Chapter Sixty-three: The Di Family

At dawn, the news spread among the common folk like wildfire. The joy was palpable, greater than during the New Year’s celebrations; people rushed about, sharing the news, clapping their hands in delight. Some snack shops began giving away steamed buns, and other businesses offered discounts or gifts. Smiles that had long vanished returned to countless faces.

The thoughts of the people were simple: an evildoer had been punished—none other than a member of the notorious Wu family. Whether the matter touched them personally or not, they opened their hearts and laughed freely for once. Some, especially those who had suffered, even set off firecrackers. Still, few dared to be too obvious; the firecrackers were always let off under some pretense. Yet all who heard them felt vindicated and uplifted.

The reputation of Lord Di Ying soared to new heights, gradually spreading throughout the land. Yet, for Di Ying himself, these things seemed to matter little—or perhaps, they did have some effect. More and more people came to him with their grievances, and, in the shadows, others watched him like a pack of wolves, eyeing him and the people of the Di household.

The rule that calamity should not touch one’s family was but a saying, only observed by those who still possessed morals, boundaries, and conscience.

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As the sky grew light, Grandmother Di, now in her fifties, rose from bed. Like Grandfather Di, both were robust and healthy. Since their second grandson, Di Ying, began studying medicine, he had always worked to maintain their health. Now that the family had moved to the capital and settled into a grand mansion, the sudden absence of farm work left them restless and a little uncomfortable.

After Grandmother Di, Grandfather Di awoke, washed, and stood idly in the courtyard. Grandmother Di called to him, “Old man, go call Da Lei and build a chicken coop together. It’s strange getting up so early with nothing to feed.”

Grandfather Di agreed, but paused to ask, “We haven’t bought chickens yet. How big should the coop be? Should we get some ducks and geese too? There’s water everywhere here, and a big flower pond as well. But I wonder if keeping and slaughtering poultry is heavily taxed in the capital?”

“Buy fewer chickens, then. Ducks and geese can forage in water, but chickens can’t. There’s nowhere to cut grass in the city; we can’t feed them grain. Taxes shouldn’t be high, not under the imperial city walls. Have Miao lead Yi Lan and Yi Mei around the estate to collect grass for the chickens. When the ducks and geese start laying, we’ll sell the eggs and pay the taxes,” Grandmother Di replied.

The elderly couple had only one surviving son, Di Jing, who, after marrying Lady Chang, had three sons and a daughter. The eldest, Di Lei, was now twenty-four. He’d married at sixteen, taking Lady Xu as his wife, and had a son, Di Yi Ying, now eleven, diligently studying every day. Lady Xu had also borne Di Lei twin daughters, Di Yi Lan and Di Yi Mei, now nine years old.

The third son, Di Hui, aged eighteen, had also married at sixteen, to Lady Shen, and they had a son, Di Yi Hao, just over a year and a half old. Their only daughter, Di Miao, fourteen, was about to be betrothed when the family moved to the capital. Di Ying took charge of arranging her marriage. The entire Di household deferred to Di Ying’s decisions—even Di Lei and Di Hui had their matches chosen by him.

Though Lady Xu and Lady Shen came from humble backgrounds, their diligence, virtue, and kindness made the Di family harmonious and united. Di Ying had always insisted that any marriage within the family required his approval. At first, the family thought it mere childishness—he was the “clever one,” so they listened to him. But after seeing the good character of Lady Xu and Lady Shen, and with Di Ying’s official rank rising ever higher, all major family matters were entrusted to him.

Di Miao’s marriage was postponed, so she helped with farm work and looked after her nephews and nieces. Grandmother Di assigned the grass-cutting to Di Miao and the girls because they were used to such tasks. Yet, in the meticulously managed estate, where could they find wild grass to cut?

Where could they cut? Di Miao, with Yi Lan and Yi Mei, carrying little bamboo baskets, wandered the grounds until they reached the base of the estate wall. Suddenly, they heard clucking. Looking up, an old hen flew in from outside the courtyard. Di Miao hurriedly shielded the two girls and retreated.

But the hen, upon landing, did not stand up but flapped its wings and circled about. Looking closely, they saw its legs were bound with fine grass rope.

What was this?

Di Miao frowned, still protecting the girls. Her second brother had always said: ill-gotten gains must not be accepted, nor coveted; anything of unknown origin must be avoided. Clearly, this hen had been tossed in by someone with ulterior motives.

What could they be plotting? Di Miao couldn’t figure it out, and wondered if she should throw the chicken back out. But before she could decide, more things began to be thrown in from different spots outside the courtyard. Most were roosters and hens—some had wings and legs bound, others only their legs. Some items were wrapped in oiled paper, their contents hidden. Even a large fish was thrown in, which landed on the grass, mouth opening and closing, gasping.

Di Miao stared, speechless. She gathered Yi Lan and Yi Mei and quickly left to find Grandmother Di and report the matter. As they entered the main hall, they heard the steward announcing, “Madam, the archway outside the estate gate is crowded with baskets and hampers brought by the townsfolk. All sorts of eggs, melons, fruits, vegetables. They leave them and go, impossible to stop, refusing to answer questions. How should we handle these things?”

Di Miao’s crescent eyes curved in delight. She understood what had been thrown outside—it was all gifts, and her worries faded.

When Yi Lan heard the steward, she let go of her aunt Di Miao’s hand, hurried into the main room, and asked Grandmother Di, “Great-grandmother, are these all like before, gifts from people thanking Second Uncle?”

Since the Di family moved to the capital half a month ago, gifts had arrived sporadically. Di Ying had instructed that they should accept them, and return slightly more valuable and practical items. If someone brought a basket of eggs, the Di family would reciprocate with a sack of grain, a bolt of cloth, or a piece of meat. Half of the hundred gold coins bestowed by His Majesty had been used for this purpose.

Yet today, the gifts were especially abundant, no longer brought to the door, and no longer expecting a return—they were left behind or tossed over the wall, and the donors vanished. Grandmother Di was troubled. Stroking Yi Lan’s twin buns, she asked, “Since you’ve guessed, what should we do?”