Chapter 99: The Republican-Era Young Lady Stops Making a Fuss 10 – No One Used to Dote on Me

When Song Xuange had some free time, she planned to go to one of her family’s shops and pick out some fabric to make little clothes for the baby.

Though they were in the same department store, her family’s direct shop from the cotton mill was deserted, while not far away on the same floor, a general fabric store had a long line stretching out the door.

Song Xuange went into the shop, where the elderly shopkeeper was smoking a dry tobacco pipe and sighing heavily.

The smoke made her choke, and she started coughing.

The shopkeeper came back to his senses at once, hurriedly crushed out his tobacco, stood up, and came forward to greet her. “Miss, this way please.”

A quick-witted clerk immediately went to serve tea.

Song Xuange looked across at him. “What’s going on?”

At the mention of it, the shopkeeper started sighing again. “It’s those Japanese again. They don’t do business by the rules. Their machines are more advanced than ours, so they can spin better yarn faster, which brings their costs down. For the past two years, they’ve kept cutting the price of their cloth. We can’t lower our prices to match, so they’ve already stolen a great deal of our business. But who would’ve thought that wasn’t even the cruelest part? Recently, they slashed prices again. The public is scrambling to buy cloth, and shops like ours only get a bit of business from old customers we’ve had for decades. Otherwise, there’s almost nothing.”

In her previous life, Song Xuange had cared only about wallowing in her own feelings and mourning her love. She had never asked a single thing about business.

She knew even less that long before the full-scale war of invasion began, the Japanese had already started devouring this country by other means.

The Song Family’s businesses spanned multiple industries, and they only had one cotton spinning mill. Under this kind of price shock, they could still protect themselves for now. But as for the other cotton yarn businesses that depended on this for survival, she did not know whether they would be able to hold on.

After choosing the fabric she needed, Song Xuange returned home full of worry.

When He Dusheng came back, she studied him carefully, but his expression looked perfectly normal.

So she asked, “Has business been going smoothly lately?”

He Dusheng wiped his hands with the damp towel Ruixin handed him and replied casually, “Business is always the same old business. I’ve handled it all long enough. What could go wrong?”

After wiping his hands, he tossed the towel back into the basin and only then reached for her hand. “Just focus on your pregnancy and rest easy. Don’t let your imagination run wild. Has the little one been bothering you today? Are you still throwing up?”

Song Xuange knew right away that he had been hiding it from her all along.

She said directly, “I went to the fabric shop today.”

He Dusheng froze for a moment, then understood. With a light sigh, he pulled her over to sit down.

He asked her what she had seen.

Song Xuange told him everything.

He Dusheng sighed again. “I didn’t want you worrying. The shopkeeper was right. The Japanese dumping war¹ started two days ago, and it’s already crushed quite a few small spinning mills.”

“The Japanese are scheming like wolves. Is there really nothing that can be done? What does the Chinese Cotton Millowners’ Association say?”

“Their machines are better than ours. We can’t get our costs down, and we can’t raise our efficiency. We can’t afford a long-term price war. At the association, all we do every day is sit there and sigh at each other.”

“Then… what about Lu Zhu?” Song Xuange asked. “Didn’t you say her mechanical expertise is even better than the British?”

He Dusheng pondered for a moment. “I need to think about it some more.”

When He Dusheng was thinking, he liked to keep his hands busy.

After dinner, he brought out a basin of peanuts from the kitchen and used tweezers to peel them one by one.

Song Xuange liked peanut porridge, but she did not like the skins. Nanny Wen would usually boil the peanuts until they were half-cooked and easy to peel, remove the skins, and then put them back in the pot to finish cooking.

He Dusheng, however, was used to peeling them while they were still raw.

That way there was no need for a second round of work once they went into the pot.

At that moment, seeing him peeling them like this again, and doing a whole large basin at once, really was something.

Nanny Wen grew anxious the moment she saw it and quietly said to Song Xuange, “Miss, what kind of thing is this? You two pay me so much every month, but Sir keeps taking my work. It’s one thing for him to cook for you, but chores like this should be left to us servants. Taking this wage makes me feel guilty.”

Then she asked uneasily, “Is Sir dissatisfied with my work? Does he think I don’t do things well enough?”

“Don’t mind him. If he wants to do it, let him,” Song Xuange said. Seeing that Nanny Wen was still distracted, she hugged the fabric she had brought back. “If you really have nothing to do, you can help me cut some cloth.”

Nanny Wen touched the soft fine cotton. “Is it for a little young master?”

Song Xuange said, “How do you know it’ll be a little young master? It might be a little young miss.”

“Either is good, either is good,” Nanny Wen said. She gathered up the cloth in her arms. “But it won’t do to cut clothes from it just like this. I’ll wash it a few times and dry it in the sun first. That’ll make it even softer.”

