Xia Wanyue stopped in her tracks and glanced back at him.
Her objective had already been achieved.
She couldn’t be bothered to argue with them any further.
She gently knocked on the door.
“A-Ning, it’s Mother.”
Creak—
The door was pushed open, and two children with tear-streaked faces stood at the entrance.
They had seen everything from the window earlier—how their mother had been struck again and again. If it weren’t for the younger brother who still needed someone to look after him, and for fear of becoming a burden to her, they would have rushed out long ago.
“Mother!”
“I’m fine… I’m fine. Don’t cry, don’t cry…”
Seeing the two children sobbing so pitifully, Xia Wanyue felt flustered. She truly didn’t know how to comfort children.
Fortunately, the two were sensible. They soon wiped away their tears.
Xia Wanyue realized she was getting more and more used to being called Mother.
“Pick up your little brother. We’re leaving.”
Li Sanya lifted her brother from the bed. While the children weren’t paying attention, Xia Wanyue quietly rolled up the cotton quilt from the bed and tossed out the one that had already clumped and gone hard.
She wasn’t about to leave anything behind for the Li family.
“Let’s go.”
There was nothing but broken, worn-out junk in the house anyway. The couple had never kept anything for themselves—not even a single copper coin. Leaving it all behind was no loss.
“Yue-niang, where are you going now? What do you plan to do?”
Aunt Zhang hurried over and stopped the four of them.
“Aunt Zhang, thank you for today. I have nothing right now, so I can only repay you in the future. As for where we’re going…” Xia Wanyue shook her head. “I don’t know either. We’ll take things one step at a time.”
She truly didn’t know.
She had arrived yesterday and immediately gone into labor. Then she’d fainted again while absorbing the original owner’s memories. This morning, everything had spiraled into chaos.
She hadn’t even had the chance to walk around the village. Right now, she was completely lost.
“Well… there’s a thatched hut at the eastern end of the village,” Aunt Zhang said after thinking for a moment. “It’s near the mountain. It used to belong to an old widower.
“He froze to death two years ago. The villagers buried him, and the house has been empty ever since. It’s pretty run-down, but it’s still livable.
“Would you like to go there and make do for now?”
“…You’d just need to let the village head know.”
“Yue-niang, take the children and live in that thatched hut at the east end.”
Village Head Zhou’s wife walked over as well. She and her husband had just discussed it and decided to let Xia Wanyue and the children stay there.
Aunt Zhang smiled lightly. “Looks like we thought of the same thing.”
Aunt Zhou nodded. “After Uncle Yang died, the hut became village property. Leaving it empty will only let it rot. It’s better to let them use it for now.”
“Really? Aunt Zhou, thank you so much.”
Xia Wanyue looked at her gratefully. There were still good people in this world.
“Don’t rush to thank me yet,” Aunt Zhou said gently. “Listen carefully.
“That hut belongs to the village. We can’t just give it to you outright.
“You’ll either need to buy it or rent it.
“Of course, we know you don’t have money right now. You can owe it for the time being. It’s not that we’re greedy—it’s village property, and my husband has to give others an explanation. Otherwise, those gossiping women will talk endlessly.”
“That’s only right,” Xia Wanyue replied. “Then I’ll rent it. How much per year?”
In two months, people would begin fleeing from famine. The weather would grow hotter, the land drier, and water would disappear. Huai Prefecture would fall into chaos, filled with refugees.
Buying wasn’t worth it. Renting was enough.
“You’re not having an easy time,” Aunt Zhou said. “Ten copper coins a year will do. The house is small, but enough for you.
“I’ll have my boys go help fix it up later.”
“You can owe the money for now. Pay it when you can.”
“Thank you… thank you so much, Aunt Zhou. And thank the village head as well.”
Xia Wanyue bowed deeply. She truly had nothing to offer in return.
Even if she had supplies in her space, she couldn’t take them out yet.
“All right, take the children and go. I’ll head back now.”
Aunt Zhou patted Xia Wanyue’s hand and walked toward the courtyard gate.
“All of you, stop crowding around here!” she shouted at the onlookers outside. “Go home! Don’t you have work to do? Get to the fields and pull some weeds, check the crops! If this drought continues, you’ll all be drinking the northwest wind!”
With that, the crowd dispersed in a rush.
“I’ll go call my two daughters-in-law to help you clean up,” Aunt Zhang said. “There’s weeds in the yard that need pulling.”
“You’ve got nothing at all. I’ll see if I have anything you can use.”
“Thank you, Aunt Zhang.”
“Let’s go.”
Xia Wanyue took the baby into her arms, held Li Sanya’s hand, with Li Ning following behind. Together with Aunt Zhang, they walked out the gate.
Miao Shi stood behind them, one hand cupping her battered face, staring intently, afraid Xia Wanyue might take more than she should.
“You go on first. I’ll head home for a bit,” Aunt Zhang said, waving as she left.
Xia Wanyue led the children toward the eastern side of the village.
The Li family’s courtyard was on the west side, surrounded by several households.
To reach the east, they had to pass through the village center, where a massive locust tree stood.
Its thick branches spread wide, shading a large area. The ground beneath had been worn smooth by countless footsteps, and several large stones lay under the tree.
Villagers often sat on those stones to chat; children played there too.
In the height of summer, it was the best place to cool off—everyone loved to gather there and gossip.
As they passed, a few children were drawing lines in the dirt with small sticks.
Continuing east, past the village, about three to four hundred meters away, stood a dilapidated thatched hut.
Unlike the village houses—most built of wood and stone, with a few made of brick—this hut’s walls were made mostly of bamboo and wood, plastered with mud.
Much of the mud had fallen away, exposing the bamboo beneath.
The thatched roof was torn and ragged, many spots completely open to the sky.
The only decent thing was the courtyard.
Perhaps because it was near the mountain, the courtyard walls were built of stone—tall and solid, even higher than most others in the village.
Other courtyards were only about one and a half meters tall; standing on tiptoe, you could see everything inside.
This one stood nearly two meters high, blocking most outside eyes.
Creak… crack… thud.
The gate wasn’t locked.
She gave it a light push, and it swung open. The long-neglected wooden door, already rotten, let out a groan before snapping and collapsing to the ground.
Cough, cough—
Dust and dried grass leaves filled the air. The weeds in the courtyard had already withered from lack of water.
As the door fell, it stirred up a cloud of dust.