The night deepened, moonlight spilling like mercury, stretching Liú Xiǎomǎn’s figure long along the country path.
The lightness she had felt returning from the back mountain vanished the moment she stepped into Liú Village, replaced by an invisible weight.
At the edge of the village, two curled-up figures made her heart tighten.
It was her third uncle, Liú Lǎoshí, and third aunt, Hé Xiǎolíng.
They sat with their backs to the village road, crouched on the bare field ridges, still carrying the earthy scent of labor. In the cold moonlight, their thin forms radiated a melancholy and helplessness that was hard to describe.
After the autumn harvest, the fields should have been peaceful, yet now they seemed soaked in the couple’s sorrow, the air heavy with despair.
Liú Xiǎomǎn slowed her steps, her shoes crunching softly on the dry soil.
She reached them and gently called out, “Third Uncle, Third Aunt, what’s wrong?”
The two figures shivered, then turned. Upon seeing Liú Xiǎomǎn, their sorrowful faces first showed surprise, then deep concern.
They almost simultaneously stood up. Hé Xiǎolíng quickly stepped forward, grabbing Liú Xiǎomǎn’s hands, scrutinizing her from head to toe.
“Xiǎomǎn, you’ve finally come back!” Hé Xiǎolíng’s voice was slightly hoarse. She asked urgently, “Your mother and Cōngmíng, are they all right? Over at the old house… they haven’t been giving you trouble again, have they?”
Liú Lǎoshí followed, his darkened face full of worry, his simple greeting entirely genuine.
A warm current surged through Liú Xiǎomǎn’s chest.
This warmth cut through the night’s chill, a stark contrast to the deep-seated cruelty and selfishness of the Liú family’s old residence.
In this turbulent world, on the brink of disaster, the kindness of her third uncle’s family was one of the few comforts she could feel.
She shook her head, grasping Hé Xiǎolíng’s rough hand in return, and reassured them, “Third Aunt, we’re all fine, and things have quieted down at the old house. But you two… why are you still out here sighing at this hour?”
Liú Lǎoshí let out a long sigh, his hands, calloused from years of labor, rubbing together awkwardly, making a soft rustling sound. His voice carried exhaustion and helplessness.
“Ah… it’s about the taxes,” he said, crouching and picking up a dried grass stem to fidget with. “Rain was scarce this year. The harvest looked okay, but the grain gathered is far less than usual. Today, the village chief came pressing again. The town is strict—every field tax, every head tax must be paid, not a single coin less.”
“Don’t even mention taxes,” Hé Xiǎolíng’s eyes reddened. She choked back tears, her voice quivering. “What little we harvested, after taxes, there’s barely anything left. And recently, mother’s health has worsened. We… we can hardly even scrape together money for her medicine. How are we supposed to get through these days?”
Seeing their despair and helplessness, Liú Xiǎomǎn felt her heart tug sharply.
This was just the initial shock of the impending drought—the most direct blow to ordinary people.
She knew this was only the beginning; true hardship lay ahead.
Taking a deep breath, she spoke firmly, comforting them, “Third Uncle, Third Aunt, don’t worry.” Her gaze was clear and steady, carrying an undeniable strength. “I’ll handle the money.”
Her mind raced, calculating rapidly.
Her third uncle’s family was the only warmth in this cold clan. She had to include them in her “Noah’s Ark” plan—not only to repay their kindness but also to secure one more trustworthy ally in a world on the brink of collapse.
Liú Lǎoshí immediately waved his hand, stubbornly refusing. “No, no! Xiǎomǎn, listen to your uncle.”
He stood, his expression serious.
“You three have had it hard enough. You finally moved out and got a few peaceful days. How could we drag you down again? We’ll figure this out ourselves.”
Hé Xiǎolíng wiped her eyes, nodding in agreement. “Yes, Xiǎomǎn, we appreciate your intention, but we can’t take the money. At worst, I’ll try borrowing some from my family.”
