“What are you doing at my house? You’re not welcome here.”
“Meng’er, don’t be rude. A guest is a guest. Step aside.”
“But Grandmother, he dislocated my arm. Why should I let him in?”
“Meng’er, if your skills are inferior, throwing a tantrum won’t prove anything.”
“But—”
“Elder Brother, Qibiao is my guest. If you don’t let him in, how can I face him?”
“Fine, then.”
Lin Fang watched from the side, rolling her eyes. Lin Meng, though three months older than Lin Wen and appearing tall and sturdy, was actually quite childish. There he was, blocking the door to keep Qibiao out, while Qibiao stood there unfazed, even wearing a look of disdain. After a while, without Qibiao lifting a finger, Lin Meng surrendered and had to let him in.
Strangely enough, ever since Lin Wen had asked Dr. Wang to tamper with Shilang’s leg, a shadow had begun following him—Qibiao. Wherever Lin Wen went, Qibiao followed. The two were of similar stature, but their appearances couldn’t be more different. Lin Wen, fair-skinned and refined even at a young age, resembled his eldest brother and carried the air of a handsome gentleman. Qibiao, on the other hand, was ordinary-looking, with dark skin and an indifferent demeanor. No one would ever guess the two were connected, yet they were inseparable.
Even stranger was the fact that despite their constant companionship, they rarely spoke to each other, each absorbed in their own activities. Lin Wen usually spent his time reading or practicing calligraphy, while Qibiao wandered around as if he owned the place. Even when together, they coexisted in silence, undisturbed by each other. Lin Meng, however, was always making a fuss—yelling at Qibiao not to touch his grandmother’s whip, warning him to stay away from the horses, and occasionally even picking fights, only to be subdued in seconds.
At first, the family treated Qibiao politely, serving him tea and snacks as befitting a guest. But the boy was cold, never speaking or smiling, making their hospitality feel like wasted effort. Gradually, they stopped bothering. He came and went as he pleased.
“Little Sister, I’m back.”
Hmph, as if I care. The sulking infant clung to her mother’s neck, resting her head on her shoulder and giving her elder brother the cold shoulder.
Ever since returning from Dr. Wang’s house, Lin Fang had refused to let Lin Wen touch her or even acknowledge him. Whenever he tried to hold or pat her, she’d swat at him with her tiny hands, leaving Lin Wen baffled. He had no idea what he’d done to upset her. Little did he know, his sister harbored the soul of a thirty-year-old woman who understood everything, despite her infant body.
Deep down, Lin Fang knew she was being unreasonable. Lin Wen had only been trying to justify his actions to Dr. Wang, and though he’d used her as an excuse, he hadn’t harmed her. In fact, he’d taken great care of her—even when parched, he’d made sure she drank first, then finished the water from her cup without hesitation. Still, she couldn’t shake her irritation. You’re my elder brother—if you wrong me, I’ll ignore you. It was how she’d behaved in her past life, and though her body had changed, her nature hadn’t.
“Little Sister, look what I brought you.” Lin Wen turned and pulled a fruit from the bag Qibiao was holding.
Wow, an orange! It’s been so long since I’ve had one. Big Brother, are you psychic? How did you know I love oranges?
Though she still hadn’t figured out which dynasty this was, the clothing told her it was an era with poor transportation. They were in the far north, where oranges—a southern fruit—were a luxury most couldn’t afford. Some people had never even seen one.
Li Cuimei frowned. “Wen’er, where did you get this orange? Such an expensive item—you can’t just accept gifts like this.”
“I gave it to him.”
Hah, the silent one finally speaks! Lin Fang turned her gaze to Qibiao in surprise, meeting his curious eyes.
What are you looking at? Too young to be acting all cool and aloof. Hmph.
Wait, was I just judged by a baby? An innocent, untainted infant shouldn’t have such a gaze. But before Qibiao could scrutinize her further, she turned away, leaving him with only the back of her head.
Qibiao had rarely paid attention to Lin Wen’s “ugly” little sister before. But those suddenly bright, expressive eyes had caught his interest. He’d never seen an infant’s eyes so lively, as if she understood every word and reacted accordingly.
