Chapter 2: The Sluggard

“You lazy good-for-nothing! Today I’m going to skin you alive!” Old Mrs. Liu shouted angrily, too upset to eat, snatching up a feather duster as she chased after Wang Chengzhi in the yard.

Zhang immediately lowered her head and urged her children, “Hurry and eat! Look how skinny you are—these eggs your father risked his life to get for you.”

Her voice was loud enough to darken the already grim face of Old Wang, who glared fiercely at Zhang. This irresponsible woman! As if a plate of eggs was worth risking the life of their second son.

The eldest uncle looked on with glee at the chaos in the yard, hoping their mother would severely discipline this disrespectful younger brother.

The third uncle anxiously glanced between their father and the commotion outside, wanting to speak but unsure of what to say.

Old Wang and his wife had three sons and a daughter—the daughter was already married off and barely came back except for holidays.

The eldest son was Wang Chengzu, the second Wang Chengzhi, and the third Wang Chengyao.

There’s an old saying that “emperors love their eldest sons; commoners love the youngest.” But in the Wang family, this clearly did not hold true.

The eldest son was not only valued by his grandfather but also deeply favored by his grandmother.

To prevent the eldest son from ending up like them, the old couple had gritted their teeth and sent Wang Chengzu to school for basic education. Initially, they only intended for him to learn to read, but Wang Chengzu was unwilling to settle for that.

Eloquent and persuasive, he spun grand dreams to his parents, coaxing them to support him day after day. They even began to believe, “Our son is so clever; maybe he can succeed in the exams.”

Wang Chengzu did show some promise; at nineteen, he barely passed the initial imperial examination, becoming a “tongsheng,” which brought pride to Old Wang and Mrs. Liu for quite some time. Even though he failed the subsequent provincial exams, they remained delighted.

But years had passed without any further progress after he became a tongsheng. That joy had long since vanished overseas, yet the sunk cost was too great to abandon now.

Though he never became a scholar, Wang Chengzu still held a pivotal status in the family. The elderly couple even gave him the privilege to name the younger generation.

Wang Xuezhou was quite relieved about this; at least the naming rights went to a literate eldest uncle, or else the children might have ended up with names as ridiculous as “Ox,” “Horse,” or “Tiger,” like many village kids.

The eldest uncle’s names were decent enough, but his character left much to be desired.

He constantly used studying as an excuse to shirk chores. Many times, Wang Xuezhou had caught him in his room, supposedly reading, but in reality, he was just sleeping.

Plus, every time he went out, he took money from the family and wouldn’t return for days.

He’d come back flushed and unsteady, clearly drunk—not the demeanor of someone seeking knowledge.

The money always came from their grandmother. Where did that money come from?

Since the parents hadn’t divided the household, the three sons lived together under the old couple’s management. Everyone handed in their earnings, which meant the money mainly came from the second and third sons’ families.

So whenever the eldest said he was going out, it meant he was asking for money, which explained the sudden change in everyone’s expressions just now.

“Enough! Can’t even eat in peace! If you had this much energy, you could work more tomorrow!” Old Wang barked, and the two in the yard, panting, stopped.

Wang Xuezhou withdrew his gaze with interest.

Old Mrs. Liu, still fuming, put down the feather duster and gave Wang Chengzhi a sharp glare before starting dinner.

The Wang family main house had two rooms—one for dining and receiving guests, the other the bedroom for the elderly couple.

To the east were three rooms: two for the eldest son’s family, and one kitchen.

The eldest son, Wang Chengzu, married to Mrs. Gao, had a son and a daughter.

The son, Wang Xuewen, was eleven, nicknamed “Bull Egg.”

The daughter, Wang Lanyue, was ten.

The two rooms were split between mother and daughter and father and son, which Mrs. Gao resented but had no say over.

To the west were three rooms as well: one each for the families of Wang Chengzhi and Wang Chengyao, with the remaining room shared by their sister and the three daughters of the third uncle.

Wang Chengzhi, married to Zhang, had two sons and a daughter.

The eldest son, Wang Xuexin, was ten, nicknamed “Furry Egg.”

The daughter, Wang Yaoyue, nine.

The youngest son, Wang Xuezhou himself, nicknamed “Ugly Egg,” was five.

Their family occupied only one room; he and his older brother slept in a small room partitioned off from their parents’ room.

The third uncle, Wang Chengyao, married to Mrs. Ma, had three daughters:

The eldest, Wang Xingyue, nine.

The second, Wang Chuyue, seven.

The youngest, Wang Jiaoyue, five.

Evenings were dull; after fetching water, Zhang washed the children and sent them off to bed.

Half asleep, Wang Xuezhou vaguely heard the creaking of the floorboards in the neighboring room but skillfully pulled the covers over his ears and went back to sleep.

Before dawn, the Wang family courtyard was already bustling.

“The sun is already high and you’re still in bed! A family of lazybones! If you delay the wheat harvest, I won’t forgive you! Second son! Get up right now!”

“Second son!”

The door was knocked loudly, waking the sleeper.

Wang Chengzhi lazily muttered, “I know,” and sluggishly got out of bed.

“Brother, I’ll help you get dressed.” Furry Egg, having dressed himself, assisted Wang Xuezhou.

Sleepy-eyed, Wang Xuezhou let his brother dress him and glanced at the window.

Outside, it was still dark.

By the time they finished dressing and opened the door, Old Mrs. Liu was pointing at Wang Chengzhi, berating him mercilessly.

“I’m cursed to the eighth generation to have a son like you! Lazy bum, what time is it and you’re still sleeping?!”

Old Wang glanced at his second son, who seemed oblivious, and cut in to stop his wife’s tirade.

“Enough! Go harvest the wheat first!”

With that, he led the way outside, minding his own business.

The second son was hopeless: scolded twice a day at meals but never changed. It was pointless to waste breath on him.

The third family hurried to follow Old Wang outside.

Seeing everyone leave, Zhang pulled her youngest son aside and urged him earnestly, “Ugly Egg, when you get to the field, don’t be too obedient. Rest when you need to, okay?”

Because Zhang was skilled at embroidery and could contribute to the household income, she didn’t have to do heavy fieldwork, only manage the household chores.

Wang Xuezhou nodded obediently, pleasing Zhang.

At the edge of the field, Old Mrs. Liu glared at the second family.

Noticing Wang Xuezhou lost in thought, she snapped, “What are you dazing for? Get to work!”

Sighing, Wang Xuezhou slowly bent down to pick up stray wheat ears. Only then did Old Mrs. Liu nod in satisfaction and move to another spot.

Children of poor families grow up fast; during harvest season, everyone—men, women, young, old—went out to work. Except the eldest son’s family.

The eldest son fancied himself a scholar, having passed the tongsheng exam, so naturally refused to work in the fields.

Mrs. Gao, proud of being the wife of a prospective scholar, considered herself superior to her sisters-in-law and found any excuse to stay home with her daughter.

Cousin Wang Xuewen was studying at the town school and only returned home every ten days, so he couldn’t help with work either.

The elderly couple always favored their eldest son and naturally didn’t blame them. If the eldest family didn’t work, the old couple worked themselves—and made sure the other two sons worked as well.