Seeing that Xiuhua’s family was about to start a fight, Chunmu and Li Xiu’e quickly stepped in to mediate. After much persuasion, they finally managed to send the couple off. Before leaving, Xiuhua was sobbing, her already unattractive face swollen, and she couldn’t resist shooting a venomous glance back at Chunfu.
Chunmu’s good mood was ruined by the incident, and his face darkened. Li Xiu’e, feeling a bit scared, forced a laugh and said, “You came back early today. Let’s have dinner sooner.”
Li Xiu’e noticed Chunmu’s tightly clenched fists and instinctively shrank back. Chunmu might look like a gentle scholar, but when he lost his temper, he was terrifying. He disliked her associating with Xiuhua but got along well with Xiuhua’s husband, Tiezhu. How could she just abandon the sisterly bond she’d had with Xiuhua since childhood? Besides, Xiuhua always came to stand up for her. Who wouldn’t find it irritating to have such a fool around, ruining what should be a peaceful life?
Chunmu glared at her for a long moment before speaking, “Why did you snatch what Jicheng gave to Chunfu? Aren’t you afraid of embarrassing yourself if word gets out? The villagers already love gossip, and you’re practically serving yourself up to them.”
Li Xiu’e knew the Zhang family was obsessed with saving face, even if it meant suffering. Chunmu, in particular, was all smiles on the outside but rotten inside. Still, he was her husband, and whether he was a pig or a dog, she was stuck with him for life.
Chunfu didn’t want to listen to their pointless bickering. Her thoughts were with Zhang Yan, so she turned and went back inside. Seeing Zhang Yan clutching the paper package protectively to his chest, his eyes red as he glared at the sobbing Zhang Tong, her heart ached.
Zhang Tong had a small scratch on his face from a fingernail and was covered in tears. When he saw Chunfu enter, he pointed accusingly at Zhang Yan, who was sitting on the floor. “Auntie, he won’t let me have the treats and even hit me.”
Chunfu had little fondness for him. Despite his young age, he was cunning and often tattled on her and Zhang Yan to his mother. Zhang Yan had always tolerated him out of brotherly affection, but the boy had taken advantage of his kindness. Annoyed, Chunfu snapped, “Serves you right.”
Zhang Yan’s complexion had improved, likely because the fever had broken. She felt relieved.
“This is from Auntie to me. What’s the difference between you stealing it and being a robber?”
Chunmu pushed the curtain aside and entered, his voice cold. “What’s all this noise? Zhang Tong is your younger brother. Can’t you share a little? Don’t be so petty. Enough. Xiao Tong, come with me. There’s a chicken leg left from yesterday—your mother can heat it up for you.”
Chunfu sighed inwardly. Their blatant favoritism must have left the boy’s heart riddled with scars. Hope after hope, disappointment after disappointment—even when he was sick, no one cared. How could any heart remain unbroken? She crouched to pull him up, but Zhang Yan suddenly buried himself in her arms, crying like a wounded animal. “Auntie, I don’t want to stay in this house anymore. I wish I could grow up fast so I wouldn’t have to see them.”
Chunfu stroked his head and whispered tenderly, “First, get better. You need to be stronger, unbreakable. When you’re strong enough, they’ll regret how they treated you.”
Zhang Yan looked up at her, his tear-streaked face puzzled. “Auntie, you… you’re better now?”
Chunfu chuckled softly, pressing a finger to her lips. “Shh. Yes, I’m better now—after that big illness. This is our secret, okay? Don’t tell anyone. Now eat up so you can recover faster.” She unwrapped the package, but some of the contents were crushed from being squeezed too tightly. Still, village children rarely got such treats, and he ate eagerly.
After swallowing a bite, Zhang Yan suddenly asked, “Do you hate my mom? You probably do. I hate her too. I’m her son—why does she treat me like this? It’ll be better once you’re married.”
“Yes, it’ll be better after marriage. If she hits or scolds you, come to my place. You can hide there.”
They sat back on the kang. Zhang Yan took a sip of water, then said resolutely, “Auntie, a few days ago, I passed by Mom and Dad’s room and heard them talking. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I heard your name… You became like this because of a fever when you were little…”
From Zhang Yan, Chunfu learned why Chunmu had wanted to send her to a brothel.
Chunmu was nine years older than Chunfu. At the time, he was of schooling age. Though the family was poor, he was obedient and eager to study. After discussing it, his parents decided to use their savings to send him to school. They even secured a spot with a tutor. Chunmu was overjoyed and boasted to his friends. Ambitious despite his youth, he knew that excelling in studies could lead to a life of wealth and honor, elevating the Zhang family’s status in Dongpo Village.
