The sun set and the moon rose, another day and night passed.
Early in the morning, Xue Qingqing rose as usual, tending to the household chores just like any other day—sweeping the courtyard, chopping grass to feed the donkey, and letting the few chickens out the door to wander and peck for food.
Once she finished all that, she hadn't even eaten breakfast yet, but she couldn't spare the time—she first set about brewing the medicine for treating memory loss.
Under the eaves, the clay stove blazed with red flames, hot water bubbling with thick, dark medicinal dregs. Wisps of green smoke rose straight up, filling the entire courtyard with its scent.
Xue Qingqing's cheeks were flushed from the heat, rosy and dewy. She crouched down, holding an old palm-leaf fan, waving it back and forth to disperse the smoke, and casually tucked a strand of damp black hair behind her ear.
"Thump, thump, thump—" A knocking sound came from outside the door.
Xue Qingqing guessed it was Auntie Li. She glanced back at the tightly shut door of the house and decided she would only speak with the auntie in the courtyard, so she called out, "The door isn't latched—come on in."
The door was pushed open, but standing outside was not Auntie Li—it was a tall, sturdy young man. He had thick eyebrows and big eyes, and in this small, poor village, he could be considered a handsome lad. But his expression was shy, and one could tell at a glance he was very young, still half a boy.
Xue Qingqing was momentarily stunned, then spoke warily: "You are?"
The young man gave a modest smile: "Sister Qing, don't you recognize me?"
Xue Qingqing couldn't help but widen her eyes, startled into standing up: "You're… Mang Wazi?"
Mang Wazi scratched his head awkwardly, looking simple and honest.
Xue Qingqing looked him over and drew in a breath: "You've changed so much, I hardly dared to recognize you."
When she had married Lu Fang, Mang Wazi had still been a child, chasing after Lu Fang all day asking for wedding candy. In just two short years, he had grown into a man.
And she, too, had gone from a newlywed bride to a widow.
"The child is sleeping inside the house, so I won't invite you in," Xue Qingqing said politely. "Have a seat in the courtyard, and I'll pour you some water."
Mang Wazi quickly shook his head: "No, Sister Qing, I won't come in. I just came to tell you—that auntie from Sour Jujube Village has been brought here by me. She's resting at my place right now. If it's convenient for you at the moment, Sister Qing, I'll go fetch her right away."
Xue Qingqing's eyes flickered, and she instinctively used her body to block the door: "Not yet—my house isn't tidied up, it's a mess. Let me clean it up first, and then I'll go to your place to invite her over."
Mang Wazi nodded: "That's fine. Take your time tidying up, Sister Qing."
Xue Qingqing thought about how early it still was, and that Mang Wazi had already brought the woman here, so she asked him: "What time did you go to Sour Jujube Village?"
Mang Wazi: "I don't remember exactly, but it was after I heard the roosters crowing."
Xue Qingqing calculated in her mind and figured it must have been at most three in the morning.
Her heart warmed, and she said guiltily: "You got up far too early."
"I couldn't sleep anyway," Mang Wazi said, scratching the back of his head, not quite knowing what to say. "I'm used to getting up early from my time in the army camp."
Xue Qingqing nodded: "Regardless, I've put you through a lot of trouble."
Mang Wazi made a few more polite disclaimers, then prepared to head home.
As he was leaving, his expression shifted, and he said in a tone of sympathy: "Sister Qing, I've heard about everything. Please… accept my condolences."
Xue Qingqing paused, her eyes gradually turning red, and she smiled faintly: "I will."
Mang Wazi closed the courtyard gate, and his footsteps gradually faded beyond the bamboo wall.
Xue Qingqing stood in a daze for a while, until the "sizzling" sound of the medicinal liquid overflowing the earthen pot brought her back to her senses.
She wrapped a wad of coarse cloth around the pot handle, carefully lifted it, and tilted it slowly over a large coarse-ceramic bowl.
The medicinal liquid poured into the bowl with a clear, lingering sound, and bitter white steam spread out like thick smoke.
With the medicine poured, Xue Qingqing picked up the bowl, turned around, and pulled open the door of the room. She lifted her foot to step inside—but a tall, slender figure was suddenly blocking her way.
She was badly startled, staggering as she lost her balance, and the medicine bowl in her hand tipped over as well.
Pei Huaizhen reached out extremely quickly—one hand supporting her lower back to steady her, the other accurately catching the bottom of the bowl. The medicinal liquid sloshed once or twice, yet not a single drop spilled.
"Forgive me, Miss Xue, I startled you." His voice was gentle and slow, his pale face full of apology.
Xue Qingqing was still shaken, too flustered to even think about scolding him. She pressed a hand to her chest and caught her breath for a moment, then silently stepped aside to put distance between them, speaking in a flat tone: "When did you wake up?"
