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“Water… water…”
A weak, hoarse whisper came from within a dilapidated woodshed. The voice was dry and rasping, barely a breath away from death, a final plea for survival.
Yet, despite the sound lingering in the air for a long time, no one came to push open the rickety wooden door.
Lying atop a pile of firewood, the old woman shut her eyes in despair.
But just then, the door creaked open.
“Creaaak—”
A sliver of sunlight slowly spilled into the dimly lit shed.
As the door swung open, the first thing visible was the thick cobwebs hanging in the corners. A closer look revealed mice scurrying in panic, startled by the sudden light, as they darted into the shadows.
The harsh brightness made Chen Shuilian squint. She blinked several times before her cloudy eyes finally adjusted, allowing her to see the visitor clearly.
It was a little girl, no more than six or seven years old. Fear was evident on her face, but despite her trepidation, she cautiously inched closer.
“Da Ya?”
Chen Shuilian’s hoarse voice grated like a saw against wood, startling the child. Yet, the little girl mustered her courage and raised her hands.
“Grandmother, have some water.”
Only then did Chen Shuilian notice the bowl in Da Ya’s small hands, carefully brought to her lips.
Parched beyond endurance, Chen Shuilian eagerly gulped down half the bowl.
But for someone beyond saving, water was merely a drop in the ocean.
Struggling for breath, she rasped, “Who sent you? Was it your uncle?”
A flicker of desperate hope shone in her eyes as she spoke.
But Da Ya’s reaction crushed it. The little girl cast a nervous glance toward the doorway, ensuring no one was watching, then shook her head anxiously.
Years of hardship had taught Chen Shuilian the meaning behind that small gesture. In an instant, all remnants of hope in her eyes extinguished, leaving only emptiness and despair.
In a hushed murmur, she asked, “If he didn’t send you… then why would you sneak over to bring me water?”
Her words seemed directed at both Da Ya and herself.
Deep down, she already knew the answer—she just didn’t want to admit it.
The child hesitated for a long moment before whispering, “Mother… Mother said… we must be filial to Grandmother…”
Hearing those words, Chen Shuilian let out a long, sorrowful sigh. Indeed, the wheel of heaven turns—who can escape fate?
This granddaughter, the one she had always dismissed as a worthless burden, was the very one speaking these words to her now.
Thinking of her own son and daughter-in-law, who had died tragically because of her, she suddenly felt the urge to slap herself.
Perhaps it was because death was near, but after a lifetime of bitterness, a rare trace of kindness surfaced in Chen Shuilian’s heart. She urged softly, “Da Ya, go… don’t come back again. If your uncle finds out, you’ll only get beaten again.”
“But, but…” Da Ya pursed her lips, clearly wanting to say something more, but before she could speak, Chen Shuilian interrupted her.
“There’s no need to say anything else.”
Chen Shuilian struggled to move her arm. At this moment, her whole body was weak and drained of strength, yet she somehow managed to pull out a small silver ingot and place it beside Da Ya.
“Take this silver. Hide it well, make sure your heartless uncle and aunt never get their hands on it. When you get the chance, run… run away from this house…”
Da Ya was still young and didn’t fully understand the meaning behind Chen Shuilian’s words, but being an obedient child, she nodded sensibly.
Chen Shuilian stared at Da Ya intensely. “In this life, I have wronged you… but you must remember what I’m telling you! Never let anyone find that silver, do you hear me?!”
Her voice was sharp and hoarse, as if she was using the last of her soul to cry out.
Da Ya was startled by her ferocious expression and fell straight onto the ground in fright. Fear gripped her, and she wanted to flee, but Chen Shuilian’s hand clutched onto her tightly…
She grabbed Da Ya’s ankle.
“Say it… Say that you understand… That you will never forget.”
Her ghostly appearance frightened Da Ya to the point of sobbing, but even in fear, she dared not cry out loud, terrified that her uncle might hear and come over.
She frantically nodded. “I understand, Grandma, I understand! I will never forget!”
“Good… Good… Remember it well…”
Chen Shuilian’s strength drained away in an instant, and her hand slowly fell limp.
At that moment, it felt as though her soul had finally been freed, as if the past regrets had been somewhat atoned for.
“Go… Just go… Live well, not just for yourself, but for your parents too…”
Only then did Da Ya stand up and dash out of the woodshed.
As the door shut behind her, all light was cut off, and the woodshed returned to its perpetual darkness.
Chen Shuilian lay there, lifeless, motionless.
No one knew how much time had passed before she slowly closed her eyes.
In her final moments, remorse flooded her heart. She had been blind in judging people, deceived by those with hearts of wolves and dogs, mistaking worthless stones for precious pearls. Because of her, her hardworking eldest daughter-in-law had perished at a young age.
Her second son and his wife had met tragic deaths, and her youngest son was missing without a trace.
Even her second son’s only child had been beaten and scolded from a young age, never given a full meal to eat.
Yet in the end, it was this little girl—the very one she had always looked down upon—who still wished to be filial to her.
But what a pity… The child was still so young, too naive to understand anything. Left in the hands of her eldest son and his wife, what would become of her future?
Did they truly have the kindness to raise an orphan girl who could only eat without contributing?
No, of course not.
They were only keeping her for a few more years until she could serve as free labor in the house. Or worse, once she was a little older, they’d marry her off—without a care for the kind of family she’d be given to.
A cripple, a fool, or even a ghost marriage…
As long as the money was right, anything could be arranged.
She had made too many mistakes in her lifetime—no matter how many times she died, she could never make up for them.
This was her final act of kindness. She could only hope that the silver ingot she had struggled to hide would one day save the girl’s life.
Even if it could just help her escape this den of wolves, that would be enough…
If only she could do it all over again… If only…
No one knew how much longer time passed.
The world seemed to slow, and Chen Shuilian never made another sound.
The 52nd Year of the Great Qing Dynasty,
Chen Shuilian passed away at the age of 43.
Deceased.
Early spring, the third month of the year. The sun shone brightly, and all things were beginning anew.
In Lulin Village, a small and unremarkable settlement in the southwest of the Great Qing Dynasty, tranquility reigned—until a heart-wrenching scream shattered the peace.
“Mother! Mother! Wake up~~~”
As the wailing filled the air, the fingers of the woman lying on the bed twitched slightly.
“Sob… It’s all my fault! It’s all my fault! Is Mother really dead…?”
A woman’s voice, choked with sobs, cried out, “I… I deserve to die! I truly deserve to die! Wuu wuu… How can I ever face the Zhao family’s ancestors now…”
“Oh? So you do know shame?”
A sharp, sarcastic female voice interrupted her cries. “If you ask me, you should just follow Mother to the grave!”
There was mockery in her tone, a hint of schadenfreude. She showed not the slightest concern for the life or death of the woman lying on the bed.
Among the gathered crowd, she was the only one completely unbothered.
Zhao Maizhou, the second son of the Zhao family, could no longer stand it.
He stepped forward and rebuked her, “You’re just an outsider—this isn’t your place to speak! And who let you call her ‘Mother’? Did she ever agree to that?”
As he spoke, he bent down to support the woman who had cried herself unconscious. At the same time, he turned his head and shot a warning glance at Zhao’s eldest son, who stood on the sidelines, acting as if nothing was happening.