“How are they now? Did they suffer? Were they hurt?” Qiao Qingqing asked.
Lin Chaohai answered quickly, “They weren’t hurt. As for the rest, I don’t know.”
Qiao Qingqing frowned slightly—that meant they had suffered.
Actually, she didn’t even need to ask. Once they were in someone else’s hands, how could they not endure hardship?
Her concern showed on her face. Lin Chaohai comforted her, “If you’re really worried, I can visit Jianjun tomorrow and send some things in for you—clothes, money, anything you want to try.”
Qiao Qingqing shook her head. “Let’s talk about that tomorrow.”
She then turned back into the room and closed the door behind her.
Looking at the tightly shut door, a certain wicked thrill surged in Lin Chaohai, but he also knew this wasn’t the time to indulge in such thoughts.
He had just received news from Lin Jianjun: in a few days, a batch of farm tools would be transported to Hei Province, and all the prisoners from Ningcheng would be escorted together.
The stamping, the notifications, the inspections—none of it was very strict. It was the perfect opportunity to handle the Xu Peiling matter.
Even for his own sake, Cui Haiqing and Wu Xia could not remain; otherwise, the fire would eventually spread to him.
He still hoped to climb to a higher position before retiring, so he absolutely needed to protect his reputation.
With this in mind, Lin Chaohai moved a lounge chair into the courtyard to sleep.
That night, mosquitoes were particularly vicious, leaving him with many bites. Yet, amidst his irritation, thinking about the good days ahead made everything seem worthwhile.
At dawn, Lin Chaohai woke and, after greeting Li Xiulian, took his bankbook and went to see Lin Jianjun.
The Cui family matter had to be handled quickly. Even with loose scrutiny, a few days wouldn’t be enough to complete the process through normal channels.
Fortunately, he had saved over 400 yuan over the years, and combined with the Cui family’s valuable medicinal herbs, Lin Jianjun would surely be tempted.
Through the wall, Qiao Qingqing, also up early, heard Lin Chaohai leaving and got out of bed efficiently.
The night before, she had cut off her braids with scissors, leaving her hair at ear length. She changed into worn, old-style clothes and quietly exited through the wall.
At dawn, after about ten minutes of cycling on an empty road, she switched to a truck, following vague memories toward the Shuangxi Brigade.
Xu Peiling’s report letter had written the Cui family’s detailed address in Pinggou Village of Shuangxi Brigade. Qiao Qingqing only had a general direction and had to stop twice to ask for directions along the way.
Finding a village she had never been to was not easy. When she couldn’t drive further, she switched back to her bicycle, then walked for an hour before finally arriving.
By then, the sun was high, and she estimated that Xu Peiling couldn’t have arrived any faster by car, so she confidently asked the villagers for guidance.
She saw a woman by the roadside with a child and approached her, handing the child two loose winter melon candies. Speaking in Mandarin with a Wucheng accent, she asked:
“Auntie, may I ask you something? Someone in my family is sick. I heard there’s a barefoot doctor in your village who gives effective medicine. Do you know where she lives?”
The child popped the candy into his mouth immediately. The woman, smiling, said, “Of course I know—Haiqing’s mother. But she hasn’t given medicine to anyone for a long time. You might just be wasting your time.”
Qiao Qingqing smiled. “Let’s give it a try.”
Following the woman’s directions, Qiao Qingqing arrived at the foot of the mountain at the village edge.
The Cui family’s house was built there. Behind it, a small path led into the forest. The Western Zhou-era trees made the place seem quiet and serene.
Seeing no one around, Qiao Qingqing entered the space and went through the walls, quickly finding Cui Haiqing and Xu Peiling’s room.
They had been married only two months; red characters still adorned the room, and the bed cover was bright red.
She casually searched and found a gold lock and 200 yuan under the bedding, pocketing them.
In a cabinet, she found an iron box containing a box of Pechueli cream, a bottle of hair oil, a sewing kit, and a labor manual.
That was all.
Judging by the meager furnishings, Xu Peiling clearly married a fool for the bride price. The new room was so sparse that there wasn’t even a sewing machine or a radio. It seemed all the bride price had been converted to cash and sent back to her family.
Qiao Qingqing tucked the forged report letter imitating Xu Peiling’s handwriting into the labor manual and returned the iron box to the cabinet.
Outside, she noticed the courtyard and kitchen filled with drying herbs, and the air carried a faint medicinal scent.
The house was clean, and on the herb table was a half-written prescription.
In her previous life, Qiao Qingqing had studied the Cui family’s medical methods, and curiosity got the better of her. She picked up the prescription.
It contained all mild herbs, with huang qin and bai zhu, seemingly intended to protect pregnancy and maintain health.
She felt the handwriting was very familiar, as if she had seen it countless times before, yet her mind couldn’t place it.
Hesitant, she put the prescription down, when she heard voices in the distance.
She entered the space and left through the walls, spotting a woman of around forty walking toward the house with a tall, skinny boy.
The woman noticed the door still locked and frowned slightly. Xu Peiling hadn’t returned yet.
The boy held a pear out to her. “Mom, do you want some?”
The woman, worry on her face, still smiled at her son. “Mom doesn’t want any. You eat it.”
This ordinary, warm scene struck Qiao Qingqing like a thunderclap, and her mind froze.
She stared at the woman—Wu Xia.
Wu Xia was plain-looking, thin, dressed as a simple village woman, yet her features exuded an inexplicable gentleness, instantly giving the impression of a kind temperament.
Most importantly, she had two small moles between her brows.
Qiao Qingqing would not be mistaken. This was the same old woman she had encountered in her previous life before dying.
It was hard to imagine what she had gone through to end up disabled, blind, and white-haired, rummaging through trash.
Qiao Qingqing clenched her fists.
So that was it.
No wonder the handwriting on the prescription seemed so familiar. The Cui family’s medical books had all been written by Wu Xia.
Qiao Qingqing had studied them countless times; now she remembered.
Those medical books were Wu Xia’s work, whether recording or compiling, and she had clearly put her heart into them.
Xu Peiling, fearing exposure while pregnant and newly married, preemptively branded Wu Xia as “black five-category.”
Just married and pregnant, with her family of decent background, Xu Peiling could easily extricate herself, leaving only Wu Xia and her son to suffer.
Even the Cui family’s house and land effectively belonged to Xu Peiling.
Qiao Qingqing, looking across the folded space at Wu Xia, saw her slowly unlock the door and enter with her son.
At that moment, Qiao Qingqing felt a deep sense of connection with this woman.