Chapter 72. People can talk, but you can walk your own path.
Good news doesn't travel far, but bad news travels fast.
The scandalous topic of a brother-in-law marrying his brother's wife spread like wildfire in the small county town.
Within three days, whispers were heard everywhere – on the streets, in the markets, in the barbershops, wherever people gathered.
"Have you heard? Master Wen, the tailor who runs the tailor shop on Hongqi Street, married her ex-husband's cousin!"
"Oh dear, a fight broke out at the wedding! The man in front of us caused trouble and got beaten up, his head is bleeding!"
"Wen Xiaoxiao is indeed beautiful, no wonder Zhao Fei is interested in her. But this... this is just too unseemly, isn't it?"
"Who says otherwise? Even rabbits don't eat the grass near their burrows!"
The rumors were embellished and became increasingly outrageous.
Some people say that Wen Xiaoxiao had been having an affair with Zhao Fei for a long time and was pregnant with twins before the divorce;
Some say that Zhao Fei, relying on his wealth, forcibly took his younger brother's wife;
Some people also said that Zhao Qingda was stabbed by Wen Xiaoxiao with scissors at the wedding, and blood was everywhere.
Wen Xiaoxiao hid in the apartment rented by Zhao Fei and didn't dare to go out for three days.
Occasionally, passersby downstairs will deliberately slow down, crane their necks to look up, and point and whisper.
When Yizhen Yibao Kindergarten let out, some parents pulled their children away from them, as if afraid of getting some bad luck.
"Mommy, why don't the other kids play with me anymore?" Yizhen asked, looking up at her with red eyes.
Wen Xiaoxiao felt as if her heart was being pricked by needles.
She hugged the two children tightly, her voice choked with emotion: "It's okay, they... they just don't know each other well yet."
But she knew for sure that wasn't the case.
Those strange looks and those hushed whispers were like countless fine needles, piercing her body and leaving her completely wounded.
She began to regret her actions, regretting agreeing to hold a wedding with Zhao Fei and regretting losing control and hitting Zhao Qingda that day—although she didn't think she had done anything wrong, these things became evidence of her being "unfaithful" and "shrewish and fierce" in the eyes of others.
Zhao Fei felt sorry for her and told her to stay home for a few more days while keeping the shop closed.
But Wen Xiaoxiao couldn't sit still—if she didn't open the door, she wouldn't have any income; if she didn't open the door, it would make her seem guilty.
Zhou Lanying could see her torment.
After dinner that day, the old lady called Wen Xiaoxiao to the balcony and handed her a cup of hot tea.
"Xiaoxiao," Zhou Lanying said gently, looking at the darkening sky in the distance, "don't you feel like everyone's eyes are like knives, stabbing you painfully if you go out now?"
Wen Xiaoxiao lowered her head and didn't say anything.
“When I was young,” Zhou Lanying said slowly, “I married into the Li family at the age of nineteen and later became a widow. Back then, how many people gossiped behind my back? They said I was a jinx, that I had a bad fate, that I shouldn’t wear red and green, and that I should stay at home and live a quiet life guarding the ancestral tablet.”
Wen Xiaoxiao raised her head and looked at the old lady's calm profile.
This was the first time she had heard Zhou Lanying mention these things.
“I tried to hide, I cried, and I even thought about just hanging myself with a rope.” Zhou Lanying smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothing out.
"But then I realized: people can talk, you can't control what they say; but it's your own path, you have to walk it yourself. Let them talk if they want. You're the one living your life, whether it's bitter or sweet, what does it have to do with them?"
She turned to look at Wen Xiaoxiao: "You have Zhao Fei, four children, a skill, and a shop. What do you lack? You lack nothing. The only thing you lack is the confidence to walk with your head held high."
Wen Xiaoxiao listened intently.
"The more you hide from those who come to watch the excitement, the more excited they become. Just open your shop and do your business openly, and after a while, they'll get bored and naturally leave."
Zhou Lanying patted her hand, "Xiaoxiao, a person lives for their pride. If you lose your pride, you'll have to live with your head down for the next few decades. Are you willing to do that?"
Wen Xiaoxiao shook her head, and tears fell from her eyes.
“Then stand up straight.” Zhou Lanying’s voice was soft, but carried an undeniable strength. “You are Zhao Fei’s lawfully wedded wife, the mother of four children, and a woman who earns her living with her own skills. You owe no one anything and are not afraid of anyone.”
That night, Wen Xiaoxiao didn't sleep a wink.
