The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

"For seven days, she went out before dawn every day and did laundry until the moon was high in the sky. She sewed and mended clothes for others, stitch by stitch, until her eyes were red, and exchanged a few copper coins to buy medicine for Dong Ge. Dong Ge was weak and had a cough all year round, so she ran all over the pharmacies in Junzhou City, she almost kowtowed to them."

"On the seventh night, I finally mustered up the courage and drew my knife."

Han Qi's tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed into the blood.

"She saw the knife in my hand and froze for a moment. I thought she was going to scream, run away, or kneel down and beg for mercy. But she did nothing."

"She just held Dong Ge tightly in her arms, turned around, and faced away from me."

She said, "Sir, I know you came on his orders. I don't blame you. Stab me from behind with the knife, but don't let Dong-ge see. He's still young, don't let him remember these things."

Han Qi suddenly slammed his head into the ground, his forehead instantly splitting open, blood mixed with mud seeping into the snow.

"I held the knife for half an hour, my hands shaking like a leaf. She didn't urge me, she just held the child, her back to me, and didn't move."

"Then she turned around and glanced at me. That glance... I'll never forget it in my life."

She said, "Sir, are you in a difficult position too? Why don't you... let us go? I can tell you come from a poor background. Good people... shouldn't do such wicked things."

She handed me the cornbread she was holding and said, "Eat a bite, so you'll have the strength to walk a long way."

Han Qi was already sobbing uncontrollably.

"I ate half of that cornbread. Then I knelt down and kowtowed three times to her. I said, 'Sister-in-law, in this life, you are the only family I recognize.'"

Wang Zhonghua remained silent for a long time.

He recalled Qin Xianglian from the opera—beating the drum before Bao Zheng to plead her case against her unfaithful lover, every word dripping with blood and tears. But in the opera, she was ultimately just a symbol, a pitiful woman abandoned.

The Qin Xianglian before me is different.

She didn't come to seek justice from Chen Shimei. She didn't even think about seeking justice. She just wanted to live, wanted Dongge to live, and wanted her child to grow up to be an upright person.

She doesn't want justice, she doesn't want compensation, she doesn't want any of those empty platitudes.

All she wanted was a bite to eat, a piece of clothing, and a dose of medicine.

This is the real Qin Xianglian.

She wasn't a virtuous woman from a play, nor a resentful wife from a legend; she was simply a mother who, in a chaotic world, risked her life to protect her child.

"Han Qi," Wang Zhonghua's voice was hoarse, "you took them, mother and child, and hid in the mountains for half a year?"

"Yes." Han Qi wiped his face. "I dare not live in the city, for fear that Chen Shimei will send people again. I found a cave and go out to do odd jobs every day to exchange for some food. Qin Xianglian sews and mends clothes in the cave and teaches Dong Ge to read."

"You can read?" Wang Zhonghua was taken aback.

Han Qi nodded: "She said that if you can't read, you'll be blind your whole life. She taught Dong Ge to recognize the character for 'person,' saying that the two strokes of the character support each other so that it can stand up. She taught Dong Ge to recognize the character for 'home,' saying that the top is a roof and the bottom is a pig. There is a home only when there is a pig, but the most important thing about a home is not the pig, but the people inside."

He gave a wry smile: "I've learned a few characters too. Qin Xianglian said that if I can read, I can find a decent job in the future and won't have to be someone's tool anymore."

Wang Zhonghua's eyes welled up slightly.

He suddenly remembered a saying he had heard in his past life: True nobility is not about bloodline or wealth, but about the refinement in one's bones. A country woman, who couldn't even afford to eat, was teaching her child to recognize the character for "person" and how to be a person.

This is the woman Chen Shimei could never be worthy of.

"Where is Qin Xianglian now?" he asked.

Han Qi hesitated for a moment: "I was caught up in the chaos of war, in...in the city."

Wang Zhonghua immediately ordered his men to take food and go find it.

Before long, a thin woman carrying a child in her arms walked briskly over.

She was indeed "walking," not "running." Every step was steady and deliberate, as if she had trudged through the mud countless times, carving out her own path. Her winter coat was tattered, revealing the lace pattern, but it was meticulously starched and the collar was neatly trimmed.

The child in her arms looked about eight or nine years old—but Wang Zhonghua knew that Dongge was already fourteen. The child was skin and bones, his little face flushed red, but he was clean, even the crevices under his fingernails were clean. He huddled in his mother's arms, silent, only looking timidly at the people around him with his bright black eyes.

