“It’s good that you’ve come to your senses. Do you think your father and I would ever hurt you? Don’t worry—your father already took Kangzi to the Meng family with gifts of thanks. That grain is enough to feed their whole family for a year or more. From now on, you owe each other nothing.”
At this, Zhang Wenhua felt even more relieved that Lin Aiyun hadn’t stubbornly dug in her heels.
She was grateful to Meng Baoguo for saving her daughter, but people were selfish after all—one thing was another. She couldn’t just marry Aiyun off casually because of a life-saving debt.
The Meng family was truly not a good place. Six people crammed into two tiny mud-brick rooms, with barely any space to even stand—it looked utterly shabby.
When guests came, they didn’t even know how to entertain. Kangzi and his father had sat there for so long without so much as a sip of water.
The entire village of Fengyuan was poor, and the Meng family, trying to scrape by there, was even worse off—clattering with empty pockets, barely enough to fill their stomachs. The men fared alright, but the women were all as thin as monkeys. When they saw the grain and gifts the Lin family had brought, their eyes lit up with greed—they looked ready to snatch it all away and hide it.
If Aiyun married into that family, it wasn’t hard to imagine the hard life she would lead.
As for Meng Baoguo himself, Zhang Wenhua had also asked around. He was an honest, upright young man—tall and sturdy, skilled at farm work, one of the more outstanding lads in their village.
But the family was too poor. With just a few acres of land, feeding themselves was already a struggle, let alone supporting a wife and children.
As the saying goes, a woman should not marry down. Meng Baoguo simply wasn’t good enough for their Aiyun.
Aiyun had been beautiful since she was little—fair-skinned as snow, a delicate oval face, cherry lips, and a straight nose. Her hair was as smooth and glossy as if it had been oiled. In all the surrounding villages, there wasn’t a girl as lovely as her. She was also educated, with an air of refinement—just standing there was a pleasure to behold.
Not only was she beautiful, but her temperament was also gentle—she rarely argued or clashed with anyone. Everyone who met her had only praise.
The Lin family might not have been enormously wealthy, but they owned dozens of acres of good farmland. Every year, after feeding themselves, they still had plenty to sell, with handsome profits. The money they’d saved was more than enough to live comfortably for years.
To be honest, Zhang Wenhua had never planned to marry her daughter off to a village man. How could those illiterate, rough-handed peasants ever be worthy of her!
“I knew you two were the best to me.” Lin Aiyun buried her face in Zhang Wenhua’s neck, a cold glint flashing beneath her eyes.
The Meng family was a fiery pit—in this life, she would never willingly jump into it again.
Thankfully, she had returned at just the right time. At this point, she hadn’t yet stubbornly pushed ahead, disregarding her family’s wishes for the sake of gratitude and so-called love, throwing herself away to marry Meng Baoguo.
What troubled her, however, was that because she had made such a scene at home recently, the news of her determination to marry Meng Baoguo had reached the neighbors, stirring up some gossip in the village.
Though there was no solid evidence—and as long as she denied it, not many would believe the truth—in these times, a girl’s reputation was paramount. If it was ruined, it would be a serious matter.
Li Gui’e’s earlier visit, laced with veiled mockery, was proof enough.
Thinking of this, Lin Aiyun brought it up with Zhang Wenhua to discuss a plan.
Upon hearing this, Zhang Wenhua frowned and pondered for a moment before saying, “I’ve thought about that too. Tonight, when your father comes back, I’ll talk it over with him and we’ll decide what to do. Stop crying now—your eyes are all swollen. Come inside; I’ve made you some noodles. Eat them while they’re hot.”
“Alright.” Lin Aiyun finally smiled through her tears. She hadn’t expected to ever taste Zhang Wenhua’s cooking again.
“No matter what happens from now on, don’t starve yourself. It only hurts your own body…”
“Let me pour you some hot water—wash your face before you eat.”
Right now, Lin Aiyun wouldn’t refuse anything Zhang Wenhua said.
·
The spring breeze travels far, warming every corner of the world.
Two or three plane trees stood in the yard. This year, they bloomed especially early—like clusters of wind chimes swaying gently in the grey morning light. Faint purple, faint fragrance, like a hazy dream—ethereal yet vivid.
A drizzling rain slipped through the slightly open window, falling onto a pale, smooth back. The graceful curve of shoulder and neck lay bare, swaying gently, glowing like warm jade under the dim yellow lamplight. Before long, a faint blush crept across her cheeks, tightening the strings of the heart.
Long lashes fluttered, beautiful eyes darting. Her voice was soft and delicate, landing in Xiao Cheng’s heart with a tender sweetness.
But just as he was about to speak, the woman’s face before him suddenly blurred. Then an invisible force wrenched him away, tearing him from the scene. Illusion and reality interwove, forming a chaotic tableau.
“Damn it.” Xiao Cheng came to from the dream, gasping heavily. He laid his arm across his forehead, covered in a thick layer of cold sweat that dampened his skin, making him frown in disgust.
It took a long while before he truly emerged from the dream.