Qibiao had latched onto Lin Wen because he admired the boy’s calm, composed nature—and occasional cunning. Despite his aloofness, he was still a child who longed for companionship. After half a year in the village, he’d found the other children childish and unworthy of his time. But Lin Wen’s sharp reprimand of Shilang had changed his opinion. He’d realized the fair-skinned boy wasn’t as innocent as he seemed, and from then on, Qibiao openly followed him.
Lin Wen had noticed Qibiao’s attention but didn’t mind. He, too, was intrigued by the boy his classmates called the “Black-Faced God.” That cold, detached demeanor hinted at an unusual past. So while Qibiao observed him, Lin Wen observed back. And thus, their strange companionship formed—mutually unopposed, mutually acknowledged.
When they learned the orange was from Qibiao, the family stopped fussing. Given the boy’s usual behavior, formalities were pointless. Besides, he’d been tagging along with Lin Wen for so long—eating at their table, drinking their tea (the good kind, no less)—that he was practically family. A few oranges were nothing.
This time, Lin Wen didn’t hand the orange to his mother to feed Lin Fang. Instead, he dangled it playfully and reached for her. Tempted by the fruit, Lin Fang forgave him, wrapping her arms around his neck while eyeing the orange greedily. She savored each bite, relishing the sweet-tart juice, though her few teeth made chewing a slow process.
Everyone laughed at her eager expression—even the usually expressionless Qibiao cracked a smile.
Given the wealth of Tong’s and Li Cuimei’s families, oranges weren’t a novelty. Even if they weren’t sold in the countryside, Li Ziyi in the capital sent some every winter. So while rare, they weren’t extraordinary.
Qibiao had expected the Lin family to be thrilled, but their indifference disappointed him. Lin Fang caught his crestfallen look and mentally scoffed, which only deepened his frustration. The mighty “Black-Faced God,” twice judged by a baby! He left before dinner without a word.
After that, Qibiao continued shadowing Lin Wen but paid more attention to Lin Fang. She, however, couldn’t care less about the boy’s thoughts. She ate, drank, slept, and lived her happy little life. If Qibiao stared, she might glance back indifferently or glare if she was in a bad mood.
Soon, the New Year approached, and their carefree days ended. Staying in the backyard under the pretense of recuperation was one thing, but they had to return for the holidays. With the family divided, lingering in someone else’s home would invite gossip. Even if they had valid reasons, the likes of Lin Boshi and Dong Shi would twist things beyond recognition.
On the eve of the Minor New Year, the eldest son carried Lin Fang while Li Cuimei held Lin Wu’s hand, with Lin Wen bringing up the rear. As they entered the front courtyard, Lin Cui’e, who’d been hanging laundry, dropped the clothes and rushed over, hugging Li Cuimei’s waist.
“Eldest Sister-in-law, you’re back! I missed you so much!”
Li Cuimei patted her head fondly. “Look at you, still so impulsive. What kind of lady behaves like this? Who’ll want to marry you?”
“Cui’e, come here. She’s a noble young miss, and you’re just a peasant girl. Don’t embarrass yourself—or me.” Dong Shi stepped out, her words dripping with venom as she glared at her daughter-in-law. “Why are you back? Forgotten this is your home? Thought you’d switched families?”
“Mother, enough. She’s a noble lady—why would she return without a sedan chair? Now that she’s graced us with her presence, shouldn’t we prepare a feast? Or she might just go back to her brother the general.” Lin Cuiping’s voice slithered from inside, sharp as a blade.
Tch, no wonder she’s still unmarried. Can’t some trash collector take this garbage away? She’s polluting the ancient air.
Before Lin Fang could finish her mental tirade, Shilang’s voice snarled from the east wing: “Lin Wen, you little brat! I’ll kill you today!”
Hopping out like a one-legged chicken, Shilang lunged at Lin Wen, his face twisted in rage. But his injured leg slowed him, and he nearly fell several times, looking more like a clown than a threat.
Lin Wen stood his ground, coldly waiting. Li Cuimei had planned to greet her in-laws first, but the hostile reception killed her enthusiasm. She led a frightened Lin Wu to their room.
“Ah—!”
Just as Shilang reached Lin Wen, he suddenly turned and scrambled back, only to trip and faceplant. Dong Shi, standing at the main door, paled and retreated inside, leaving her son writhing and howling on the ground.
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