The August sun at midday was unbearably scorching. In the vast fields, farmers working in groups had already climbed onto the ridges to rest or dozed briefly beneath the trees. Yet a thin, small girl remained in the furrows, gathering grass. Sweat soaked through her patched short shirt, and her narrow face was flushed unnaturally red—clearly sunburned. As she straightened her back slightly to rest, a harsh voice rang out from the shade of a nearby tree: “Turn my head for one moment and you’re already slacking! You eat and drink all day without working—if our family had a mountain of gold, you’d squander it away! If you don’t finish this acre today, you won’t even get rice soup!”
The words were domineering, drawing the attention of nearby villagers.
The speaker was Wang Qiao, wife of the local blacksmith Xue Sheng. She was notorious in the village for her shrewish temper—domineering at home, never losing in quarrels or fights with neighbors.
But Wang Qiao had long been childless. The son she finally bore was slow‑witted from birth and grew up fat and clumsy. Ashamed before others, her temper grew ever more vicious. Now her son, Xue Dabao, was nearly sixteen, and continuing the family line had become her greatest concern. She refused to marry him to a disabled girl, yet no decent family would give their daughter to her foolish son. Poor households desperate enough to sell daughters she disdained. So she decided it was better to buy a girl from traffickers—someone rootless, raised in her household, who would have no divided loyalties.
After much effort, through relatives, she purchased an eleven‑ or twelve‑year‑old girl from a broker. The child had already been sold three or four times; even the trafficker no longer knew her original home.
Thin but whole in body, she was at least useful labor. Her features were delicate, but because she had been abducted, she had no proper contract and could not be sold into a wealthy household as a maid. She might otherwise have been destined for a brothel, but Wang Qiao saw her value.
Her looks raised the price, but Wang Qiao thought of her son’s ugliness and hoped for better‑looking grandchildren, so she paid. With Xue Sheng’s savings from his smithing, the deal was made.
Thus, the Xue family acquired a child bride. Asked her name, the girl said she had been kidnapped so young she no longer remembered. Wang Qiao, unwilling to bother, simply called her “Girl.” Once she consummated with Dabao, she would be “Dabao’s woman.”
Though still young and not formally married, Wang Qiao treated her with the full authority of a mother‑in‑law, venting her temper on the girl whenever displeased.
That day, after quarreling with her husband, Wang Qiao forced the child bride to labor under the blazing sun. Villagers watched her stagger in exhaustion, sighing, “What a sin.” If she were their own daughter, they would never allow such torment. But Wang Qiao’s ferocity kept them silent.
The girl had drunk only thin rice soup that morning and no water since. When she finally finished and reached the dirt road where ox carts carried grain, her legs gave way and she collapsed.
At that moment, three fine horses galloped down the path. This was no official road; outsiders rarely passed. Yet these riders spurred their mounts at full speed. The girl’s sudden fall into their path startled everyone. Even Wang Qiao cried out, fearing her ten taels of silver would be lost.
Hooves thundered toward her. But the tall youth leading the charge yanked his reins, driving his horse’s head into another to force it aside, narrowly avoiding the fallen girl.
The third horse halted as well. A servant leapt down, rushing forward:
“Fourth Young Master, are you all right?”
The youth’s dark eyes narrowed. He gestured: “Qingyan, check on that girl.”
Qingyan obeyed, crouching beside her: “Hey, are you all right? Do you feel unwell?”
The girl slowly lifted her head, her face smeared with dust, looking utterly spent and on the verge of collapse.
Before the girl could speak, Wang Qiao stormed over, fierce and loud: “Where did you ruffians come from? You’ve injured my daughter‑in‑law—unless you pay up in silver, no one leaves!”
Her shouting cut off abruptly when she saw the youth on horseback—handsome beyond compare, like a figure stepped out of a painting. Whose son could look so refined?
Qingyan, however, was unimpressed. He thought grimly: *Our master has stumbled into a scam.* He’d heard of villagers driving sick dogs or pigs onto busy roads, then demanding outrageous compensation when they were struck. To see such tricks here, with a girl used as bait, was shocking. If his master hadn’t reined in his horse, she might have died under the hooves, and they would have been trapped in endless trouble.
Angrily, Qingyan retorted: “Your daughter‑in‑law threw herself onto the road. She doesn’t have a single hoofprint on her. Why should we pay?”
Wang Qiao faltered, but seeing the youth’s fine clothes and scholarly air, she thought him easy prey. If only the girl had been trampled, she could demand a fortune in medical fees. Determined, she blocked the road:
“I don’t care! She’s too witless to speak—clearly frightened by your horses. Unless you pay for medicine, you’re not going anywhere!”
The handsome youth glanced at the blazing sun, impatient to continue his journey. He said calmly: “Qingyan, give her your purse.”
Though reluctant, Qingyan obeyed, tossing over his pouch. Wang Qiao felt its weight—two taels of silver! Opening it, she saw shining ingots. *Rich young master, generous indeed.*
She was about to pocket the money when the girl, now sitting up, studied the bell on the horse’s neck and the youth’s bearing. Listening to the quarrel, she spoke softly: “Grandmother, when I was washing clothes, I overheard the tutor next door teaching history. This road was once traveled by the founding emperor. Disguised, he accidentally trampled crops. Villagers blocked his way, but instead of throwing silver, he blamed himself for not caring for the people. He dismounted, killed his horse in apology, and decreed that anyone galloping through country lanes should be punished with forty strokes. Since this gentleman offers so much silver, he must know he’s committed a grave offense. Please accept it and don’t trouble them further…”
Her words sounded meek, like kindly advice. But Wang Qiao’s eyes lit up—she had leverage now. Two taels were not enough! She cried: “Such a small sum? Do you take me for a beggar? If you don’t give a proper account, I’ll drag you before the magistrate!”
The youth’s brows lifted slightly, surprised at the audacity of these two women. Qingyan nearly exploded—*a double scam!*
The black‑clad companion laughed, sneering: “So you want to haul us before the magistrate? Do you even know who I am? If we go, it’s you who’ll suffer.”
The girl rose slowly, wiping dust from her face with her torn sleeve. Standing timidly behind Wang Qiao, she whispered: “Grandmother, these two look like scholars about to sit for the exams. The tutor said candidates must keep their virtue spotless. If you accuse them, their careers will be ruined. And we villagers are too busy in the fields to waste time at court. You and Grandfather have long sought work at the Cheng family’s ancestral shrine. These gentlemen seem to be from there, hurrying on business. Why not ask them to help secure that position? That way, no quarrel, and their reputation remains intact.”
Wang Qiao’s eyes darted to the emblem on their horses—indeed, the bold character “Cheng.” She blanched. The Cheng family must not be offended!
Quickly, she plastered on a smile, snatched up the silver, and bowed repeatedly: “Just a joke, sirs, nothing serious. But if you could kindly help my husband and me gain work at the Cheng shrine, our family would be forever grateful.”
The black‑clad youth laughed aloud, turning to his white‑robed companion: “Tianfu, see? They’ve set a trap just for you. Your hometown hides dragons and tigers indeed—such crafty villagers!”
The white‑robed youth’s eyes glinted coldly. He looked past Wang Qiao’s fawning face to the timid girl. He saw clearly: it was she who had guided the scheme. Without her mention of history, Wang Qiao would have taken the silver and left.
The girl lifted her head slightly, revealing her brow and eyes beneath messy hair. Her gaze met his for an instant before she dropped it again, timid and small.
But that fleeting look was enough for the youth to see her features—and he was momentarily stunned.