It was mid-morning, and cooking smoke rose from every household in Plum Blossom Village, the winding threads of smoke coalescing into clouds that drifted over the village.
Having finished cooking, Xue Qingqing carried the food out of the kitchen and called out toward the main room, "Young Master Shen, it’s time to eat."
But when she stepped inside, all she saw was a clean bamboo couch. That elegant and handsome figure had vanished without a trace, as if he had never been there at all.
This was the third day since Shen Zhuo had left.
Xue Qingqing had lost count of how many times she had spaced out like this.
Just as now, as she looked at the empty room and the clean bamboo couch, her body remained frozen even though her mind had long since accepted the fact that he was gone. It took a long while of staring blankly before she could snap back to her senses.
She walked into the room and set the food down.
Today’s lunch was simple: a plate of cold-dressed tender bamboo shoots and a plate of cornmeal pancakes.
Bamboo shoots were plentiful this season. Once soaked to remove the bitterness, dressed with wild garlic, sprinkled with salt, and drizzled with vinegar, they were incredibly appetizing.
However, Xue Qingqing had no appetite. She forced herself to swallow half a pancake, barely touching the vegetables.
At that moment, Little Tiger began to wail again.
Xue Qingqing put down her pancake. She was about to pick her son up from the cradle, but as she bent down, something gave her pause. Instead, she reached into the cradle to check him. His diaper was dry, and his little belly was full. She began to gently pat the infant’s body.
"Heaven is flustered, earth is flustered, my house has a little night-crier…"
She tried to hum the nursery rhyme for her son, imitating Shen Zhuo as she remembered him:
"Parents chant this thrice a day, to sleep soundly until the sun rises high."
"Heaven is flustered, earth is flustered—"
Little Tiger ignored her completely. He wasn't buying his mother’s act at all and continued to cry as if his heart were breaking.
Xue Qingqing sighed and finally picked him up, pacing and swaying. She felt like crying herself. "My little ancestor, please just tell your mother, what on earth do you want?"
"If you keep crying like this, I’m going to cry too."
This was the moment Xue Qingqing felt most helpless.
She didn’t know what else to do to make her son stop crying. This kind of endless anxiety was more likely to break a person than any other hardship.
Just as she was pondering other ways to stop the crying, a knock sounded at the courtyard gate.
Xue Qingqing instantly focused her thoughts and asked warily, "Who is it?"
"Sister Qing, it’s me."
Mang Wazi’s voice came from outside the door.
Xue Qingqing breathed a sigh of relief. Holding the incessantly crying child, she went to open the gate for him.
When the gate opened, it revealed the young man standing outside.
The tall and sturdy Mang Wazi held an elegant little bamboo basket containing about a dozen eggs.
Seeing Xue Qingqing, he instinctively straightened his back a bit, but his tongue betrayed him, getting tied in knots. "Sister Qing, uh, my hens have been laying a lot of eggs these past few days. My mother told me to bring some over to you."
He started to reach out to hand them over, but seeing her holding the baby, he pulled his hand back.
Xue Qingqing glanced at the basket and refused without a second thought. "There are so many, how could I accept them? Hens don’t lay eggs every single day; it would be better to keep them for yourselves."
On the day the Xue family had come to cause trouble, Mang Wazi had wanted to stand up for her, but Auntie Li had pulled him away.
Xue Qingqing guessed that the mother and son had felt guilty about it afterward, which was why they were delivering eggs now.
But Xue Qingqing was actually quite open-minded about it.
When one’s own family was such a disaster, why demand that neighbors risk their lives for you? Being able to help each other out in daily life and not kicking someone when they were down was already a rare virtue.
"Take the eggs back," she repeated her refusal. "Tell your mother I appreciate the thought, but it would be a waste to eat such good eggs instead of letting them hatch into chicks."
"No way."
Mang Wazi’s face darkened, and he said seriously, "Back when Brother Lu Fang was still here, whenever he hunted a wild boar, he always shared the meat with us. Now that he’s gone, it’s only right that we look after you and the baby."
Xue Qingqing didn’t want to argue with him. She sighed and opened the gate a bit wider. "Don't just stand there, come in and sit down."
Mang Wazi’s face flushed as he carried the eggs inside.
Afraid of people gossiping, they left the courtyard gate wide open. The two of them walked one after the other into the main room.
Xue Qingqing poured a bowl of water for Mang Wazi. She didn't have time to talk to him as she immediately went back to soothing the little ancestor in her arms.
Mang Wazi set down the eggs and intended to leave, but seeing the unfinished meal on the table, he said, "Sister Qing, let me hold him for a bit. You finish your food first."
Xue Qingqing said tiredly, "He just woke up, and he’s at his hardest to soothe right now. I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle him."
Mang Wazi replied, "It's fine. I helped my older cousin with her kids; I know how to soothe them."
