The village was thrown into a panic because of a thief. No family was wealthy, and if someone’s belongings were stolen, how could they go on living?
The thief showed no fear of the elderly, women, or children left at home and brazenly roamed the village. By sheer coincidence, he chose Chunmu’s house to rob. The thief had a keen eye—Chunmu’s family had just saved a bit of money, hidden in a small clay jar under the bed. Only Li Xiu’e was left to watch the house while Chunmu and the others went to work in the fields. She had just washed her hands in the kitchen and entered the house, about to lie down for a rest, when a stranger in gray clothes forcefully shoved her aside. Dazed for a moment, she quickly regained her senses and chased after him, shouting, “Thief! Someone, help! A thief is stealing! Catch that man in gray!”
In her haste, Li Xiu’e caught a glimpse of the bedsheet pulled up and the small money jar lying overturned on the floor.
The villagers despised such unscrupulous people who resorted to dishonest means. At the cry of a thief, they all grabbed whatever they could to catch him. The thief was familiar with Dongpo Village and vanished in no time, heading toward the direction near the mountains—right where Jicheng’s house stood.
For some reason, Chunfu had been feeling as though unseen eyes were watching her these past few days. When she mentioned it to Jicheng, he dismissed it as her imagination, suggesting she might not be sleeping well. She tried to convince herself it was just paranoia. Today, Jicheng had gone to town to look for work, leaving her alone at home. That eerie feeling returned inexplicably.
Suddenly, a voice called from outside the courtyard—somewhat familiar, though she couldn’t place it. After hesitating, she stepped out. The man, seeing her, flashed a seemingly honest smile. “Little sister, I’m here again to ask for a bowl of water. I’m tired from walking—could I come in and rest a bit?”
Chunfu shook her head without speaking. She couldn’t be blamed for suspicion. If he were visiting relatives, he’d be dressed neatly and wouldn’t need to stop by again for water. The neighboring village was right next to Dongpo—why go to such lengths? His intentions were likely far from innocent.
Seeing her frozen in place, the man walked in uninvited, his “honest” face twisting into a lewd grin. “I’ve long heard Dongpo Village has a famous simpleton, but I didn’t expect her to be such a pretty one. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Come inside with me, and we’ll have a nice chat.”
Disgust churned in Chunfu’s stomach, but she kept her expression neutral. As he drew closer, she took two steps back, pressing her lips together. Just as his hand was about to grab her, she seized a stick leaning against the wall and struck him on the head. Caught off guard, he snarled in anger and lunged to snatch the weapon from her.
Chunfu knew she stood no chance in a physical fight. Small and nimble, she dodged his grasp, putting distance between them. Desperate, she screamed, “Liansheng’s wife! There’s a bad man! Liansheng’s wife, help!” Her cries agitated the man further. His face twisted with malice, as if he wouldn’t stop until he strangled her.
Inside, Liansheng’s wife was combing her daughter Daya’s hair while chatting idly with Liansheng, who lounged on the kang. Chunfu’s sudden scream made her jerk the comb, pulling Daya’s hair painfully. The couple rushed outside to see Chunfu struggling with a man in Jicheng’s yard—her glossy black hair yanked in his grip, her slender frame battered mercilessly.
Liansheng sprinted over and restrained the man, who tried to flee after shoving Chunfu aside. Recognizing him as the notorious loafer Wang Bo from the neighboring village, Liansheng cursed, “Daring to cause trouble in Dongpo Village? You’ve got a death wish!”
Liansheng’s wife helped Chunfu tidy her disheveled hair and clothes, gasping at the vivid slap mark on her face. “Jicheng’s heart will break seeing this. Why were you left alone at home?”
Chunfu, who had fought desperately to stop the man from escaping, hadn’t even registered the pain earlier. Now, speaking was an ordeal. She managed weakly, “He went to town for work… It hurts so much.”
Liansheng’s wife wet a cloth and pressed it gently to Chunfu’s swollen cheek, sighing. “Having someone at home isn’t safe, but neither is being alone. From now on, come stay with us. At least that way, everyone can rest easy.”
