After walking for an unknown amount of time, Jiang Sinian called a stop when a slow-moving ox cart appeared not far ahead—a sight Ye Shizhi had only seen on her phone in modern times.
A skinny old ox, its bones visible beneath its skin, pulled a flat wooden board. Underneath the board, a simple lever with wheels acted as support, forming a rudimentary vehicle.
Sitting on the ox was a person holding a whip, gently urging the ox forward. The ox’s tail swished, and every so often a low “moo” came from its nostrils.
It was the 1980s, though Ye Shizhi wasn’t entirely sure. The novel didn’t specify either; she could only guess, based on the story’s setting, that it was a female protagonist’s “struggle tale” set in 1980s China. Some details might not perfectly match reality.
“Get on!”
The person on the ox called out loudly as the cart stopped.
Ye Shizhi carefully stepped onto the board. Just as she gripped it securely, Jiang Sinian leapt up beside her, one leg stretched across half her space.
Ye Shizhi: “…”
She scooted over, but of course he followed—she gritted her teeth and endured it.
The path back to the village was rough. The cart jolted over bumps constantly. More than once, Ye Shizhi felt she would be thrown off, forcing her to grip the board even tighter, her entire body tense with effort.
This time, the cart swayed so violently that her strength gave out. Just as she was about to fall, a strong arm caught her and pulled her into someone’s chest.
Rigid and unyielding, she felt as if she had crashed into cement. Pain shot through her forehead, eyes watering as she rubbed it, frustrated.
“Just stay like this.”
Sensing she wanted to move, Jiang Sinian was domineering and added, “Don’t let my son fall.”
“If you hadn’t stretched your leg so long, I wouldn’t have almost fallen.”
Jiang Sinian: “So it’s still my fault?”
Ye Shizhi: “Yes.”
She lifted her head. Only then did Jiang Sinian notice her reddened forehead. He paused before speaking.
“…Next time, tell me if it hurts.”
That was all he said—dry, stiff—but he knew he was in the wrong.
Ye Shizhi didn’t respond, continuing to rub her forehead. She didn’t need to look; she knew it was red.
“By the way, don’t listen to anything my mother says later. We’ll take what we need and leave.”
Ye Shizhi was equally annoyed by the original owner’s parents. They were shortsighted, greedy, stubborn, and selfish—always thinking only of immediate gain while ignoring the long term.
As the village approached, she reminded him a few times. Even though she knew Jiang Sinian didn’t care, it was still polite to warn him.
Near the village entrance, low mud-brick houses came into view. Under a large tree stood a group of middle-aged women. As the cart approached, their eyes openly fixed on them, whispering among themselves.
The cart only passed by, but in those few dozen seconds, Ye Shizhi caught some unpleasant words.
“So that’s the Ye family girl? Looks like a fox spirit—no wonder she did that kind of thing.”
“Honestly, with a daughter like that, it’s shameful to the grandmother’s house. And she ended up with that one? The Jiang family is unlucky!”
“I know that guy—he’s the village delinquent at the edge. I heard he just got out of the station a few days ago…”
“Auntie, tell us more, don’t hold back…”
“Lower your voice… I heard… he committed murder…”
After a shocked gasp, there was silence. The cart had already passed. Ye Shizhi looked back to see the women staring in fear.
She didn’t care about these baseless rumors, but their harshness sent a cold shiver through her.
Then, for some reason, she smiled lightly. Her face was naturally beautiful, and the curve of her lips made her fair skin appear even brighter.
Jiang Sinian: “You can still smile?”
She heard him, of course. Jiang Sinian wouldn’t miss it.
After years of hearing about her supposed “crimes,” he found her calm, almost indifferent reaction amusing, yet strangely cold.
Normally, anyone beside him would be angry and scowling. Now, she could even smile.
Jiang Sinian silently recalled the saying: “One pregnancy, three years of foolishness.”
Before he could dismiss the thought, Ye Shizhi rested her hand on his arm, using it to adjust herself comfortably, then lifted her chin and pointed with slender fingers, her mood improving.
“Jiang Sinian, that chubby, bloated one over there? She keeps bragging her son got a good job, but he didn’t do that at all—he’s just being supported by someone rich.”
“And that dark-skinned, sharp-chinned aunt? She bullies her daughter-in-law every day. Outwardly, the daughter-in-law is respectful, but every so often she goes to the mountain temple to curse her, hoping she’ll disappear sooner.”
“And that one over there…”
These pieces of gossip were pulled up on the spot by Xiaoliu, deliberately shared with Jiang Sinian.
Ye Shizhi knew Jiang Sinian didn’t care, but at twenty, he would still occasionally remember unpleasant words.
She wanted him to recall these rumors, not her, if he ever remembered later.
Suddenly, he covered her mouth with his hand, his handsome face dark, teeth clenched.
“Ye Shizhi, where did you hear this?”
“Mm-mm…” Let go!
Ye Shizhi struggled.
Finally free, she gasped for air. A few seconds later, she might have been crushed by him.
“Jiang Sinian!”
She glared fiercely—but to others, her “fierce” was still soft, lacking intimidation.
“You speak.”
Jiang Sinian, hearing her tone for the first time, didn’t get angry. He waited calmly.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
Ye Shizhi’s voice quivered, a little tearful as she recalled her desperate struggle.
Jiang Sinian paused, slightly awkward. He had weathered many storms, but never encountered someone like this—couldn’t hit, couldn’t scold, delicate and clingy.
“No.” He simply feared she would influence his son.
“Jiang Sinian!”
By now, Ye Shizhi had called his name countless times, then didn’t know what else to say.
In her mind, Xiaoliu’s task countdown lingered: “Host, hold Jiang Sinian’s hand for ten seconds. Task countdown: 30…27…”
“What? There’s a countdown too?!”
Ye Shizhi forgot why she had been angry. Her heart now fluttered with the countdown.