“Search all around for ten miles, and you won’t find anyone who treats people worse than Mrs. Brooks!” The crowd grumbled as they dispersed, “After this job is done, let’s see who will still work for your family!”

“People lining up to work for my family stretch from Shiwancun all the way to Xialipo!” Holt retorted sharply as she strode aggressively toward the northwest corner’s shed.

Charles Brooks had already been woken by Holt’s shouting. Hearing footsteps, he knew she was coming to search. He whispered to his two younger brothers, telling them to keep their mouths tightly shut.

He had just finished dressing Little Henry when Holt burst in, full of fury, and immediately started scolding, “Tell me, was it you little brats who stole my chicken!”

“Who are you calling little brats?” Charles Brooks suppressed his anger as he bent down to put shoes on Little Henry.

“I’m calling you little brats!” Holt snapped, then realized she’d been outwitted. Her face, caked with thick powder, flushed as red as a cooked shrimp. “How dare you take advantage of me!” She had a frame even larger than most men, and as she lunged at them, baring her teeth and waving her arms, she frightened Little Henry into tears.

“Why are you hitting people, aunt?” Charles Brooks hugged Little Henry and dodged past her, retreating to the doorway. “How have I offended you?”

Holt, having suffered a setback, couldn’t say anything, so she decided to press her accusation: “Tell me, where did you hide my chicken?”

“What chicken?” Charles Brooks looked bewildered. “How could your chicken end up here?”

“It was definitely you who stole it! Just wait till I find it—if I do, I’ll send you little thief to the authorities!” Holt began searching inside and out, but of course, she couldn’t even find a single chicken feather. However, when she saw embers still in the stove behind the house and that something had been cooked in the pot, she thought she’d found ironclad evidence. “Tell me, did you cook my chicken?”

“Why don’t you look in the pot and see if there’s even a trace of oil?” Charles Brooks said coldly.

His words reminded Holt that the pot was built into the stove; to remove it, you’d have to tear the stove apart. So if they’d cooked chicken, there would definitely be oil traces. But Holt searched the pot inside and out, eyes wide, and didn’t find a single drop of oil. She couldn’t help but feel suspicious. “Then why did you make a fire?”

“I was very sick yesterday and needed hot water. Since you wouldn’t give us food, I had to cook for my brothers.” Charles Brooks said coldly, “I know you resent us for eating your rice and being a burden, and you’ve long wanted to split the family, so you treat us poorly at every turn. Now, while my father is away studying, you take every opportunity to mistreat the three of us.” He paused, then spoke more forcefully: “Why go so far, aunt? This year is the year of the big exam—if my father succeeds, I wonder how you’ll face us then!”

He brought this up mainly to distract Holt, so the two younger children wouldn’t give themselves away. It was also to make her restrain herself a little…

Holt had only dared to act so brazenly because she thought they were too young to understand. Now, hearing him speak so clearly, she was startled and thought to herself, ‘How did he suddenly say something like that? Can this child really see through me?!’

Her intentions had been seen through by Charles Brooks. For years, because her own husband wasn’t scholar material, her parents-in-law had pinned their hopes on her husband’s younger brother, and naturally favored his family. The narrow-minded Brooks had always been resentful.

But back then, with her parents-in-law still alive, she also worried that her brother-in-law might really pass the exams and become an official, so she had to at least pretend to be harmonious. But this pretense twisted her heart, filling it with resentment over the years, until she saw her brother-in-law’s family as a thorn in her side.

What pleased her was that her brother-in-law had wasted more than ten years, and not only had he failed to become a jinshi, he hadn’t even passed the preliminary exam… This convinced her that her brother-in-law, like her own husband, and even her husband’s older brother, were not destined to be officials. So she could no longer tolerate the five of them eating for free, let alone having to pay for their studies!

So the only solution was to split the family! She’d long been set on this idea, and the only reason she hadn’t done it in the two years since her mother-in-law’s death wasn’t lack of resolve, but fear. What she feared was the harshness of the law!

In the Song Dynasty, splitting a family wasn’t just a private matter.

The dynasty repeatedly honored large families who lived together for generations, promoting brotherly harmony and discouraging division. Of course, very few could truly achieve this, but the Song Code explicitly stated: “If grandparents or parents are alive and descendants set up separate households or divide property, the penalty is three years’ penal servitude. If, during the mourning period for parents, a child is born or a separate household or property division occurs, the penalty is one year.” “Separate household” means setting up a separate household registration. “Divide property” means splitting the family assets.

In other words, if grandparents or parents are alive, anyone who splits the family gets three years’ penal servitude. Even if the parents have died, you must wait until the mourning period is over before splitting the family, or it’s a year’s penalty… This was to prevent brothers from fighting over inheritance right after their parents died, neglecting the funeral rites.

The Song Dynasty’s laws, both in their drafting and enforcement, were among the best in history, almost as if they’d fully studied human nature. But laws are dead and people are alive; relying on dead laws to protect everyone is impossible. Though Holt didn’t dare split the family outright, she could use her status as the eldest sister-in-law to oppress her brother-in-law’s family at will, venting years of resentment.