“Madwoman! Where did this crazy woman come from?”
Liao Minliang didn’t recognize Zhang Lingzhi. He hadn’t even caught what nonsense she was shouting.
He had just gotten out of the car to pull her aside when several villagers came running over.
“Oh dear, Chief, please don’t be angry. She’s a lunatic!”
A middle-aged man with a thin mustache forced a flattering smile at Liao Minliang while showing no pity as he grabbed Zhang Lingzhi by the collar and dragged her away.
But no one knew where Zhang Lingzhi found the strength. She violently shook free of his grip and lunged forward, wrenching open the car door like a madwoman.
Almost out of instinct, Chen Qilan pulled Qin Shuyao tightly into his arms, shielding her completely, afraid Zhang Lingzhi might hurt her in the slightest.
Seeing Chen Qilan and Qin Shuyao locked in such intimate embrace, and recalling what the two had done the night before, Zhang Lingzhi’s eyes filled with resentment and unwillingness.
“For one year, one month, and thirteen days, you never touched me—not once. Even when I stood naked in front of you, you felt nothing!”
“Why? What do I lack compared to this slut who reeks of sheep—ah!”
Before she could finish, the mustached man slapped Zhang Lingzhi hard across the face, sending her crashing to the ground.
Qin Shuyao, who had remained silent, witnessed everything.
She recognized the mustached man. He was also from Zhangjia Village, but his surname was Ma, not Zhang.
Many years ago, Zhangjia Village had been called Ma–Zhang Village. Over a hundred households were divided into two factions, the Ma family and the Zhang family. The Ma clan had been numerous and powerful, firmly controlling village affairs.
That changed after Zhang Chunsheng became an official. He abused his power to rename Ma–Zhang Village to Zhangjia Village and installed members of the Zhang family as village heads.
Once the Zhang family rose to power, they became lawless. They even demolished the Ma family ancestral hall and split the ancestral tablets for firewood, committing every imaginable outrage.
Now that Zhang Chunsheng had been arrested and the Zhang family had lost its backing, the Ma family would naturally seize this rare opportunity.
The mustached man was named Ma Chuangying. Years ago, Zhang Runsheng had beaten him blind in one eye.
As soon as the Zhang family fell, Ma Chuangying rallied the men of his clan, took control of the situation, and detained those Zhang family men who had planned to storm the county government in protest.
Several villagers had already rushed over and were dragging Zhang Lingzhi away.
“Chief, please be magnanimous and don’t lower yourself to argue with a lunatic!”
Ma Chuangying bowed and scraped as he apologized on Zhang Lingzhi’s behalf. It was obvious he was trying to protect her.
That slap had looked brutal, but in truth it was meant to save Zhang Lingzhi. Both Chen Qilan and Qin Shuyao could see it.
The fierce-looking Ma Chuangying was a good man—Qin Shuyao, who carried memories of her previous life, knew this better than anyone.
After the old shepherd fell off a cliff, he had not died immediately. It was Ma Chuangying who carried the elderly man on his back for more than ten kilometers to the town hospital and even paid part of the medical expenses himself.
Later, he went to the Zhang household to inform Qin Shuyao, but was stopped by Zhang Lingzhi.
“Why bother seeing her? Wouldn’t it be better if he just died in the mountains? Since you like doing good deeds so much, go all the way—pay for the old thing’s treatment yourself!”
At the time, Ma Chuangying had begged humbly.
“The old man probably won’t make it. He’s holding on to his last breath just to see his granddaughter one final time.”
But Zhang Lingzhi not only refused to fulfill the old man’s dying wish, she deliberately wore a red padded jacket and a red flower in her hair on the day of his death, hiring an opera troupe to perform all night.
Qin Shuyao, unaware of the truth, was forced to wear red as well and watch the performance. Enraged, Ma Chuangying slapped her twice in front of everyone.
“Your grandpa is dead, and you still have the face to wear red and listen to opera? You… you’re a beast!”
Unable to bear the blow, Qin Shuyao fainted on the spot, while Zhang Lingzhi and the others laughed uproariously, clapping in delight.
Even though it was a memory from a past life, recalling it still tore Qin Shuyao apart with pain.
“Uncle Ma!”
She snapped out of her memories, sniffed quietly, and forced her voice to steady.
“Thank you.”
Thank you for carrying my grandfather out of the mountains. Thank you for staying with him at the end of his life.
Ma Chuangying froze.
Thank him for what?
He had barely any dealings with this girl. Why was she suddenly thanking him?
After a few perfunctory responses, Ma Chuangying led the villagers away.
Liao Minliang continued driving toward the county hospital, muttering from time to time.
“Qilan, you really do attract women. Even a madwoman fantasized about marrying you—one year, one month, and whatever days. Tsk, what a dream…”
There was a hint of weariness in Chen Qilan’s eyes.
“Uncle Liao, you talk too much.”
Hearing that, Liao Minliang glanced at Qin Shuyao through the rearview mirror and hurriedly corrected himself with a laugh.
“Miss Qin, don’t misunderstand. Although Qilan is popular with women, rest assured—his character is noble and his thoughts are pure. He’s absolutely never touched a woman’s hand…”
After a pause, he corrected himself again.
“Strictly speaking, he absolutely never touched any woman’s hand before last night. I can vouch for that!”
Qin Shuyao smiled faintly as she came back to herself, her mind filled with the phrase one year, one month, and thirteen days.
To others, it was merely the delusion of a lovesick madwoman. But Qin Shuyao knew all too well—it was the length of Chen Qilan’s life.
She remembered clearly. In her previous life, on the day of the Dragon Boat Festival, Zhang Lingzhi had left Zhangjia Village beaming, riding in a military jeep.
The following year, just as the hottest days of summer began, Zhang Runsheng and Zhang Baogen brought the soon-to-be widow Zhang Lingzhi back home.
They returned with a truckload of valuable goods.
A television, a radio, a camera…
And most importantly, the savings passbook in Zhang Lingzhi’s hand, holding a staggering sum no ordinary person could imagine. It was Chen Qilan’s compensation money.
He had died on the southern frontier battlefield, fallen amid dense enemy artillery fire, tearing open a path forward for his comrades with his own flesh and blood.
Beneath his tombstone in the martyrs’ cemetery lay only a handful of soil stained red by his blood.
“YaoYao? What’s wrong?”
Chen Qilan’s concerned voice reached her ears like a beam of light, driving away the boundless darkness before her eyes.
Almost uncontrollably, she clutched his hand tightly.
“You… don’t go to the battlefield. You’ll die.”
At those words, a flash of joy passed through Chen Qilan’s eyes.
“Hm? Is that concern for me? What, can’t bear for me to die?”
Before Qin Shuyao could answer, Liao Minliang laughed teasingly.
“Isn’t that obvious? What young woman wants to become a widow so early?”
But Qin Shuyao didn’t care about his joke. Her voice trembled, her eyes misted with tears.
“Chen Qilan, I know the war is still going on. Don’t go to the battlefield, please. If you do, you really will die.”
She was on the verge of tears, her tone full of pleading.
The smile faded from Chen Qilan’s lips, his expression turning solemn.
He shook his head.
“YaoYao, I can promise you anything. I would even be willing to go through fire and die for you without regret. But this one thing…”
“Every inch of our land is paid for with blood. Every handful of soil holds a soul. The peace of our country was bought with the lives of countless martyrs. As soldiers, we must guard it with our lives.”
He gave an apologetic smile and reached out to gently touch Qin Shuyao’s face.
“I’m sorry. Even if I know it means death, I cannot retreat a single step—because behind me stand the people.”