She kept thinking about Zhou Lanying's words, about the past two years she had spent raising her child alone, and about the determination and love in Zhao Fei's eyes.
The next morning, she got up, put on light makeup, changed into a clean and neat outfit, and practiced smiling in front of the mirror.
Then she said to Zhao Fei, "I'm going to open a shop."
Zhao Fei was a little worried: "Should we wait a bit longer? Until things calm down..."
"I'm not waiting anymore." Wen Xiaoxiao shook her head, her eyes resolute. "Aunt Zhou is right. I'm the one who has to live my own life, and I can't let other people's opinions hold me back."
She led her two children toward the tailor shop as usual.
Some people pointed and whispered along the way, while others deliberately avoided her, but Wen Xiaoxiao didn't lower her head or dodge. She straightened her back, a calm smile on her face, and walked on.
I opened the shop door, cleaned up, arranged the fabrics, and polished the sewing machine until it shone.
Then, she hung up several "one-size-fits-all" clothes that she had made a few days ago based on Zheng Shangyu's suggestion—loose cotton and linen shirts, wide-leg pants, and a few dresses, all with simple and elegant styles and refreshing colors.
Sure enough, someone came to the door not long after. They weren't there to have clothes made; they were there to see what was going on.
Two middle-aged women peeked in from the doorway. One said, "Is that her? She looks quite respectable." The other scoffed, "You can know a person's face but not their heart."
Wen Xiaoxiao put down her work, stood up, and greeted them with a smile: "Ladies, would you like to see these clothes? They're brand new, made of cotton and linen, and very comfortable to wear."
The two men were taken aback, not expecting her to greet them first. One of them said awkwardly, "We were just looking around..."
"Take a look." Wen Xiaoxiao picked up a shirt. "This one is one size fits all, so it can fit both slim and curvy figures. I added a little design to the cuffs; they look nice rolled up, but also neat when left down."
She was natural and spoke calmly, as if she knew nothing about the rumors circulating outside.
The two men became embarrassed. One of them took the shirt and looked at it: "This material is indeed soft. How much is it?"
"Fifteen," Wen Xiaoxiao said. "If you like, you can give it a try."
In the end, the two of them each bought a shirt.
Although it wasn't much money, Wen Xiaoxiao knew this was just the beginning.
That afternoon, several groups of people arrived one after another.
Some people were just there for the spectacle, while others actually bought the clothes.
Wen Xiaoxiao remained calm and composed. When asked questions, she provided explanations; when others pointed or whispered, she pretended not to hear.
By the time they closed in the evening, they had sold six pieces of clothing, which was more than they would earn from two days of custom orders.
When Zheng Shangyu arrived, he saw Wen Xiaoxiao surrounded by several women. She was holding a dress and patiently explaining the fabric and workmanship.
The setting sun shone through the doorway, bathing her in a warm golden light.
She had a smile on her face, bright eyes, and a gentle yet confident voice, not at all like a woman troubled by rumors.
After all the guests had left, Zheng Shangyu went in and clapped his hands, saying, "Master Wen, you're amazing!"
When Wen Xiaoxiao saw him, she was a little embarrassed: "Mr. Zheng is here. I'm just... trying out what you taught me."
"You tried it very well," Zheng Shangyu said sincerely. "I watched you from outside for a while just now, and the way you promoted it was more professional than many salespeople I've ever seen. You were neither arrogant nor humble, and you were polite and respectful."
Wen Xiaoxiao smiled, but there was something different in that smile: "I just feel that since I've opened a business, I have to be worthy of the customers who come to my door. Whether they buy or not is secondary; I have to do my best."
Zheng Shangyu looked at her, a slight stirring in his heart. This woman was more resilient and more radiant than he had imagined.
Wang Juan learned that Zhao Qingda had caused trouble at the wedding from one of his mahjong partners.
She vividly described how Zhao Qingda was beaten until his head was bleeding and how he was taken away by an ambulance, and added at the end: "Juanzi, your Qingda is something else. They're already divorced, why is he still making a scene? Isn't he just asking for trouble?"
Wang Juan didn't say anything at the time. When she got home and closed the door, tears started streaming down her face.
She couldn't explain how she felt.
Do you hate Zhao Qingda?
I hate him. He acted like a madman, making a complete fool of himself.
Zhao Qingda is back.
Seeing him wrapped in bandages with blood seeping from his head, she felt heartbroken again.
