Chapter Twenty-Eight: Framing

Outside the window, rain had started once more, its rhythmic patter on the banana leaves clear to the ear.

The magistrate, Wang, gazed at the infant wailing loudly in his arms. Tears streamed down his aged face. Wen Qi and Lin Bai exchanged glances; holding a grandchild should bring tears of joy, yet in the magistrate’s eyes, joy mingled with a deep sorrow.

“I have a question, though I am unsure if it is appropriate to ask,” Wen Qiniang stepped forward.

“Ask freely, Qiniang,” the magistrate replied, realizing his lapse and wiping his eyes.

“I see the household is preparing for a funeral. May I ask who has passed?” Wen Qiniang inquired.

The magistrate sighed. “It is my son, Wang Junfu—the father of this child. Thank you, Wen Qiniang, for saving my grandson’s life. Without you…”

Wen Qiniang fell silent. There is no grief deeper than a parent burying a child. Thankfully, the baby was unharmed; had he lost both son and grandson, given the magistrate’s notorious temper, all present might have suffered repercussions.

Having spoken, the magistrate glanced at He Shi, who still lay motionless on the bed, then turned and asked, “May I ask, Qiniang, whether my daughter-in-law, He Shi, can be saved?”

“The young lady suffered head trauma—likely a blood clot pressing on her brain. The fastest way is to open the skull and remove the clot,” Wen Qi explained.

The magistrate was shocked. To open the skull—can one survive such a thing? Yet, reflecting on the abdominal surgery he had just witness