The “original” Shen Li had been a nightmare. She treated Xiao Erlang with nothing but vitriol and violence—pinching him, lashing him with willow branches, and jabbing him with sharpened twigs. She took a perverse pleasure in slapping him or twisting his paralyzed legs, knowing he couldn’t feel the pain but could only watch in silent agony.
Xiao Erlang had only survived this long because of his little brother. Xiao Sanlang, a mere toddler, was the one who managed his brother’s basic needs, keeping him clinging to a thread of life.
The more Shen Li processed these memories, the more her palms grew damp with cold sweat. She thought of that “bundle of sticks”—the boy was only two or three years old! In the modern world, a child that age would be the crown jewel of a family, pampered by parents and grandparents alike.
But here, that child spent his days digging for wild greens and picking berries to feed his older brother. He had to gather firewood just to pay “rent” to Madam Cao so she would let them sleep in the drafty stable. Ironically, this arrangement allowed Madam Cao to maintain a sterling reputation in the village for “taking in” her deceased husband’s orphaned nephews.
Shen Li’s eyes darkened as she recalled her own years as a stray child. “Thank you, Auntie. It won’t happen again,” she said quietly.
The woman she had stopped recoiled, then cautiously reached out to press a hand to Shen Li’s forehead. “Girl, have you caught a fever and gone mad? You’re… saying thank you?”
Usually, a simple look would earn a person a barrage of curses from the girl.
Shen Li didn’t argue. She let a faint, small smile play on her lips but remained silent.
“If… if you’ve truly changed your ways, you’d better get home quick,” the auntie whispered, emboldened by Shen Li’s sincerity. “Something’s happening!”
“Happening?” Shen Li frowned. She pulled the century-old ginseng from her sleeve and handed it to the old doctor. “Please take this. I’ll find you in town in a few days.”
The old doctor stood with his mouth agape for several seconds. “Young… young lady? You’re just going to let me walk off with this treasure?”
Shen Li’s expression was unreadable. “Take it. I have urgent business today and cannot accompany you. I will seek you out at Anji Pharmacy soon.”
Without another word, she turned and sprinted back toward the Xiao residence.
The old doctor’s hands trembled as he placed the ginseng in his basket. He watched her retreating figure and murmured, “That girl is… a truly extraordinary soul.”
When Shen Li reached the house, a crowd had already gathered around the low wall. What now? She pushed through the onlookers to see what was happening inside.
Madam Cao was in the yard, haggling with a man as if they were trading livestock. Xiao Huai-ren stood by, clutching a skeletal, wailing child under his arm like a sack of grain.
“Oh, what a sin! Erlang and Sanlang truly have the worst luck!” an old man sighed, leaning heavily on a wooden staff.
“What can be done?” a gaunt young man replied, shaking his head. “Poor Sanlang.”
“Madam Cao’s brother is the Village Head,” a woman whispered nearby. “No one dares cross her. Poor child! He’s even smaller than my own!”
Shen Li narrowed her eyes, listening to the negotiation.
“Fine, him then! Just my luck!” Madam Cao snapped, looking utterly annoyed. “He’ll have to make up for the money that brat cost me!” She had hoped to trade Shen Li for a better worker, but since the “brat” had turned violent, she decided to cut her losses and sell the small one instead.
“The kid is nothing but skin and bone,” the burly human trafficker remarked, eyeing the child under Huai-ren’s arm with deep skepticism. “Will he even survive the trip to the next buyer?”
“Don’t say that! Small sprouts grow!” Madam Cao crowed, terrified the man would reject the deal. She pried the boy’s mouth open. “Look at these teeth! Perfectly white. He’s a hardy one, I tell you!”
Shen Li’s pupils constricted. They’re selling the child.
Vivid flashes of her own childhood—being snatched by traffickers and forced to steal—surged back. The shadows of those years still haunted her.
“Brother! Brother, save me! Brother!” the boy screamed, struggling wildly.
Shen Li glanced at the stable shack. Silence. Memories told her that Xiao Erlang had never once left that bed; he was paralyzed and mute. Just as she was about to charge in and beat the mother and son again—and the trafficker for good measure—a heavy thud echoed from the shack, followed by a low groan of pain.
The boy froze, reaching out toward the shack. “Brother! Brother!”
Irritated by the noise, Xiao Huai-ren raised his hand and delivered several sharp slaps to the boy’s face. “What are you screaming for? Your cripple brother can’t help you! Shut up!”
The boy didn’t stop. He kicked and clawed at the man’s arm. “Let go! I have to see Brother! He fell, it hurts! Let go!”
The child’s tears were like molten iron, searing Shen Li’s heart.
Then, she saw it. A figure began to crawl out of the shack. It was barely recognizable as a man—more like a bundle of tattered hemp rags writhing on the ground. His arms seemed to have no strength, so he used his elbows to drag himself inch by inch toward Xiao Huai-ren.
His hair was a matted nest of straw and filth, hiding his face. His clothes were so worn they were disintegrating into dust, and his trousers were stained with waste. His legs trailed behind him at a sickening, unnatural angle.
Shen Li’s clinical eye saw it instantly: The legs are broken, yes, but the joints might still be salvageable.
“Oh? Look at the dead cripple. You actually crawled out?” Xiao Huai-ren looked down at Erlang as if he were a dying stray dog. “You want to crawl? I’ll give you something to crawl for!”
Huai-ren delivered a brutal kick to Erlang’s ribs. The man on the ground contorted in agony. Huai-ren didn’t stop, raining down kick after kick until blood began to splatter the dirt.
The figure on the ground eventually went still, likely unconscious. Even the human trafficker looked uncomfortable and tried to hold the man back. But Huai-ren was enjoying himself too much; beating Erlang had always been his favorite pastime.
Sanlang let out a feral scream and sank his teeth into Huai-ren’s arm.
Yelping in pain, Huai-ren snarled and swung the boy with all his might, hurling him through the air toward the hard ground.
Sanlang squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the impact. It never came. Instead, a pair of slender, powerful arms caught him mid-air.