Chapter 347: The Farmer’s Wife and Her Dog

2022-05-20

As he spoke, Old Zhang started rummaging through his office. After a bit of searching, he wrote us an address on a slip of paper. Gu Chen glanced at the note in his hand, then turned to Uncle Chen and me. “Let’s go. This village is more than an hour’s drive from here. By the time we’re done, it’ll probably be late when we head back.”

Old Zhang added, “Yeah, that’s right. It hasn’t been that long—about three months, nearly. She definitely hasn’t left the village yet.”

One by one, we climbed into the car. Gu Chen drove as we set off for the village. On the way I gazed up at the thick clouds overhead, lost in thought. It hadn’t rained today but looking at those clouds, it was only a matter of time.

The roads in this village were much better than in Zhi Li Village. There were still some potholes, but at least it was asphalt. When we got out of the car, night had already fallen. The clouds overhead were dark and heavy, making it hard to breathe. Gu Chen parked in an open spot and pointed at a house up ahead. “That’s the address. The woman’s name is Wei Shufen.”

I nodded and followed Gu Chen up the path.

There was a low wall outside the house, built of mud bricks, about a meter and a half tall—just low enough that you could see straight into the yard. This looked like a typical farmer’s home: a few small rooms built along the wall on one side, and heaps of dried stalks stacked on the other.

Inside the courtyard, a large patch of ground had been cleared for crops—cucumbers, green beans, Chinese cabbages, tomatoes, grapes—you name it. On the tomato trellises, some fruit was half-ripe, some fully ripe and already fallen to the ground. It was clear no one had tended the garden in a while.

Then again, with how much rain there’d been lately, no one needed to water anything.

Gu Chen nudged the gate open and walked in. We glanced around. The main room’s door was shut tight and the whole place was eerily silent. Gu Chen was about to call out when suddenly, barking rang out from inside. Moments later, someone opened the door and a man stepped out.

He was thin, his skin tanned, and he stood there bare-chested looking like a man in his thirties. One hand gripped the door, the other pressed protectively to his chest. “Who are you?” he asked.

Uncle Chen pulled out his ID and said, “We’re with the nearby town. We’re here to ask about Wei Shufen’s case from a couple months back.”

The man nodded slightly, looked us over, then opened the door wider and sighed. “Come in, then. Come on in.”

His breath was shaky, his voice tired. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, just turned and went back inside. We exchanged glances. I told them quietly, “This only happened not long ago. I think these two are still stuck in grief over their child.”

They both nodded.

We entered the house. Directly across from the door was a big bed, and a woman was lying there. She looked unkempt—her hair tangled, her clothes filthy, wrapped tight in a blanket. Poking out from under the blanket was the head of a dog.

Though the weather was muggy, the dog was wrapped up with her, tongue lolling as it panted at us. It barked a few more times when it saw us. The woman, hearing the noise, stroked the dog’s head gently and cooed, “Don’t be scared, don’t be scared. Mama’s here.”

The rest of us looked at each other, all seeing the confusion in everyone else’s eyes.

This must be Wei Shufen. She looked sickly.

I looked at the man sitting at the edge of the bed. He kept his head down and didn’t say a word. The room was dark, lit only by the weak daylight outside. The air hung heavy and stifling, like all the life had drained out of this place.

Even the dog, sprawled on the bed with its tongue out, quieted down.

Gu Chen shook his head slightly and flipped on the light. With a click, the room brightened.

Uncle Chen cleared his throat and asked the man, “What’s going on with your wife?”

The man seemed dull and slow, the kind who’s just not good at talking.

Finally, he spoke in a weary voice. “After our child died, my wife came home and turned out like this after a few days. We took her to the doctor—they said she had mental problems. We can’t afford treatment. The doctor said we could just let her rest at home. Sometimes these things get better with time, maybe it’ll pass after a while.”

As he spoke, he rubbed his hands together, clearly uncomfortable with having to talk about this.

It was obvious this man wouldn’t be offering us tea or hospitality, so we just found seats for ourselves.

I asked, “So your wife’s been like this for a long time now?”

He replied, “She changed just a few days after coming home.”

I pressed on. “Can you tell us what happened when your wife dropped the child?”

He hesitated, irritation flickering across his face, but then reluctantly reached for a cigarette. He lit up and took a drag before answering. “I was working out in the fields. A doctor called me.”

He took another drag and went on. “I didn’t know what was going on. The doctor said my wife needed surgery and told me to rush to the specialist hospital. The doctors had already started the emergency procedure. I grabbed all the cash I had and got a ride straight to the city.”

“When I got to the hospital,” he said, his hands shaking as he smoked, “I found the doctor in charge. They told me the baby couldn’t be saved and that I needed to sign for the operation. If I was any later, even the mother might not survive.”

On TV, you always hear doctors tell the family, ‘You can only save one—the mother or the child—who do you pick?’ But in real life, no doctor working in the operating room would ever say that. Doctors have their own way of handling risks, but when it comes down to it, the mother’s life always comes first.

He continued, “The operation lasted four hours. My wife made it, but the baby didn’t.”

“What happened after that? Did you ask for any compensation?” I asked.

The man flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it under his foot. “We did. We tracked down the surveillance footage and quickly found the kid who kicked my wife. She recognized him right away. We confronted his parents and told them what happened.”

“And what was the outcome?” I pressed.

The man gave a bitter laugh and said slowly, “What outcome? After covering the medical expenses, we finally got thirty thousand.”

Gu Chen frowned at that. “Thirty thousand? A child’s life is only worth that much?”

The man glanced at Gu Chen. “How much more could we get? The hospital bills weren’t that high, just ten or twenty thousand out of pocket. The kid’s family gave us thirty thousand more for additional expenses—nutrition and such.”

“And that was it?” Gu Chen pressed, standing up.

The man replied, “That’s all. What else could we do?”

“This is murder—intentional murder! How does three thousand cover that?” Gu Chen’s voice grew thick with anger. “A deliberate killing and thirty thousand is enough to settle it?”

The man’s voice was low. “Yeah. What else can we do? The kid was only eight. His family had money. If we pushed it and went to court, we’d waste time and probably wouldn’t win. It’s better to take what we can.”

“Your kid dies and you just accept it like that? You’re spineless! Wasn’t it your child?” Gu Chen was furious.

I quickly grabbed Gu Chen’s arm, finally calming him down.

The man’s face darkened for a moment but the expression vanished almost instantly. I couldn’t help but shake my head. He was just a simple farmer, probably hadn’t left the countryside more than a handful of times. I could guess what was going through his mind.

He didn’t have money, power, or connections. Faced with a rich, influential family, a humble farmer like him was bound to feel intimidated. How could someone like that hope to stand tall against them?

Maybe his dreams were simple. Work the land, raise a family, put a kid through university, and live a safe, steady life. That’s all he ever wanted. But then came this disaster.

Thirty thousand for a life—nobody could say that was fair. But if he kept fighting, he might not even get that much. This was a living, agonizing choice. Take it or leave it—it wasn’t that simple. Thirty thousand paid for with his own child’s blood.

“You know…” I started, but before I could finish, the dog suddenly leaped off the bed and began darting wildly around the room.

At that moment, Wei Shufen started screaming—her voice shrill and raw, tearing through our eardrums and shattering the heavy silence of the night…