Episode 52: Your Son-in-law, A Grand Blame-shifting Scene (Please Keep Reading)

"Mom! Let's talk this out—why are you holding that feather duster?! How many years has it been since you last chased me with it?!"

Feng Jiayou had bounced into the house, brimming with cheer, but now, with her mother wielding the feather duster, she was fleeing in utter disarray!

Cheng Xuemin, who had just wheeled his bicycle inside, was completely baffled by the spectacle these two were making. What on earth had happened this time?

Hadn’t Jiayou just helped her mother secure that coveted manuscript? She’d been expecting praise and rewards, not a feather duster!

"Feng Jiayou, you ungrateful child, you know how many years it’s been since I last chased you with this feather duster?!"

"Feng Jiayou, tell me, how much have I worried myself sick over you? Your father and I are in Jiangxi, and the one we worry about and miss most is you, isn’t it?"

"Don’t you run! Stop running around! Feng Jiayou, I never said I was going to hit you!"

Feng’s mother had suffered no small humiliation at work today. She’d planned to march straight to the school of that troublesome child to demand an explanation face-to-face.

Hadn’t the little scoundrel said her classmate Cha Jianying had gotten a piece published on the front page of Yanjing Literature, as the author ‘Old Xu’ of 'The Horseman'? And hadn’t she promised to help arrange a manuscript for October?

But on the way, she reconsidered, doubled back, and decided to wait for the little scoundrel at home instead. If they quarreled at school, it could affect her reputation.

Honestly!

Once back home, Feng’s mother cooled off and reflected. Perhaps there’d been a misunderstanding—a line crossed between mother and daughter.

She hadn’t intended to stay angry. She just wanted to have a calm talk—had there been a mistake?

But who could have predicted it! The little scoundrel hadn’t even stepped through the door before boasting about how she’d lived up to expectations and secured a new manuscript from 'The Horseman’s author, and that it was even better than the previous story.

That was it. Feng’s mother couldn’t hold back any longer. She seized the feather duster and charged after her, only to see the scoundrel dart away, quicker than a rabbit—her face turning pale with fright as she shouted.

She was a woman with child—what if she fell while running? That would be disastrous!

Realizing it was the feather duster that had terrified her already guilt-ridden daughter, she hastily tossed it aside.

"Mom! What’s going on? What did I do this time?"

Jiayou hid behind Cheng Xuemin’s bicycle. This kind of discipline, where a feather duster was brandished at the slightest provocation—how many years had it been since she’d experienced that?

She’d barely stepped through the door, hadn’t even had a sip of water, only wanting to present the manuscript her mother longed for. Yet the welcome she received was the feather duster.

Jiayou felt wronged, unable to understand what she could have done to upset her mother. She’d spent all day attending classes—there hadn’t been an opportunity to get into trouble.

"No, no, you haven’t upset me, not at all!" her mother declared, flopping onto a stone stool and waving her hands. "You’re such an obedient, sensible daughter—a top student at Yanjing University. Everywhere I go, people praise me for having such a good daughter, and I’m so proud. How could you possibly upset me?"

"By the way, did you just say you secured a manuscript for me? Even better than 'The Horseman'? That’s impressive, Jiayou! Hurry and let me read it!"

Feng’s mother struggled to keep her composure, determined to speak calmly with the little scoundrel, not to get angry, and certainly not to jeopardize her pregnancy.

Wasn’t it just now that Jiayou had boasted about securing a manuscript from Old Xu, the author of 'The Horseman'?

Fine.

She was curious to see just how far the little scoundrel could spin her tale.

"Mom! Are you sure you’re all right? If I’ve done anything wrong, just tell me! Please don’t treat me like this!"

Instantly, the manuscript in Jiayou’s hands felt less like a trophy and more like a hot coal. Her mother’s reaction didn’t feel like she wasn’t at fault.

Jiayou quickly searched her conscience; aside from the manuscript, she truly hadn’t done anything to provoke her mother.

About 'The Horseman' manuscript—she’d worried her mother would be strict and demand endless revisions from her son-in-law, and having suffered through rewrites herself, she’d decided to secretly submit it to Yanjing Literature. After all, it was just one piece—if it got published, they’d get paid, and who would notice if she and her husband quietly published something?