Having lived nearly twenty years in the cesspool that was the Xiao family, what kind of scene hadn’t Xiao Cheng witnessed? What kind of messy business hadn’t he dealt with?
And yet, when it came to these strange yet lingering dreams he’d been having lately, he was utterly helpless.
The scenes in his dreams were absurd, filthy, and frivolous—yet they felt as real as if he had lived them. Because every figure and every setting was familiar, except for…
That strange woman.
Xiao Cheng narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze toward the window not far away, his heart seething with irritation. Could this be a prophetic dream? After all, in the dreams, neither he nor she appeared as young as they were now.
But from the moment he’d noticed something was off after the dreams became continuous, he’d had people search the entire capital from top to bottom. Not only had they failed to find that woman—they hadn’t even turned up a ghost of a resemblance.
Besides, Xiao Cheng had always scoffed at such superstitious nonsense. Sending a large number of people to search was already breaking his own principles. When they found nothing, he called it off. But after he gave up, the spring dreams only grew more intense.
Lately, the moment he closed his eyes to sleep, he was lost in a tangled, passionate dream with that mysterious woman.
Poor sleep left him feeling drained during the day.
He had consulted several renowned doctors and taken sleep aids for months, yet none of it made much difference.
Xiao Cheng fumbled for a pack of cigarettes by his pillow, struck a match, and lit one. Leaning back against the headboard, he let the wispy smoke slowly drift from his lips and rise into the air.
After a long moment, his thin lips parted and murmured softly: “Time to find a woman and get married?”
The thought had barely surfaced when a tearful, delicate face appeared before his eyes—those misty, watery eyes full of accusation, as if they might spill over with tears at any second.
“…Fine.” He let out a cold laugh. “When I find you, you’d better cry your fill.”
A sudden knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He casually grabbed the white ribbed undershirt from the bedside, wiped himself clean, and got up to open the door.
The bare-chested man wore nothing but a pair of shorts, his arousal still not fully subsided—stark and prominent. His back was broad and solid, the muscle definition sharp and distinct, each one sculpted so perfectly it might have been carved by an artist.
Several fierce scars marked his wheat-colored skin, lending him an air of raw sensuality and wildness. Though he was still young—barely more than a half-grown youth—the cold, bloodthirsty edge in his eyes made him not to be underestimated.
Following that powerful physique upward, one found a young and strikingly handsome face.
Lack of sleep had left his temper even more irritable than usual. He lounged lazily against the doorframe, smoke drifting from his lips, impatience written all over his brow. His voice was hoarse: “What is it?”
“Master, the main branch has asked you to come discuss matters regarding the city-west storefronts.” Standing outside was a middle-aged man in a black Zhongshan suit, his head slightly bowed, revealing dark hair streaked with silver.
Behind him followed a young man, roughly Xiao Cheng’s age, also dressed in a Zhongshan suit, his collar buttoned meticulously to the very top. His expressionless face was a mirror image of his father’s.
“Tell them to wait.”
After speaking, Xiao Cheng fixed his gaze on Jiang Yan, his pupils suddenly growing deep and unfathomable. Because of what had happened a few years ago, Jiang Guojun had voluntarily sent his only son to join the military. Xiao Cheng hadn’t expected him to hold out this long—only recently, upon his hint, had the man been brought back.
With the cigarette still clamped between his lips, Xiao Cheng’s words came out slurred: “Now that you’re back, do your work properly. And stay away from the young ladies.”
“Yes.” Unable to read Xiao Cheng’s thoughts, Jiang Guojun lowered his head even further. After a moment’s consideration, he added: “From now on, he will serve you.”
At this, Xiao Cheng let out a dismissive “tsk” and waved his hand. “What era do you think we’re in? Still talking about ‘serving’? If outsiders heard that, they’d lump the Xiao family in with the landlords and capitalists. And stop calling me ‘Master’—just use my name.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Jiang Guojun broke out in a cold sweat at those words. The capital was under intense scrutiny these days, with fighting still going on outside—chaotic times. A single careless word could cost a man his life. Who would dare speak as freely as before?
Families as prominent as the Xiao family had to keep their heads down. Otherwise, the gun would shoot the bird that stuck its neck out, and they wouldn’t even see the barrel coming.
That said, thanks to certain connections, even the fiercest fire wouldn’t reach the Xiao family. Still, caution was never wrong.
“Enough. What about that old Chinese doctor I told you to find in Shanghai?” Xiao Cheng found Jiang Guojun’s trembling demeanor irritating. His thick brows furrowed as he changed the subject.
“We found him, but…” Jiang Guojun nodded, pausing before continuing: “But he’s not in Shanghai anymore. He took his whole family and fled back to his hometown in Jiangming Province.”
Xiao Cheng flicked the ash from his cigarette and pondered for a moment. “I’ll pay him a visit in a while. Make the arrangements.”
“Yes.”
Xiao Cheng waved his hand, signaling they could leave. Jiang Guojun and Jiang Yan’s figures quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor. Once they were gone, he finished his cigarette and returned to his room.
Once again, silence fell over the courtyard.
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