After he had said yesterday that he was going to faint, he really had fainted, and she had exhausted herself trying to help him onto the bed.
"I woke up not long ago," Pei Huaizhen said. "When I saw you weren't in the room, I wanted to go out and look for you. When I reached the door, I heard voices and realized an outsider had come. I stood here waiting for that person to leave, and before I knew it, I'd waited until now."
He paused, then said with a hint of bitterness: "Miss Xue, who was that person?"
Xue Qingqing didn't notice the shift in his tone. She looked down at the medicine bowl in his hand, and seeing that nothing had spilled, let out a relieved breath and said: "It was the son of that Auntie Li from yesterday."
"What's his name?"
"Mang Wazi."
"How old is he this year?"
"Seventeen."
"What does he do?"
"Just finished my military service—"
Xue Qingqing's eyes sharpened as she caught herself, lifting her head to look at the man before her. "Why do you ask so specifically?"
Pei Huaizhen smiled. "Just curious."
Before they knew it, the atmosphere between them was turning strange again. The scorching steam rising from the medicine bowl lingered between them, the medicinal vapors mingling with the woman's fragrance to create a peculiar scent that left one parched and restless.
Xue Qingqing turned her face away, no longer looking at those deeply captivating eyes, and said calmly, "How is your memory recovery coming along?"
The medicine bowl burned against his fingertips, and Pei Huaizhen's blood felt hot as well.
He watched the woman's soft profile, her temples dampened by the steam, and her full lips flushed red from the heat.
"Some progress."
Xue Qingqing asked, "Anything about your parents?"
Parents were the origin of one's memories—if he could recall them, the rest would naturally fall into place.
As her words faded, the atmosphere suddenly fell silent.
When no answer came after a long while, Xue Qingqing turned her face back to look at Pei Huaizhen.
In that instant, shock flickered in her eyes.
Those peach-blossom eyes that always gazed at her so gently were now filled with intense sorrow, complex emotions churning like rolling clouds, with overwhelming despair spreading throughout.
Under Xue Qingqing's bewildered gaze, Pei Huaizhen let out a faint laugh and spoke softly: "Miss Xue, do you remember what I mentioned last time—the infant, the woman, and the old woman I saw in my mind?"
Xue Qingqing nodded. "I remember. The old woman took the infant away from the woman, not letting the mother and child see each other."
Pei Huaizhen said, "If I told you that the infant was me, the woman was my mother, and the old woman was my grandmother—would you believe me?"
Xue Qingqing was stunned.
Pei Huaizhen lowered his gaze, his long lashes veiling the sorrow in his eyes, forcing a smile. "I had thought that the first memories to return would be those of sharing family happiness with my loved ones."
"But instead, it turned out to be the scene of being separated from my birth mother the moment I was born."
As a mother herself, Xue Qingqing merely imagined being separated from Little Tiger and immediately felt her heart wrench. She couldn't help asking, "Why did your grandmother separate you from your mother… and afterward, did you ever return to your mother's side?"
"I did."
Pei Huaizhen said, "After my grandmother passed away, I finally returned to her side."
"But by then, she had already given birth to a younger brother and didn't care much about me."
Pei Huaizhen gave a bitter smile, self-deprecatingly. "I was young then, and I resented my brother for taking my mother's attention away from me. I tried every way to win her favor. Once, when the servants weren't watching, I secretly pinched my brother's arm."
"When my mother discovered it, she said one thing to me."
He lifted his eyes to meet Xue Qingqing's. "She said to me, 'If I could, I wish you would die soon.'"
"'Die of illness, drown, fall to your death—any death will do. I just need you to die quickly.'"
Xue Qingqing's breath caught. She couldn't speak, could only look at him.
As if unable to bear the pain the memories brought, Pei Huaizhen took a deep breath and shook his head, exhaustion written across his brow. "Enough. Let's not talk about it. It's not a good memory—speaking of it only hurts both the teller and the listener."
Xue Qingqing knew she couldn't press further. She lowered her eyes and said, "I'm sorry. I never imagined that what I tried so hard to help you recall would be something like this…"
Looking at the steaming bowl of medicine now felt rather ironic.
"Miss Xue need not blame herself. This has nothing to do with you," Pei Huaizhen said with a bitter smile, adding teasingly, "It's me. My fate is just ill-fated."
Hearing him say this made Xue Qingqing's heart ache even more. She reached out to take the medicine bowl from his hand. "Don't drink it. I'll pour it out."
But Pei Huaizhen raised the bowl higher, softening his voice and looking at her seriously. "This bowl of medicine was prepared through Miss Xue's hard work—why wouldn't I drink it? Not only will I drink it, I'll drink every last drop."
