The morning after the spirit medium incident, the area outside the thatched hut by the burial grounds was eerily quiet.
On ordinary days, just after dawn, villagers would pass by in small groups, inevitably pointing and gossiping about the shabby hut.
Today, however, there was only dead silence.
Occasionally, villagers carrying loads would pass along the distant path, but they would instinctively make a wide detour.
The looks they cast were mixed—seven parts reverence, three parts fear—as if something unspeakable lurked behind that worn wooden door.
Inside the hut, however, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Li Xiuxiu sat by the stove. Though her hands still mechanically worked the bellows, the shoulders that had been tense for so long had quietly relaxed.
Liu Congming sat on a small stool beside his sister, his big eyes shining brightly as he looked at Liu Xiaoman, filled with undisguised admiration. Even his usual dullness seemed to have lifted somewhat.
With a creak, a figure peeked cautiously through the courtyard gate.
It was Aunt Zhang from the west end of the village, someone who had often suffered under Wang Jinhua.
Seeing no one around, she hurried to the entrance, gently set down a well-worn vegetable basket, then clasped her hands together and bowed toward the hut, as if afraid of disturbing something, murmuring softly:
“Please, spirits, bless my piglets to grow safely.”
With that, she turned and left quickly without looking back.
Hearing the movement, Li Xiuxiu hurried out to check. Seeing several fresh green vegetables in the basket, with two still-warm eggs hidden beneath them, she immediately panicked.
“Xiaoman, this… this won’t do! I have to return this at once!”
Holding the basket, her face showed both the joy of being acknowledged and fear of such an offering.
Liu Xiaoman stepped forward, gently pressing down her hand and taking the basket, her voice calm.
“Mother, this isn’t an offering—it’s people’s hearts.”
She picked up one of the still-warm eggs and weighed it in her palm. The simple, honest weight warmed her heart.
“What we’re accepting isn’t just food—it’s the villagers’ attitude toward the old house. From now on, if they want to bully us again, they’ll have to think twice.”
Li Xiuxiu didn’t fully understand, but looking at her daughter’s composed profile, the frustration she had held in for years seemed to dissolve. A long-lost sense of pride rose within her.
She nodded and no longer insisted.
The villagers’ reactions confirmed for Liu Xiaoman that her plan to establish authority had succeeded beyond expectations.
This “divine protection” façade had bought her the most precious thing—time free from interference.
She couldn’t help but complain inwardly: feudal superstition really harms people—but damn, it works so well.
Still, once this wave passed, she would have to quietly introduce some basic knowledge. Otherwise, if she really became known as some kind of mystical shaman, it would be ridiculous.
Her next goal was clear: strike while the iron was hot and bring her third uncle’s family—their only fragile bond of friendship—fully into her “Noah’s Ark.”
That night, moonlight once again blanketed the village paths.
After urging Li Xiuxiu and Liu Congming to sleep early, Liu Xiaoman carefully wrapped a small portion of fine rice she had bought in town, cut a piece of cured meat, tied it with straw rope, and quietly slipped out alone, heading toward her third uncle’s house.
On the way, she unexpectedly ran into two villagers returning home together.
The moment they recognized her, fear flashed across their faces. As if seeing a ghost in broad daylight, they lowered their heads and hurried past her, not daring to meet her eyes.
Liu Xiaoman sighed inwardly.
This “divine maiden” identity was indeed a double-edged sword—it made things easier, but also created an invisible barrier.
She quickened her pace and soon arrived at her third uncle Liu Laoshi’s courtyard.
Inside, only a dim oil lamp burned. Through the paper window, she could see the family gathered around the table eating.
Pushing open the half-closed gate, what she saw made her heart ache.
On the table was only a single clay bowl filled with watery wild vegetable porridge, so thin it could reflect a person’s face. A few leaves floated lonely in the murky liquid.
“Third Uncle, Third Aunt,” she called softly.
Liu Laoshi and He Xiaoling turned at the sound and quickly stood.
“Xiaoman? Why are you here so late?” He Xiaoling wiped her hands and greeted her awkwardly.
Liu Xiaoman handed over the oil-paper bundle.
“My mother asked me to bring you some things.”
