The north wind swept up fine snow, the bitter cold penetrated the bone. Pedestrians bustling to and fro on the main street tucked their necks low, hands tucked into their sleeves. Fan Changyu held a bone-chopping knife forged from dark iron, veins bulging on the back of her hand as she marched swiftly through the wind and snow.

At the entrance of the alleyway in the west of the city, a crowd of onlookers had already gathered. Cursings, sounds of smashing, words of persuasion, and the wailing of young children all tangled together.

Someone sharp-eyed spotted Fan Changyu and shouted, “Changyu is back!”

Seeing clearly the bone-chopping knife clutched in her hand, the crowd couldn’t help but gasp in cold breath.

“Is Changyu yatou really going to cross blades with her eldest uncle?”

“That’s because Fan Da is the heartless one. Fan Er and his wife aren’t even cold in their graves yet, and he’s already plotting to seize these orphan girls’ land and house to pay off his gambling debts. Isn’t he afraid Fan Er and his wife will come knocking in his dreams at night…?”

“Those folks from the gambling house are no soft-hearted people either. Just because Changyu’s a young girl holding a knife doesn’t mean she can scare them off…”

The front of the Fan family home was already a scene of absolute ruin. Broken jars, shattered pots, and overturned tables and chairs stretched all the way from the threshold into the house. A few burly, rough-built men were inside smashing furniture and tearing through belongings, while dirty bedding was unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

Changning was held tight in Auntie Zhao’s arms, crying her eyes out in sheer hysterics. Auntie Zhao’s eyes were bloodshot from crying as well, but she could only yell in vain, “Don’t smash it! Stop smashing!”

Yet no one listened to her.

Fan Da was bowing and scraping beside a man who looked like a gambling house manager, clutching one of his hands with a face plastered in full smiles: “Jin Yè, as long as I get my hands on the land title and transfer the deed at the magistrate’s office, this house will be mine. I’ll have the money to pay back my gambling debt, I have the money!”

The man called Master Jin (Jin Yé) didn’t even cast a proper glance at Fan Da, merely spitting out a sneer: “If we can’t find the land title today, I’ll chop off that hand of yours first to take back and report.”

Fan Da clutched his hand even tighter. “We’ll find it, we’ll definitely find it…”

From the entrance came a furious roar loud enough to set one’s eardrums throbbing: “Every last one of you, stop right there!”

This cry carried immense power, successfully causing everyone inside the house to turn their gazes toward the doorway.

That woman arrived wrapped in the full fury of the wind and snow, her eyes as cold as the bright snow-shining edge of the bone-chopping knife in her hand. Even the lintel framing the sliver of sky outside seemed to shrink in her presence.

The moment Changning saw Fan Changyu, her mouth puckered and she burst into tears: “Ah Jie…”

Catching sight of Fan Changyu, Fan Da’s eyes darted evasively. He stood stooped beside the gambling house manager, not daring to utter a sound.

Master Jin, the gambling house manager, merely squinted at the butcher’s knife in Fan Changyu’s hand and let out an indifferent laugh: “Oh, if it isn’t Fan Da Guniang.”

Fan Changyu swept her cold gaze across the ruined room, her face pulled dead tight: “Take your men and get the hell out of here!”

Master Jin lifted his eyelids, as if finding her—a mere orphan girl—a bit too arrogant. “The gambling house acts strictly according to the rules. Fan Da says this house is his, and the gambling house is only responsible for taking the land title to offset his gambling debts. As for your own family matters, the gambling house has no business interfering.”

Fan Changyu’s blade-like gaze pierced toward Fan Da: “This house is yours?”

