Madam Sun was so frightened she didn't dare make a sound. She clutched Yang Ruoqing's hand tightly and walked with her head down to the long bench in the corner, where she quietly sat down.
Over by the bed, Madam Tan, seeing that she hadn't been able to drive Yang Ruoqing out of the room, was still fuming. But when the family patriarch, Old Man Yang, shot her a glare with his tiger-like eyes, she snorted coldly and turned her face toward the inside of the bed, sulking.
Old Man Yang withdrew his gaze, swept his eyes across the faces of his three sons seated at the Eight Immortals table, sighed, and began to speak:
"I called all of you brothers here tonight to discuss the matter with your third brother. What happened to him is a misfortune for our Yang family. His children—some are slow, some are still young—and now there are five mouths to feed, plus the cost of medicine. Can his wife alone carry such a burden? It's impossible!
"You're all blood brothers. I called you here to hear your thoughts. Should we treat your third brother's leg? If we are to treat it, how should we go about it?"
After delivering his opening speech and stating the main topic of tonight's family meeting, Old Man Yang started rolling some tobacco and stuffed it into the pipe's bowl. After lighting it and taking several deep puffs, he looked around. The three sons at the table were all hanging their heads, lips pursed and brows furrowed, yet not a single one said a word.
Seeing this, Old Man Yang grew visibly unhappy.
He banged the pipe stem hard twice against the edge of the table and glared at his sons.
"What's going on here? You all look like mute gourds! I called you here to discuss how the Yang family can unite and get through this tough time together, but none of you are saying a word!"
The three brothers looked at each other, still no one willing to speak first.
Old Man Yang's already dark face flushed red with anger. He raised his pipe and pointed at Yang Hua'an, seated to his lower left.
"You're the eldest. As the eldest, you stand in for the father. Take the lead—tell us what we should do!"
Sitting in the corner, Yang Ruoqing had been watching and listening the entire time. When Old Man Yang called out names and started asking one by one, her gaze landed on her eldest uncle, Yang Hua'an.
The original soul that once occupied her body had been mentally deficient. Her memories were fragmented and unclear, so the people in this room were mostly unfamiliar to her.
But this Uncle Yang Hua'an, though born into a farming family and married to a slovenly woman like Madam Jin, had a certain refined air that set him apart from other farmers.
His slightly chubby body was wrapped in a dark gray outfit, about seventy percent new. There was a patch on the shoulder, but the clothes were neat and orderly. His facial features bore an 80% resemblance to Yang Hua'zhong and Yang Hua'zhou, but his eyes took after Madam Tan—narrow and small. When he sat there silently with hands tucked into his sleeves and eyes half-shut, he looked like a living Buddha. But occasionally, when his eyes flicked about, they revealed fleeting depths that were hard to read.
Yang Ruoqing had always had a keen eye for reading people. Her eldest uncle might appear like a quiet and harmless man, but deep down, he was likely quite calculating.
When called out by name and feeling the attention of the entire room, Yang Hua'an shifted in his seat, lifted his eyelids, and casually swept his gaze around the room before finally resting it on Old Man Yang.
He sighed heavily and spoke:
"Father, I agree with you. What happened to Third Brother is a great misfortune for our Yang family. On my way over, I even told Yongxian Yongjin and the others that as nephews, they should support Third Uncle more in the future. After all, we're of the same blood—'Yang' is written the same in all our names…"
Since the matter concerned her interests, Yang Ruoqing perked up her ears.
But after listening for quite a while, all she heard was Yang Hua'an sighing and lamenting—reminiscing about brotherhood in the old days or expressing his current sorrow. He never directly answered the main question Old Man Yang had raised.
"He's just dodging," she thought to herself. Her gaze flicked to the four cousins standing behind Yang Hua'an in descending height order. All of them had their heads lowered, eyes downcast, clearly instructed beforehand not to express any opinions.
Meanwhile, Old Man Yang finally ran out of patience.
"All right, enough already! You've gone on and on in circles until my head's spinning, and I still haven't heard a single useful thing!"
He paused, then said:
"You're the eldest, just make a decision. Are we treating your third brother's leg or not?"
Yang Hua'an's slightly sagging, chubby face showed a troubled smile. He glanced at the second and fourth brothers at the table, then said:
"Father, asking me like this puts me in a tough spot."
"What's so tough about it? Explain!"
Old Man Yang, known for his fiery temper and straightforward nature, couldn't stand people who beat around the bush. His tone turned harsher.
Yang Hua'an swallowed nervously, wiped off his smile, lowered his eyes, and showed a pensive look. After a moment of thought, he cautiously said:
"Father, I say it's tough because it is. If I say we shouldn't treat Third Brother, well, I can't bear it—he's our flesh and blood, after all! How can we just watch him become a cripple? He has parents above and children below—he's got a lot on his shoulders!
"But if I say we should treat him, then where would the money come from?
"It's a blessing that both you and mother are still healthy. The household finances are managed by Mother, and only you two know how much money we have. And besides, even if I say we should treat him, I'm not the only one in this family. Fifth Brother and Sixth Sister are still unmarried. Second and Fourth Brothers both have families and children to feed. I can't read their minds. If I rashly insist on treating Third Brother, I might end up being resented! That's why it's so hard for me to say."
After hearing this, Old Man Yang's expression turned even darker.
This eldest son of his was slippery as an eel. Asking him first was as good as not asking at all.
"Second! What, did you eat bull's liver tonight or something? Do you think I invited you here for tea? Put down that teacup and tell me what you think!" Old Man Yang turned to scold Yang Hualin, who was silently sipping tea.
Yang Hualin sat with one foot on the floor and the other on the bench. When scolded by Old Man Yang, he slowly put down the cup, wiped his mouth, and said indifferently:
"If you ask me, there's no point treating him. What would we treat him with, anyway? Didn't Uncle Fu say even rich families facing something like this only have a forty percent chance? Forty percent!"
(End of Chapter)