Chapter 9

Sitting on the stove bench, Qin Jiashu heard the curses from outside, his small face paling.

“Don’t be afraid.” Xu Jiaojiao, who had heard everything clearly, walked over, patted Qin Jiashu’s head to reassure him, then stood up with a cold smile, still clutching her kitchen knife.

“Short-lived wretch, troublemaker, little bastard…” The curses continued without pause.

“Let’s see which mad dog got off its leash and started biting people. Oh, it’s you!”

Zhao Guixiang, who had been yelling, froze.

“By the way, have you seen an old mad bitch around? I heard a rabid dog barking loudly in my yard earlier…” Xu Jiaojiao asked Zhao Guixiang with a sweet smile, brandishing her kitchen knife.

Zhao Guixiang, usually so fierce, stood speechless for a few seconds. Staring at the sharp blade Xu Jiaojiao held high, her curses got stuck in her throat.

This “short-lived wretch” was speaking softly and gently, but the sight of her smiling while holding a kitchen knife was terrifying.

“You short-lived wretch! What are you going to do with that knife? Planning to kill someone?!” Zhao Guixiang shouted, though her voice had lost its usual confidence.

The original Xu Jiaojiao had been a classic bully—tough on the weak, but cowardly before the strong. She tormented Qin Jiashu, but didn’t even dare raise her voice against Zhao Guixiang.

Zhao Guixiang had always thought Xu Jiaojiao was sickly and easy to bully. When her precious grandson came home crying that Xu Jiaojiao had hit him, she immediately stormed over to settle the score.

How dare she hit my precious grandson? She’ll pay for this!

Zhao Guixiang also knew Qin Zhengye had left money behind before going back to the army. Since Xu Jiaojiao married into the family, the fifty-yuan monthly allowance had vanished.

Worse still, after the household division, Xu Jiaojiao had reportedly gone to the county town every other day, buying several new outfits from the supply and marketing cooperative. Just thinking about it made Zhao Guixiang so furious she couldn’t eat or sleep. It felt like someone was ripping her heart out.

“Short-lived wretch?” Xu Jiaojiao repeated the insult, her cold gaze locked on Zhao Guixiang. She raised the kitchen knife and took slow, measured steps toward her.

“I hate foul-mouthed old hags like you. When I meet one, I usually start by slicing their necks.”

Zhao Guixiang, genuinely intimidated, backed away.

Qin Baogui had followed his grandmother to settle scores. But seeing Xu Jiaojiao with a kitchen knife, the chubby boy quickly scurried to the courtyard gate and crouched down, peeking through the cracks.

“I just sharpened this knife—it’s razor sharp. I bet it could cut through bone,” Xu Jiaojiao said, stroking the blade and mimicking a chopping motion.

Hiss! Zhao Guixiang’s eyes widened, and she stumbled backward. Though she was overbearing and hot-tempered, she cherished her life. Xu Jiaojiao’s deranged demeanor had truly frightened her.

“Y-You stay there! Don’t come any closer!” Zhao Guixiang warned. “You hit my Baogui! You’ll pay for it…”

“When did I hit Baogui? Did anyone see it? You’re just trying to extort money with empty claims,” Xu Jiaojiao retorted.

“Baogui said you hit him!” Zhao Guixiang snapped.

“Well, I say your Baogui hit my Xiao Shu! Shouldn’t you pay me then?” Xu Jiaojiao shot back.

“That little brat deserved it! Why should I pay?” Zhao Guixiang yelled.

“Oh, then if I chop up an old hag like you, I shouldn’t have to pay either, right?” Xu Jiaojiao said, swinging the knife at her.

The knife came down hard. Zhao Guixiang barely dodged it, her face turning deathly pale.

She realized then—Xu Jiaojiao wasn’t bluffing. That knife had been aimed straight at her head.

“You’re insane! Murderers pay with their lives!” Zhao Guixiang wanted to scream, but fear gripped her throat, silencing her.

“I’m sickly anyway. Who knows how much longer I’ll live? If I kill you, at least I’ll have company on the road to the underworld,” Xu Jiaojiao said calmly, her tone chilling.

Zhao Guixiang’s heart pounded as she scrambled backward.

“You wretched, short-lived troublemaker! Why hasn’t King Yama taken you yet?!”

The little bitch really looked like she was at death’s door. Some villagers even said she wouldn’t make it through winter.

Zhao Guixiang had feared that if she died at home, it would bring bad luck. So, she’d forced the household division and shoved Xu Jiaojiao into the educated youth settlement.

If that little vixen and her bastard child had stayed, the monthly remittances from Qin Zhengye would still be flowing into her hands.

Recalling Xu Jiaojiao’s words about “taking someone with her,” Zhao Guixiang was terrified. She assumed Xu Jiaojiao knew she was dying and wanted to take others down with her.

Since I’m going to die anyway, why fear death?

Zhao Guixiang fled like her feet were on fire. She grabbed Qin Baogui, who had been standing frozen at the door, and ran off.

“Let’s go! Don’t argue with a sick woman—we might catch her disease!” she shouted, dragging her grandson away.

