Chapter 42: "The Village of Chaste Women"
"Zhenzhen said she’s worried that without her, you and her little sister will struggle during the harvest," Li Zhi stepped forward, seeing the tremble in the old woman’s eyes. "Grandma, is there anything we can do to help?"
The old woman’s expression darkened. "You’ve seen Zhenzhen?" Without waiting for an answer, she snapped, "You’ll only bring her trouble! I don’t need your help! If you really want to help, stay away from her!"
A player behind them couldn’t hold back. "Old lady! She’s your own granddaughter! How can you just watch her die like this?"
The wrinkles on the old woman’s face trembled. Suddenly, she grabbed a broom from the corner and swung it at them. "Get out! Leave! Don’t come looking for us again! Zhenzhen’s fate isn’t yours to meddle with—you can’t change it! If you value your lives, stay away!"
Dust flew up from the dirt path as the players coughed and backed away. The old woman slammed the door shut. From inside, a child’s crying and the old woman’s scolding could be heard.
Shut out, the group exchanged frustrated looks. If Zhenzhen’s wish was tied to this stubborn old woman, fulfilling it would be no easy task.
Li Zhi said, "Let’s go check out the Chaste Women’s Shrine."
The shrine was the village’s landmark, built on high ground east of the settlement. The path leading up to it was lined with stone steps—about fifty or sixty in total—and at the top stood an ornate memorial archway.
Made of blue bricks, the archway had four pillars supporting three tiers, each crowned with stone lions. The craftsmanship was exquisite, with intricate carvings on the lintel. The central panel bore the words "Chastity and Virtue," flanked by dates on the left and names on the right.
Time and weather had worn away the inscriptions, but on the right side, the faint characters "…wife, Zhenniang, erected" could still be made out.
Li Zhi recalled the village chief’s words on their first night—this was the archway bestowed upon Zhenniang by the imperial court.
A structure of mere stone, yet across centuries, it had become an immovable mountain, crushing the freedom and lives of countless women.
Beyond the archway stood the grand Chaste Women’s Shrine. Two armed men guarded the entrance, eyeing the approaching players with suspicion. "What do you want?"
Li Zhi clasped her hands respectfully. "Sirs, we’ve long heard of your village’s shrine and wish to pay our respects."
Their expressions softened slightly, but they warned sternly, "You may worship, but this is a sacred place. Behave yourselves. Bow and leave—no wandering or gawking."
The group agreed hastily and followed one of the men inside.
The interior resembled other ancestral halls, with rows upon rows of women’s memorial tablets lining the altar. They stood in silent rows, gazing down at the worshippers below, bathed in the glow of incense.
But these weren’t names.
"Li, wife of Ke Hong." "Du, wife of Zhang Juncai." "Liu, wife of Lu Xingteng."
Row after row, the same pattern. These women had followed their husbands in death, yet even in the afterlife, they remained nameless—eternally defined by the men they belonged to.
The birth and death dates varied, the youngest being only seventeen.
At the highest point of the altar sat a tablet distinct from the others. The name matched the inscription on the archway, and this time, Li Zhi could read it fully: "Zhenniang, wife of Zhou Shaoyuan."
Calculating the dates, if this was indeed the era the village existed in, Zhenniang had died over a century ago.
And in all those years, the shrine’s tablets had only multiplied, never ceasing.
The female players seethed with anger.
Chi Yi waited until the patrolling villager wasn’t looking, then spat quietly.
After perfunctory bows, the group retreated. The moment they descended the steps, Chi Yi exploded. "Chaste Women’s Shrine? More like Murderers’ Shrine! Those short-lived bastards couldn’t rest in peace without dragging their wives down with them—worse than pigs and dogs!"
Wen Qianxue nodded vehemently. "Insulting to pigs and dogs! Pigs are delicious, and dogs are adorable!"
Pink Hair looked nervous. "Elders, please keep your voices down! If the villagers hear, we’re dead!"
Chi Yi glared at him. "Don’t talk to me right now! I’ve got a bone to pick with all men!"
