Chapter 13

“What are you looking at?” he suddenly turned around and met Song Qingdai’s gaze.

Startled, she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly. She reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to hide her unease.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, I’ll take you back.”

“Back? Back where?”

The hand holding hers was warm, large, and firm—it radiated a comforting sense of security.

“Home.”

“Since they’ve already thrown away all shame, there’s no reason for you to come back to this place anymore.”

The shamelessness of the Song family was already well-known throughout Hongxing Town.

And the worst of them wasn’t even Feng Cuifen—it was Qingdai’s grandmother. Although she didn’t live in the compound, once she caught wind of this, she’d probably come biting like a dog catching a scent.

Qingdai’s mother had suffered greatly under her when she was alive, and Song Qingdai knew this all too well.

“Mm.” She nodded gently.

The wind blew, lifting the hem of her dress in soft waves. The layers of her skirt danced like the most vibrant summer flowers, making her look delicate and striking.

Song Qingdai didn’t have many belongings—just a few clothes and some of her mother’s keepsakes.

Most of her mother’s items were books and diaries, filled with dense handwriting. But Qingdai couldn’t make sense of much of it.

Gao Han strapped all of her things securely to the back of his motorcycle.

“Get on.”

They retraced their way back. Truthfully, Song Qingdai didn’t have much attachment to that house. Leaving it didn’t make much of a difference.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Song Mingshan had bought a lot of things at the town’s department store.

Today was also her first visit to Zhang Shaoxing’s home. As the deputy director of the Hongxing Town Textile Factory, Zhang Shaoxing lived in a private two-story house with a garden—a rare luxury.

The moment Song Mingshan saw it, she was captivated.

She imagined herself living in that lovely house, wearing beautiful dresses every day, watering flowers in the garden, reading books, waiting for the day Zhang Shaoxing became a big boss and bought her an even bigger villa.

She wouldn’t need to work anymore.

She’d eat well, dress well, and live a life others envied.

But when the door opened, she saw Zhang Shaoxing’s three sons playing in the courtyard. Their hands were covered in blood, and bird feathers were scattered everywhere.

A wave of blood stench hit her face.

The oldest boy was holding the dismembered carcass of a bird.

The moment she stepped in, all three of them fixed her with dark, malicious eyes.

That gaze sent chills down her spine. When she looked again at the bird’s mutilated body, her scalp tingled.

All three boys wore stylish little suits with suspenders and leather shoes. None of them said a word—just stared at her with those same cold, unsettling eyes.

“Xiao Zhi, Xiao An, Xiao Ming, what are you doing standing there? Hurry and greet Auntie Song!”

Zhang Shaoxing acted like he didn’t notice anything unusual about his children. He stepped inside, changed into slippers, and set down the bags.

“Auntie?”

His three sons were Zhang Zezhi, Zhang Ze’an, and Zhang Zeming.

The eldest, Zhang Zezhi, and the second, Zhang Ze’an, were twelve-year-old twins. The youngest, Zhang Zeming, was nine.

All three wore the same expression—cold and eerie.

“Dad, is this another new stepmom you’ve brought home?”

Zhang Zezhi pointed at Song Mingshan, his voice devoid of warmth.

They were just kids, but Song Mingshan couldn’t sense a shred of childlike innocence in them. Even the youngest one gave her a creepy, chilling feeling.

Their eyes weren’t normal.

But she told herself: they’re just kids. Having lost their mother young, they were probably emotionally starved. Children like that often acted differently—it was understandable.

If she showed them kindness and affection now, they’d surely be grateful later.

So she stepped forward and handed them the sweets she bought: White Rabbit milk candies, chewy caramels, and some cookies.

Smiling, she said, “Xiao Zhi, Xiao An, Xiao Ming, these are snacks Auntie bought for you today. I didn’t know what you liked, so I just picked a few.”

“But in the future, you can tell Auntie what you like, and I’ll make it for you!”

Her face beamed with kindness, though inwardly she felt annoyed.

She was barely in her twenties and already playing stepmom to three kids. And worse, they seemed completely indifferent—like slapping a warm smile onto a cold wall.

But it didn’t matter. Once she officially married into the family, they’d learn who was in charge.

Just last night, Feng Cuifen had shared her wisdom on how to “handle stepchildren,” so Song Mingshan felt quite confident.

The three boys exchanged glances, then broke into sweet smiles: “Thank you, Auntie! You’re so kind!”

Song Mingshan’s eyes lit up instantly.

See? Kids really were simple.

Show them a little kindness and they’d start thinking you were the best person in the world.

Easy to fool.

But what she didn’t know was just how much darkness lurked behind those smiles.

“Oh, it’s the Song girl! Shaoxing, what are you standing there for? Go wash some fruit for our guest!”

Just then, Zhang Shaoxing’s mother came out, smiling warmly.

“Hello, Auntie.”
It was her first time visiting someone else’s home, and Song Mingshan at least had basic manners.

“Oh, perfect timing! We’re out of vegetables. I’ll head out to buy some. You just stay and have dinner with us tonight.”

“Xiao Zhi, Xiao An, be good at home, alright?”

With that, Zhang Shaoxing’s mother left.

Now, only Song Mingshan and the three kids remained in the spacious living room. The Zhang family even had a television.

In this era, a TV was a rare luxury—a true symbol of wealth.

Clearly, the Zhang family had money.

“Xiao Zhi, Xiao An, Xiao Ze, let me help you wash your hands.”

Seeing their bloodstained hands made her uneasy.

They’d just torn a bird apart alive in the yard.

But she figured maybe they were just bored. It wasn’t necessarily a big deal.

“Okay, thank you, Auntie.”

The three boys continued to act perfectly well-behaved.

That only boosted Song Mingshan’s confidence. She led them to the bathroom to wash up.

Smiling, she asked, “Were you playing with a bird earlier?”

The eldest, Zhang Zezhi, looked at her with a deep, unreadable gaze.

“Yes. It kept eating the grain we dried in the yard. So I caught it, tore open its belly, took out its stomach, and ripped off its wings. That way it can’t eat our grain anymore.”

After saying that, he gave a sweet, innocent smile and asked her:

“Auntie, aren’t I amazing?”