In the heat of the afternoon, Jiang Yue sat in a patch of shade outside the old building. She rested her chin in one hand, occasionally covering her nose with the other, her gaze tilted at a forty-five-degree angle toward the sky as she listened to Jiang Xue explain the family tree.
The First House consisted of Jiang Youshan—the eldest son—his wife, Madam Cai, and their four children. There was Jiang Ming, the eldest son; Jiang Yue, the second daughter; Jiang Xue, the third; and little Jiang Lei, the youngest.
Below Youshan were three younger brothers—Youtian, Youcai, and Youguang—and a younger sister named Youfang. All the brothers were married with a swarm of children of their own, leaving only Youfang unwed and currently negotiating a marriage match.
Under normal circumstances, the First House lived a ghost-like existence. They rarely ventured to the front courtyard except to cook or eat, spending the vast majority of their time relegated to the back.
Their parents’ daily routine could be summarized quite simply: serving people, serving pigs, serving chickens, and serving the land.
Even now, after Madam Cai had finished cooking lunch for the entire estate in the front kitchen, she hadn’t stopped for a moment. After scrounging together a meager meal for her own family, she was back at it—feeding the livestock, scrubbing the coops, weeding the vegetable patch, and hauling water and fertilizer.
A moment ago, while she was hunched over “cleaning the chicken droppings,” she had paused only long enough to tell Jiang Xue to watch over Jiang Yue before lowering her head back to the grime.
Jiang Yue glanced at an earthen pit near the wall. Jiang Xue had explained that it was for composting—a mixture of chicken, pig, and human waste layered with soil. Naturally, this delightful task also belonged to the First House.
The Jiang estate was actually quite large, with plenty of rooms. The main building was bright and spacious, featuring four tiled rooms. The central hall served as a place to receive guests and eat. The east room was occupied by Old Man Jiang and his wife, while the two west rooms housed the unmarried Youfang and the family of the fourth son, Youguang.
To the left and right were two wings of four rooms each. In the east wing, the second son, Youtian, occupied two rooms, while the rest served as the kitchen and utility space. The third son, Youcai, lived in two rooms of the west wing, with the remaining rooms used as a granary.
As for the eldest, Jiang Youshan? His mother, Madam Liu, had pulled him aside years ago with a heavy sigh. “There are just too many people, and we’re out of space,” she had told him. “You’re the big brother; you need to be the responsible one.”
And so, he had moved his wife and children to the old back building. It wasn’t just broken and dilapidated; the air was thick with a permanent, nauseating stench. Not only were they flanked by the pigsty and the latrine, but out of the three rooms they were allotted, one was taken over by chickens.
Living in this “auspicious” spot, Jiang Yue found her mind clearing. She decided to test a suspicion.
“Is Father… actually her son?” she asked quietly.
Jiang Xue peeked into the chicken coop to ensure they weren’t being overheard. “Big Brother says the current Grandmother isn’t our real one,” she whispered. “Our father’s real mother died when he was only a year old. This Grandmother is the one Grandfather married afterward.”
That explains the bias, Jiang Yue thought. A stepmother often meant a “stepfather” in spirit, too.
“What about splitting the household?”
“Our mother does most of the chores for the whole family, and Father and Big Brother lead the work in the fields,” Jiang Xue replied. “Big Brother says Grandmother refuses to split the house because she’s loath to lose our father’s labor. She doesn’t want her own sons to have to work that hard.”
Jiang Ming walked over quietly, his voice soft. “Big Sister, Little Sister—what are you two whispering about?”
Jiang Yue turned her face toward him. “Hungry. Did Brother catch a rabbit?”
Lunch had been nothing but thin gruel mixed with wild greens; it was nowhere near enough to fill a stomach, and by now, it had been digested into nothingness. The people in the main house were truly cold-blooded—they hadn’t offered a scrap of extra food, and they had even forbidden the First House from touching the vegetables in the courtyard.
Her “cheap” parents were like soft steamed buns—too submissive to push back. If the elders said “don’t touch,” they wouldn’t touch a leaf. The greens they’d eaten had been foraged by Jiang Xue and little Lei, and the rice had been borrowed by Youshan—barely half a bag that had to be rationed like gold.
The corner of Jiang Ming’s mouth twitched into a difficult smile that looked more painful than a sob. He felt a crushing weight of self-reproach. As the eldest brother, he felt like a failure for never being able to provide his sister a full meal.
He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning its western descent, and the heat was fading. He gritted his teeth and stamped his foot. “I’m going back out to set the traps!”
Jiang Xue stood up immediately. “I’ll go too. There are more wild greens deeper in the mountains, and maybe I can find some mushrooms.”
Little Jiang Lei scurried over. “I’ll pick wild fruit for Big Sister to eat!”
In her previous life, Jiang Yue had been a loner by necessity. She never sought to hurt others, but she was always on guard. She had never known the warmth of a close friend, let alone a family. Hearing these three pouring out their hearts for her—how could she not be moved?