The smell of rice and cured meat seeped through the rough wrapping, standing out sharply in the room filled only with the scent of wild greens.
“No, no!” Liu Laoshi immediately waved his hands, firm as a rock.
“Xiaoman, we appreciate your kindness, but we absolutely can’t accept this! Your family isn’t doing well either!”
He Xiaoling also refused repeatedly, and the situation quickly reached a stalemate.
Liu Xiaoman stopped beating around the bush. She stepped forward, forcefully pushed the bundle into He Xiaoling’s arms, then grabbed both of them and lowered her voice, her expression serious.
“Third Uncle, Third Aunt, stop refusing.”
She pulled them into a corner and made sure no one outside could hear before speaking clearly:
“I came tonight to talk about a business deal—a big one that can help both our families safely get through the next few years.”
Liu Laoshi and He Xiaoling were stunned by her solemn tone and exchanged glances.
Without giving them much time to think, Liu Xiaoman looked at them intently, her eyes full of trust and sincerity.
She didn’t reveal the full truth of the coming catastrophic drought—that would be too shocking.
Instead, she framed it in a more acceptable way.
“I won’t hide it from you. Some time ago, I encountered a wise person who gave me guidance. He said that in the coming years, the weather will be very bad—rainfall will decrease sharply, harvests will worsen year by year, and grain prices… will soar to the heavens.”
Taking a deep breath, she spoke earnestly, “Third Uncle, Third Aunt, in this family, you’re the only ones I truly trust—and the only ones I want to help.”
Her words struck straight into the softest part of their hearts.
They looked at the frail girl before them. In her clear eyes, there was no trace of deceit—only a heavy sense of responsibility entrusted to them.
They were deeply shaken by her trust and by the frightening future she described.
Seizing the moment, Liu Xiaoman presented her proposal.
“I have some silver, but as a young girl, it would attract too much attention if I purchased large quantities of supplies myself. So I want Third Uncle to do it.”
She explained clearly, “I’ll provide the money. You know people and have connections—help me buy grain, cloth, iron tools, and anything that can be stored. Once it’s done, your family gets twenty percent of all the supplies!”
Twenty percent!
Liu Laoshi and He Xiaoling gasped.
For farmers who had spent their entire lives working the land, this was unimaginable wealth and security.
They were so stunned by her boldness and generosity that they couldn’t speak.
Meanwhile, as Liu Xiaoman negotiated with her uncle’s family, the atmosphere in the main hall of the old Liu residence was gloomy.
Old Madam Tian sat at the head seat, banging her tobacco pipe against the table as she cursed the fraudulent spirit medium who had run off with the money.
Wang Jinhua, sitting nearby, rolled her eyes and leaned in to whisper:
“Mother, do you think that medium was scared off by that little wretch? That green light was strange—maybe… maybe that girl really has some kind of treasure hidden in her house. Otherwise, how could she use such eerie tricks?”
Her words were filled with greed. After the fear faded, her obsession with whatever “treasure” Liu Xiaoman might have only burned stronger.
Back at her third uncle’s house, Liu Laoshi was finally convinced.
He slapped his thigh, his dark face filled with emotion and determination.
“Alright! Xiaoman, your uncle will listen to you! For the trust you’ve shown, I’ll go all in!”
But as a simple farmer, after his initial excitement, he quickly frowned and pointed out a very real problem.
“Xiaoman, buying grain and cloth is fine—we can do it in batches, and people might just think someone’s preparing for a wedding. But… the iron tools you want—axes, hoes, and especially several large iron pots—those are all regulated in town.”
“If we buy too many at once, the authorities will definitely investigate. If we’re mistaken for privately stockpiling weapons, that’s a capital crime! What do we do?”
Hearing this, He Xiaoling grew tense again.
But Liu Xiaoman remained completely calm. In fact, his concern reassured her even more—this was exactly the kind of detail a modern person like her might overlook, and precisely why she needed his experience.
Facing their worried expressions, she smiled confidently.
Leaning closer, her voice carried a hint of mystery and certainty as she said softly:
“Third Uncle, if the authorities want to investigate, then we’ll give them a reason—one where they won’t find a single problem.”