MW CH14

Chapter 14: How Absurd, How Ironic

Chunna heard me out, her lips twitching up into a shy smile.

Seeing her finally crack one, I stood, beckoning Kun Hongtu along.

“Bro, what’re you up to?” He tagged behind obediently.

“Watching the show.” I crept to a window on the house’s side, peeking half my face in.

Kun Hongtu mimicked me, squatting below, just his eyes poking up.

Winter kept the windows shut; voices dulled through glass, but the folks inside were loud enough—no strain to hear.

“You wanna arrest me? Go ahead! I took the dowry—ain’t giving it back!” Across from the window sat a rugged guy, thirties or forties, face full of grit, looking like trouble.

“Meng En, Chunna’s only thirteen—what’s the rush? You’ve got cattle, horses, a small family—can’t afford one daughter?” Nie Peng sat by the window, voice hoarse from earlier shouting.

“Her mom died early. I raised her through hell—why’d I hurt her?” Meng En shot Nie Peng a glare. “What’s school for a girl? Look at Yunduo—educated, got wild, ran off with some Xia guy, never came back. Chunna’s marrying anyway—early or late, what’s the difference?”

Nie Peng cut him off, hand raised. “One thing’s one thing. Yunduo’s Yunduo, Chunna’s Chunna—don’t lump ‘em together. You won’t hear me, fine—Pinjia’s word you’ll take, right? Let Pinjia judge this.”

Both turned to the silent figure at the head. My eyes followed.

On a wide cot padded with wool, Mochuan leaned against a low table, fingers tapping a plastic cup—on, off, on, off.

Tea leaves swirled with each tap. His lashes dipped, lost in thought. Nie Peng called twice before he slowly looked up.

His gaze slid over Nie Peng, landing on Meng En. One second blank, the next a gentle smile curved his lips. “Return the dowry. Do what fits her age—school matters more now.”

He’d zoned out, yet caught every word.

“No way!”

Meng En was a real Cenglu thorn—didn’t even heed Pinjia. Brows shooting up, he said he’d spent the dowry on livestock, gone for good. Force him, he’d hang himself at Deer King Temple.

Nie Peng slammed the table, livid, calling him lawless and godless—said the cops should haul him off.

“Take me then, if you’ve got the guts! Can’t I marry off my own daughter? Even the king of heaven’s got no say!” Meng En leapt from his stool.

They clashed again, words flying. Mochuan tried cutting in—failed—glanced away, annoyed. For maybe two seconds, he masked it with a sip of tea. If I hadn’t been fixated, I’d have missed it.

“Ah! Trouble!” Kun Hongtu shot up from his crouch. Mochuan, mid-sip, turned to the door.

Chunna stepped in, clutching a rusty sickle to her neck, tears streaking her face.

“I won’t marry—I’m going back to school!” she screamed at her father.

Kun Hongtu bolted. I went the other way—yanked the window open, hoisted myself over the sill, and flipped inside.

All eyes snapped to me—confusion, shock.

A glance at Nie Peng counted as a hello. No explanation—I zeroed in on the sobbing girl.

“Don’t do this. Let’s talk—put the blade down, okay?” I raised my hands halfway, harmless, inching closer.

She shook her head, gripping tighter, stepping back. In Cenglu, she yelled at Meng En, “Let me study, or I’ll die right here!”

Kun Hongtu loomed behind her—just a few steps to grab her, disarm her.

“You dare threaten me now? Lawless brat!” Meng En didn’t flinch at her death threat—got madder, pointing behind her. “Kun Hongtu, grab her!”

Chunna sensed it, dodging like a rabbit through the men, darting to the other side.

Shit!

I cursed inwardly, itching to sock Meng En.

Back to the wall, sickle on flesh, tears rolled off her chin, splashing the rusty blade—mixing red like blood tears, stark and chilling.

“Don’t push me…” she choked out.

“Try dying then! What’d I teach you? Daughters obey fathers—you disobey, you’re unfilial!” Meng En roared, lunging forward, goading her.

Her hands shook. “I was five when Mom died… I fed cows, chickens, swept the yard, did her chores. Then school—I’d wake before dawn, cook breakfast, go, come back, cook dinner, then homework. Unfilial? Disobedient? I just… don’t want to marry a stranger!”