With that, she happily carried the fabric away.

The gatekeeper came in and reported, “Sir, Miss, someone from the Wang Family of Dexing Cotton Mill has come. It’s the Wang Family’s young master.”

He Dusheng stopped what he was doing and had Ruixin carry away the plump white peanuts he had already peeled. Then he said to the gatekeeper, “Why haven’t you invited him in yet?”

The gatekeeper replied, “Sir, Young Master Wang refuses. He’s here to deliver funeral news.”

At those words, He Dusheng strode out at once.

Song Xuange followed behind him.

At the entrance of Song Mansion stood a boy of sixteen or seventeen.

Over his clothes, he wore a layer of fine mourning hemp² and stood blankly beneath the eaves.

When He Dusheng came out, the boy bent deeply at the waist and raised both hands over his head, presenting a pale white funeral notice³.

“This junior is Wang Xuelin of the Wang Family of Dexing Yarn Company. I have come on behalf of my late grandfather, Master Hechang, to deliver funeral notice.”

He Dusheng reached out, first supporting Wang Xuelin by the elbow and helping him straighten up before taking the notice.

“My condolences.”

Wang Xuelin straightened himself.

He Dusheng handed the notice to Song Xuange, who had come right behind him, and quickly asked, “Just a few days ago, I saw Old Master Wang at the Chinese Cotton Millowners’ Association office. He looked strong and healthy. How did it come to this so suddenly?”

Wang Xuelin’s eyes reddened again.

He called out, “Uncle He.”

Then his tears started falling again, dropping like beans.

“To be honest, Uncle He, Grandfather was driven to death. The Japanese have been dumping cloth at dirt-cheap prices. The mill’s goods are piling up and can’t be sold, and cash flow can’t keep up. Our family has already quietly sold off quite a few properties to fill the hole, but how could that ever be enough? The Wang Family may look glamorous on the surface, but in truth we’ve been running on fumes since the start of this year. Earlier today, the bank, the cotton farmers, and others all came to our door together demanding payment. Grandfather couldn’t catch his breath through it and just… passed like that. It happened only two hours ago.”

Song Xuange had only seen the queues for Japanese goods that morning. Who would have thought that by night, she would directly hear the disastrous news from a domestic cotton mill.

It was truly lamentable.

One had to know that Dexing Cotton Mill was no small operation. It was one of the top major mills in the Jiangnan region.

And yet the head of the household had actually been driven to his death.

That alone showed just how badly domestic goods had been crushed by foreign capital.

He Dusheng spoke gently with Wang Xuelin, then said at the end, “You walked all this way by yourself? I’ll have a car take you back.”

Wang Xuelin refused. “Thank you, Uncle He, but I still have to go to the homes of my other uncles to deliver the news of the death. I’ll be going now.”

He turned and left.

He Dusheng stood at the doorway for a moment, then still called for a car to be arranged.

He said to Song Xuange, “Old Mr. Wang Hechang treated me well when he was alive. I should go and have a look.”

Song Xuange went with him.

When they arrived at the street where the Wang Family lived, they saw quite a crowd gathered outside, noisy and clamorous.

At the center of the crowd, mourning decorations had already been hung over the Wang Family’s gate.

He Dusheng said, “It’s too chaotic. Stay in the car. Don’t get out.”

The situation was even worse than he had imagined. Someone had already died, yet the troublemakers still had not dispersed.

Song Xuange also had to think of the child in her womb, so this arrangement was the only choice.

“Be careful,” Song Xuange said worriedly.

He Dusheng took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it softly to reassure her. “Don’t worry.”

Before getting out of the car, He Dusheng also drew the window curtain so no one could see inside.

Song Xuange, meanwhile, pulled open a tiny gap to watch what was happening outside.

The men of the Wang Family were blocked at the entrance, not allowed in and not allowed out.

No wonder they had sent the youngest grandson out to report the death.

Judging by the voices, the noisy shouting was all demands for repayment.

“The cotton from the year before last wasn’t settled until a full year later, and as for last year’s cotton payment, there’s been no sign of it at all. Mr. Wang, it’s not that we’re trying to press you unfairly, but the cotton farmers earn every cent through hard labor. If you don’t pay us, all we can do is watch them go hungry.” From the sound of him, the speaker seemed to be a cotton merchant from somewhere.

As he spoke, another man in a suit stepped forward and said, “Mr. Wang…”

Mr. Wang looked utterly exhausted. “Manager Chen, it is true that my family has loans from the bank, but all of them are backed by collateral. Surely Manager Chen doesn’t think my Wang Family is about to run away?”

Manager Chen cupped his hands. “I am only here to remind you, Mr. Wang, that the title deeds on several pieces of land that were mortgaged are nearly due. If the accounts cannot be settled, then I too can do nothing.”