But his joy was short-lived. His sister suddenly fell gravely ill with a high fever, shattering his dreams. His parents wanted to use his tuition money to take her to a doctor. He protested, demanding what would happen to him. His father promised to send him the following year, but he refused. In a fit of anger, he stole the money and ran away, only to be caught and beaten severely. By the time they took Chunfu to the doctor, her life was saved, but her mind was damaged. Their bright, sweet daughter had become simple-minded because of their son. His mother wept inconsolably, and his father could only vent his fury through beatings. Chunmu felt wronged too—no one understood his longing for education or the agony of having hope ripped away.
From then on, Chunmu harbored no sibling affection, only boundless hatred.
Zhang Yan couldn’t comprehend the depth of his father’s resentment, assuming it was guilt. But Chunfu found it horrifying—even the closest blood ties couldn’t erase Chunmu’s hatred. Would someone who’d nurtured such hatred for years simply let her marry and leave?
Definitely not!
Li Xiu’e called them for dinner. Chunfu led Zhang Yan out, but as soon as they sat down, Chunmu scolded coldly, “I thought you two were too proud to eat with us. What, those treats weren’t enough? Always stirring up trouble—do you think life’s too easy? Go weed the fields. No dinner until you’re done.”
Rain had been scarce the past two years. The crops relied on water from the nearby river, but weeds grew even faster than the plants. Chunmu’s health was poor, so he worked in fits and starts, lagging behind others. With several mouths to feed, his declining stamina made farming increasingly difficult.
After a pause, he added, “Chunfu, even after you marry, you’ll come back to help with the farm work. Don’t think leaving this house means you’re free of your duties. We’ve spent so much raising you, and you’ve done little to help. It’s time to make up for it.”
Chunfu felt sickened. Married daughters helping out was a kindness, not an obligation. After all their mistreatment, they still wanted to exploit her. Did they really think she was that foolish? Still, the open fields were preferable to the stifling house.
She didn’t argue. Zhang Yan, being young, didn’t dare speak up either. After eating, they left for the fields. Though still pale, Zhang Yan seemed livelier, carrying a basket of water in one hand and holding Chunfu’s hand with the other as they walked leisurely. It was early, the sun high and hot. Villagers returning from their fields glanced at the aunt and nephew before walking on, smiling.
The morning’s commotion at the Zhang house, combined with Xiuhua’s swollen face being dragged out by Tiezhu, had spread quickly. A few gossipy villagers chatted, and soon the whole village knew.
When Jicheng returned, he tidied the yard and cleaned the rooms before stopping. The house was well-stocked; he’d replace furniture like the wardrobe when times got better. Now, life felt full of promise, and he was energized.
Behind Jicheng’s home stood the towering Qingshui Mountain, separated by the Qingshui River, which villagers used for irrigation and laundry. Being at the village’s edge, it was quiet and secluded. News of the Zhang family reached him half an hour later.
Liansheng’s wife sighed. “Poor Chunfu, bullied so badly by Li Xiu’e. I heard she gave the treats you gave her to Zhang Yan, and Zhang Tong threw a fit. If Xiuhua hadn’t shown up, it wouldn’t have escalated.”
Village gossip tended to exaggerate. Jicheng, thinking Chunfu had been wronged, decided to check on her. They were engaged, and he’d paid the bride price—she was his to care for now.
Liansheng’s wife mused that Chunfu was lucky to have Jicheng so devoted. With a smirk, she added, “I heard the aunt and nephew went to weed the fields.”
Jicheng arrived at the fields after a short walk. Chunfu and Zhang Yan were squatting among the crops, chatting and laughing, seemingly unbothered. His worry eased. Zhang Yan spotted him first, waving excitedly. “Uncle!”
Hearing Zhang Yan, Chunfu turned. Him again? They’d just met that morning. She shot Zhang Yan a warning glance, telling him not to blab. The boy stuck out his tongue, pretending to focus on weeding as Jicheng approached, amused by his aunt’s convincing act.
Jicheng wiped the sweat from Chunfu’s forehead and asked Zhang Yan, “Why not rest under the tree? It’s too hot today—be careful.”
“Got it, Uncle.”
Kneeling beside Chunfu, Jicheng inspected her before asking, “Did your sister-in-law bully you?”
Chunfu grinned, her eyes crinkling. Was he worried she’d been mistreated? She shook her head. “Ugly woman tried to hit me. I pushed her, threw rocks. She ran away.”
Jicheng smiled at her spirited expression—adorably simple yet fierce. He’d assumed she’d endure abuse meekly, but her temper was formidable. Setting aside housework, he helped them weed, chatting with Zhang Yan. Time flew.
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