But who could have guessed that her husband’s story would be so good it would land the cover of Yanjing Literature, selected by Li Qingquan himself? It had become a sensation, and the whole matter had spiraled out of control.

Honestly, she’d never anticipated such a reaction from her mother’s circle.

"Mom…"

"Xuemin, you don’t need to speak for her. Go back to your room and study for your exams. This is between me and her."

Cheng Xuemin had intended to intervene, but before he could, his mother-in-law cut him off and sent him away.

All right, then, I’ll go.

His mother-in-law always treated him politely but distantly, keeping him at arm’s length.

"All right," he nodded, parked his bicycle, and exchanged a look with Jiayou, silently urging her to talk things through.

"What’s going on with you two? I could hear the tension all the way from the courtyard!" Jiayou’s father arrived home from work, and seeing the charged atmosphere, he rubbed his temples.

"Jiayou, didn’t you help your mother invite that classmate—the author of 'The Horseman'—over for dinner?"

He quickly pieced things together, noticing no guest in the courtyard. It made sense.

Yesterday, his wife had been delighted when she heard Jiayou had promised to help secure a manuscript. But the greater the hope, the deeper the disappointment.

Clearly, Jiayou had messed up the task, and her mother had lost her temper.

"Dad, you’re just in time! Tell me, what did I do wrong? I just got home from school, manuscript in hand, and before I could even take a drink of water, Mom grabbed the feather duster!"

Hearing his daughter’s complaint, her father’s surprise was obvious. "Really? Your mother actually brought out the feather duster?!"

No wonder—there it was, lying on the ground. Chasing after their grown daughter with a feather duster, with the son-in-law at home—wasn’t she worried about being laughed at?

"Is it because the manuscript was terrible and your mother was disappointed? Let me take a look!" he said.

But really, it wasn't Jiayou’s fault. She’d done her part; if the writing wasn’t up to par, that wasn’t on her.

Still, he dared not cross his wife. He sat down on a stone stool, curious to see what could have made his wife so furious.

"Dad! It’s not bad at all! I think this manuscript is even better and more profound than 'The Horseman'!"

"Here, have a look!"

Jiayou nimbly skirted her mother, hiding behind her father as she handed him the manuscript.

"Is that so? Even better and deeper than 'The Horseman'? Then your mother has truly hit the jackpot—so why is she still so upset?"

He was still trying to mediate, but not saying a word directly to his wife.

Feng’s mother rolled her eyes, refusing to play along with the father-daughter routine. Better than 'The Horseman'? Jiayou, would it kill you not to exaggerate?

Last time, she’d also boasted that her classmate Cha Jianying had landed the front page of Yanjing Literature, only to leave her mother embarrassed at work. Now she was at it again—sometimes, she wished she could stuff her right back into her belly.

"These characters… is this really Cha Jianying’s handwriting?"

Her father glanced at the paper, struggling to make out the scrawl. Wasn’t Jiayou’s classmate a girl? That name was hard to forget after 'The Horseman'.

"The handwriting’s a bit messy, but Jianying’s story is really good! And it’s a big one—over thirty thousand words!"

Jiayou smiled awkwardly. Cheng Xuemin’s calligraphy was usually beautiful, but he’d rushed this time. Still, it was legible and, most importantly, the content was excellent.

"Cha Jianying, is it?"

Hearing them mention the name, Feng’s mother finally lost her composure. "Then, Feng Jiayou, explain to me exactly what’s going on with this manuscript!"

She looked around for her copy of Yanjing Literature, and, not finding it nearby, stomped back into the house to get it.

"Mom? What do you mean, what’s going on with the manuscript? I don’t even know what you’re talking about! Besides, you asked me to get Jianying to write a story for you! Now I’ve brought it home, and you’re yelling at me and brandishing the feather duster—"

"'That Birch Grove,' by the author Zhaxi Duo. Tell me, Feng Jiayou, is this story by your classmate Cha Jianying?!"

She’d found it! While the little scoundrel was still pretending innocence, Feng’s mother tossed the magazine at her feet and demanded an answer.

"What?! Mom… you already know?!"

Jiayou had thought using a pen name would keep everything hidden, but never expected the truth would come out in just one day!

Inside, Cheng Xuemin froze, realizing their secret was out. He quickly set down his pen, anxious to rush out and defend himself, before his wife placed all the blame on him.

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