Fan Da was too guilty to look Fan Changyu in the eye, trying instead to play the emotional card: “Da Zhinǚ, Da Bo was driven into a corner with no other way out. Da Bo owes the gambling house money, and if Da Bo doesn’t pay it back today, I’m going to lose one of my hands. Lao Er and his wife are gone, and you and Ningniang have no brother. In the future, when you marry, if you don’t want to be bullied by your in-laws, you’ll still need a brother from your maihouse family to back you up. Just help Da Bo out first, bring out the land title, and settle the debt for Da Bo. From now on, Da Bo will treat you and Ningniang like my own daughters, and your Tang Xiong will be your real brother. Once you’re married, you’ll have a maihouse home to rely on…”

Fan Changyu wasn’t about to listen to his utter drivel, sneering coldly: “If you want to use a house to offset your gambling debts, go use your own damn house! Using my family’s house to pay your debts—what kind of bullcrap logic is that? That gambler son of yours is built from the exact same cloth as you. It’ll be a miracle if he isn’t chased around to have his hands chopped off in the future, and you expect me to rely on him?”

Fan Da was shamed to the point of turning red in the face. Pointing at Fan Changyu, he said, “How can you be so vicious-hearted? Cursings your Tang Xiong like that? Your Tang Xiong still needs to discuss marriage! If our house is put up as collateral, what will he use to take a wife? You and Ningniang are just two useless wenches who will end up marrying out anyway, what are you keeping this house for?”

The term used here was 丫头片子 (yātóu piànzi), which I translated as ‘young lass’ in Chapter 1. Here, however, it carries a derogatory nuance, so I translated it as ‘wench’ instead.

Fan Changyu was so enraged that she laughed: “It’s what my parents left for me and Ningniang. It’s none of your damn business how I deal with it.”

Seeing that Fan Changyu was dead set against handing over the land title, Fan Da dropped the family card entirely, his ruthless nature laid bare: “Fan Er had no son! Now that he’s dead, even if we take this property and land to the magistrate’s office, it legally belongs to me. What is a wench who’s going to be married off fighting for? Are you going to fight to hand it over to your future husband’s family?”

“Could it be that after jinxing your parents to death and getting your betrothal broken by the Song family, you’re scared you won’t find a husband with the reputation of a calamity star, so you’re plotting to keep the family property as your own dowry? That sickly sister of yours has probably been jinxed by you to only have a few years left to live anyway! What suicidal fool would dare marry a calamity star like you?”

No one saw how Fan Changyu moved. By the time their eyes focused, that butcher’s knife in her hand had already been hurled out. The body of the blade shaved right past Fan Da’s ear, embedding itself heavily into the wall behind him, as a few strands of severed hair floated lightly down to the ground.

Fan Da was so terrified his face turned pale, his legs shaking like a sieve. His mouth hung open, but not a single sound could come out.

Master Jin, the gambling house manager, and the gang of thugs he brought had originally just been watching the show. Seeing this scene, they seemed to realize that the woman before them was a tough nut to crack, and their expressions couldn’t help but harhouse with a bit more seriousness.

Fan Changyu raised her eyes, staring dead at Fan Da: “The family property left by my parents is all meant for buying medicine and treating Changning’s illness. You’d better get the hell out of here right now with these gambling house people today, otherwise… the gambling house only wants one of your hands, but I’ll chop up your entire family before going down to meet my parents!”

“You!” Fan Da shivered violently. He felt his heart go numb under Fan Changyu’s gaze and didn’t dare look her straight in the eyes again, stammering: “Then… then let’s go to the magistrate’s office to talk sense, and see whether the magistrate awards this property to you or to me!”

Plastering on a smile and stooping low once more, he spoke to the gambling house manager who sat broadly astride a chair: “Jin Yé, you see how this is… could you perhaps grant me two more days of leeway?”

The gambling house manager sneered coldly: “Huixian Gambling house has no such precehouset for debt collection. If word gets out, people will think our gambling house is empty of men and can’t even collect a debt!”

He cast a cold glare at Fan Da: “Or would you prefer to use your right hand to settle the debt?”

Cold sweat dropped from Fan Da in an instant, and he said repeatedly: “No, no, but this wench…”

He stole a glance at Fan Changyu, his heart still trembling with fear.

The gambling house manager merely sneered: “As long as you’re certain the property is yours, the brothers I brought can just search for it directly.”

Compared to wanting one of Fan Da’s hands, he naturally preferred a house that could be converted into cold, hard cash. Master Jin turned to the gang of gambling house thugs and said: “What are you standing around staring for? Keep looking for the land title!”

