The courtyard gate remained closed.
Mindful of Su Jianguo’s strict instructions, Li Xiulan peeked through the crack in the door when she heard someone calling from outside, her expression immediately turning guarded.
“Educated Youth Chen? What are you here for?”
Standing outside was a girl in her early twenties, wearing two thick braided pigtails and a clean, neatly pressed floral blouse that was washed pale. Her features were delicate, her eyes curved in a smile, and she carried a small cloth bag in her hand.
Chen Xiaoman plastered on an expression of carefully measured concern. “Auntie, I heard Nianqiu-jie had an incident the other day, and I’ve been worried sick ever since. So, I managed to save up a few eggs and wanted to come check on her.”
A few eggs.
In this day and age, eggs were hard currency. For a sent-down educated youth to part with a few eggs showed she was at least putting in an effort.
Under normal circumstances, Li Xiulan might have let her in for any other villager. But she had always felt a lingering unease around Chen Xiaoman, sensing the girl’s words rarely came from the heart.
“No need. Qiuer is recovering and isn’t taking visitors right now.”
“Auntie…” Chen Xiaoman bit her lower lip, her large eyes swimming with tears. “I really am worried about Nianqiu-jie. The things people have been saying in the village these past two days are just awful—it breaks my heart for her. I just wanted to come and comfort her, I honestly don’t mean any harm.”
With that, she brushed the back of her hand against the corner of her eye, her voice hitching with suppressed emotion.
Anyone unaware of the truth would take her for a deeply devoted, heartbroken best friend.
Li Xiulan’s expression softened a fraction.
“Mom, let her in.”
Su Nianqiu’s voice drifted from behind her.
Li Xiulan glanced back at her daughter, and Su Nianqiu gave her a subtle nod.
Hesitating for a moment, Li Xiulan finally unlatched the courtyard gate.
Chen Xiaoman walked in with a smile—only for that smile to freeze the moment her gaze swept over Su Nianqiu.
In Chen Xiaoman’s memory, Su Nianqiu was pretty—she had never denied that. In fact, it was precisely because Su Nianqiu was prettier than her that she had always harbored a quiet resentment.
But this Su Nianqiu standing before her right now…
Her fair skin radiated a soft, rosy glow in the sunlight, her features were striking, and her eyes shimmered like autumn water. Even bare-faced and unadorned, she possessed a breathtaking beauty that made it impossible to look away.
How could she possibly look like this? It was like night and day compared to the washed-out corpse hauled out of the river just two days ago.
What on earth was going on?
Chen Xiaoman’s mind raced furiously, but outwardly she didn’t miss a beat. She hurried forward, catching Su Nianqiu by the hand. “Nianqiu-jie, you had me worried to death! How are you feeling now? Are you still hurting anywhere?”
“Much better, thank you for thinking of me, Xiaoman-meimei.”
Her tone was warm and friendly, yet for some reason, Chen Xiaoman felt as though Su Nianqiu’s gaze carried a strange, probing weight.
It was as if every hidden calculation in her heart had been laid completely bare.
“Nianqiu-jie, sit down, please.” Dutifully playing the attentive friend, Chen Xiaoman helped Su Nianqiu sit on the edge of the kang, then pulled five straw-wrapped eggs from her cloth bag. “I saved these up over the past few days. Take them to help build your strength back up.”
Watching from the side, Li Xiulan murmured a polite “You’re too kind,” and reached out to take them.
“Don’t take them just yet, Mom.” Su Nianqiu stopped her, turning her gaze back to Chen Xiaoman. Her smile remained fixed, but her voice dropped a few degrees in warmth. “Xiaoman-meimei, I appreciate the thought behind the eggs. But there’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“What is it? Go ahead and ask, Jie.”
“The matter of me going into town to see the doctor the other day—besides my mom and dad, you were the only other person who knew.”
Leaning back against the edge of the kang, Su Nianqiu spoke in a very light, unhurried tone.
“How did Zhao Dazhuang find out I was going to town that day?”
Chen Xiaoman’s smile froze, her ring finger twitching slightly.
“Nianqiu-jie, what are you implying?” Chen Xiaoman tilted her head, putting on a look of bewildered injury. “I… how could I possibly know anything about Zhao Dazhuang? You surely don’t think—”
“Think what?”
Su Nianqiu was still smiling.
“I thought we were good friends. Before I went to town, I even made a point of telling you, asking you to help me ask for leave from the brigade. You did help me with the leave, but did you happen to casually point Zhao Dazhuang in the right direction while you were at it?”
“I didn’t!” Chen Xiaoman’s voice spiked half an octave, her eyes instantly welling up. “Nianqiu-jie, how could you think that of me? I’ve always looked up to you like a real sister, how could I ever try to harm you…”
She looked ready to burst into tears at any second.
The tears came on cue, sliding down her cheeks with practiced grace. Looking as fragile and tear-stained as pear blossoms in the rain, it was a display guaranteed to melt anyone’s heart.
Li Xiulan frowned in distress, starting to feel a twinge of sympathy.
Su Nianqiu cut her off cleanly.
“Enough.”
Su Nianqiu looked straight at her.
“What are you crying for? I didn’t say you did it, I was just asking. If you didn’t do it, then I’ve wronged you, and I’ll apologize.”
Chen Xiaoman choked, her crying abruptly stalling out midway.
Apologize?
This was entirely different from the falling-out she had braced herself for.
Having offered her mock apology, Su Nianqiu calmly looked down at her fingernails.
