After being kicked out, Li Cuihong was helped up by Zhao Qingshui and Zhao Qingsong, both of whom were terrified, and even Zhao Xiaojun rushed over.

The three children supported Li Cuihong together.

“Get lost…!” As soon as she stood up, Li Cuihong slapped Zhao Qingsong across the face. “You little brat! Why didn’t you help me just now?!”

Having been slapped, Zhao Qingsong let go of her, eyes filled with tears, and stood silently to the side, head lowered.

Seeing this scene, Qian Chunhua frowned.

Fearing that Li Cuihong might lash out again, she quickly pulled Zhao Qingfeng and Zhao Xiaoling into the main room and stood protectively in front of them.

As for Zhao Qingsong, she couldn’t worry about him right now—they were all part of the same household, after all.

“Li Cuihong, Qian Chunhua—enough!” Zhao Daqing finally stepped up as the head of the family, stern-faced and shouting.

Qian Chunhua had said what she needed to say.

She had gotten her anger out and obediently stopped.

Li Cuihong, having suffered a major loss, was unwilling to back down.

But since she couldn’t win against Qian Chunhua, all she could do was curse under her breath.

Now that Zhao Daqing had spoken, Li Cuihong glared fiercely at Qian Chunhua.
If looks could kill, Qian Chunhua would’ve died hundreds of times over.

Childish games, Qian Chunhua thought, rolling her eyes.

A grown woman like her still playing these tricks?

She didn’t bother to respond.

Seeing they had stopped, Zhao Daqing nodded in satisfaction.

“Qian Chunhua, go make lunch. We’ll talk after we’ve eaten.”

“I’m not going,” Qian Chunhua replied. “I made breakfast. Lunch should be Li Cuihong’s turn.”

“You damned wretch!” Li Cuihong snapped. “We’ve been working ourselves to death in the fields, and now you’re too lazy to even cook?”

Qian Chunhua let out a cold laugh. “Working in the fields?”

She turned to Zhao Daqing. “Father, you’ve farmed your whole life. Tell me—do those few acres really need daily tending? It’s already winter. All that’s left in the fields is a round of napa cabbage. That takes a day to finish.”

She then turned back to Li Cuihong.
“You never do anything decent, always blabbing about working in the fields when you’re really off gossiping and ruining my reputation. And now you expect me to cook for you? Dream on.”

Looking Zhao Daqing in the eyes, Qian Chunhua said clearly,
“Father, I may be honest—but don’t take me for a fool.”

With that, she scooped up Zhao Qingfeng and took Zhao Xiaoling by the hand, then left the main room.

Once they were back in the west wing, she shut the door behind them.

Only then did she notice that Zhao Xiaoling was still tightly hugging her bundle, afraid something inside might fall out.

Qian Chunhua couldn’t help but laugh.

Silly girl.

“Were you scared just now?” she asked the children gently.

Zhao Xiaoling shook her head excitedly.

She had never seen her mother so brave, confronting her aunt head-on.

Before, whenever the aunt spoke, her mother never dared talk back—making even Xiaoling fear her.

Zhao Qingfeng also shook his head, following his sister’s lead.

“Hungry?” Qian Chunhua asked with a smile.

“Not at all! I just had a big meat bun!” Zhao Xiaoling grinned, and her mouth watered just thinking about the taste.

Qian Chunhua smiled, then opened the bundle.

Using it as cover, she pulled out three boxes of milk—one for each of them.

They had just eaten buns, and now could drink a bit of milk.

With no hot water, the three of them drank the cold milk directly.

“Mom, what is this? It’s delicious!” Zhao Xiaoling looked closely at the milk carton.

She couldn’t read the writing on it.

She had tried it last night but hadn’t noticed what it looked like.

Now, in the light, the pretty packaging caught her eye.

“Milk. I bought it from outside,” Qian Chunhua replied casually.

The kids were still young, so she wasn’t worried they’d get suspicious.

“Mom, it’s so good!” Zhao Xiaoling happily gulped it down.

After drinking, Qian Chunhua fetched some water to wash the children up, then planned to nap with them.

Meanwhile, in the main room, the chaos continued.

Li Cuihong, furious after the beating, lashed out at Zhao Qingsong, venting all her anger on him.

Zhao Daqing watched coldly, showing no reaction.

Zhao’s mother wanted to intervene, but under her husband’s warning glare, she dared not speak.

In the end, she sighed, shook her head, and went into the kitchen.

She would have to cook lunch herself.

Back in the west wing, the three curled up in bed, listening to the yelling from outside.

“Qingsong-ge is so pitiful,” said Zhao Qingfeng softly.

“Big Aunt hits him every day,” added Zhao Xiaoling.

Qian Chunhua felt a sudden jolt in her heart.

Earlier, on the way down the mountain, she had a fleeting suspicion.

Now, the thought grew clear in her mind.

Based on the original host’s memories—and what she had witnessed—something was off about how the eldest family treated Zhao Qingsong.

Food: Qingsong always ate the worst, and the least.

Clothes: It was already early winter, and he was still in thin, torn clothes, while Zhao Qingshui wore a padded jacket—old, but whole.

Growth: Qingsong was older than Zhao Qingyun by two days, but a full head shorter, and barely taller than Zhao Xiaoling.

Chores: He did more than his share—cutting pigweed every day, taking Xiaoling with him.

Despite all that, he was the one beaten and scolded the most, often covered in bruises.

At the slightest displeasure, Li Cuihong would take it out on him.

Just like now—she was beating him again.

Qian Chunhua started to suspect—Zhao Qingsong might not be the eldest son’s real child.
If he were, could they really bear to treat him like this?

But she shook her head.

That was too far-fetched.

She had been there herself, personally helping deliver Qingsong after Li Cuihong gave birth.

How could he not be her biological son?

Maybe I’ve read too many webnovels, Qian Chunhua mused. Now I’m imagining nonsense.

But wait—

Suddenly, something clicked.

When Li Cuihong gave birth, just two days later, the original host gave birth to Zhao Qingyun.

Back then, she had gone into labor early by half a month, and Zhao Yongcai was away working as a bodyguard.

That left Zhao’s mother to care for two women in labor alone—surely too overwhelmed to keep an eye on both infants.

The original host’s mother had only come during the day—at night, she went home.

They would have had ample opportunity to switch the babies.

The thought shocked Qian Chunhua upright.

If this was true—it was horrifying.

Her own child, Zhao Qingsong, was suffering in their home.

While their child—Zhao Qingyun—was in her home, being well-fed, well-dressed, and even sent to school.

The mere thought of Zhao Qingsong’s suffering made Qian Chunhua’s heart ache.

I have to confirm this.

With that single terrifying suspicion, she could no longer sit still.

She jumped out of bed, threw on her shoes, told Xiaoling to take care of her brother, and rushed out the door.