Her tone carried reluctance, clearly aware the hope was slim.
“Third Uncle, Third Aunt, we are family,” Liú Xiǎomǎn’s voice left no room for argument. She looked at Liú Lǎoshí, her eyes reflecting a precocious mix of cleverness and determination. “If you treat me separately, that would be truly distant.”
Pausing, she shifted to a lighter tone, half-truthfully explaining:
“Besides, don’t underestimate me. I’ve recently found some business opportunities in town and earned some money, and I was worried about not having anywhere to spend it. Supporting the family, isn’t that what I should do?”
She did not reveal the truth about the drought, framing it instead as a result of her business ventures.
Liú Lǎoshí and Hé Xiǎolíng exchanged glances, surprise, relief, and a faint, barely noticeable worry in their eyes.
A young girl, working outside—could she really earn money? Was it dangerous?
Liú Xiǎomǎn noticed their concern and took the opportunity to shift the topic, casually asking, “By the way, Third Uncle, aside from the taxes, has there been anything unusual in the village lately?”
Liú Lǎoshí paused, clearly not expecting her question.
He thought carefully, shaking his head. “Nothing major, just people complaining about poor field conditions, bad harvests, hard times.”
“Wait,” he suddenly remembered something, his expression changing slightly.
He glanced cautiously toward the village, confirming no one was around, then leaned close to Liú Xiǎomǎn and lowered his voice.
A faint smell of drought smoke mixed with earth reached her. Liú Lǎoshí spoke low and urgent: “Xiǎomǎn, there’s something… you must be careful! It’s about the old house.”
Liú Xiǎomǎn’s heart tightened, yet her face remained calm as she listened quietly.
“The other day, Liú Dàbǎo got scared by a ghost—nothing good came of it. Your aunt has been shouting that your family is causing trouble.”
Liú Lǎoshí lowered his voice further, almost a whisper. “Your grandmother, Tián Lǎotài, brought a shaman from a neighboring village, saying… saying she’s coming to exorcise your house!”
His words carried anxiety and fear. “This shaman is quite famous across the surrounding villages. I heard she’ll arrive early in the morning, heading straight for your house! Xiǎomǎn, you, your mother, and Cōngmíng must be very careful!”
A cold glint flashed in Liú Xiǎomǎn’s eyes.
Indeed, the scum at the old Liú residence never intended to let them have a single peaceful day.
But the reaction that followed was not anger or fear, but a frosty, playful smile.
Fate had handed her the perfect opportunity. She had been looking for the ideal chance to deal with the old house’s harassment once and for all, and now Tián Lǎotài had delivered it herself.
Seeing her third uncle and aunt’s anxious faces, Liú Xiǎomǎn’s sense of warmth deepened.
She patted Liú Lǎoshí’s arm, her tone calm yet powerful in reassurance: “Third Uncle, Third Aunt, thank you for telling me. I know what to do. Rest assured, I have a plan.”
She pulled a small cloth pouch from her chest, containing a few silver pieces, about two taels.
These were intentionally set aside for emergencies.
Without hesitation, she pressed it into Hé Xiǎolíng’s hands. The cold silver made her shiver.
“Third Aunt, use this to pay the taxes first, and the rest for your mother’s medicine.” Liú Xiǎomǎn held back Hé Xiǎolíng’s attempt to refuse, her tone firm.
“Trust me, this is just temporary. Once I deal with what’s ahead, our good days are still to come.”
Liú Lǎoshí and Hé Xiǎolíng, holding the heavy silver, stared at their small, fragile-looking niece with eyes full of unwavering determination, speechless, tears welling.
After bidding farewell, Liú Xiǎomǎn strode toward the hut by the unmarked burial ground.
Under the cold moonlight, her shadow stretched thin and long, a near-cruel playful glint quietly emerging on her calm face.
A shaman? An exorcism?
She could hardly wait to see what tricks this ancient shaman would attempt—and what grand reception she herself would prepare for this uninvited guest.