“However, Xiaoman-meimei, I heard something interesting. Before Zhao Dazhuang started spreading rumors at the village entrance that day, he made a stop at the educated youth dorms. It wasn’t until he came out from there that he started shouting about my business to everyone he met.”
Chen Xiaoman’s face drained of color. Her eyelashes fluttered nervously, and her lips began to tremble.
“The dorms are full of people and always chaotic, he probably went looking for someone else,” Chen Xiaoman babbled defensively, her voice rushing a fraction faster than before.
Su Nianqiu nodded. “Mm, maybe so.”
She didn’t press any further.
Because she didn’t need to.
Chen Xiaoman’s reaction had already given away everything she needed to know.
As for the motive?
Su Nianqiu cast a glance at Chen Xiaoman’s delicate face.
Jealousy.
The original owner was the brigade leader’s only daughter, pretty and living a comfortable life, while Chen Xiaoman was a sent-down youth living under someone else’s roof—circumstances that naturally bred all sorts of ugly resentments.
Su Nianqiu had no intention of tearing off the mask completely just yet.
The evidence wasn’t solid enough.
The original owner’s memories were only circumstantial, and the detail about “Zhao Dazhuang visiting the educated youth dorms” was a puzzle piece she had pieced together from the original novel’s plot and fragmented memories. If they had a direct confrontation right now, Chen Xiaoman would simply deny everything to her death, leaving her with no recourse.
Still, that didn’t stop her from delivering a sharp warning first.
“Xiaoman-meimei,” Su Nianqiu stood up, walked right over to Chen Xiaoman, and gently wiped a tear from her face with the tenderness of an actual loving older sister. “Don’t cry, I believe you.”
Chen Xiaoman raised her head, staring at her through a misty, tear-blurred haze.
Su Nianqiu’s hand rested on her shoulder, leaning down to speak in a voice so soft it could only be heard by the two of them:
“But let me make things crystal clear. If I ever find out down the road that what happened that day leads back to you—”
Her fingers tightened slightly on the fabric.
“I will go straight to the commune and have your file transferred to get you shipped right out of this village. You should know that managing the personnel files and assignments of sent-down youth happens to fall under my dad’s jurisdiction.”
Chen Xiaoman’s face went completely, bloodlessly white.
Shipped out.
For a sent-down youth desperately hoping to return to the city someday, being “shipped out” in disgrace meant the absolute end of any hope of going home.
That threat was infinitely more lethal than a slap across the face.
Releasing her grip, Su Nianqiu stepped back and slipped effortlessly back into her gentle, smiling persona. “I’ll keep the eggs. I’m still not feeling well, so I won’t keep you any longer.”
Stiff as a board, Chen Xiaoman stood frozen for several seconds before forcing a wretched, crooked smile. “Then… I’ll be heading back first.”
She turned and hurried toward the gate, moving twice as fast as she had when she arrived. As she crossed the threshold, her fingers were visibly shaking.
Why did Su Nianqiu suddenly become so terrifyingly sharp?
Chen Xiaoman glanced back, only to run smack into Su Nianqiu’s unblinking, direct stare. A shiver racked her spine, and she broke into a panicked run all the way out of the Su family’s yard.
Shutting the door behind her, Li Xiulan turned to her daughter with a puzzled frown. “Qiuer, what did you just say to her?”
“Nothing much, Mom. Just a couple of heart-to-heart sisterly chats.”
Looking skeptically at her daughter, Li Xiulan couldn’t shake the feeling that her girl had fundamentally changed. Before, whenever she hit a wall, she would only cry; now, her words and actions carried weight and structure that genuinely caught people off guard.
Still, a capable daughter was something a mother could only be proud of.
“Mom, let’s not eat these five eggs just yet.” Su Nianqiu picked up the package of eggs, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Tonight, steam an egg custard for Dad. He’s been running himself ragged worrying over me these past few days, he’s lost a whole circle of weight.”
A wave of emotion pricked at Li Xiulan’s nose, threatening another round of tears.
“Alright, we’ll do whatever you say.”
That night.
Su Nianqiu spent her usual stretch of time tending to things inside the space. The ginseng rootlets soaking in the spirit spring water were undergoing a visible transformation: the once-withered, blackened skins now hummed with a healthy, lustrous golden sheen, as if vital life force had been pumped right back into them.
Another few days of cultivation, and they would be ready to take out and sell.
The wild vegetable seeds planted in the black soil had also sprouted vibrant green shoots that looked wonderfully lush and vigorous.
Squatting beside the vegetable plot, Su Nianqiu calculated her next moves.
Finding a proper excuse to leave the house and head to the township black market for trading was tricky. Right now, she was treated as a “high-priority protected asset,” and both Su Jianguo and Li Xiulan practically wanted to weld her to the kang to keep her from moving.
And then there were textbooks. The resumption of the college entrance exams was a secret known only to her; starting to openly look for high school study materials now would draw far too much unwanted attention. She needed to find a low-profile way to get her hands on high school textbooks first.
Just as she was deep in thought, a faint, rustling noise sounded from outside.
Snapping out of her focus, Su Nianqiu dissolved her consciousness from the space and opened her eyes.
Pale moonlight filtered through a tear in the paper window, casting an eerie, ghostly patch of light across the dirt floor.
Out in the courtyard, a shadow was scaling the fence.
The movements were clumsy, accompanied by heavy breathing and a distinct stench of alcohol.
Su Nianqiu’s eyes widened sharply.
Zhao Dazhuang.