No sooner had one side finished than the other side took the stage.

The cotton merchants pressed even farther forward.

“Mr. Wang, we won’t even ask for the interest accrued during the delay. We only want the money for the cotton we sold. Give us a clear answer, when will you pay us?”

Mr. Wang said, “Every one of your accounts is recorded in the household books. It’s only that tonight we truly cannot produce that much cash. There is still quite a lot of stock in the cotton mill warehouse. If you’re in a hurry, you may take cloth in place of debt.”

“Who the hell wants that worthless cloth? We want money. Who doesn’t know domestic cloth is dirt cheap now? What can that possibly cover?”

“That’s right, pay us back!”

“Pay us back!”

Amid the shouting and shoving, someone in the crowd angrily threw something.

Just then, He Dusheng was pushing through the crowd. Seeing the object flying straight at Mr. Wang’s face, he reached out to block it and realized it was a smoking pipe still burning.

The rolled tobacco, with its bright sparks, brushed down against the outside of his left palm. He Dusheng was burned badly enough that he let go at once.

He shook his hand twice, then stood in front of the Wang Family and cupped his hands toward the crowd.

“I am He Dusheng of Fenglong Cloth Shop. My family also owns a cotton mill. I understand everyone’s hardship and anxiety better than most. But the Wang Family has suffered a calamity today. Their head has only just passed away. I hope that for the sake of your many years of ties with the Wang Family, you can show a little consideration. The dead deserve respect.”

The cotton merchant who had spoken first also cupped his hands toward He Dusheng. “It’s not that we’re cold-blooded, Mr. He. You saw it yourself just now. Dexing Cotton Mill owes not only us cotton merchants, but also the bank. Who knows how many properties they’ve already mortgaged away. If old Master Wang were still here, that would be one thing, but now… to be blunt, no one can say how many more days the Wang Family can hold on. So of course we have to seize the chance while it’s still worth at least a few pounds of scrap metal and collect the money owed to us.”

He Dusheng said, “The Japanese merchants are forcing this from the front, trying to seize the market entirely. This very scene today is exactly what they most want to see. On a larger scale, this is a matter of national importance. I ask you all to keep your eyes open and not fall into someone else’s trap.”

The crowd fell silent for a moment, but before long the uproar erupted again.

“We understand the principle well enough. But behind us are hundreds and thousands of cotton farmers and mulberry growers. They depend on these few silver dollars to eat. We can’t afford to think about anything else. Rather than trying to persuade us here, Mr. He, you ought to think about a way out for Fenglong Cloth Shop.” That last sentence was already quite rude.

He Dusheng said, “Even if you block this place, it will be useless if the Wang Family can’t produce the money.”

“Don’t they still have this residence? Don’t they still have furniture, factory buildings, machinery, and land? Which of those can’t be turned into money? It only depends on whether they’re willing to give it.” The cotton merchant sat down right on the ground. “We’ve already torn all pretense apart today, so let me make this clear. If we don’t get our money, we’re not leaving.”

The others followed suit.

He Dusheng looked at his watch.

Seeing this, Mr. Wang thanked him and asked him to head back.

But He Dusheng did not move. He remained standing there and did not waste words arguing with the debt collectors.

A few minutes later, a squad of uniformed police charged in.

The man leading them cursed as he came. “Where is it? I heard someone’s making trouble in front of the deceased in the middle of the night?”

The lead cotton merchant jumped up and cursed at Mr. Wang. “You play dirty.”

He Dusheng cut in, “Don’t wrongly blame Mr. Wang. I was the one who called the police. You simply would not listen to reason, so I had no choice but to resort to this.”

The policeman leading the group was obviously quite familiar with He Dusheng, and they worked together smoothly. The police hauled the troublemakers away one by one.

At the end, He Dusheng raised a hand. “I have one last thing to say. Given the special circumstances, I have offended many of you tonight, and for that I ask your understanding. As for Dexing Cotton Mill, I will not stand by and do nothing, and the Chinese Cotton Millowners’ Association will not ignore it either. Please give the Wang Family some time, at the very least enough to let them conduct the funeral in peace. I, He Dusheng, promise that within ten days, I will give every one of you an answer.”

The anger on the cotton merchants’ faces eased somewhat.

“I hope Mr. He will keep his promise.”

At last, peace returned outside the Wang Family residence. The Wang Family’s men stood in a row and bowed to He Dusheng.

He hurriedly helped them all back up.

The Wang Family invited him inside. He walked to the car door and knocked on the window. “I’m going in to offer Old Master Wang a stick of incense. I’ll be right back.”

Song Xuange tapped on the window from inside as well, indicating that she understood.

He Dusheng went in, and before long came back out. “Come on, we’re heading back.”

