Chapter 32: Mrs. Jia’s Madness Worsens, Bangeng Harboring Murderous Intent

The courtyard meeting concluded amidst a scene of chaos and murmurs.

Qin Huairu, utterly shattered, was helped back to her room by several neighborhood women. As soon as she entered, she collapsed onto her bed, pulling the quilt over her head and remaining motionless, like a soulless corpse.

Humiliation, despair, resentment—these emotions gnawed at her heart like vipers. She was ruined. The persona of the "virtuous widow" she had so painstakingly cultivated for years had crumbled in a single night. How could she ever hold her head high in the courtyard again? Who would sympathize with her now? Who would help her?

Shazhu? He had been punished with latrine-cleaning duty; he could barely save himself.

The thought of the written apology she was forced to post made her feel as if a knife were carving into her heart. She would rather die than suffer such humiliation. But could she die? If she died, what would become of Xiaodang and Huaifua? What about Bang Geng?

"Waaa—"

A long-repressed sob finally escaped from beneath the quilt, a cry so shrill and desperate it sounded like the wailing of a wounded beast.

Locked in her own room, Mrs. Jia was still smashing things, cursing, laughing, and crying by turns. "Dongxu! My son! Look at this! This tramp is going to destroy our Jia family!" she shrieked. "Come back! Come back and take this jinx away!"

Triggered by the night’s events, her madness had worsened. She began to experience vivid hallucinations, constantly feeling as if her deceased son, Jia Dongxu, were standing by her bedside, staring at her with an expressionless face.

"Son, don't blame your mother. I’m useless; I couldn’t protect your lineage..." she muttered to the empty air.

In the corner, Xiaodang and Huaifua huddled together, trembling. Watching their grandmother lose her mind and their mother weep, the two children had no idea what had become of their home.

Only Bang Geng remained unnaturally calm. He did not cry or throw a tantrum. He stood silently by Qin Huairu's bed, watching her trembling form beneath the quilt. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only a cold, gloomy darkness.

In his view, his mother was a fool. She had tried to deal with Chen Mo using such clumsy methods; failure was only to be expected. But he hated Chen Mo even more. If not for Chen Mo, his family wouldn't have ended up like this. His grandmother wouldn't be insane, and his mother wouldn't be the target of the entire courtyard's scorn.

He walked to the window, staring intently across the courtyard at the tightly shut door of Chen Mo's home. The warm light spilling from that room seemed particularly offensive to his eyes.

Why? Why did he get to live so well? Why could he turn their lives upside down while remaining unscathed?

The seeds of hatred had long since taken root in his heart, and tonight's humiliation served as the most violent catalyst, causing those seeds to grow into a twisted, towering tree at a terrifying speed. He was no longer just a brat who stole chickens and pilfered things. He would have his revenge in his own way.

He crept back to his own small bed and reached under the wooden frame, pulling out a rusty awl. It was the same tool he had used to puncture tires in the past, which he had later hidden away. He gripped it tightly; the cold, metallic touch brought a strange, eerie peace to his agitated heart.

Puncturing tires was no longer enough. He wanted to puncture a person. He wanted to make Chen Mo taste the flavor of pain.

The night deepened. Qin Huairu, exhausted from crying, finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Mrs. Jia, too, had worn herself out and was curled up in the corner, still muttering to herself.

Bang Geng lay on his bed, his eyes wide open in the darkness. He rehearsed his plan over and over in his mind. When to act? Where to act? How to do it? His small head was filled with malicious, meticulous calculations far beyond his years.

The next day, with red and swollen eyes, Qin Huairu posted her self-criticism on the courtyard bulletin board under the gaze of all the residents. At that moment, she felt as if she had been stripped naked and thrown into the snow, utterly exposed and broken.

Shazhu, his face dark, took a broom and a bucket and headed toward the public latrine, a place that was never cleaned and reeked to high heaven. Seeing this, Xu Damao was overjoyed. Shivering in the cold water, he hummed a little tune, gloating at their misfortune.

The entire courtyard presented a strange and stark contrast: the gloom and misery surrounding the Jia family versus the light and breezy atmosphere at Chen Mo’s home.

Yet, at the center of this storm, Bang Geng acted as if nothing had happened. He went to school as usual and, after returning, stopped running wild, opting to head home early instead. He became taciturn, stopped fighting with the other children, and even began helping Qin Huairu with chores.

His "sensibility" brought a glimmer of comfort to the exhausted Qin Huairu. She believed that her son had finally grown up after this ordeal. Little did she know that a viper was quietly flicking its tongue in the shadows, waiting for the chance to strike a fatal blow.

That evening, when Qin Huairu prepared dinner, she found that Mrs. Jia refused to eat again.

"The food is poisoned! You want to poison me!" Mrs. Jia glared with bloodshot eyes and smashed her bowl to the floor.

"Mother, please stop this. How could the food be poisoned?" Qin Huairu explained wearily.

"It is poisoned! I saw it! You put black bugs in it!" Mrs. Jia screamed, cowering in the corner.

Looking at the wreckage on the floor and her two daughters, who were too frightened to speak, the last string in Qin Huairu's heart finally snapped. She could no longer hold it in; she knelt on the ground, buried her face in her hands, and let out a repressed, painful sob.

Just then, a pair of small hands rested gently on her shoulders.

It was Bang Geng. He did not comfort her, nor did he speak; he just stood silently behind her. Qin Huairu turned back, her tear-filled eyes searching her son’s face—the only hope she had left.

"Bang Geng..."

Bang Geng looked at her. In those dark eyes, there was none of the innocence a child should possess, only a chilling, unsettling calm. He leaned close to her ear, and with a voice that was extremely faint yet incredibly clear, he whispered, syllable by syllable:

"Mother, stop crying. Once I kill him, everything will be fine."

Qin Huairu's sobbing stopped instantly, stuck in her throat. She jerked her head up, staring at her son in disbelief, her blood seemingly freezing in her veins at that very moment.