Xue Qingqing's emotions were a tangled mess, and she didn't know how to respond.
Pei Huaizhen continued, "By the way, I heard you say outside earlier that someone from the family is coming?"
Xue Qingqing only then remembered the important matter. Setting aside everything else, she quickly instructed him, "Someone is coming, so you need to hide."
Pei Huaizhen agreed readily. "Alright."
Xue Qingqing looked around the room and noticed the pair of chopsticks and bowls on the table, the man's washed outer robe draped over the chair back, and the used handkerchief still left by the pillow.
Without her realizing it, the house had already absorbed quite a bit of this strange man's presence.
Xue Qingqing rolled up her sleeves, went over to clear away the bowls and chopsticks, took the outer robe, tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve, then rolled up the bedding on the couch and stuffed it under the bed.
When she turned around again, the familiar figure was gone, leaving only an empty medicine bowl on the table—not a single drop of the medicinal broth remaining.
She knew he had found a place to hide on his own, so she didn't go looking for him. Taking advantage of Little Tiger still being asleep, she tidied her appearance and headed out to Auntie's house.
Before long, Xue Qingqing returned home, followed by a thin, withered old woman.
Xue Qingqing wasn't wearing mourning clothes today. Instead, she had on a plain, light green dress. The old woman was also someone who spoke without thinking, and as soon as she entered the room, she said, "This isn't really a difficult matter. It's common for a child to lack the strength to suck it out. Just have your husband suckle a few times each day, and it will naturally clear up."
Xue Qingqing's face darkened, and she gave a cold reply: "I'm a widow."
The old woman realized she had misspoken and muttered, "They didn't tell me," before falling silent.
The two of them walked into the inner room, and at the old woman's gesture, Xue Qingqing removed her upper garment, leaving only a jujube-red bellyband.
In the faint sunlight filtering into the room, the woman's body was soft and white all over, her skin as smooth as congealed fat. Thin red straps wound around the back of her neck, and below was a vast expanse of flawless, unblemished back. As she climbed onto the bed, a pair of round, delicate dimples appeared at the small of her slender waist.
"Little miss, take off the bellyband," the old woman said.
Xue Qingqing frowned. "The bellyband too?"
"It's fine to leave it on, but the technique might not be accurate."
Since it wasn't easy to have someone come all this way, Xue Qingqing thought for a moment, then reached behind her neck. Her pinkish-white fingertips pinched the strap and gave it a gentle tug, and the red bellyband slipped away, revealing a dazzling expanse of fine, snow-white skin that made one's eyes blur.
The room was filled with fragrance.
"How long does this need to be pressed?" Xue Qingqing asked casually as she lay down.
"About half an hour, give or take."
Half an hour…
Xue Qingqing couldn't control her nervousness and began to worry about whether that person could stay perfectly still for half an hour.
If he had to hang from the rafters like last time when avoiding the soldiers, that would be a real ordeal for him.
Suddenly, a flash of white light crossed Xue Qingqing's mind, and as if startled, she lifted her head to look at the rafters.
"What are you looking at, little miss?"
Seeing the rafters empty, Xue Qingqing secretly let out a sigh of relief. "Nothing, just a small bug flying by."
"There are a lot of bugs this time of year. Once autumn comes, they'll be gone."
The old woman said, "It'll hurt a bit in a moment. Bear with it."
Xue Qingqing nodded and closed her eyes.
Feeling the acupoint on her chest being pressed, her whole body tensed, and she had to think of other things to distract herself.
A pair of reddened, sorrowful peach-blossom eyes suddenly appeared in her mind.
Compared to her previous avoidance or resistance, Xue Qingqing now somewhat calmly accepted the fact that she was thinking about Shen Zhuo.
She admitted that she did feel a bit of sympathy for Shen Zhuo.
The taste of being loathed and rejected by one's own flesh and blood—no one understood it better than she did.
But at least she still had a memory of the modern world, with her original parents as spiritual support.
Countless times, when she was on the verge of breaking down, she told herself: They aren't your real parents. Don't be sad because of their attitude. They're just the human traffickers who happened to take you in after you were abducted into this strange world.
No one cares whether human traffickers have feelings for you.
Once she thought it through that way, she felt much better, at least she no longer yearned for that nonexistent family affection.
But Shen Zhuo didn't have an extra life.
In his young years, when his mother cursed him to die a violent death, what was he thinking about?
Pain came, as if needles were grinding into her.
Xue Qingqing's delicate brows furrowed tightly, but the image of that refined, handsome face remained in her mind.
Thinking of that man, her red lips parted slightly.
Involuntarily, she let out a sound.