Rebirth: Not Being a Waste - Chapter 7

“Hiss…” Zhang Shu shivers, trying to avoid Li Mujin’s hand as he applies medicine. The sting of the ointment is unbearable.

“Brother Dashu!” Li Mujin calls out with a stern face. His tone is strict, yet his movements remain gentle as he carefully treats the wounds. The worst injury is the gash on Zhang Shu’s head from the stone, followed by his hand, which has been ground into the dirt. Sand is embedded in the wound, and it takes a great deal of effort to remove it.

Zhang Shu looks at Li Mujin, his eyes soft with emotion. He doesn’t understand why Little Mujin is always so gentle with him, but he thinks—maybe even a rat from the gutter can have a companion? Though, Little Mujin isn’t a rat. He’s the best person in the world.

His head and hands are bandaged. Though he looks like he’s seriously injured, he actually feels fine. A little pain is nothing compared to losing one’s dignity. Of course, it’s best not to get hurt at all… Hiss!

A distant shout rings out from the house—it’s likely Li Mujin’s mother calling him. Li Mujin responds, then quickly gives Zhang Shu some instructions: don’t let the wound get wet, avoid those people in the future. After that, he hurries home.

Zhang Shu watches him leave, then sighs, gets up, and heads home.

Before he even reaches his house, he hears laughter coming from the yard. His second uncle’s family must be back.

Every year during the wheat harvest, his second uncle takes his family to his mother-in-law’s place to help out. They stay for three to five days before returning.

Meanwhile, all the crops in their own fields are left to Zhang Shu’s grandparents to handle. His second uncle believes that since much of their land is rented out to other families, the small portion they keep doesn’t require too many hands to harvest. So, he never stays behind to help.

Zhang Shu pushes open the door, feeling conflicted. He steps inside quietly, hoping to slip back to his room unnoticed, but his aunt spots him instantly and shrieks, “Oh! Ah Shu! What happened to you? Who broke your head?”

All eyes turn to Zhang Shu, and he freezes.

His second uncle strides over. “I told you not to stir up trouble. Now look, you’ve been beaten up again. I don’t even want to know how much money we’ve spent on medicine for you.”

There was a time when Zhang Shu thought his second uncle genuinely cared for him, that his tone of regret was for his own good. Since childhood, his second uncle has taught him never to cause trouble, never to provoke others, and that if someone bullies him, it’s probably his own fault.

Yet he never teaches his own children the same. To them, he says, “You’re a man—if someone hits you, hit them back! If you don’t even have that much backbone, what kind of man are you?”

“Yes, you’re making Grandpa and Grandma worry again. They told you not to go out unless necessary!” Zhang Huai, his cousin, is two years younger than him—just sixteen—but he always speaks to him in a lecturing tone.

“Tell me, who was it? I’ll go get justice for you,” Zhang Huai says righteously, as if expecting Zhang Shu’s gratitude.

The old Zhang Shu would have been grateful. He would have smiled naively and said, “Thank you, Second Brother,” then offered his own savings to treat Zhang Huai and his friends to a meal as thanks for their help.

If he hadn’t accidentally discovered that his so-called good second brother is actually friendly with Wang Changfa and his gang, he might have still looked at Zhang Huai with a conflicted mix of hatred and gratitude.

“No need. I fought back myself,” Zhang Shu says, his voice deep as he stares into Zhang Huai’s eyes, searching for even a flicker of guilt.

But there is none. Zhang Huai’s expression is briefly unnatural, but he quickly smiles. “Brother, you’ve gotten stronger. That’s great. Next time they bully someone, I’ll call you for help.”

His aunt sighs worriedly. “Ah Shu, don’t be stubborn. How can you fight them? You’re a gentle child. Let Ah Huai handle this sort of thing—he’s the younger brother, after all.”

Zhang Huai pouts. “Mom, you’re so biased!”

“What can I do? Your big brother lost his parents early. Poor thing—I care for him more than I do my own.” His aunt looks at Zhang Shu with a kind, affectionate smile.

In the past, Zhang Shu regarded her as a second mother. But what kind of mother constantly brings up her child’s tragic past?

“Thank you, Auntie. I’m feeling a bit sore, so I’ll go rest now,” Zhang Shu says, lowering his head as he walks into his room.

His second aunt laughs behind him. Still the same coward. People have been saying that Zhang Shu seems different lately, but now she figures her mother-in-law is just exaggerating.

Zhang Huai, however, is puzzled. Did he really fight back? He has to check with Wang Changfa.

Zhang Shu stands at the window, watching through a hole in the wooden panel as Zhang Huai hurries outside. His expression remains eerily calm. No one knows what he’s thinking.

Zhang Huai runs all over looking for Wang Changfa—he checks the abandoned house at the edge of the village, the haystacks in the threshing yard, even the small shrine at the village outskirts. He searches every usual hideout but finds nothing.

Did they go to the county to gamble? If so, then… they weren’t the ones who beat Zhang Shu?

He returns home hesitantly, a strange feeling creeping over him.

At lunchtime, Zhang Shu’s grandparents come back from weeding the fields. They are delighted to see Zhang An and the children back.

“Cuilan, don’t bother cooking. You must be exhausted from the trip,” his grandmother says.

“Mom, I’m not tired. You should rest instead,” Wang Cuilan replies briskly, working away without pausing.

Hearing how warm and filial they sound, Zhang Shu feels sick. His second aunt has a great reputation in the village, known as a good woman.

Technically, they have already divided the family. As the eldest son, Zhang Shu’s father was supposed to inherit the house and care for the elderly, which led some villagers to whisper about favoritism.

But after his parents passed away, his second uncle and aunt moved back in, claiming that since the eldest son was gone, it was their duty to support the elderly. The villagers praised their filial piety.

Even his grandparents, worn down by years of gossip, feel guilty for having treated their second son’s family unfairly in the past. They tolerate them in everything. His second aunt, rather than overstepping, becomes even more considerate—loving her eldest brother-in-law’s orphan as if he were her own.

The family seems so harmonious that other households envy them.

But the reality?

His father was a peddler and had saved quite a bit of money. Out of fairness, he voluntarily gave up part of the family inheritance, reducing their share of land by an acre and privately gifting his younger brother a considerable sum.

Yet his second aunt always tells a different story—she laments that they only received land, but, being understanding, she accepts that the eldest son should receive more to care for their parents. Anyone who hears it would think she is a reasonable and virtuous woman.

Everyone knows that family divisions are messy, often leading to lifelong estrangements.

Zhang Shu used to think he had a strict but caring second uncle, a gentle second aunt, and many loving siblings.

In the end, it’s all a lie.