Inside the dilapidated hut, a single dim oil lamp cast the only light. Its tiny flame flickered in the draft, stretching the shadows of the three mother-and-children long and thin across the mottled mud walls, like dancing phantoms.
On the small wooden table were a bowl of vegetables and two steaming bowls of white rice.
Each grain of rice was distinct, exuding an aroma that Liú Xiùxiù and Liú Cōngmíng had not dared to dream of enjoying for months.
Liú Xiùxiù carefully picked at the rice, her eyes slightly red, savoring each bite.
Liú Cōngmíng buried his little face in his bowl, eating with delight.
Only Liú Xiǎomǎn had no appetite.
She sat quietly, listening to the wind outside howl like ghosts and wolves, rattling the broken wooden door, threatening to collapse at any moment.
Her hands gripped the chopsticks tightly, knuckles turning pale.
This place was not a home.
It was a leaky cage on the west side, incapable of providing even basic safety.
Earlier, Elder Tián’s poisonous gaze was like a thorn lodged in her heart.
She knew very well that with a family like theirs, today’s humiliation would only bring more frenzied revenge.
Next time, what kind of malice would they bring?
Liú Xiǎomǎn set down her chopsticks. The clatter against the rough table was soft but drew the attention of Liú Xiùxiù and Liú Cōngmíng, both looking up at her in unison.
“Mother, Cōngmíng,” Liú Xiǎomǎn said, her expression unprecedentedly serious, eyes sweeping across the dilapidated hut. She spoke deliberately, each word weighed and clear: “We cannot live in this home anymore.”
“What?” Liú Xiùxiù’s face turned pale instantly, almost losing grip of her bowl.
Her voice trembled with a hint of crying, instinctively fearing her daughter would do something shocking, or abandon them.
“Xiǎomǎn, what nonsense are you saying? If we don’t stay here, where can we go? We…”
Liú Cōngmíng didn’t understand the deeper meaning, but sensing his mother’s panic, he dropped his bowl and clutched her clothes tightly, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Mother, don’t be afraid.” Liú Xiǎomǎn stood and crouched beside them, her thin but warm hands holding her mother’s cold ones and gently patting her brother’s back.
Her voice was calm yet powerful, exuding a reassuring authority: “I’m not abandoning you. I’m taking you to a truly safe home.”
She pointed at the battered wooden door and the numerous holes in the walls.
“Mother, look. Liú Dàbǎo could kick this door open with one foot. Anyone could sneak in through these walls at night. Today, the Liú family mansion suffered a huge loss. Do you think they’ll let it go quietly?”
Liú Xiùxiù’s body trembled more violently, lips quivering, unable to speak.
Of course, she knew Elder Tián’s nature all too well.
Liú Xiǎomǎn pulled her small brother close, her gaze resolute as she faced her mother: “Right now, it’s like we’re sleeping on the street with gold ingots on us — far too dangerous. Today’s events have pushed us into the eye of the storm. We must leave and find a place they cannot find, nor dare to bother.”
“A… safer, more hidden place,” she whispered, embracing her shivering mother and brother. Her warm breath brushed their ears. “A home for just the three of us, a real new home.”
The hug was light but seemed to contain infinite strength, calming Liú Xiùxiù’s chaotic heart.
Liú Xiùxiù stared at her daughter — this child who had only recently lain in bed with a high fever, near death — now had become the pillar of strength for their small family.
“But… where can we go?” Liú Xiùxiù murmured, still unsure.
In this vast world, what land was truly safe for an orphaned mother and her children with no influence or power?
Liú Xiǎomǎn released them and her eyes glinted with a strange light. “The back mountains.”
The words made Liú Xiùxiù’s heart leap. “The back mountains? That’s impossible! Villagers say deep in the back mountains there are wolves and black bears. Few who enter ever come back!”
“That’s because they went to the wrong places and didn’t understand the rules of the mountains,” Liú Xiǎomǎn said confidently.
In her previous life as an agricultural scientist, field research was routine. Her knowledge of wilderness survival far surpassed anyone’s imagination in this era.
She casually framed her previous trip to the foot of the mountain for the medicinal herb, making it seem like a casual reconnaissance. “When I dug the herbs, I went a few steps deeper and found that the back mountains have complex terrain, many hidden valleys and caves. If we choose the right spot, not only can we hide, we could even cultivate a few acres without anyone knowing.”
She calculated in her mind that the magical seeds and tools from the system store were not meant for her to stay in this small village squabbling with troublesome relatives.
Her journey should be vast and boundless… at least across these expansive mountains.
This was the true starting point for her to exert her skills and change her family’s fate.
Liú Xiǎomǎn took her mother’s hand again, her tone earnest: “Mother, trust me. The back mountains are dangerous, but for us, they are our only chance. I know how to identify herbs, find food, and protect us. We cannot leave our lives in anyone else’s hands, nor rely on the conscience of those people.”
Liú Xiùxiù looked at her daughter’s unwavering eyes, which held no fear or hesitation — only weighty confidence and responsibility.
She remembered how her daughter had disguised herself with pot ash, how she had remained calm and unyielding at the apothecary, and how she had outwitted Elder Tián’s family with cleverness and courage…
All of it overturned her perception of her daughter.
Perhaps… perhaps Xiǎomǎn really could do it.
Hesitation and struggle flashed across Liú Xiùxiù’s face, but finally, seeing her son nestled safely by Xiǎomǎn’s side, the last of her doubt vanished.
She nodded firmly, tears of joy and hope spilling down.
“Alright… Xiǎomǎn, I trust you!”
The words filled Liú Xiǎomǎn’s heart with warmth.
She smiled, helped her mother sit, then picked up a burnt piece of charcoal and began drawing on the floor.
Using her memory and knowledge of ancient topography from historical studies, she sketched a rough map centered on the back mountains, marking rivers, valleys, and her preliminary exploration routes.
Liú Xiùxiù stared at the rough but clear map, amazed, her confidence in her daughter deepening.
Yet a new question arose: “But the back mountains are so vast. We can’t go there every day. How do we avoid drawing suspicion from the villagers?”
Indeed, exposure would surely attract the Liú family mansion like bloodhounds.
“Don’t worry. I’ve already thought of that,” Liú Xiǎomǎn said with a mysterious smile, taking something from her pocket and placing it carefully on the table.
It was a small wooden token, glowing warmly in the dim lamp — the VIP card from the Huichuntáng apothecary that Master Qián had given her.
“This?” Liú Xiùxiù leaned forward curiously.
“This is our pass into the mountains, and also our protective charm.” Liú Xiǎomǎn’s fingers brushed the engraved words “Huichun” on the token, her eyes gleaming with cunning.
She lifted her gaze through the broken window toward the pitch-dark silhouette of the back mountains under the moonlight.
In her mind, a complete plan had already formed.
Tomorrow, she would return to Huichuntáng, not only to prepare a safe route into the mountains but also to trade with Master Qián for more resources to ensure their survival.
To her, these perilous back mountains were no longer a symbol of fear — they were a vast treasure trove waiting to be explored.