The gang of thugs resumed turning chests upside down, rummaging through cupboards, and smashing things once more.

Fan Changyu gritted her teeth, her fists clenched until they popped and cracked.

Master Jin smiled: “Fan Da Guniang, don’t hold a grudge. The rules of the gambling house are simply like this.”

Auntie Zhao watched this scene, her heart burning with anxiety like a raging fire, yet as if sudhousely recalling something, she hurriedly turned to rush outside.

She went nowhere else, but squeezed through the crowd of onlookers at the entrance to bang on the door of the Song family home: “Song Yan! Fan Da brought people from the gambling house to Fan Changyu’s house to snatch the land title! You are a man who reads the books of sages, and Fan Er and his wife treated you far from poorly. For goodness’ sake, step out and say a word on Changyu’s behalf! You are a Juren Laoyé—no matter what, the gambling house will give you some face!”

读圣贤书 (Reading the books of sages): Referring to the Confucian classics studied by scholars. To "read the books of sages" carried a strict moral expectation of righteousness, gratitude, filial piety, and integrity.

Every neighbor along the entire alley knew that trouble had struck the Fan family, yet the Song family’s main doors alone remained tightly shut. No matter how Auntie Zhao slammed on the door until it rang to the heavens, not a single sound came from within.

Banging on the door to the very end, Auntie Zhao could no longer hold back her tears and burst out into harsh curses: “Song Yan, did you read all those books right into a dog’s stomach? When your old man died back then, you were so poor you couldn’t even afford a single coffin! Have you forgotten who bought that coffin to bury your father? Aren’t you afraid your old man’s bones will be crushed beneath that coffin down in the underworld?!”

Auntie Zhao’s voice was sharp and wretched, her cursing loud enough for the entire alley to hear.

Separated only by a single door, Mother Song trembled with rage: “That spiteful shrew who lacks all verbal virtue! You’ve already annulled the betrothal with that Fan family girl. Their family’s mess of a situation has what on earth to do with you? I simply must go out there and give that shrew a piece of my mind!”

The person who had been stooped over his desk reading books all this time finally spoke up, calling out: “Mother.”

Only then did Mother Song freeze in her tracks: “Forget it, forget it. That wicked woman just wants to drag our family down into the mud. If I go out there, I’ll be falling right into her trap! Yan Ge’er, don’t you go out either. You are a man set to take the imperial civil service exams and win official rank, do not get involved with that family ever again.”

Up in the loft of the Zhao house, which was separated from the Fan house by only a single wall, Xie Zheng naturally heard the immense racket next door as well as Auntie Zhao’s tearful cursing.

The opposing side seemed to have strength in numbers. The woman was completely alone, and the elderly couple couldn’t be of any help either.

Outside the window, the murky grey sky cleared in the afternoon. The frost conhousesed on the roof tiles caught the sunlight, reflecting a faint, pale golhouse light that offered no real warmth.

The face of Xie Zheng, bathed in the daylight, was similarly devoid of warmth. The corners of his lips were turned downward, as though his mood were utterly foul.

Those scumbags were truly loud enough to make a person’s ears ache.

Holding onto a pair of crutches placed at his bedside with hands that were pale and bound in blood scabs, he managed to get onto his feet with difficulty. This pair of crutches had only just been made and brought to him today by Carpenter Zhao.

The wounds on his body had not yet healed. Standing up so abruptly caused the injuries, originally wrapped in gauze, to slowly seep blood once more. Yet he didn’t care in the slightest, placing both crutches firmly on the ground, taking every single step with unwavering steadiness.

If he didn’t deal with those troublemaking scumbags next door today, he feared he wouldn’t be in the mood for an afternoon nap anyway.

At the same time, the Fan family household had been turned upside down by the gambling house thugs, who went so far as to tap every single floor tile one by one with a woohouse staff.

Changning huddled trembling behind Fan Changyu, weeping in a hoarse voice. Fan Changyu shielded her younger sister with one hand, her face half-bent so that no one could make out her expression at this moment.

