's room, all she could see in the dim, shabby space was him lying stiffly on the bed, eyes closed, still unconscious.
Sun Shi sat on a small stool at the bedside, head lowered, quietly wiping away tears.
On the old, paint-stripped table by the bed, a flickering oil lamp cast its weak glow, barely illuminating a patch the size of a sieve. The rest of the room was swallowed in deep shadows.
Sun Shi wasn't sure if she was simply exhausted from crying or if it was the heavy burden weighing on her mind, but she didn't even notice Yang Ruoqing until she was standing right in front of her.
"Qing'er, it's so late at night. Why aren't you lying in bed? What are you doing here?" Sun Shi asked, her voice hoarse and raspy, barely sounding like her own.
"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to come and see how Dad's doing," Yang Ruoqing softly replied.
Standing by the bed, she carefully examined the man lying there—his lips pale, his face bruised and battered. A faint crease appeared between her brows.
The injuries were truly severe. Never mind the two legs that were likely ruined—even just based on the trauma and blood loss he'd suffered, it would take a long time of careful nursing before Yang Huazhong would even begin to recover his strength.
(End of chapter)