Pink Hair wilted. "Why the blanket condemnation? I think these people are despicable too!"
The shrine offered no clues beyond confirming the village’s reverence for it—enough to station guards despite the labor shortage during harvest season.
Under the clear sky, villagers had begun reaping wheat. Li Zhi gazed toward the fields. "Let’s borrow some sickles and help Zhenzhen’s grandmother."
One player grumbled, "She won’t talk. It’s a waste of effort."
"Kindness disarms hostility." Li Zhi was firm. "We won’t ask questions. Even if she drives us away, we’ll keep working."
A girl as warm-hearted as Zhenzhen couldn’t have been raised by someone truly cold.
Three players refused, opting to search the village for clues instead. The remaining five followed Li Zhi to the fields.
Borrowing sickles from a farmhouse, they followed the path past the osmanthus tree and soon spotted the hunched figure of Zhenzhen’s grandmother, straw hat shading her weathered face.
Age had slowed her movements. At her pace, the wheat would rot before she finished. Zhenzhen’s worries were justified.
Li Zhi signaled silently. The group nodded and, without a word, began cutting wheat. The old woman started at their sudden appearance, then scowled when she recognized them. "You again? Get lost! I don’t need your help!"
No one responded.
They worked diligently, tuning out her curses.
After exhausting her voice, the old woman glared, then snatched up her sickle and ignored them.
For a while, only the swish of blades filled the air.
By noon, the old woman tossed her tool aside and stalked off. Once she was out of earshot, Pink Hair straightened, rubbing his sore back. "Zhi-jie, she’s gone. Do we keep going?"
Li Zhi said, "Of course. Maybe she went to cook for us."
Wishful thinking, Pink Hair thought but didn’t dare say. As self-appointed lackey, questioning the boss was off-limits.
Yet the boss’s optimism proved justified.
An hour later, the old woman returned with a food basket!
Her expression remained stern as she set it on the path. "Come eat."
Li Zhi beamed, accepting a bowl of water. "Thank you, Grandma. You’re so kind."
The old woman snorted.
The meal was humble—no meat in sight—but the white rice spoke volumes about her gratitude.
Refreshed, they worked until sunset, determined to finish the field. Zhenzhen’s little sister brought water twice, watching them curiously from the path before finally asking Li Zhi, "Are you really my sister’s friend?"
Li Zhi smiled. "Of course. Your sister loves reading, doesn’t she?"
The girl nodded eagerly. "Yes! But she can’t go to school. Once, she took me to listen outside, and we got beaten."
Li Zhi offered her a piece of rock candy. "What else does she like?"
Mouth sweet, the girl chattered freely. "She likes working—always does chores first. She loves going up the mountain too. She says from the top, you can see outside the village. She wants to go there someday."
Her clear eyes blinked up at Li Zhi. "Big Sister, you’re from outside. What’s it like?"
Li Zhi ruffled her hair. "Very different. When you grow up, you can see for yourself."
Hope flickered in the child’s eyes, then dimmed. "But Sister won’t get to." She whispered, "Big Sister, can you help her? I don’t want her to die."
Li Zhi crouched to her level. "I promise I’ll save her."
The girl brightened. "Really? You’re not lying?"
Li Zhi hooked her pinky finger. "Let’s shake on it."
They sealed the promise solemnly.
Nearby, the old woman’s eyes reddened. Her voice cracked with resignation. "Why give her false hope?"
Li Zhi stood tall. "It’s not false."
Seeing her resolve, the old woman panicked. "Child, I thank you for your kindness, but it’s no use. You can’t save her. Even if..."
She hesitated, then whispered fearfully, "Even if you take her away, when the time comes, she’ll still die."
Li Zhi kept her voice equally low. "What do you mean?"
Terror filled the old woman’s gaze. Her lips moved soundlessly before she finally hinted, "That woman from your troupe who hanged herself—don’t you think it was strange?"
Of course it was.
Why hang herself onstage the very first night? Why die in minutes, her ghost lingering to haunt them?
The old woman shut her eyes. "In our village, a woman who loses her husband has no escape from death—willing or not."