Xue Qingqing was truly exhausted, so she handed Little Tiger over to him.
Mang Wazi took the infant, felt his sturdy little arms and legs, and gently tossed him upward. The baby hung in the air for a second before Mang Wazi caught him steadily.
Xue Qingqing broke into a cold sweat. She hesitated, then said, "Is that… okay?"
Mang Wazi grinned. "Don't worry, Sister Qing. Kids love playing like this."
He tossed him up again and caught him steadily.
Little Tiger actually stopped crying and even began to giggle.
Mang Wazi said happily, "This baby is growing so well. His nose and mouth look like his father, and his face shape and eyes look like his mother. He picked all the best features."
The corners of Xue Qingqing’s lips curled up. She finally had the time to sit down and finish the remaining half of her pancake.
Mang Wazi’s expression gradually sobered as he said guiltily, "Sister Qing, I’m really sorry I couldn't help you that day. My mother too—we both feel bad about it."
Xue Qingqing chewed her pancake slowly, her tone remaining soft and calm. "It’s nothing. That happened days ago, don't think about it anymore. Besides, your mother was just looking out for you. Living in a village, reputation is everything. If you had hit someone for my sake, word would have gotten out and been so ugly that you might never find a wife."
Mang Wazi scratched the back of his head and said sheepishly, "I don't want a wife. I want to continue being a soldier and eventually join the Iron Kite Army."
Xue Qingqing’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the name "Iron Kite Army" was incredibly familiar, yet she couldn't remember where she had heard it. It must be a powerful army.
She said, "Then you’d better coax your mother well. She finally got you back after so much longing; it would be a miracle if she agreed to let you leave again so soon."
Mang Wazi gave a silly laugh, then changed the subject. "Let’s not talk about that. Sister Qing, I have some good news for you."
Xue Qingqing looked up at him. "What good news?"
Mang Wazi suddenly grew energetic. "A comrade of mine from Suanzao Village came to drink with me yesterday. He told me that all four of those troublemakers from the Xue family have met with disaster."
Xue Qingqing was stunned. "Disaster?"
Mang Wazi nodded, looking thrilled. "That Old Man Xue stole someone's chicken, slipped, and fell, breaking his back. He's a cripple now. When that old woman heard about it, she was so scared she passed out, and when she woke up, she was paralyzed. Now both of them lie in bed all day with nothing to eat or drink, and no one to clean up their waste. The whole house reeks."
Xue Qingqing was stunned, her eyes suddenly sparkling with disbelief. "Is that true?"
"How could it be false?" Mang Wazi’s eyes shone. "The even more satisfying part comes next!"
"After the two old ones were paralyzed, Xue Da hated the smell of the house and refused to go back. He spent all day out gambling and drinking. Later, he was walking home drunk and his head fell into a creek. The water wasn't even ankle-deep, but he managed to drown himself!"
"That wife of his, the one named Guo—the very day he died, she grabbed a bag and headed for her parents' house. Who would have guessed that halfway there, she’d get bitten by a venomous snake? She was gone on the spot!"
Xue Qingqing listened in a daze, unable to speak for a long time, the light in her eyes growing brighter and brighter.
Mang Wazi thought she was frightened and quickly called out to her, "Sister Qing?"
Xue Qingqing let out a long breath, restraining her excitement as she slowly shook her head. "I'm fine."
Her voice paused before she asked, "When did all this happen?"
"In the couple of days after they finished causing trouble here." Mang Wazi sighed with emotion. "If this isn't immediate retribution, what is? Even the heavens couldn't stand it anymore."
Xue Qingqing suppressed the excitement in her heart and asked, "And then?"
"And then that's it," Mang Wazi said. "The son and daughter-in-law are dead, and those two old things are paralyzed in bed, just waiting to rot away. There were some heartless people in their village who suggested sending them here for you to look after, but the two old things said your house is haunted and refused to come no matter what."
Hearing the end of it, Xue Qingqing couldn't help but burst into laughter.
She was beautiful but rarely smiled. When she did, the sprawling sea of begonia flowers on the mountains seemed to pale in comparison.
Mang Wazi was dazzled, his tongue going stiff as he suddenly found himself unable to speak.
Xue Qingqing didn't notice his infatuated look. She treated him like a younger brother and spoke in a deliberately low, teasing voice, "They all say my house is haunted, yet you still bring me eggs. Aren't you afraid?"
Mang Wazi’s face was hot enough to fry a pancake. He struggled to straighten his tongue and said righteously, "What am I afraid of? I don't think there are any ghosts in this world. It’s just that they’ve done too many wicked things themselves, so everyone they see looks like a ghost."
Xue Qingqing nodded, agreeing with him.
She clapped her hands, shaking off the crumbs. "I’m done eating. Give me the baby; thank you for your hard work here."