The villagers chased the thief all the way to Jicheng’s yard, where they spotted Liansheng gripping a man in gray. “Is this the one who robbed Chunmu’s house?” someone shouted.
Li Xiu’e pushed through the crowd and glared. “It’s him! He stole from us!” She lunged forward, disregarding propriety, patting him down before yanking a money pouch from his clothes. Enraged, she pummeled him. “You wretched thief! Stealing people’s life savings—you deserve to die childless!”
Furious at the man who’d unsettled the entire village, they dragged him to the village chief’s house, demanding justice. No one noticed Chunfu’s distress as the crowd dispersed toward the chief’s home. Liansheng’s wife urged Chunfu to come along—how could such violence go unpunished?
Exhausted and in pain, Chunfu forced herself to go. The village chief, livid that such disgrace had tarnished his peaceful tenure, declared the thief would be handed over to the county magistrate at dawn. Wang Bo was bound tightly and locked in an abandoned temple at the village entrance, guarded by two men.
As for Chunfu’s injuries, the chief waved her off, telling her to see a doctor if necessary—as if it were just a minor ailment. His dismissiveness made Chunfu want to scream at him. Did he think her a fool to be brushed aside so easily? Liansheng’s wife spoke up in protest but was scolded into silence, leaving her sighing in frustration.
Chunfu’s face was too swollen to speak, but she was deeply grateful for Liansheng’s wife’s kindness. On their way back, they ran into Jicheng returning from town, carrying pastries and candies. His smile vanished at the sight of Chunfu’s bruised face. “What happened?” he demanded darkly.
Liansheng’s wife explained, “It was that scoundrel Wang Bo from Liujia Village—the same one who robbed the village. He took one look at Chunfu and attacked her. The chief just told her to see a doctor herself.”
Jicheng’s hands tightened on Chunfu’s shoulders, fury boiling inside him. “Where is Wang Bo now?”
“They’re taking him to the magistrate tomorrow. He’s locked in the old temple.”
Jicheng turned to leave, but Liansheng’s wife stopped him. “Jicheng, where are you going?”
His voice was icy. “If the chief won’t handle it, I’ll get justice for Chunfu myself. I won’t swallow this insult. Please look after her—I’ll be back soon.”
Meeting Chunfu’s gaze, his expression softened. “Go with her for now. I’ll get medicine from Dr. Han later.” He handed her the treats and strode off.
Watching his broad back disappear, Chunfu’s heart swelled with warmth. No matter the hardship, Jicheng would always stand by her—her unshakable mountain.
Liansheng’s wife spotted a neatly folded handkerchief beside the pastries, revealing a hairpin’s floral design. “Is this jewelry?”
Chunfu unfolded it without hesitation—a peach-blossom hairpin, still warm from Jicheng’s touch. She tried to smile but winced at the pain.
“You’re a lucky girl. Jicheng adores you. Most families would’ve just swallowed the injustice, but with him, even we’d gladly stand by your side.” Liansheng’s wife smiled wistfully. Her own husband, though kind, had never bought her jewelry without prompting. The hairpin suited Chunfu’s delicate beauty perfectly.
Happy despite the pain, Chunfu pinned it into her hair, the dangling tassels swaying with her steps. Such finery was rare in the village, where survival took precedence over adornment. Some onlookers muttered enviously, “Why’s Liansheng’s wife so close to that simpleton? Even dressed up, she’s still a laughingstock.”
Meanwhile, Jicheng stormed into the temple and demanded Wang Bo. The guards hesitated but yielded under his murderous glare. Wang Bo, knowing Jicheng’s ominous reputation and lifelong isolation, assumed him weak. But before he could speak, Jicheng’s fist shattered his nose, blood gushing.
Wang Bo staggered back, clutching his face. “Why are you hitting me?”
Jicheng’s fists clenched tighter. “I’m hitting you because you deserve it. Today, I’ll beat the audacity out of you. How dare you raise a hand against a woman?”
The guards considered intervening, but Jicheng’s lethal rage silenced them. The temple echoed with thuds and groans as bone met flesh—each blow fueled by unrelenting fury.
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