The Gossip Beauty - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Mother said that while she was pregnant with me, she dreamt several times of a lark landing by the window.

She and Father agreed that the child born to them would surely be a girl with a voice as clear and crisp as a lark’s.

So, before I was even born, they had already decided on a name for me: Ji Bailing.

From a young age, I displayed an astonishing talent for language.

While other children were still talking as if they had a mouthful of stones, I could already clearly articulate common phrases like “Father,” “Mother,” “I’m hungry,” or “I need to pee.”

Father was immensely proud of this.

During that period, his favorite pastime was carrying me along to visit his colleagues’ homes.

Those colleagues all had one thing in common: they all had children around my age.

Watching those other kids struggle to squeeze out a single word while I clearly addressed everyone as “Uncle,” “Great-Uncle,” or “Grandpa,” Father would stroke the beard he had specifically grown to look more dignified and smile.

“Our Bailing is just so bright and adorable. Please, excuse her; you flatter us.”

But after I turned three, Father stopped taking me on visits.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; it was that he didn’t dare.

I was a girl, after all. If word got out that I was a little chatterbox, it wouldn’t exactly be good for my reputation.

They discussed that pregnancy dream about the lark many times afterward.

Finally, my well-read father proposed a bold hypothesis.

“My dear, do you think there’s a possibility that the lark entering your dreams wasn’t the same bird every time?”

I don’t actually remember much of what happened before I was five or six.

Therefore, the following is a retelling based on my mother’s accounts; its veracity is somewhat questionable.

As the old saying goes, at seven or eight, even dogs hate you.

In my case, that stage arrived early, around age three or four.

Mother said it wasn’t even hyperbole-dogs truly did despise me.

Take Da Hei, the big black dog kept in the kitchen. After I had a few “conversations” with him, he would tuck his tail and take a detour whenever he saw me coming.

While other children wore longevity locks or gold collars around their necks, I wore a small water skin.

Talking too much makes one thirsty.

During those two years, the three of us lived a very disciplined life.

Before 2:00 PM, Mother suffered.

Because Father had to leave early for his shift, I hadn’t even woken up by the time he left.

Mother said she never needed a maid to announce my arrival when I went to find her.

She also never worried about the maids mistreating me out of her sight.

Because I told her everything.

I was so thorough that I’d tell her exactly how many strands of hair I lost while brushing it in the morning; even feeding me couldn’t shut my mouth.

After 2:00 PM, Father suffered.

Because he came home.

At that time, Father’s official rank wasn’t high, and he only had to be on duty for half a day.

Before I was born, Father usually spent his time idling in the study.

After I was born, Father and I usually spent our time idling in the study together.

Mother said that during the two years Father was teaching me my first lessons, he didn’t even need a beard to achieve the weary, aged look he had always wanted.

By the evening, the couple suffered together.

I had to share with Father how Mother and I had spent the time while he was away;

And I had to report to Mother everything Father and I had done in the study that afternoon.

Grandmother came up to the capital from our hometown to urge Mother to give Father another son.

To give the couple some space, Grandmother specifically suggested that I stay with her during her visit.

That year, the old lady stood with her hands in her pockets, having no idea what kind of opponent she was about to face.

“I can handle those three little monkeys from the eldest son’s house, let alone one girl like Ling. One? No, I could handle ten of her!”

“Daughter-in-law, you and my second son just focus on making a baby.”

Less than half a month later, Grandmother changed her tune.

“You two should keep Ling with you. I’ve thought about it, and our Ji family already has three heirs. That’s enough, quite enough.”

Later, my eldest uncle sent a letter saying that Grandmother had been afflicted with a strange ailment upon her return.

She constantly complained of headaches-and they hurt exceptionally bad whenever someone spoke near her.