Chapter 59: Drowning in the Pig Basket?

“Does your mother need another son?” Little Stone asked, a hint of envy in his voice. The thought of coming home only to be whacked with a broom and thoroughly punished—his backside still ached from it—prompted the question.

Little Shunzi paused, then glanced toward Little Stone’s house and replied, “Good thing Auntie didn’t hear that. Otherwise, your backside would be blooming with bruises by now.”

A child never finds fault with his mother, just as a dog never minds a humble home.

At these words, Little Stone instinctively rubbed his sore behind, forcing a sheepish grin. “It’s already bloomed,” he admitted.

Little Shunzi couldn’t help but double over with laughter. When he noticed Little Stone’s face clouding, he quickly stopped and changed the subject. “Let’s go check on Little Mountain and the others. I wonder how they fared.”

Little Stone’s eyes lit up. “Yes, we should hurry.” He was curious to know if he was the only one who got a beating, or if the others were in the same boat.

Watching Little Stone, who had been limping along just moments ago, suddenly break into a trot—still hobbling, but clearly much faster—Little Shunzi was surprised. Had Little Stone been pretending all along when he left home?

As Little Stone ran awkwardly ahead, Little Shunzi felt a surge of pride in his own mother. He was glad not to share her with Little Stone—he already had a younger brother and sister. Adding another would only stretch things thinner. Besides, who would be the eldest?

Little Stone had no inkling of Little Shunzi’s thoughts. All he cared about was reaching Little Mountain’s house first, afraid he’d miss the spectacle.

Little Mountain, for his part, hadn’t been beaten at first, but that was about to change.

His parents were tying him up, preparing to send him to the treehouse to apologize to Bai Xi.

Of course, they didn’t intend to let him off the hook—if not now, then after he’d apologized, they’d thrash him properly. All this talk of “starting things” and “having babies,” claiming that the little grandaunt had instructed them—it was utter nonsense. The grandaunt, young as she was, knew the difference between boys and girls. She even knew whether Little Black was male or female; how could she possibly tell a group of boys to have babies?

It was one thing to mess around normally, but this was not something to joke about. So, as soon as Little Mountain said it, his parents exchanged a glance. One grabbed a stick, the other a rope, and without a word, they tied him up, ready to carry him to the treehouse.

This terrified Little Mountain so much that he forgot all about his supposed stomach pains. In his heart, he mourned his fate—was his family about to drown him in the pig basket because he was going to have a child?

There was no precedent for drowning someone in a pig basket in Niuluo Village, but Little Mountain had heard stories from traveling storytellers.

If an unmarried girl became pregnant, she was considered unclean and would be drowned in a pig basket.

Now, he imagined the same fate for himself. He was no girl, but for a man to have a child—what a scandal! His parents might very well toss him into the pond.

And so, Little Mountain clung desperately to a pillar, wailing as if his heart would break. His cries were enough to move even stone, and for a while, not even his parents could pry him loose. Besides, making such a scene at the grandaunt’s place would only disturb her. Better to wait until he was exhausted from crying before dragging him over.

As he sobbed, Little Mountain kept a wary eye on his parents. Whenever they approached, his cries grew louder.

A few times, his father raised his hand, only for Little Mountain to wail even more pitifully.

“Go ahead, beat me! Just kill me already! I know you’re ashamed of me, but it’s not my fault!” he cried. “I know I’ve brought disgrace to the family, but what can I do? Little Shunzi and the others are having babies too! No one else’s parents treat their sons this way. How can you be so heartless?”

“They say there’s nothing better in the world than parents, that a child with parents is a treasure. But me? I’m just a weed…”

“Oh, how wretched I am! I’m already so pitiful, and instead of comforting me, you just want to finish me off…”

So, when Little Stone and Little Shunzi arrived, they were greeted by the sight of Little Mountain tied up, clinging to a pillar, bawling his eyes out.

The two boys exchanged glances.

The moment Little Mountain saw his friends, hope flared in his heart. Still clutching the pillar, he shouted, “Hurry, save me! My parents want to drown me in the pig basket!”

At that moment, Little Mountain resolved that if he had a daughter, she would marry one of their sons, or if he had a son, his son would marry one of their daughters. Either way, their families would become in-laws. After all, they’d rushed over to save him just after giving birth themselves—a debt of gratitude that must be repaid.

Drowned in a pig basket?

Little Shunzi and Little Stone exchanged another startled glance. Could it really be that serious?

“Shut up!” Little Mountain’s mother snapped, her head throbbing from his cries. Seeing him spouting nonsense to the other boys, she couldn’t help but scold, “Who said we’re going to drown you in a pig basket?”

Little Mountain protested, “You and Dad, of course!”

“Nonsense! We never said that,” his father growled, brow furrowing.

“Then why did you bring home a pig basket?” Little Mountain retorted, nodding toward the basket in the corner.

Little Shunzi and Little Stone followed his gaze and, sure enough, saw a pig basket by the wall.

Both boys gasped inwardly—so it was true! Thank goodness they’d arrived in time.

Little Mountain, tears and snot streaming down his face, continued his accusation. “You tied me up! Isn’t that so you can stuff me in the basket and toss me in the pond?”

His father’s face twitched with anger and humiliation. Unable to contain himself, he strode over and kicked Little Mountain squarely on the backside.

“Drown you in a pig basket? It’d be easier to just kick you to death and save myself the trouble!”

“Ahhh! Help! Mother, Father’s going to kill me!” Little Mountain’s cries echoed through the yard.

His shrieks were so loud that his mother hurried to pull her husband away, then grabbed a piece of cloth from the washing line and stuffed it into Little Mountain’s mouth.

“Hit him, go on!” she urged, hands on her hips and bristling with anger. “If you don’t give this rascal a good thrashing today, you’re no man at all!”

At first, Little Mountain felt a glimmer of hope when his mother separated him from his father. Surely, with her there, his father wouldn’t be so ruthless. But her next words left him stunned.

What?

Already at his wit’s end, his father didn’t bother holding back anymore. He set about smacking Little Mountain’s backside with vigor.

“I—mmph!” Little Mountain tried to shout, but with his mouth stuffed, his cries were muffled. Not even Little Shunzi and Little Stone, standing just outside the door, could hear him, let alone the neighbors.

(Here I am, here I am… I’ve missed you all!)