No matter how much of a scoundrel this man is, he's still her man.
"You're acting like you're sick!" she yelled as she changed his dressing. "What business is it of yours what other people get on their wedding? You went and caused trouble, and what did you get in return? Besides getting a beating, what else could you do?"
Zhao Qingda kept his eyes closed and remained silent.
"You think you're so powerful now that you have money?" Wang Juan became increasingly angry as she spoke. "Let me tell you, Zhao Qingda, if you keep acting like this, you'll ruin yourself one day!"
Zhao Qingda suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her coldly: "Have you said enough? If you have, then get out."
Wang Juan's hand trembled, and the cotton swab poked the wound. Zhao Qingda hissed and gasped.
"I'm sorry..." Wang Juan quickly apologized, tears welling up again. "I didn't mean to... I was just... I was worried about you. Will this scar on your head leave a mark? You already have a scar on your face, and now you'll have another one on your head..."
Zhao Qingda ignored her and turned over.
During the two weeks that Zhao Qingda was recovering from his injury, Wang Juan caused him a lot of trouble.
It wasn't about tormenting him, it was about tormenting myself—I made all sorts of nourishing soups and brewed Chinese medicine, forcing him to drink them.
She was even more attentive at night, trying every possible way to flirt with him.
She had only one thought: while he was at home, she needed to get pregnant as soon as possible. Only with a child could the family be stable.
But Zhao Qingda refused to cooperate.
I drank the herbal medicine, but I still complain of headaches and lack of energy at night.
Wang Juan took the initiative, so he finished quickly and went to sleep.
Wang Juan lay in the darkness, listening to the man's snoring beside her, tears silently streaming into her pillow.
She knew that Zhao Qingda's heart was no longer with her.
After recovering from his injury, Zhao Qingda returned to his old ways.
He leased his long-distance bus to others, collecting a small monthly rent, while he idled away his days away.
He played cards, drank alcohol, ate and drank with a bunch of cronies, and then spent the night at Ruomei's place.
Wang Juan was increasingly anxious as she stayed at home.
She recalled her time working behind the counter at a department store. Although she didn't earn much, she felt at ease, as she was busy every day.
Now that I have money, I feel empty.
She decided to find something to do.
I asked around and found a job selling tickets at a movie theater.
The salary isn't high, but the work is easy and you can watch movies for free.
That day, Ruomei coaxed herself, saying that a new Hong Kong movie had just been released and she wanted to watch it.
Zhao Qingda had initially agreed, but upon hearing that it was the same cinema where Wang Juan sold tickets, he immediately changed his mind: "No way. Let's go to another one."
"Why?" Ruomei pouted. "That theater has better sound quality."
"Just change it when I tell you to, why all the nonsense?" Zhao Qingda said impatiently.
Ruomei became suspicious.
She continued to ask and learned that Wang Juan worked there.
She wanted to see what kind of person Zhao Qingda's legal wife really was.
On a weekend afternoon, Ruomei dressed up in her finest clothes and went to the movie theater.
She deliberately lined up at Wang Juan's window, and while buying her ticket, she carefully observed the woman inside.
Wang Juan wore a slightly worn floral shirt today, her hair was casually tied back, she wasn't wearing makeup, and there were already fine lines around her eyes.
She was looking down, slowly making change, muttering to herself, "Here's your ticket, Hall 3, right aisle..."
Ruomei took the ticket and suddenly asked, "Excuse me, where is the restroom?"
Wang Juan looked up and pointed in the direction: "Go this way, turn left."
As soon as she looked up, Ruomei saw her face clearly.
Although she is somewhat attractive, she has heavy eye bags and rough skin.
Ruomei immediately felt reassured.
She thanked him and swayed away.
As she turned the corner, she took out a small mirror from her bag and looked at herself—she was only twenty-six, with firm skin, delicate features, and wearing a fashionable dress and high heels.
She smiled.
With someone like Wang Juan, what can you possibly compete with her on?
The movie has started.
Sitting in the darkness, Ruomei watched the glamorous male and female leads on the screen, thinking to herself: I need to urge Zhao Qingda. Divorce, marriage—she didn't want to spend her life as a mistress who couldn't be openly acknowledged.
As for Wang Juan? She didn't take her seriously at all.
An old, unattractive, and sallow-faced woman will eventually have to give way to her.
(Everyone! The gongs are beating... Zhao Qingda's retribution is coming! I'm so happy just thinking about it. Greetings to all of you! May you be blessed...)
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