From a distance, Lin Qiao saw a gaunt, emaciated woman emerging from the fence. Her clothes hung loosely, and her steps were unsteady, as if a gust of wind could blow her away.
The young man at the front gave her a push from behind. The woman staggered and almost fell to the ground.
Lin Qiao stared at her for a long time, barely daring to believe it—could this skeletal figure really be her mother?
As if needing confirmation, Lin Qiao stepped closer, hiding behind a large tree.
The woman wore an oversized gray coat patched over and over. Her face was haggard and expressionless, cheeks sunken, and her dry, yellowed hair streaked with silver. Her hands, exposed beneath the sleeves, showed prominent veins, shriveled like chicken claws. Lin Qiao could barely make out a trace of Su Peilan’s former self on her face.
Her mother was only thirty-two! When she left home, though thinner and darker, she had been able to survive, with support from her maternal grandparents. How had she become this frail, almost withered shell of a person?
The young man behind Su Peilan, seeing her hesitate, pushed her again: “Hurry up! The pigs in the pen are waiting to be fed!”
Lin Qiao glanced at him. Tall, narrow-eyed, with thick lips—the very image of a villain from a movie.
Just as Su Peilan nearly fell again, a small boy, no more than eight or nine, rushed out from the house holding a porcelain basin.
“Mother!” the boy reached out to steady her, almost toppling along with her.
Hearing his voice, the woman’s numb expression finally shifted. She steadied herself and crouched beside the boy, running her hand through his wiry hair.
“Xiao Xuan, don’t worry. Mother will be back soon. You be good, stay home, don’t go out!”
The boy’s expression was a mixture of fear and worry, tears brimming but held back.
“Mother… can you not go?” he whimpered.
“What are you dawdling for? Move!” another youth shouted loudly.
An unnameable fury surged in Lin Qiao’s chest. She didn’t know if this sudden emotion was hers or the original owner’s—but she knew she wanted to take these people down right now!
Where were they taking her mother? To feed pigs? Who feeds pigs like prisoners? Where were her grandparents?
Wasn’t the Su family one of the village’s respected households? Hadn’t the young leader of Dongshan Village received kindness from her grandfather, always helping the Sus?
What had gone so wrong?
Suppressing her anger, Lin Qiao reminded herself that she didn’t know the full situation yet. Killing them wouldn’t solve anything—and could even get Su Peilan into legal trouble. That would make her a harm rather than a savior.
Calming her turmoil, Lin Qiao found a more concealed spot.
She pulled out a slingshot from her space, grabbed a stone, and aimed for the leader’s head.
Snap! Direct hit.
For someone like her—a rookie who liked to watch chaos unfold—self-defense required a few tricks.
With little combat experience and a fondness for observing from the sidelines, this was one of her few skills.
It didn’t need to hit every time—just once was enough.
“Ah!” The man stumbled back, clutching his head, falling to the ground.
“Captain Zhao! What happened?” Several people rushed over, and upon seeing Zhao Jianjun curled on the ground, blood seeping through his fingers, panic erupted.
“Blood! He’s bleeding! Take him to the clinic!”
Once the group hurried off with Zhao Jianjun, Lin Qiao stepped out from behind the tree.
Su Peilan hadn’t yet recovered from the shock, still shielding Xiao Xuan with her narrow shoulders.
Until she saw Lin Qiao slowly approaching.
Su Peilan’s frightened eyes widened as if witnessing a miracle.
She set Xiao Xuan down and sprinted toward Lin Qiao.
With a heart-wrenching cry ringing in her ears, Lin Qiao was pressed into a somewhat hard embrace.
Su Peilan held her long-lost daughter as if trying to merge her into her own body.
Lin Qiao—her little Qiao—was back!
The agonized wailing reverberated in Lin Qiao’s ears, making her heart ache uncontrollably.
She had thought that with no news of her mother for so long, her mother and brother might have remarried and moved on. Today, she had come just to fulfill the original owner’s long-unrealized wish.
But seeing Su Peilan up close—her condition was heart-wrenching: graying hair, sunken eyes, bluish lips, skeletal, shriveled body, countless scars…
Lin Qiao suddenly understood why the original owner never saw her mother in all her endless waiting. At this rate, Su Peilan might have already passed away during the original owner’s suffering.
A strange emotion welled up. Lin Qiao choked out: “Mother… how did you become like this?”
Su Peilan seemed to awaken from her grief. She wiped the tears streaming down her face with her sleeve, and gently cupped Lin Qiao’s cheek.
Her voice was hoarse but still gentle, just as she remembered: “Mother’s fine. Xiao Qiao… how did you come back? Let me have a good look at you.”
Despite her care, Lin Qiao could feel from touch that her mother’s hands were not only calloused but marked with countless old and new wounds.
Her mother’s body trembled with emotion, her throat seeming blocked, making even breathing difficult.
Behind them, a clang! sounded—the porcelain basin had fallen.
Lin Qiao looked up to see the boy, staring at her in disbelief, eyes glistening.
His gaze carried sorrow, blame, and a hint of surprise…
“Xiao Xuan…” Lin Qiao started.
Lin Xuan bit his lip hard, glared at her, and ran back into the house.
Su Peilan’s emotions slowly settled. She glanced back at Lin Xuan, who had vanished into the doorway.
“Xiao Xuan spoke of you every day in the years you were gone. One day, he secretly ran off to Xiguan Village behind my back, returning with injuries. Since then, he gradually stopped talking much.”
“I didn’t know…” Lin Qiao couldn’t recall this from memory, suspecting Yuan Mingzhu had caused trouble.
“I’ll go check on him.” She stepped into the house.
The room was drafty. Outside, the wind blew fiercely; inside, it whistled gently. The room looked as she remembered—only more dilapidated.
Lin Xuan sat on the kang, head down, holding a spinning wooden doll—still the one Lin Qiao’s grandfather had given her.
When Lin Qiao left with Lin Jun Cai, she had given this doll to Lin Xuan. Though cherished, the paint on the spinning doll had faded…
“Why did you come back?” Lin Xuan’s voice was nasal and full of irritation.
“I missed mother,” Lin Qiao said, standing on the edge of the kang, looking down at him.
Seeing his angry glare, she softened her voice: “I also missed you.”
Lin Xuan could no longer hold back, dropping the doll and throwing himself at Lin Qiao, crying loudly.
“Wahhh~ Sister, why did you come back so late! Grandfather died, grandmother went too… If you’d come even later, you might never have seen me and mother again!”