She had only been in this world for a single day, but she already understood that her father was a man who might never stand up for himself. Youshan was a man whose name meant “kindness,” and he lived up to it to a fault; even after being bullied to this extent by his stepmother, he was still out in the fields weeding under the scorching sun.
These children, however, had far more backbone than their father.
Looking at her siblings, Jiang Yue felt a pang of guilt. From what Jiang Xue had told her, this family hadn’t tasted a single bite of meat even during the New Year festival.
Last year, the rabbits Jiang Ming had caught were snatched away by the other houses; the First House hadn’t even been allowed a sip of the broth.
Jiang Yue realized that by asking for rabbit now, she was effectively poking at her siblings’ old wounds. However, her guilt was misplaced. Because she had finally spoken, the children were so overjoyed that their past grievances seemed like distant shadows.
“Let’s go,” Jiang Ming declared.
He dashed into the chicken coop to inform Madam Cai, then ducked into the house to grab some hemp rope. Leading Jiang Yue by the hand, he headed out through the back door.
Behind the Jiang estate lay no other houses, only a vast expanse of wild land that sloped upward into the foothills. As they reached the clearing, they spotted a girl of about twelve with a six-year-old boy.
As the four of them passed, Jiang Xue let out a sharp, theatrical “Pah!” of disdain toward the pair.
The girl didn’t miss a beat, immediately “returning the favor” with a loud “Pah!” of her own.
Jiang Ming caught Jiang Xue’s arm just as she looked ready to start a brawl. “Hurry up,” he whispered. “We aren’t wasting time arguing with Jiang Zhi today.”
Jiang Xue nodded, but once they had gained some distance, she couldn’t resist twisting around to throw one last “Pah!” over her shoulder.
Jiang Yue recognized the name. Jiang Zhi was the daughter of the Second House—a year older than Jiang Xue and a year younger than herself. The two girls were sworn enemies. According to Jiang Xue, Jiang Zhi was a well of petty malice who bullied her constantly; Jiang Xue even suspected that Jiang Zhi was the one who had instigated the beating that had landed Jiang Yue in bed.
Jiang Yue found the family dynamics fascinating. The old proverb said, “Dragons beget dragons, and the sons of mice love to dig holes,” yet these children were nothing like their parents.
Jiang Youshan and Madam Cai were honest to a fault—the kind of people who, if someone stepped on their heads, would worry about the person tripping. Their children, however, were firebrands. They were spirited, quick-tempered, and always ready for a fight.
Jiang Xue, in particular, was like a firecracker; light the fuse, and she’d explode at anyone. While Jiang Ming and Jiang Lei weren’t quite as volatile, they weren’t pushovers either. There was a certain ruthless grit in their eyes that was the polar opposite of their parents’ cowardice.
Jiang Yue soon discovered why they had turned out this way.
As they reached the foot of the wild mountains, their path was blocked by a pack of neighborhood brats.
As a former physical trainer, Jiang Yue had long ago developed a saint-like patience for “problem children.” Consequently, as the group began jeering at her—shouting “Dumb pig!” “Simpleton!” and “Slow-wit!”—she didn’t feel a flicker of anger.
They were just kids in their rebellious phase, acting out for attention. The more you reacted, the more encouraged they became. In her past life, parents had often sent their “unmanageable” boys to her camp; under her firm hand, those little terrors always ended up disciplined and respectful.
Let them bark, she thought. She wasn’t going to waste her precious energy “correcting” them when she needed it to find food.
However, she had miscalculated. She was no longer the imposing trainer; she was now part of a “vulnerable group,” and these brats were moving beyond insults to physical aggression. That, she would not tolerate.
A handful of small stones whistled through the air, aimed directly at her. Jiang Yue swayed and ducked, dodging them one by one with practiced ease.
When the final stone—thrown by the obvious ringleader—came flying toward her head, Jiang Yue’s reflexes took over. Her hand shot out, snatching the wrist of the grubby little boy who had thrown it.
The boy, his nose running, struggled to break free. Seeing his snot about to rub off on her sleeve, Jiang Yue gave him a firm shove, sending him tumbling back onto the dirt.
The boy wiped his nose with a sleeve and pointed a shaking finger at her. “You idiot! You dare push me?”
Jiang Xue let out a piercing shriek. Somehow, she already had a stone of her own ready. “You mangy black dog! You asked for it!” she screamed, hurling the rock at him.
Jiang Ming followed suit instantly, raining a barrage of stones upon the bully. Little Jiang Lei, though too small to throw with much force, was working tirelessly behind them, picking up “ammunition” and stuffing it into his siblings’ hands.
Jiang Yue didn’t even have to lift another finger before the brats were sent running for their lives.
A wave of warmth touched Jiang Yue’s heart. Before she had “woken up,” her mind had been clouded, and incidents like this must have happened all the time. Her siblings must have stood exactly like this every single time—protecting her like a precious treasure.
After years of fighting her battles, was it any wonder they had grown so tough?