Wáng Jīnhuā’s sharp, caustic voice was like nails scraping across an iron pot, piercing the eardrums.
Her voice arrived before her, and then with a “bang,” the already-shaky broken door was kicked hard.
The doorframe groaned painfully with a “creak” but stubbornly did not fall.
At the very moment the sound rang out, Liú Xiǎomǎn had already shielded Lǐ Xiùxiù and Liú Cōngmíng behind her.
After swallowing the hot porridge and the special medicine, the deadly burning in her body had subsided greatly. Though still weak, she now had the strength to sit up.
Leaning against the straw pile, her gaze was calm and sharp — a stark contrast to the sickly, dying girl she had been just hours before.
Wáng Jīnhuā, seeing that the door didn’t give way, cursed and scurried around to the broken wall opening, poking her head inside.
She sniffed like a dog, her shifty eyes darting around the dim hut, greedily searching for the source of that aroma.
“Well, Lǐ Xiùxiù! While our whole family eats watery vegetable gruel, you’re here eating secretly! What’s that fragrant smell? Are you hiding meat?”
Lǐ Xiùxiù trembled in fear, instinctively clutching Liú Cōngmíng’s sleeve, lips quivering as she tried to explain.
She was terrified that this secret of the miraculous porridge might be discovered, bringing even greater disaster upon her daughter.
At that moment, a cool yet unusually strong hand pressed her back.
Liú Xiǎomǎn completely shielded her mother and brother, facing Wáng Jīnhuā with a cold, sharp gaze, and spoke first: “Aunt, it’s already dark — not sleeping and coming to our new home by the mass grave… are you trying to soak in bad luck?”
The “Aunt” was said with a neutral tone, but the sarcasm pierced Wáng Jīnhuā’s heart like a needle.
Momentarily choked by this unexpected retort, Wáng Jīnhuā furrowed her brows, hands on her hips, adopting the posture of someone ready to curse: “You little brat, how dare you curse me! Cut the nonsense, I smell meat, hand it over!
I’m telling you, as long as your surname is Liú, the second branch’s things are communal. If you eat, everyone eats together!”
“Meat? Imagination sure is rich — you can smell abalone in a bowl of plain rice porridge,” Liú Xiǎomǎn thought rapidly, her face calm.
She seized the flaw in Wáng Jīnhuā’s words, speaking softly but clearly: “Communal? Aunt, I think you’ve forgotten — our family has already been separated.”
Meeting Wáng Jīnhuā’s furious gaze, she continued slowly and deliberately: “Grandmother herself said the three of us were unlucky, plague-bringers, thrown out to fend for ourselves, so as not to soil the old mansion.
For that, she even had Uncle draft a document and affix his seal. And now, after only half a day, Aunt thinks we are still communal? Planning to invite our bad luck back into the mansion?”
Liú Xiǎomǎn’s voice was cold and clear, her logic terrifyingly precise. She deliberately emphasized the words unlucky, plague-bringer, and document-seal, each hitting Wáng Jīnhuā like a slap to the face.
The words “separation document” and “unlucky” were like giant stones, turning Wáng Jīnhuā’s face pale and blue in succession; she could barely speak.
She never imagined that the previously weak, head-down girl could become so sharp-tongued.
Yet, being a seasoned village quarrel veteran, her eyes darted, and she immediately changed tactics, throwing a tantrum:
“I don’t care! Even if separated, you are still juniors! When there’s food, you must show filial respect! Eating secretly here, ignoring your grandmother — that’s unfilial! May heaven strike down unfilial descendants!”
The “filial piety” card immediately made Lǐ Xiùxiù pale.
In this era, the accusation of unfilial behavior could crush a person.
However, Liú Xiǎomǎn merely sneered, even raising her voice deliberately so the night wind could carry it farther:
“Filial respect? When we were cast out, grandmother gave us only a tiny half-bag of rice bran, and not a single coin. Did she ever think we were her grandchildren? And Aunt, did you ever think we were your nieces and nephew? And now you speak to us about filial respect?”
She paused, her gaze growing colder, like twin poisoned blades aimed at Wáng Jīnhuā: “Besides, who saw us eating meat? At this late hour, beside a mass grave, where would meat come from? Oh—”
She deliberately drew out her tone, a strange smile curling her lips: “This mass grave does have meat… meat nobody claims. Aunt, if you’re really craving it, go dig it yourself!”
The words “meat nobody claims” hit Wáng Jīnhuā like a death spell, instantly shattering all her arrogance.
She screamed in terror, stumbling back several steps, her face turning ghostly pale.
Superstitious to the core, she normally avoided this mass grave during the day; now, Liú Xiǎomǎn’s grim words made her feel cold winds crawling down her neck, as if countless ghostly hands were touching her.
Angry and frightened, Wáng Jīnhuā pointed at Liú Xiǎomǎn, stammering “You… you… you—” but no words came out.
For the first time, she felt a bone-chilling cold from her fifteen-year-old niece.
That gaze, that tone — no longer a sickly girl, but a vengeful spirit returned from the underworld.
Unable to seize any advantage, and too scared to really enter the cursed hut, Wáng Jīnhuā could only stamp her feet, muttering obscene curses repeatedly.
Her shrill voice pierced the silent night, drawing faint oil lamp lights from a few neighboring houses that hadn’t gone to sleep.
Seeing she gained nothing and might attract onlookers, Wáng Jīnhuā angrily stomped, leaving behind a half-hearted threat:
“You little brat, you’ve grown sharp-tongued! Just wait — I’ll tell Mother! Let’s see how you handle her!”
After cursing, she ran toward the Liú family mansion without looking back, her voice fading into the night wind.
Finally, the hut returned to temporary silence.
Lǐ Xiùxiù’s tense body relaxed. She looked at her daughter’s calm profile, her eyes a mix of fear, unfamiliar awe, and relief.
Liú Xiǎomǎn knew Wáng Jīnhuā was just the appetizer, a minor annoyance. The real final boss — the one who caused the second branch’s tragedy, Elder Tián — was about to arrive.
They had to find a way to survive before Elder Tián and her people came.
Survival meant money, food, and capital to hold their heads high.
She turned her gaze, her dark pupils reflecting the endless night outside the window.
Beyond the nearby mass grave, her eyes landed on the majestic contours of the mountain range bathed in moonlight.
That was her true treasure trove.
Liú Xiǎomǎn took a deep breath, the air still carrying the sweetness of rice porridge and the freshness of soil.
She looked at her frightened mother and still-naive brother, and with unprecedented resolve, said word by word:
“Mother, tomorrow, we go into the mountains.”