Night draped Liújiā Village in inky darkness.
Inside the dilapidated thatched hut, the faint glow of an oil lamp flickered against the earthen walls, illuminating Liú Xiǎomǎn’s pale but intensely focused face.
She did not immediately lie down to rest. Enduring the bone-deep soreness in her body, she spread a coarse sheet of straw paper on the simple wooden table.
With her fingertips holding a small piece of charred wood, she began sketching swiftly.
Each stroke carried resolute decisiveness.
Soon, a crooked, preliminary route map took shape—from the crooked-necked tree at the village entrance, to the concealed pile of rocks in the back mountain, and finally to the waterfall. Several key points were clearly marked with special symbols.
This was not just a map—it was a tactical plan for the future, a detailed “ant-moving” strategy.
She knew that building the new home would require massive amounts of materials, and large-scale procurement and transport could never escape the eyes of the predatory members of the old Liú family estate.
They were like vultures lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.
So, she had to act without leaving a trace.
The next day, at dawn, Liú Xiǎomǎn rose quietly.
She did not disturb her sleeping mother or brother, only slinging the half-worn backpack over her shoulders, and slipped out of the hut silently.
The morning mist was damp and cold, soaking the tips of her hair, but she paid it no mind. Her steps were firm and swift.
By the time she reached Qīngshí Town, the marketplace was already bustling.
The air carried the mingled scents of baked bread, fresh vegetables, and the lively murmur of the crowd.
Liú Xiǎomǎn lowered her worn headscarf to appear like an ordinary, timid village girl, blending into the throng.
She lingered at no shop.
At the east street grain store, she purchased ten jin of the cheapest coarse salt, carefully wrapping it in oil paper.
Then to the west street cloth shop, she took five rolls of the dullest, most inconspicuous coarse linen.
Finally, she even visited the blacksmith, using her last copper coins to buy a small bag of nails of varying lengths.
She spent all her remaining two silver coins, buying in batches to ensure no one noticed a little girl amassing so many supplies.
As she prepared to leave via a narrow alley behind the cloth shop with her heavy backpack, a familiar figure caught her eye from the corner of her vision.
Her heart sank, and her movements froze.
At the marketplace entrance, Liú Dàbǎo was idly scanning westward, his shifty eyes scanning the crowd as if hunting prey.
His presence pierced Liú Xiǎomǎn’s sense of security like an icy needle.
How was he here?
Coincidence, or another scheme from the old Liú estate?
There was no time to ponder. She instinctively shrank back, pressing her back against the cold wall.
Her heart raced, and her nails dug deep into the coarse linen in her palms.
Quickly, she muttered in her mind: “System, scan surroundings, activate alert mode!”
The cold electronic voice steadied her slightly.
She did not retrace her path, but turned sharply into a narrower, damp-smelling alley, completely altering her planned route.
With the system’s assistance, she navigated the labyrinthine streets like a cautious raccoon, perfectly evading any sightlines Liú Dàbǎo might have.
By the time she rode back to the village entrance on a neighboring village’s ox cart, it was already afternoon.
Liú Xiǎomǎn did not carry all the supplies back at once.
She hid most of the cloth and salt behind an overgrown, abandoned stone mill outside the village, which she had previously scouted.
Then, she carried only a small portion of seemingly trivial dried vegetables and nails, returning to the hut nonchalantly.
“Sis, you’re back!” Liú Cōngming greeted her first. Seeing the sparse contents of her backpack, his eyes fell slightly.
“Xiǎomǎn, why are you spending again?” Lǐ Xiùxiù came over, her face tinged with worry and reproach.
Liú Xiǎomǎn only smiled, placing the items down and saying lightly, “Winter’s coming soon; I’m stocking some dried vegetables and nails to fix the house. Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.” Her words, half-truths, successfully eased Lǐ Xiùxiù’s concern.
Night fell deeper.
Outside, insects cried sharply; inside, only Lǐ Xiùxiù and Liú Cōngming’s even breaths could be heard.
Holding her breath, Liú Xiǎomǎn waited silently in the dark, ensuring they were fast asleep before slipping from the bed like a night prowling cat.
She did not light a lamp, relying on the faint moonlight to carry the supplies hidden in the house and the ones at the village entrance, moving them in batches to the back mountain.
The heavy packs pressed against her thin shoulders, leaving burning red marks.
The mountain path was even more rugged at night.
Loose stones shifted beneath her feet, the subtle noises sounding sharp in the silent forest.
Occasional roars from unknown beasts in the woods kept her nerves taut.
Sweat soon soaked her back, and the cold night wind made her shiver.
Yet Liú Xiǎomǎn’s steps never faltered; each was firm and unwavering.
Her mind continually pictured the spacious, dry cave behind the waterfall, and the warm, sturdy, bright home in the blueprint.
The thought of giving her mother and brother a true safe haven—
A home where they no longer had to fear, no longer had to watch others’ faces—
Drove away all fatigue, soreness, and fear with an incomparable force.
This was their hope; it was a responsibility she must shoulder.
When she finally, gasping, reached the waterfall, its deafening roar seemed the most beautiful symphony in the world.
She slipped through the icy water curtain and placed the first package safely in the cave’s corner, immediately turning to carry the second and third batches.
After several trips, when the last supplies were moved inside, she was almost completely exhausted.
Leaning against the cold rock wall, she panted heavily, carefully erasing any traces along the way to ensure nothing was left behind.
Looking at the small pile of materials stacked in the corner, a twinge of helplessness rose within her.
“Moving everything alone is too slow, and too risky,” Liú Xiǎomǎn frowned, thinking calmly.
Relying solely on herself, she had no idea when she could transport all the materials needed for the new home.
She needed helpers.
Her only trustworthy ones were Lǐ Xiùxiù and Liú Cōngming.
But how could she involve them while ensuring absolute safety?
How could they help without fear causing them to reveal the secret?
A meticulous plan was required.
A thought gradually crystallized in her mind.
She could not carry all the secrets alone any longer.
She would gradually and methodically bring her mother and brother into the process.
Starting with simple, low-risk tasks—like assisting at the mountain base or helping pack light items.
At the same time, she would teach them basic concealment and self-protection skills.
This home belonged to the three of them.
The construction should be a shared effort.
When Liú Xiǎomǎn finally, utterly exhausted, quietly returned to the hut before dawn, the weighty pressure in her heart had been replaced with a brand-new anticipation.
She lay on the cold bed, listening to her family’s even breathing, silently mapping out tomorrow.
Tomorrow, she would reveal a corner of this grand plan.
She would no longer fight alone, but as a team, working together for their shared new home.