When Qin Xianglian saw Han Qi tied up, her face turned deathly pale. She didn't even have time to put down the child before collapsing to her knees with a thud. Her knees were on the ice, but she seemed not to feel the pain, only focusing on pulling the child tighter into her arms.

"General, you are wise! Master Han is a good man! If it weren't for him, my child and I would have been eaten by wild dogs long ago!"

She raised her head, her eyes clear as mountain spring water, without resentment or fear, only a simple, almost stubborn plea.

"These days in the city, Grandpa Han went to the docks to carry bags and to the coal yard to get us a hot bowl of soup. He himself hadn't had a proper meal in three days, but he used his hard-earned money to buy medicine for Dong-ge. He always said, 'The child shouldn't suffer'..."

She suddenly unbuttoned her clothes, revealing a faded red rope with half a jade pendant strung on it.

"This is a keepsake left by Master Han's mother. He said it was to ensure Dong Ge's safety. I dared not accept it, but he insisted on giving it to me, saying, 'My mother in heaven will be happy to see this jade on the child's body'... General, you can't kill such a good person!"

Wang Zhonghua stared at the half of the jade pendant, his heart aching.

He looked at Han Qi, whose face was still wet with tears, but he had a simple smile on his face, as if he would give up his life as long as Qin Xianglian and her child were safe.

"Han Qi," Wang Zhonghua's voice was hoarse, "disobeying orders is a capital offense, but protecting the innocent is a righteous act. I ask you—are you willing to atone for your crime by testifying against that beast Chen Shimei?"

Han Qi suddenly looked up, his eyes blazing with fury: "This sinner is willing! This sinner still has Chen Shimei's handwritten order. He was afraid I wouldn't be completely convinced, so he specially wrote a document saying, 'Kill Qin Xianglian and her son, and you will be richly rewarded after you've silenced them!' I, Han Qi, may not be literate, but I recognize that blood-red official seal!"

He pulled a strip of cloth wrapped in oiled paper from the tattered cloth close to his body and held it high above his head. The cloth was warm from his body heat, and the edges were frayed from being rubbed together—it was the evidence of his crime that he had wanted to tear up countless nights but dared not, and it was also the only proof that he "did not do wrong".

Wang Zhonghua took the strip of cloth and unfolded it.

The handwriting above is messy, yet every word is like a knife:

"Han Qi: Go to Junzhou immediately and kill Qin and her son to eliminate future troubles. If successful, you will be promoted to captain and rewarded with 500 strings of cash. Keep this secret. Written by Chen Shimei."

Below is a bright red official seal.

Wang Zhonghua's fingers trembled slightly. Not from anger, but because he had suddenly realized something—

Chen Shimei killed Qin Xianglian not to "silence" her. Qin Xianglian knew nothing about his affairs in Chenzhou; she didn't even know he had become a prince consort.

He killed her simply because he found her "in the way." A country woman and two country children were a stain on his reputation, a blemish on his otherwise splendid record. Wipe it away, and he'd be clean.

That's it.

"Qin Xianglian," Wang Zhonghua turned to her, his voice very soft, "do you know that Chen Shimei in Chenzhou... has already married a princess and made her his consort?"

Qin Xianglian was stunned for a moment.

She didn't cry, didn't curse, and didn't even show much surprise. She just lowered her head, looked at Dong Ge in her arms, and sighed softly.

"I know," she said.

Wang Zhonghua was stunned: "You knew?"

"I knew it a long time ago." Qin Xianglian's voice was calm, as if she were talking about something from a long time ago. "A few years ago, someone from the village came back from Chenzhou and said that he saw Chen Shimei on the street, wearing official robes, riding a tall horse, with a noblewoman by his side. When that person returned to the village, he went around saying that my husband had become a prince consort and didn't want me anymore."

She paused, a bitter smile appearing on her lips.

"I cried back then too. But after crying, I still had to live. Dong Ge needed to eat, my in-laws needed medical care, and the crops in the fields needed tending. What's the use of crying? Can crying bring people back?"

Wang Zhonghua remained silent.

"Actually," Qin Xianglian suddenly spoke, her voice even softer, "I stopped hating him a long time ago."

"You don't hate him?" Wang Zhonghua asked in surprise.

"Hating someone is exhausting." She looked up, her eyes still clear, but now bearing a hint of world-weariness. "My mother said, hatred is for others, suffering is for yourself. If I hate him every day, what will happen to Dong-ge? What will happen to my in-laws? Who will take care of the crops in the fields?"

She looked down at Dongge in her arms; the child was already asleep, with tear stains on his little face. She gently wiped them away with her sleeve, her movements as tender as if she were polishing a piece of porcelain.

"I only hate one thing."