The mulberries in the courtyard had turned from green to red, and it wouldn’t be long before they could be picked. Nearby stood a well, its perimeter neatly enclosed with bricks, likely to prevent accidents with children playing around it. The wooden bucket resting on the edge still bore traces of water stains.
Li Xiu’e placed a wooden basin outside and went straight into the kitchen after picking a handful of greens from the small vegetable patch. She genuinely cherished Chunmu and wanted to build a good life with him. There was no need to let a sister-in-law who was about to marry ruin their marital harmony. She knew what mattered—men losing their temper was nothing unusual.
Chunmu had originally intended to ask his wife to boil water, but seeing her enter the kitchen, he didn’t feel right ordering her around. Turning to Chunfu, he said, “Dinner will take a while. Let me fetch hot water for you first. After washing up and changing, it’ll be just in time to eat.”
Qiao Ran ignored him. She didn’t believe for a second that this so-called elder brother truly cared for the original owner of this body. When the original owner had lain sick in bed for days, he hadn’t even bothered to fetch a doctor, clearly leaving her to fend for herself. Now, suddenly, he was all warmth and concern—who knew what ulterior motives he harbored?
Zhang Chunmu’s family of four lived in the west wing, occupying two rooms. He carried the hot water to the main house. By custom, Chunfu wasn’t entitled to stay there, but since she was soon to marry, there was no point making a fuss.
Qiao Ran herself couldn’t stand the grime. Closing the door, she scrubbed herself thoroughly, using two full buckets of water before she felt clean. On the bed was a set of coarse cotton clothes her elder brother had brought in—patched countless times, the color slightly faded but still youthful-looking, likely something her sister-in-law had worn. Though clean and carrying the scent of sunlight, the clothes hung loosely on her frame. She rolled up the sleeves and pant legs twice, looking much neater, then reconsidered and let one side down, remembering the original owner’s dim-witted reputation.
When she stepped out, the table held a few steamed corn buns and a plate of stir-fried greens with barely any oil—so few she could count them. Still, it was better than the leftovers the original owner had survived on. As Qiao Ran picked up a single vegetable, her brother spoke up: “When there’s time, let your sister-in-law teach you a couple of decent dishes. You can’t show up at your new home knowing nothing—people will say our family raised you poorly.”
Qiao Ran nibbled on the bun, thinking to herself that she couldn’t imagine her sister-in-law had any culinary skills worth learning. The food before her was something even a beginner could manage—hardly impressive compared to her own abilities.
Li Xiu’e handed an egg to her younger son, Zhang Tong, and scoffed, “Why bother telling her? She won’t understand anyway. I already told the matchmaker our family’s not the brightest. By now, Jicheng must know. If he’s unhappy, he shouldn’t have agreed to the match. Jicheng’s a filial son—his mother clung to life just to see him married but passed before it happened. It’s been three years, and he’s already twenty-two—can’t delay any longer. Everyone in the nearby villages knows he’s cursed. Who’d dare marry their daughter to him? When Chunfu goes, he ought to be thanking us.”
Her brother took a bite of his bun, chewed, swallowed, then sighed. “My sister’s looks aren’t bad. Pity… otherwise, she could’ve been some rich man’s concubine in the city. What a waste, ending up with that unlucky Jicheng.”
Qiao Ran had already made up her mind. All this talk of curses was nonsense. With no better options, marrying him was her best bet. At least his ill reputation might keep the worst troubles at bay. Her stomach, long starved, finally felt somewhat full after four buns.
When her brother saw the empty bowl, his face darkened. Eight-year-old Zhang Yan offered the bun he’d only taken one bite from, saying earnestly, “Auntie, you can have this. I only had a little.”
Li Xiu’e smacked him on the head, cursing loudly enough to make Qiao Ran’s ears ring. “Your father and I are sitting right here, and you don’t care if we’re hungry? That pig only knows how to eat and laze around—why waste your concern on her?”
Her brother stayed silent, clearly agreeing. If that was the case, why had he pretended to be the caring elder brother earlier? The hypocrisy was almost laughable. Qiao Ran ignored them, pushed her chair back, and said, “I’m done,” before heading outside. Passing Zhang Yan, she winked—their secret signal to sneak out and play.
Golden sunlight bathed the village, casting a hazy glow over the large locust tree at the entrance. Birds sang sweetly from its branches. In April, willow catkins drifted like snowflakes, and the tree’s lush canopy spread like a giant umbrella, offering cool shade.
