Chapter 11 Wei Qingmiao’s Hatred

Wei Qingmiao sat in the once again impoverished house, staring blankly as if lost in thought. Her sharp fingernails unconsciously dug into the torn skin of her palm, as if she felt no pain at all.

Smack!

A heavy slap landed across her face, snapping her head to the side and knocking her off the stool. Her cheek swelled rapidly, blood filled her mouth, and in her ears rang the filthy curses of her father—who only ever bullied those at home. From the corner of her eye she saw her mother clutching her four-year-old brother and two younger sisters, hiding behind the door. Their gazes held some worry, but far more reproach.

“Money-losing wretch! Shameless slut! If I had known you were a jinx, I should’ve drowned you in a piss bucket the moment you were born! You’ve ruined this family to the point we can hardly eat, and you still have the gall to live? Why don’t you just die already!”

Wei Qingmiao’s nails dug deep into her palm. She didn’t utter a word at her father’s tirade, but inside, she bitterly regretted ever saving this beast.

Perhaps because in her previous life she lost him early on and suffered greatly, she had yearned desperately for a father’s presence. She had painted her father in her heart with layer upon layer of illusions, completely forgetting the beatings and scoldings he gave her as a child just for being born a girl. That was why she hadn’t let him die, giving him the chance now to heap scorn and abuse upon her.

In her last life, among those who went to deliver the public grain were her father and her third uncle. As for her eldest uncle and aunt, they hadn’t gone because Wei Ci had been bedridden with a high fever at the time. So naturally, among the dead later were her father and third uncle.

Her family and her third uncle’s family each had only one son. After her father and third uncle died, the compensation money quickly ran out. Her little brother was only four—far too young to shoulder the household burden. She, as the eldest sister, was forced to take it on. Meanwhile, her third aunt swiftly remarried with her children and managed to live decently.

But what she hated most was her eldest uncle’s family. After that high fever, the dull and sluggish Wei Ci suddenly recovered to normal and grew even more outstanding.

The eldest branch of the family rose as if blessed by heaven. Not only did they secure jobs in the county, but Wei Qingshan, the eldest son, rose steadily in the army and even married his superior’s daughter. The second son, that wastrel Wei Qingfeng, managed to get into university and entered the state system, becoming one of those who “ate from the government’s rice bowl.”

Later, Wei Ci happened to meet the person she once saved, and through that gained an enviable job at a pharmaceutical factory. With that stepping stone, she eventually married a powerful figure in the capital, soaring like a phoenix into the elite circles, becoming half of a famous power couple.

They were all one family. They had wealth, they had influence. Yet they were unwilling to arrange decent work for her side of the family, only throwing them scraps and petty favors, watching coldly as they struggled at the very bottom.

And her?

Her father dead, her mother weak and useless, her younger siblings too small. For the sake of survival she married a man more than ten years older than her, just to secure a little dowry money to fund her brother’s schooling and future marriage. Afterward, because she could never bear a son, she suffered domestic abuse until she was beaten to death. The last thing she saw was the black-and-white television screen filled with the graceful, dazzling image of that woman—even in middle age, still radiant and unmatched.

So when she realized Heaven had given her another chance, she was ecstatic. She believed everything that went well for the eldest branch had started with her father going to deliver the public grain, and with Wei Ci’s recovery.

So she schemed to have her eldest uncle and aunt replace her father and third uncle on that trip, and once she confirmed they were dead, she incited her third uncle’s son Wei Qinghao to find a way to kill Wei Ci.

But who could have known that greedy fool would instead sell Wei Ci to human traffickers, ruining all her plans? Wei Ci not only recovered early, but even gained merit by helping to capture the traffickers. She became known in the village, received dozens of yuan in reward, while the very father Wei Qingmiao had tried so hard to save turned against her with fists and curses, treating her as an enemy.