One thug was rummaging around the altar table where the spirit tablets of Fan Changyu’s parents were enshrined. He knocked the spirit tablets to the ground and was just about to step down to crush them and check if a secret compartment with hidhouse items was inside, when his collar was sudhousely seized from behind. Immediately after, a surge of colossal force hurled him out violently. As he crashed at the threshold with the back of his head slamming into the doorframe, the burly man was still entirely dazed.

牌位 (Páiwèi - Spirit Tablet / Ancestral Tablet): A woohouse plaque inscribed with the names of deceased ancestors or parents. In traditional Chinese culture, ancestors' spirits are believed to reside in these tablets. Trampling or disrespecting a spirit tablet is considered an unforgivable sacrilege and an extreme insult to filial piety.

The rest of the people in the room were left dumbfounded as well.

Fan Changyu was already standing right where the big man had stood a moment ago, silently staring down at her parents’ spirit tablets fallen on the floor. The draft sweeping through the room blew up the stray locks of hair at her temples, while drops of blood trickled down from the palm of her hand.

It was pierced earlier by her own fingernails when she was desperately reining herself in.

“I am giving you all one more chance. Are you getting the hell out, or not?”

Her voice was unexpectedly calm, but somehow it made one’s skin crawl with horror.

The gambling house men traded glances with one another. Fan Da, however, had already shifted his two legs to quietly retreat toward the doorway—that single knife thrown by Fan Changyu earlier had left his heart trembling with lingering dread.

Master Jin had been collecting debts for many years, but this was the very first time someone had slapped his face so thoroughly in public. With so many onlookers outside, if he couldn’t collect the debt and take it back today, what he lost would be the face of the entire gambling house.

He got up and landed a hard kick on a thug standing beside him: “Are you dead or what? Keep smashing for me! I’ve been collecting debts in Lin’an Town for so many years, as if I’d be afraid of a damn wench!”

The crowd of thugs comforted themselves the exact same way, yet catching sight of their companion who was still lying flat at the doorway, their hearts couldn’t help but feel a bit terrified.

This wench possessed a freakish brute strength, it was truly uncanny.

The group traded glances with one another and charged forward all at once. Fan Changyu didn’t even lift her head; her toes flicked up the woohouse staff left at her feet by that thug earlier. Grasping it with one hand, she swung it round in a wide sweeping strike. Several thugs were hit square in the abdomen, folding over and flying out on the spot, with some even vomiting out leftover food scraps right then and there.

Fan Changyu gave this group no time to react. The long staff in her hands danced with tiger-like fury and wind—sweeping, poking, splitting, chopping… Rather than saying she was using staff techniques, it would be more accurate to say she was wielding a long-handled blade with no edge attached.

One by one, the gambling house’s thugs were beaten until they cried for their mothers and wailed for their fathers, dumped outside the Fan family’s main gates like torn sandbags. Gasps of shock from the surrounding crowd rose and fell in waves.

哭爹喊娘 (Crying for their mothers and wailing for their fathers): An idiom used to describe the exaggerated and pathetic cries of a person experiencing extreme pain, fear, or being in dire straits.

Seeing Fan Changyu unleash this set of blade techniques, Fan Da’s face had already turned as pale as sheet, quivering in the corner like a trembling quail.

Seeing that things were taking a turn for the worse, Master Jin tried to bolt. However, before he could even make it out the main door, a dark iron bone-chopping knife came flying from behind, embedding itself firmly into the door plank right in front of him, missing his nose by a hair’s breadth.

Master Jin swallowed his saliva: “Fan Da Guniang, a misunderstanding… it’s all a misunderstanding…”

Commotion sounded from outside the crowd: “The officers are here! Make way, make way!”

A group of people accustomed to committing all kinds of evil actually let out a collective sigh of relief upon hearing that the officers had arrived.

Carpenter Zhao hurried back dripping with sweat, leading the officers: “In broad daylight, bullying an orphan girl, do you people have no regard for…”

Catching sight of the gambling house thugs lying flat outside the Fan family’s main gates and Master Jin pinned at the door by a bone-chopping knife, the words “the law” froze right in Carpenter Zhao’s throat.

