Chapter 35: A Quarrel Over Weaning Between Mother-in-law and Daughter-in-law—A Family Meeting in Support of the Young Wife

At this moment, in the Wu residence on Copper Alley, Guyi Street, Hexia, little Cheng'en was already over two years old—he could speak and run about with ease. Master Wu, who had always been lean and scholarly, cherished his late-born son with boundless affection. Though he doted on Cheng'en in every way, the hope of reviving the family's two-generation legacy of officialdom now rested solely on the boy's shoulders.

Wu Rui, courtesy name Tingqi, styled himself Lord Chrysanthemum. He always kept a tuft of beard on his chin, wore a square cap on his head, a long robe of gray bamboo cloth, and flat, rolled-brim black cloth shoes. This attire was the standard for Ming dynasty scholars; in Shanyang County, whether one was a child scholar or an advanced student, this was the expected garb.

Master Wu knew well that this outfit hardly befitted the status of a shop owner, but no one's persuasion could shake his resolve. His somewhat threadbare appearance caused many on Guyi Street to point and laugh behind his back, calling him a fool.

Even more laughable, perhaps, was the signboard above his shop, which declared: “Honest trade for young and old, fixed prices, no credit.” Madam Xu, his wife, had scolded him countless times for this. He would sit idly in the shop, leaving all customers to his staff, his gaze full of bewilderment, and his household arranged in ways quite unlike others.

But who could truly understand Master Wu’s heart? In time, it would be Cheng'en who would especially comprehend and feel for him...

As a scholar, Master Wu always dwelled in a world of his own. He would often dream of hurrying to the provincial exams, carrying his exam basket, sitting for the imperial tests; once, he even dreamt he passed and became a successful candidate, only to awaken in tears, his face buried in his hands.

He could never forget how his father died while serving in Hangzhou, forcing him and his mother to return in disgrace and live at the mercy of others. To this day, he still recalled his mother, thick-skinned and humble, washing clothes for wealthy families, patching and mending to eke out a living. He would often think, if only his father had not passed, he and his mother would not have returned to this old town by the river, but would instead have enjoyed the idyllic life in the famed southern cities of Suzhou and Hangzhou.

Fate had played a monumental joke on Wu Rui, teaching him the cruel whims of destiny. Sitting in his shop, reading and recalling the past, Master Wu now felt that ever since little Cheng'en had joined the family two years ago, it was as if heaven itself had bestowed a blessing upon them. He wore a perpetual smile, and the entire Wu household treated the young master as a national treasure.

Master Wu deliberately introduced Cheng'en to the classics of the sages, even though it was still early. The pains he had suffered for the sake of learning in his youth compelled him to lay plans ahead of time.

The child’s heart was already opening, and by Wu's observation, his son Cheng'en was gifted and bright, always eager to run and play with other children under the great tree across from the shop.

Meanwhile, after lunch, Young Master Shen, exhausted from the morning, was yawning. The thoughtful young mistress exchanged a glance with Xiaoling, who promptly went to prepare the young mistress’s room. Young Master Shen then retired for a nap.

"Mother, I'm going to the pharmacy," the young mistress said, handing Kun'er to Madam Shen after her husband had gone to rest.

"Daughter-in-law, why are you going to the pharmacy for no reason?" Madam Shen asked with concern.

"I'm going to buy some malt," the young mistress replied.

Madam Shen frowned. "What do you need that for?" A sense of foreboding crept over her.

"I'm preparing to wean Kun'er," the young mistress said firmly.

"What? Daughter-in-law, Kun'er has just turned one, and you already want to wean him? His father nursed until he was three or four..." Madam Shen exclaimed sharply.

"Mother, it’s not that I’m hard-hearted, nor for any other reason," the young mistress replied, moving closer to stroke her son's head. "I've read Western medical books. Children can be weaned at a year old, since by then breast milk provides little nutrition. This is the time to begin eating solid food."

"Daughter-in-law, there's no use arguing, I won't allow you to wean him now. In my day, every child nursed until four or five, sometimes even longer," Madam Shen insisted, her face turning stern.

"Kun'er is tired too, look, his eyelids are drooping. Mother, let's rest," the young mistress said, knowing further words were pointless. She took her son back to the room without another word.

Madam Shen, taken aback by her daughter-in-law's sudden resolve, felt deeply unsettled. Only this morning, her grandson had delighted everyone by choosing writing utensils at his first birthday ceremony, making the master beam with joy. At lunch, the old master had drunk himself tipsy and was probably napping by the clearwater pool by now.

This daughter-in-law was wonderful in every way, yet why was she suddenly intent on weaning Kun'er? What could she be thinking? No matter how she pondered, Madam Shen could not understand. Of course, at her age, she could hardly grasp how her daughter-in-law’s determination to wean might be connected to her beloved grandson; their views inevitably differed, what modern people would call a generation gap.

Little Shen Kun fell asleep at his mother’s breast, cooing softly, while the young mistress, holding him in her arms, reflected on her earlier disagreement with her mother-in-law. At the moment, she was at a loss, but she knew that only when the two men of the Shen family sat down together could they come to a decision.

With this settled in her mind, the young mistress gently rocked Kun’er, and mother and son drifted off together into a sweet dream.

“The master of the Shen household has passed the imperial exam!” Suddenly, a swift horse appeared at the mouth of the alley, heading toward the Shen residence; the official atop the horse held aloft the royal proclamation.

“Heavenly grace, truly imperial favor!”

“Kun’er has become the top scholar!” The family erupted with joy, setting off firecrackers that echoed through the ancient town of Hexia...

The young mistress cried out, “Shen Wei, our son has become the top scholar!”

“Wake up, wake up!” The young mistress felt someone shaking her, and slowly opened her eyes—it was Young Master Shen rousing her from sleep.

“What do you mean, top scholar? You were dreaming nonsense again,” he said.

The young mistress glanced at the child beside her, recalling the vivid scenes from her dream. Excitedly, she declared, “My son will surely become the top scholar one day.”

“Yes, yes, he will!” Young Master Shen laughed as he got out of bed. He went to the well by the kitchen to draw water and wash his face, the coolness refreshing him.

Old Master Shen was at the public bath by the clearwater pool, savoring pears from Dangshan, their sweet juice a delight. Ancestors’ blessings seemed to ensure the family line would continue. His beloved grandson had stolen his heart; every day upon returning home, he would call for the boy, who would totter toward him, eyes fixed on his loving grandfather, undeterred by any obstacle.

Now, Old Master Shen truly understood the special bond between grandparents and grandchildren. Once he was refreshed and neatly dressed, he hummed a little tune as he made his way home. Suddenly, he heard the sound of boats in the southern canal, so he turned south, heading for the imperial dock at the entrance to the ancient town.

By now, the sun had shifted westward from its zenith. The cicadas in the thick trees droned on, their unending chorus intensifying the summer heat.

Climbing the steps, a cool river breeze swept over him. Old Master Shen stretched out his arms, embracing the gift of the canal.

The ancient town of Hexia, lying by the Grand Canal outside Shanyang City in Huai’an Prefecture, could trace its history back two and a half millennia, to the era when King Fuchai of Wu first ordered the canal to be dug. The northern terminus of the canal, once called Mo Kou, is now known as Hexia.

With his back to the sun, Old Master Shen gazed north. The millennia-old town of Hexia was spread before him, its ancient architecture nestled amid verdant greenery, and to the west, the pagoda of Wensi Temple soared into the clouds.

“I should go and pay my respects to the Buddha,” Old Master Shen murmured to himself.

To know what happens next, stay tuned for the following chapter.