Zhang Qiurong placed the freshly washed clothes into a basin and walked toward Qian Chunhua.

Qian Chunhua paused, puzzled by the meaning behind Zhang Qiurong’s earlier words.

Zhang Qiurong spoke up, her voice tinged with reproach:
“If you ask me, women ought to stay busy in the home. All that running around outside—that’s a man’s job. Otherwise… people can easily get the wrong idea.”

She shot a glance at Qian Chunhua before continuing:
“Your husband’s barely gone, and you’re already going out and about. You’ll make people talk.”

Suddenly, Qian Chunhua understood.

Zhang Qiurong was referring to her escorting Qingyun to the private school that morning—and suggesting that she had other motives.

The gossip of small towns truly was vicious.

Qian Chunhua was sure that Zhang Qiurong had heard the rumors spread by her sister-in-law Li Cuihong, and had come here under the pretense of “justice.”

She sneered inwardly. What’s it to you?

Are you the morality police of the Pacific Ocean?

But she kept her expression calm and replied lightly: “I had no choice. He’s my child—who else is going to worry about him if not me? If I let the eldest family keep taking care of him, they’d snatch him from me entirely.”

“What? Snatch your child?” Zhang Qiurong exclaimed in shock.

Feigning surprise, Qian Chunhua turned to her. “You didn’t know? Last night, his uncle tried to force me to let them adopt my son. When I refused, they threatened to kick me and the children out to live separately.”

Her voice grew hoarse as she rubbed her eyes, tears welling up.
“His father just passed, and now his uncle shows his true colors. He saw Qingyun had promise and tried to take him from me. He already has two sons, but still wants to steal mine. And now he’s trying to cast us out. That family… they really…”

She trailed off and shook her head, sighing: “Family matters shouldn’t be aired outside… but I…”

She went on to haltingly recount everything that had happened in the house the previous day.

Qian Chunhua knew that if she didn’t speak up, and let the village hear her side, Li Cuihong’s words alone might really get her son taken away—and worse, brand her with the label of an unchaste widow.

In this era, public opinion was also a weapon for self-defense.

Zhang Qiurong stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say.

All she could do was respond with a series of soft “Oh… oh… oh…”s and a sympathetic look.

At that moment, another village woman—Sun Hongying, daughter-in-law of the village chief—had just finished washing her clothes and was about to leave.

Having overheard Qian Chunhua’s words, the truth suddenly dawned on her: this wasn’t at all how Li Cuihong described it.

Sun Hongying shook her head.

Her trust in Li Cuihong plummeted even further.

Straightforward by nature, Sun Hongying didn’t hide her thoughts:
“Who would’ve thought? Li Cuihong and her lot are shameless, trying to adopt someone else’s firstborn!”

Before this, she had also believed that Qian Chunhua had changed after her husband’s death, and had been using the school excuse as a cover to find a new man.

Now she knew the truth.

Zhang Qiurong, too, now saw clearly through Qian Chunhua’s account.

Embarrassed, she picked up her basin and left silently.

As she walked home, her heart filled with displeasure toward Li Cuihong.

That woman’s tongue always twisted the truth to her own benefit.

Now, she had even made her misjudge Qian Chunhua.

Zhang Qiurong made a mental note: from now on, she would be wary of Li Cuihong.

Watching the two women’s retreating backs, Qian Chunhua wore a thoughtful expression.

The woman who, in the original host’s memory, seemed kind and warm-hearted—she had seen through her in just two days.

What a fool the original was, she thought.

Even to her last breath, she never saw the eldest family’s true colors.

Qian Chunhua steeled herself.

She wouldn’t let Li Cuihong run wild anymore.

Later, she would go back and settle the score.

Resolving this, Qian Chunhua continued walking toward the back mountain.

…

Lion Mountain, behind the village, was named after a lion-shaped boulder perched at its summit.

Its fertile land and thick grass had made it a favorite place for children to gather wild vegetables and cut pigweed.

But this year’s drought had made even the wild greens scarce.

As Qian Chunhua walked up the trail, she called out the children’s names:
“Qingsong, Qingfeng, Xiaoling—!”

She was nearing the mountain’s halfway point when she saw four figures in the distance.

A young man stood with three children playing nearby.

Though still a distance away, she couldn’t make out the man’s face or confirm whether the children were the ones from the Zhao family.

She quickened her pace.

As she got closer, she finally recognized the young man—it was Qian Xingshan, the original host’s younger brother.

And the three kids were indeed Zhao family children who had come out to gather pigweed.

Relief swept through her.

A strange warmth filled her heart.

Qian Xingshan, just sixteen, was her biological brother, and lived just about a hundred meters away in the same small village of Huanghualing.

The village had only 48 households—most with the surname Zhao, and the rest of mixed surnames.

Qian Xingshan, the family’s youngest, had grown up poor after their father’s early death.

He had never been to school, nor had anyone arranged a marriage for him.

He worked hard every day, farming and doing odd jobs in town to support himself and their mother.

Ever since Qian Chunhua married into the Zhao family, she had distanced herself from her maternal family to avoid suspicion from her in-laws.

She visited her mother only on holidays and never gave even a penny.

Hearing all this from the host’s memory, Qian Chunhua sighed.

The original host was really a fool.

Today, Qian Xingshan had come up the mountain, partly to check on her children, and also to quietly learn about her condition.

He and their mother had been worried after hearing that she had suddenly fainted.

But they didn’t dare visit—Qian Chunhua had once said clearly: if anything happened, she’d go to them.

One year, when she was sick, their mother had come with only a small bundle of millet—because they were poor.

Li Cuihong had humiliated her, and the original Chunhua had scolded her mother and ordered them never to visit again.

Thinking back to that memory, Qian Chunhua felt ashamed on behalf of the original owner of the body.

She didn’t want those shadows to ruin her relationships anymore.

So, she reached into her space and took out some meat buns—not just the seven she had planned, but seventeen in total.

She knew that Qian Xingshan and her mother truly cared—and she wanted to return that care.

Before he even noticed her, she appeared behind them with hot buns in hand.

“Xingshan!” she called as she got closer.

All four turned around at once, their eyes locking on her.

Xingshan’s voice trembled: “Sister…”

“Mom!” called out Zhao Qingfeng and Zhao Xiaoling in unison.

“Second Aunt,” greeted Zhao Qingsong respectfully.

Xingshan looked flustered and quickly explained: “I—I wasn’t specifically looking for Qingfeng and them! I just ran into them by chance!”

Zhao Qingsong and Xiaoling nodded in agreement.

Qingfeng, though unsure what was going on, also nodded seriously just to follow along.

Looking at them, Qian Chunhua couldn’t help but smile.

“Silly brother. So what if you did come looking for them? You’re their real uncle, aren’t you?”

Surprise flickered in Qian Xingshan’s eyes.

“Really?” he asked with hope in his voice.

Qian Chunhua nodded with a warm smile, full of affirmation.

In her heart, she had already made up her mind.

She would split from the Zhao household and live with her children in this village.

She had real family here.

People who truly cared for her.

How could she possibly be foolish enough to push them away?