Leaning against the trunk, Qiao Ran waited until Zhang Yan finally emerged. Pouting like a little adult, he said, “Yesterday, I heard Mom tell Aunt Wang next door that you’re an idiot—only good for eating and playing, useless for anything else. Better to marry you off for some silver to ease our burdens. Auntie, once you’re gone, no one will play with me. Mom favors Tongtong—my life’s hard too.”
Chunfu had always been closest to this nephew. If she could secure a better future, she’d help him too. But for now, survival came first. Tilting her head, she took his hand and whispered, “Jicheng… take me to see him.”
Zhang Yan perked up. He knew where Jicheng was, but his aunt was trouble. They’d agreed beforehand—no mischief. Worried she’d forget, he reminded her, “We can only watch from far away, okay? No getting close. Auntie, what if your husband treats you like Mom does?”
Qiao Ran didn’t know if Jicheng would be kind. She just wanted freedom—no one dictating her life, no pressure, just doing as she pleased. The idea of worshipping a man as her master, slaving over chores and bearing children, never daring to live for herself—that wasn’t a life she wanted. Overthinking now was pointless. She’d deal with it after marriage. She wasn’t some fool to be trampled on.
Following Zhang Yan, Qiao Ran glanced around curiously. Elderly villagers resting in the shade recognized her the moment they spotted the boy. Once the pair was out of earshot, one sighed, “Chunfu’s such a pretty girl when cleaned up—just unlucky. When the Zhang elders were alive, she was always neat. After Xiu’e came, she might as well have been an orphan.”
An old man nearby hushed her. “Sister, you know Xiu’e’s temper. Her house is just ahead—if she hears, these old bones won’t survive the fuss. Everyone has their fate—let it be.”
After a quarter-hour’s walk, they arrived at a half-built brick house. Sweat-drenched laborers toiled under the sun. Qiao Ran watched as they spread mortar and laid bricks with practiced ease.
Suddenly, Zhang Yan pointed at a shirtless, muscular figure high above and whispered, “That’s Jicheng. He’s the handsomest man in ten villages.”
Following his finger, Qiao Ran saw a tall, well-built young man on a wooden scaffold. Beads of sweat glistened on his sun-bronzed back. While others chatted in groups, he worked alone. When he turned, she finally saw his face—sharp, sculpted features, thick brows, piercing dark eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips pressed tightly together. An aura of aloof pride surrounded him, distant and cold.
Qiao Ran smirked. He was undeniably attractive—pitiable, really, to be burdened by such a reputation. Her gaze lingered as he wiped sweat or drank water, every movement imprinting in her mind.
“Auntie, let’s go. We’ll get scolded if we stay too long.”
Zhang Yan tugged her sleeve, snapping her out of her trance. Her cheeks warmed—staring so openly at a man was scandalous here. Plenty of time for that later. Just as she turned to leave, a commotion erupted near Jicheng. Shouts escalated into a scuffle, then—a man tumbled from above. Instinctively, Qiao Ran shielded Zhang Yan’s eyes. “Don’t look!” Her voice, though urgent, rang clear and melodious.
Chaos ensued. No one paid her any mind. As she exhaled in relief, her eyes inadvertently met Jicheng’s—deep and fathomless as the sea. Her heart skipped. He’d seen her.
Flustered, she wanted to leave but couldn’t tear her gaze away. While others panicked, Jicheng nimbly descended the ladder. The fallen man was Liansheng, a neighbor. Without hesitation, Jicheng lifted him and strode off.
Then, a shrill voice cut through the crowd: “Wherever Jicheng goes, disaster follows! He’s the reason Liansheng got into that fight!”
Jicheng halted mid-step. Turning, he fixed the speaker with a blazing glare. “Cenniu, don’t think I don’t see your game. Trying to pin this on me? Dream on! I saw you push Liansheng when he was grappling with Daqiao. Let’s see whose door Death knocks on tonight. Slanderers get their tongues ripped out in hell.” With that, he hurried toward Dr. Han’s house.
The homeowner, furious, had hoped hiring locals would earn goodwill—only for this to happen. Maybe he should’ve listened to his family and hired outsiders. The workers, sensing his mood, scattered back to their tasks, leaving only a stark bloodstain glaring under the sun.
Spitting in disgust, the homeowner rushed after Jicheng. The accident happened on his property—village justice wouldn’t let him off easy.
Seeing no reason to linger, Qiao Ran took Zhang Yan’s hand and headed home.
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