Nie Peng snapped, “Your dad’s a real piece of work!”

“What’s that mean?” Meng En growled, ignored.

I feared she’d snap and cut herself—tried again. “Little sister, calm down. We’ll talk—drop the weapon. Anything’s fixable.”

I edged closer. Out of the corner of my eye, Mochuan set his cup down, rising.

“Look, Pinjia’s there—he’ll back you up.” I nodded toward him.

Mochuan caught my cue, donning his saintly bird mask again, nodding. “I’m here. No one can force you.” He stretched out a hand, approaching slow.

Pinjia held weight with Cenglu folk. His words steadied her—she even eased the sickle off her neck.

“Really?” Hope glimmered in her eyes.

“Really,” he pledged.

We closed in from both sides—victory near. Then Meng En’s coarse voice boomed again. “Why listen to her? That rusty thing can’t cut shit!”

He grabbed my shoulder to shove me aside, charging forward. Chunna, calming till then, panicked—screaming, flailing the sickle wild.

“No! Get away!” Eyes shut, she thrashed harder than before.

I shoved Meng En off, lunged, aiming to snatch the blade.

“Chunna! Chunna!” I tracked the slashing sickle, shouting her name—she didn’t hear.

“Watch out!” Kun Hongtu yelled behind me.

Before I could react, white filled my vision. A teal beiyun swayed on a back. For a few seconds, time slowed—only my breath, my pounding heart. A blink, and reality snapped back.

I looked up. Chunna’s eyes bulged, terror-stricken, her sickle stilled—rusty tip tinged red.

That red hit me. I spun to check Mochuan.

His right arm hung limp—sleeve torn, blood spreading from the gash. His face? Calm, indifferent—no hint of pain.

“Little sister, you actually cut him?” I reached for his sleeve, then hesitated—afraid to worsen it. My hands hovered, unsure.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to…” Just thirteen, she crumbled at the blood, bravado gone.

“Give it here.” Mochuan extended his good left hand, intent clear.

Chunna bit her lip, trembling like a leaf. “Sorry, Pinjia, sorry…”

She kept apologizing, handing over the sickle this time.

“I said I’ve got you—it’s fine.” Once in hand, Mochuan tossed it to Nie Peng, who’d rushed up, frantic.

Nie Peng eyed the dripping blood, panicked, barking in Xia, “Quick, quick—clinic, little bro! Leave this to me—go!”

I instinctively followed, dragging Mochuan to the door—though I had no clue where the clinic was.

“Look what you’ve done!” A loud slap rang out behind.

Then Kun Hongtu and Nie Peng’s voices tangled.

“Second Uncle, stop!”

“Why’re you hitting her? You scared her into this…”

Beside me, Mochuan sighed—long, not weary, but pissed. Very pissed.

He stopped. “No need to help me.”

I froze—you’re like this and still acting tough?—but before I could argue, he brushed me off.

Without a pause, he strode back to Meng En and slapped him—hard.

Silence fell. That crisp, brutal hit stunned everyone—Chunna covered her face, gawking.

Shit.

Second curse of the day.

He’d used his injured right hand—fingers dragging bloody streaks across Meng En’s cheek.

Then he seized Meng En’s collar, voice fierce. “Return the dowry. Send her to school tomorrow. Don’t defy me, don’t lie to me. If I hear you married her off, you and your clan lose the Mountain Lord’s grace forever. Divine punishment—this life ends badly, next you’re pigs and dogs.”

Cenglu believed in karma, rebirth—like Buddhism. This life’s deeds shaped the next; the Mountain Lord judged, assigned your fate. To me, an atheist, it’s noise—to Meng En, it’s thunder, earth cracking.

He hadn’t expected gentle Pinjia to rage like this—panicked, dropped to his knees. Kun Hongtu, same clan, paled and knelt too.

“No, no! I don’t wanna be pigs or dogs—I’ll return it, I swear! Pinjia, I was wrong, I was wrong…” Meng En, blood-smeared, clasped hands, begging—gone was the cocky brute.

I sighed. Law? He scoffed. Family? He ignored. Yet “next life as pigs and dogs” broke him—cowering, terrified.

How absurd, how ironic.