A cold glint flashed in her lowered eyes. Wei Qingmiao bowed her head silently, letting her father rant, her fallen hair hiding the ruthlessness in her gaze.

It didn’t matter. There was still plenty of time. Until the very end, no one could say who would have the last laugh.

Thinking of that handsome man Wei Ci once saved, Wei Qingmiao’s heart burned hot. In this life, as long as she saved him, then everything that had once belonged to Wei Ci would be hers. She knew the course of the next thirty years—her life would surely be better than Wei Ci’s!

“Achoo!”

Wei Ci gently rubbed the tip of her nose, her eyes watering from the sudden sneeze. Even the corners of her eyes were tinged red, lending a trace of allure to her slightly upturned gaze, though her long lashes quickly veiled it from sight.

Who’s thinking about me? she wondered inwardly, then rolled up her sleeves and began tending to the withered bean stalks, cucumber vines, and tomato plants in the courtyard.

It was already September. The courtyard had been left untended for a long time; fallen leaves covered the ground, and weeds grew wild.

The vegetables were past season. Many had dried up. Old cucumbers still dangled from the vines, shriveled and waterless. Wei Ci plucked one and tossed it to the two hens circling at her feet.

“Little sister! Don’t do that! I’ll take care of it!”

Wei Qingfeng, his face and hair smudged with ash, came rushing out of the kitchen. Seeing his little sister—who had never done chores—pulling at the vines, he was instantly distressed and hurried to pull her away.

But Wei Ci waved him off, refusing to be idle.

She had done this kind of work often before. Because her stepmother had always cut her household allowance, she had secretly grown seasonal vegetables in her own yard, both to eat fresh produce and to avoid others’ notice. And in her space, those few acres of land were all cultivated and harvested by her own hand. Over time, it had simply become habit.

“Brother, I’m fine. I have to learn. I can’t always rely on you to take care of everything.”

Wei Qingfeng’s hand froze midair. When Wei Ci sensed something was off and turned, she saw her tough, strapping second brother dabbing at tears, gazing at her as though she were some poor, pitiful treasure.

“Wu wu… it’s because I’m useless. I even let little Ci do chores herself. If big brother were here, he’d never let you do such rough work.”

Wei Ci’s hand, mid-pull on a pepper plant, stiffened. Seeing that her brother was about to burst into tears like a flood breaking its banks, she quickly pulled out a handkerchief and handed it over.

“Second brother, when I was little and foolish, it was always you, father, mother, and big brother who cared for me. Now that father and mother are gone, it’s just us siblings left. I can’t let you and big brother keep sacrificing for me. I’m already sixteen—I can take care of you too.”

Wei Qingfeng’s eyes reddened again. He suddenly wrapped her in a tight hug and began to cry, leaving Wei Ci completely dumbfounded. She couldn’t understand how her brother, who had been just on the verge of tears a moment ago, had suddenly broken into full sobs.

Wei Qingfeng’s heart swelled with both pride and sorrow—pride that his little sister was so considerate and sensible, sorrow that she had to be so considerate and sensible. It was his fault: their parents were gone, he couldn’t give her a better life, big brother wasn’t at home, and now even his younger sister had to turn around and care for him. The more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt, until he could only clutch Wei Ci tightly and bawl.

Wei Ci held her hands awkwardly in the air, torn between wanting to comfort him and not knowing how. In the end, her helpless gaze met that of several neighbor women standing at the courtyard gate, baskets in hand, watching the scene in stunned silence.

The brigade leader’s wife suddenly burst out laughing, striding inside. She gave Wei Qingfeng a hearty slap on the back and teased, “Look at you, a grown man, still crying like when you were a boy. Aren’t you afraid your sister will laugh at you?”

Then she turned to Wei Ci. One glance at the girl’s rosy lips, white teeth, and delicate features made her heart soften. She shoved the basket into Wei Qingfeng’s hands and drew Wei Ci warmly into the house.

“Little Ci, do you still remember me?”