Xu Jiaojiao chased them to the courtyard gate, brandishing her knife.

“Cough, cough… Why are you running? Don’t run!” she called out, pretending to be too weak to follow.

The terrified grandmother and grandson ran even faster.

After scaring them off, Xu Jiaojiao chuckled, shook her head, and closed the gate.

She had braced herself for a vicious fight, but Zhao Guixiang had proven laughably easy to intimidate.

Just then, Qin Jiashu ran toward her like a little rocket, throwing himself into her arms and clinging tightly to her legs.

Startled, Xu Jiaojiao dropped the knife and crouched to hug him.

“What’s wrong? Did Aunt scare you?” she asked, gently patting his back.

Qin Jiashu looked up at her, eyes shining with admiration.

“You’re amazing.”

To this little three-year-old, Zhao Guixiang had been the scariest figure in his life—cursing him, beating him, starving him, and making him sleep in the pigsty.

Her beatings were vicious, often using firewood sticks with full force.

This was why, despite the original owner’s indifference—throwing him a tattered quilt in a firewood shed and occasionally scolding him—he still preferred staying here.

At least the original Xu Jiaojiao fed him when she was in a good mood. Compared to Zhao Guixiang, she wasn’t cruel.

“That’s all it takes to be amazing? Aunt can be even more amazing!” Xu Jiaojiao boasted. “Xiao Shu just needs to eat more. When you grow up, you’ll be amazing too.”

“When that time comes, will Xiao Shu take care of Aunt?”

“Okay,” Qin Jiashu nodded solemnly.

Satisfied, Xu Jiaojiao got up to retrieve the kitchen knife. Holding Qin Jiashu’s hand, she went back to steaming the pumpkin for pumpkin cakes.

While she worked, Qin Jiashu watched intently as the pumpkin transformed into golden, plump discs.

Half an hour later, a batch of crispy, golden-brown pumpkin cakes emerged from the pan.

“Xiao Shu, try one! Is it good?” Xu Jiaojiao used her chopsticks to pick one up, blew on it, and fed it to him.

Qin Jiashu tilted his head and took a bite.

Crunch! The crispy exterior and soft interior melted in his mouth. His eyes lit up with joy.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s so good!” he nodded eagerly. He’d never eaten such delicious pumpkin cakes before—it felt like bliss.

Xu Jiaojiao took a bite. “Hmm, it’d be even better with red bean paste.”

If only we had some!

“It’s already delicious,” Qin Jiashu insisted.

To him, it was a heavenly delicacy. He couldn’t imagine anything better.

There was still half a jin of flour left, so Xu Jiaojiao made vegetable noodles with dumplings for dinner.

Between the crispy cakes and hearty noodles, they were well-fed.

For the first time, Qin Jiashu felt stuffed. Wrapped in winter clothes, he stared at his bulging belly, dazed.

“Silly boy, next time you’re full, stop eating when you can’t take another bite, okay?” Xu Jiaojiao tapped his forehead.

“Mhm.” He nodded obediently.

That night, the wind howled fiercely outside.

Unable to endure the cold, Xu Jiaojiao tidied up, filled a hot water bottle, and snuggled into bed with Qin Jiashu to knit.

He blinked sleepily as she told stories, eventually dozing off.

Xu Jiaojiao gently set aside her knitting, blew out the candle, and lay down beside him.

As the saying goes, it’s not the snowfall that chills—it’s the melting snow.

That night, with the hot water bottle at her feet and the warm child in her arms, Xu Jiaojiao slept soundly, unaware of the snowstorm outside.

—

The next morning, the sunlight through the window was noticeably brighter.

“Hiss…” It had taken all her willpower to get out of bed the last two days, but today, lifting the covers felt like execution.

“So cold, so cold…” Shivering, she quickly dressed and opened the door a crack.

As expected, the courtyard was blanketed in snow. The air was bone-chilling.

“Xiao Shu, it snowed last night,” she said to Qin Jiashu, who was huddled under the covers with only his small head showing.

She had expected excitement—most children loved snow. But instead, the boy sat frowning.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like snow, Xiao Shu?” she asked, helping him into his coat.

“No, I don’t,” he answered without hesitation.

To him, snowy days meant bitter cold, unburnable firewood, freezing feet and hands, and sleepless nights. He dreaded it.

Even though he wasn’t cold with his Aunt now, he still worried about San Gouzi and Jie Di, who didn’t have warm clothes.

“If Xiao Shu doesn’t like snow, then Aunt doesn’t either,” Xu Jiaojiao smiled, playing along.

Truly, enjoying snow was a luxury for those with warm clothes, full bellies, and no worries.

Qin Jiashu had suffered since birth—cold, hunger, and fear were all he knew. At such a young age, survival was his only concern.

The biting cold was far more unbearable than summer’s heat.

Looking at Xu Jiaojiao, Qin Jiashu’s eyes shone with gratitude.

Then, suddenly, he said, “Aunt likes it, and Xiao Shu likes it too!”

He meant it from the bottom of his heart.