Chapter 16 — The Storm of Bai Family
At the entrance of the crowd, Madam Bai stood like a mountain blocking the sun, her face twisted in fury so sharp it could cut iron. She saw the scene before her — her so-called son and daughter-in-law hiding money from her — and her heart quivered with a rage that had slept too long.
"They dare…" she hissed, her voice low, venomous, as though each word could burn flesh. "…they dare to keep money from me!"
The wooden stick in her hands trembled slightly. Without hesitation, she lunged forward toward Chu Sun, the tip aiming to strike, swift and merciless, her eyes glittering with decades of resentment. The courtyard froze; even the wind seemed to pause to witness this act of wrath.
But before the stick could fall, Bai Xia moved. Like a shadow across the dusk, she was there in an instant. Her hands closed around the stick midair, fingers gripping with iron strength. With a sharp twist, a resounding crack split the silence — the stick snapped in half. Splinters scattered across the dirt like fallen stars. The crowd gawked, speechless. Not a single breath stirred the tension hanging heavy in the air.
Madam Bai hesitated. The cold, piercing eyes of Bai Xia froze her in place, unyielding and unblinking. A strange chill ran down her spine, a sensation unfamiliar and unwelcome. Slowly, she sank to the ground, her power diminished in the presence of something far colder, far sharper than her own wrath. She began to curse, words sharp and jagged, spilling out like venom:
"Bai Xia! Disrespectful! Always defiant! You, Bai Sung! Ungrateful, unfilial! You have no right to defy me!"
The villagers murmured among themselves, voices like a gathering storm:
"Bai Sung… unfilial?"
"Chu Sun… always so virtuous… yet so scheming…"
"Those clothes are the realy… new, hidden from the old lady!"
From the sidelines, Bai Ai, Bai Gin, Gu Yan, Ye Fan, and Bai Gan chimed in, their voices bitter, spitting poison into the charged air. "They've been hiding money from Mother!"
"Look at them — greedy, deceitful!"
"Bai Xia dares to act high and mighty now that she's spent a little money?!"
The village chief finally arrived, his face grave, footsteps echoing on the dusty courtyard like the beating of war drums. "Why does this family always fight? Explain yourselves!" he demanded. His gaze first fell on Madam Bai.
Between sobs and screams, Madam Bai told her tale, her words jagged as shattered porcelain. "My son, my son… manipulated by his wife! Keeping money from me! Ungrateful, unfilial! Always deceiving me!"
Whispers spread like wildfire. Some villagers sided in thought with the old lady; others began to wonder about Chu Sun's virtue. Arguments were muted but sharp:
"Bai Sung, a son hiding money from his mother? tkk tkk a man really does change when he gets married"
"Chu Sun… acting so pure… but behind closed doors, she plots."
" I'm sure they are hiding something in that little huts of theirs …"
Madam Bai's patience snapped. Her shrill order cut through the murmurs: "Search their huts! Every corner, every room! Take everything!"
Bai Diang and Bai Xiangtin, previously laughing in the shadows, charged into the three small huts, overturning furniture, scattering old clothes and treasured possessions like a whirlwind. Dust rose, sunlight catching the debris in fleeting sparkles. The chaos was complete.
From the huts came six large bags and a smaller one, each one representing the belongings of Bai Sung's family members, save for the eldest son, Bai Yan. The villagers' mouths fell open. Neatly folded books, new garments — careful purchases and the silent love of Bai Xia's hands — lay exposed.
Bai Ai and Bai Gin's eyes gleamed with greed. They snatched the new clothes as if plucking gems from a treasure chest. Bai Gan, small, cunning, and venomous, tugged at her mother, her eyes fixed on the pretty dresses of Bai Xin.
Ye Fan's voice rose, commanding and sharp: "See! They have new clothes and books! They are hiding money from Mother! Search everything!"
Bai Diang and Bai Xiangtin, drunk on the chaos, scattered old clothes across the courtyard. The new garments, the painstakingly chosen fabrics Bai Xia had brought out from her own space, were snatched up by Bai Ai, Bai Gin, Gu Yan, Ye Fan, and Bai Gan.
Bai Xia stood, arms crossed, eyes cold as winter frost, watching the family she called her own descend into gluttony and avarice. She smiled faintly, a curve that chilled the air. Each greedy hand, each grasping movement, made the scene more grotesque, more theatrical. To the villagers, it was a display of family collapse and intrigue:
"They're really new!"
"Bai Sung and his wife hiding were really hiding money!"
"Well, their old clothes did look like rags…"
"Isn't it okay to buy new clothes, their old one were hideous!"
Madam Bai's face darkened with fury. "These clothes belong to my Bai family! Both of you will never see them again!" she bellowed, eyes flaring.
Chu Sun's body trembled. The clothes her daughter had sacrificed for — the fruits of her labor, care, and love — were stolen before her eyes. Tears fell freely, as if the sky itself mourned with her.
Bai Sung, watching the shattered, scattered fabrics, realized with painful clarity: no matter his efforts, he would never be acknowledged. No matter how hard he tried to honor his mother, she would always see him as a failure. The torn clothes at his feet were a mirror of his life — wasted effort, trampled dignity, invisible labor.
But as his gaze swept over the chaos, the whispers, the poisonous words, the greed, something solidified within him. A resolve formed, quiet but unyielding. No longer would he allow his family — the people he loved — to be treated as pawns in this endless game of manipulation and cruelty.
"Yes," he murmured, voice low but resolute. "It is time. Time to act. Time to protect my family, my dignity, and the future we deserve."
The courtyard, thick with dust, greed, and despair, seemed to hold its breath. Every shout, every stolen garment, every whisper of the villagers weighed heavily in the golden light of evening. And standing at the center, Bai Xia's eyes glimmered, sharp and unyielding, ready to turn the storm upon those who had long believed themselves untouchable.
In that instant, the first seeds of rebellion, of justice, of vengeance, were sown — a storm that would not be easily forgotten.....