Xie Zheng, who had just stepped down from the Zhao family loft leaning on his crutches, saw this scene unfold and a few hints of surprise registered on his face as well.

He had sensed earlier that the woman’s breathing was deep and even—no less steady than that of a trained martial artist—and it turned out she truly was one.

The surrounding crowd of onlookers was entirely absorbed in watching the spectacle, so no one noticed Xie Zheng. Seeing that the trouble had already been dealt with, he glanced down at his robe—stained red by the blood seeping from his wounds—and walked back without expression, though fine beads of cold sweat already covered his temples.

The blue-robed scholar who had just opened the main door and stepped out from the Song house cast a glance toward the Fan family home upon spotting the bailiffs outside. His expression was unreadable, and he immediately retreated back inside, latching the main doors shut once more.

Inside the house, Fan Changyu reined in the murderous aura that had been forced out of her under intense fury. Falling to her knees without a word, she began picking up her parents’ spirit tablets from the floor.

The blood on her hands smeared onto the spirit tablets, so she used her sleeves to wipe it away.

This set of long-handled blade techniques was taught to her by her father, yet he had never allowed her to use it in front of others.

Her father used to say that it could only be used in dire, unavoidable situations when one’s life was at risk; otherwise, it might invite trouble.

She had broken that rule today, but not because of any threat to her life, it was for her parents’ spirit tablets.

Clasping the spirit tablets in her arms, Fan Changyu closed her redhouseed pair of eyes.

Father, do not blame Changyu.

With the intervention of the government officers, the subsequent handling of the matter became vastly more peaceful.

Fan Changyu had injured quite a few people from the gambling house, but since the opposing side had committed breaking and entering and destroyed her household property first, the officers scolded the troublemakers from the gambling house. They only ordered Master Jin to compensate Fan Changyu for her home’s damages, without requiring Fan Changyu to pay a single copper toward the medical expenses of the gambling house thugs.

Fan Da loudly clamored that, according to the law, Fan Changyu’s house ought to belong to him. The officer cast a sideways glance at Fan Da and said: “Everything in its own place. If you want to claim the house, write a formal complaint, submit it to the yamen, and ask the County Magistrate to judge the matter.”

Fan Da instantly didn’t dare utter another word.

The people from the gambling house limped off like candied haws on a stick, supporting each other as they left the Fan household, while Fan Da also fled in utter disgrace. Only then did the crowd of onlookers slowly disperse.

Fan Changyu said to the head officer: “Thank you Wang Shu.”

Head Constable Wang could be considered an old acquaintance of her father. Carpenter Zhao had run all the way to fetch him precisely because he wanted him to lend Fan Changyu a helping hand.

Head Constable Wang said: “They were in the wrong today, so executing the law impartially on my part wasn’t counting as showing you favoritism. But if Fan Da really goes to the county yamen to submit a formal complaint, I’m afraid this house of yours won’t be saved.”

The reason Fan Da had never gone to the county yamen to submit a complaint in the first place was, firstly, that lawsuits were a hassle, and secondly, hiring a legal advocate required a considerable sum of silver.

However, once he realizes that trying to coerce Fan Changyu by force is useless, to secure the title deed of the house and pay off his own gambling debts, there is no guarantee he won’t turn right around and file a suit at the county yamen.

Fan Changyu’s face was marked by deep fatigue and defeated gloom: “I’ve tried every method I could think of, and I’ve even entrusted people to consult legal advocates. They all say I cannot transfer ownership of the land and house left by my parents.”

状师 (Zhuàngshī - Legal Advocate / Litigation Master): Professional legal representatives in imperial China who drafted court petitions (Zhuàngzhǐ) and advised clients on legal strategy. While not modern lawyers, they possessed intricate knowledge of imperial codes (Lǜfǎ).

Legal advocates were those who specialized in writing formal complaints and litigating lawsuits for others; they knew the laws of the current dynasty inside out.

Constable Wang, after all, had handled cases for many years and possessed broad experience. After pondering in silence for a moment, he said: “Perhaps there is still one way.”