He got into the back seat. Song Xuange took his hand and saw that his palm was indeed red and swollen. On the outer edge of his palm was an irregular round patch, grayish white and hard to the touch. Clearly, the skin had been burned through.

Song Xuange’s heart ached for him.

But He Dusheng wrapped an arm around her, tucking his hand into his sleeve.

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t hurt.”

Song Xuange scolded him gently, “And you told me not to worry. You were gone for a moment and came back with your hand like this.”

“If I hadn’t stopped it, that pipe would’ve smashed into Mr. Wang’s face…” He paused and looked at Song Xuange’s expression.

“What are you looking at me for?”

He Dusheng suddenly smiled.

What did a wound like this amount to? When he was young, he had been bullied by others of his own clan. When he grew older and made a living out there, he had been pushed to the brink of death who knew how many times.

Even after taking over the Song Family business, he had entered halfway and had to win people over while dealing with open attacks and hidden schemes from every side. None of it had been easy.

Song Xuange had seen worse injuries on him before. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t. Back then, though, she had acted as if she hadn’t seen them.

And now, his young lady, his Xuange, his wife, was carefully cradling his hand, her fingertips lightly brushing the edge of the wound, afraid of hurting him. There were even tears gathering in her eyes.

His heavy gaze fell on her lowered lashes. His throat tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

The corners of his lips lifted, and so he smiled.

“And you’re still smiling with an injury like this.” Song Xuange was genuinely getting angry. She felt this man simply didn’t know how to take care of himself, and on top of that he was acting inexplicably strange.

He Dusheng suddenly called out, “Xuange.”

“Hm?”

“It hurts…” His brows drew together faintly as he stared fixedly at her.

It hurt.

It hurt badly.

So badly that his chest turned sour and soft.

Song Xuange was wholly focused on his injury and completely unaware of the look in the eyes of the man beside her. Hearing him say it hurt again, she was so annoyed she almost wanted to hit him.

In an irritated tone, she said, “Didn’t you just stubbornly insist it didn’t hurt?”

He didn’t answer her.

She raised her eyes to look at him and saw how deep his gaze was, clinging to her as though he wanted to take her in whole, tuck her into his eyes, and carry her into his heart.

He smiled at her again.

Pressing his lips together, blinking once, he actually looked aggrieved.

“Xuange, it really hurts.”

He Dusheng kept looking at her, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Before, no one cared whether I hurt, so I never knew what pain was. Now I’ve suddenly realized that someone does ache for me, and so I’ve learned what cold, warmth, and pain in this world feel like.”

Song Xuange froze, and then her throat tightened.

She thought of the past.

She thought of his blood-soaked legs beneath the Japanese artillery fire.

Back then, he hadn’t cried out in pain even once.

So it wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to. It was that she hadn’t cared.

Now, things were different!

She reached out and, to his astonishment, cupped his head and pulled him into her arms. Her fingers slid through the man’s coarse hair, rubbing the back of his neck, then patting him softly as she comforted him. “If it hurts in the future, you have to tell me.”

Against her chest, He Dusheng’s muffled voice sounded out. “Okay.”

Every time she thought of the past, it hurt her terribly. Song Xuange held him and refused to let go.

She could only hear the man’s breathing gradually grow heavy and rough.

Today, Song Xuange was wearing a silk qipao.

The summer fabric was thin. His breath passed through the material and fell directly over her chest.

Song Xuange’s breathing deepened for a moment.

Just as she was about to let him go, she suddenly felt a bite on the tip of the softest part there.

And he still wasn’t satisfied. The man even took it into his mouth and began to suck and savor it.

Her lower belly tightened.

In an instant, an indescribable sensation spread through all four limbs, and she went weak, collapsing limply against the seat. Yet her arms tightened even more around He Dusheng.

At that moment, she suddenly remembered when this qipao had been made, when the old tailor had helped her choose the fabric.

When they came to this one, the old tailor had praised it to the skies.

He had said this fabric was a new arrival that year and was especially beloved by ladies and young misses.

Not only was it suitable for making qipaos, it could also be used for sleepwear.

The fabric was soft and close against the skin. In summer, wearing it felt almost like wearing nothing at all, wonderfully cool and light.

At the time, she had assumed the old tailor was simply trying to sell the shop’s expensive fabric and hadn’t thought much of it.

She had only chosen it because she rather liked the pattern.

And now, that little memory had been dug back up.

Song Xuange could only say that the old tailor really hadn’t exaggerated.

This fabric truly felt like nothing on the body. She was more than qualified to testify to that.

“Mmm…”

At a loss, she grabbed hold of the roots of his hair.

Translator’s Notes

• dead is paramount: A translation of the idiom ‘死者为大’ (sǐzhě wéi dà). It implies that the deceased should be treated with the utmost respect and that their funeral rites should take precedence over all other matters, including financial disputes.