Mang Wazi handed Little Tiger back to her. His face was still burning, but his voice was as stiff and upright as a steel rod. "How is this hard work? In my eyes, Brother Lu Fang is my own brother, and Sister Qing is my sister-in-law. It’s only natural for me to help my sister-in-law with the baby. If you ever need anything, Sister Qing, just say the word. Then, Sister… uh, no, Sister Qing, I… I’ll be heading home now."
Xue Qingqing smiled. "Alright, go on back."
She looked down at her son, and just then, a cry of pain came from the courtyard.
"What's wrong?" Xue Qingqing looked up and saw Mang Wazi scrambling up from the ground.
"It’s nothing, Sister Qing," Mang Wazi hissed, wincing. "I just tripped on something."
He looked down and whispered to himself, "Strange, when did this rock get here? I didn't see it just now."
"Walk slowly, don't rush," Xue Qingqing reminded him gently.
Mang Wazi agreed and carefully stepped out, afraid another rock would appear out of thin air. Once outside, he pulled the courtyard gate shut.
Silence returned to the house.
Xue Qingqing turned her face and silently stared at the empty bamboo couch.
After staring for who knows how long, she murmured, "Young Master Shen, thank you."
The heavens hadn't opened their eyes, and there was no such thing as poetic justice. She knew it must have been Shen Zhuo who had secretly taken revenge for her.
Even though she couldn't explain how he had managed to deal with so many people so cleanly and decisively all at once, while simultaneously helping her with chores and the baby every day and keeping it all a secret.
Xue Qingqing just had an intuition. Her intuition told her it was Shen Zhuo.
The ruthless Shen Zhuo.
The vengeful Shen Zhuo.
The Shen Zhuo who was only good to her.
The Shen Zhuo who had already left.
Xue Qingqing suddenly felt her eyes sting, and her heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant hand, aching in its crumpled state.
She couldn't quite describe the feeling, but a line of ancient poetry suddenly came to mind.
*One cannot see the true face of Mount Lu, simply because one is standing in the midst of it.*
When a person is caught in the middle of a situation, they cannot see themselves clearly, nor can they see others.
Only when something is completely lost can its significance be understood.
Xue Qingqing finally realized that her morals weren't as high as she had imagined. The empathy granted by her modern higher education had long since been worn away bit by bit in this predatory ancient world.
She didn't care at all how cruel that man was to others.
As long as he was good to her, that was enough.
Thinking back on what he had done to the village chief, Xue Qingqing only felt a sense of relief.
…
The summer night was long, the heat lingering.
Xue Qingqing hadn't wanted to make a fuss, but the discomfort made it hard to sleep. She prepared a basin of water, wanting to wipe herself down and feel a bit fresher.
Not wanting water to splash onto the bed, she placed the basin on the floor of the main room. With the door closed, she raised her pale, smooth arms and pinned her dark hair up, then began to undress.
One by one, her clothes fell away, exposing the woman’s snowy-white, curvaceous body to the dim, flickering candlelight.
Xue Qingqing wetted a cloth and meticulously wiped her skin, letting the cloth carry away the stickiness of sweat and the faint scent of milk left over from nursing.
It should have been a very relaxing moment.
But for some reason, Xue Qingqing felt as if a pair of eyes were watching her from within the room.
She continued to wash herself while silently scanning the room, looking over every place where someone could hide. Only after confirming there was nothing unusual did she finish cleaning herself, albeit with a sense of unease.
"Is it you watching me?"
After putting on her clothes, Xue Qingqing looked toward the memorial tablet.
The pitch-black tablet remained silent, standing quietly in its place.
"It’s not like you haven’t seen it before. What’s there to look at?" she sighed. "I have to keep the lamp lit every time; you're so annoying."
As the words left her mouth, the temperature in the room seemed to drop significantly. Even the lazy candle flame shivered, causing shadows to dance and intertwine.
Xue Qingqing went out to the courtyard, emptied the basin, and returned to the inner room. She stripped down to just her dudou and lay on the bed, waiting for sleep to come.
Night was the time when milk was most likely to build up. Feeling a slight discomfort, Xue Qingqing recalled the technique "Shen Zhuo" had taught her. She found her Tianchi acupoint and began to knead it gently with her fingertips until it felt sore and swollen.
As drowsiness took over and her consciousness grew hazy, Xue Qingqing felt the hand that was kneading her own transform into a man’s hand, one marked by light calluses. Not only did the pressure become more appropriate, but the calluses on his fingerpads became a delight, their scraping against her skin providing a unique sort of comfort.
"So comfortable…" Xue Qingqing murmured in her sleep. Actions that had once made her feel mortified with shame had now become an insatiable desire.
In her dream, she felt the pressure begin to lighten. She let out a dissatisfied whimper.
She grabbed the hand, urgently pressing it back down, and pleaded softly:
"More…"