Chapter 11

“Rustle rustle rustle…”

“Rustle rustle rustle… thud!“

Jiang Henián was running too fast through the underbrush and tripped.
“Ugh—what the heck are these shoes!”

She angrily kicked off the giant bamboo basket strapped to her back and sat up, clutching her bruised knee, glaring at her toes poking out through a hole in her old black cloth shoes.

Her chest, wrapped in a blue cotton blouse, heaved rapidly. Her ears pounded with the thump of her heartbeat, her face pale, drenched in cold sweat.

She was terrified.

She had blacked out out of nowhere—and when she came to, her eyes landed right on that unforgettable, debt-collecting, handsome face.

Ghostly pale, nearly bloodless—like a corpse.

She’d scrambled off him in horror and bolted. Who cared about her earlier plan to marry, inherit, and widowed-for-profit?

How could it be him? Why was he here?

She hadn’t seen wrong—it was exactly the same face.

Jiang Yanqiu’s fiancé looked exactly like him.

Jiang Henián stared at the blood smeared all over her clothes, her fingers trembling violently.

Something was wrong.
From the moment she saw that man, her body had felt… off.

Since waking up in the Jiang family, her body had always been in a state of injury, hunger, and weakness. But just now—just for a moment—it felt like she’d been pumped with new blood. Her whole body buzzed and tingled.

Her mind spun with confusion.

Could it be… he transmigrated with me?

No, no, no. No way!

That’s insane!

She had finally escaped her debt—and he followed her here?!

With her bloody hands, she furiously scrubbed at the grass to clean herself. After a long while, her breathing finally calmed.

“Crack.”

A twig snapped behind her, making all her hair stand on end.

“Who’s there?!” she snapped, spinning around with a scowl.

But all she saw was a timid, startled young face.

“…A-Are you hurt?”

The speaker was a very small girl, thin as a stick, carrying a bamboo basket taller than herself filled with pigweed.

She looked completely harmless—if anything, she seemed more frightened.

Jiang Henián relaxed a little and slumped against the tree behind her, weakly raising a hand with a bitter smile.
“No, it’s not my blood.”

“Sorry I scared you just now.”

The little girl quietly stared at Jiang Henián, the Jiang family’s third daughter.
When she saw the faint smile on her face, she slowly walked a few steps away, bent down, and picked up the sickle lying on the roadside.

Jiang Henián took the sickle and her smile softened sincerely.
“Thank you.”

She reached into her pocket as if to get something—intending to pull a milk candy from her space.

“Here, have a candy. Uh—wait, not this one…”

Still not used to operating her space properly, she accidentally pulled out the half-burnt egg too.

The girl stood still, fidgeting with the shoulder straps of her basket, feet in tattered straw sandals shuffling nervously.

Something about the shy, pure look in her eyes struck Jiang Henián deeply.

Without thinking, she unwrapped the candy and popped it into the little girl’s mouth.
“Try it—it’s really sweet.”

The girl’s sunken cheeks puffed up from the candy, her eyes slowly widening in surprise—

As if the sweetness had stunned her.

Jiang Henián smiled, eyes crinkling, and popped one in her own mouth. She pushed it from left cheek to right with her tongue, enjoying the creamy sugar dissolving the day’s fear and confusion.

Noticing the girl eyeing the scorched egg curiously, Jiang Henián chuckled and tossed it.
“This one’s burned. It’s called a dried-out egg now—can’t eat it.”

“Then, y-you… you’re not going to eat it?”

“Right, it smells too burnt to—”
She paused mid-sentence, catching the child’s hopeful look.

“…Do you want it?”

—

As the sun dipped behind the hills, Jiang Henián walked back with a fully-loaded basket of pigweed, bathed in sunset glow.

It was a little embarrassing—she’d basically traded a piece of milk candy and a half-burnt egg for an entire basket of fresh pigweed.

That little girl, Lin Shuangxi, had been so sweet. After accepting her gifts, she’d insisted on cutting the grass for her.

Such a tiny thing—not even taller than the shrubbery—yet worked faster than Jiang Henián could believe.

What a little boss lady.

Still, this full load was heavy. Soon enough, Jiang Henián was panting for breath. So much for the original host’s strong physique.

By the time she reached the Jiang household’s front gate, her back and shoulders were aching.

She pushed the gate open, barely exhaled—

And was hit with a barrage of scolding that left her stunned.

“So you finally came back!! What, snuck off to steal food with the family’s money again?!”

“I was wondering why you skipped lunch—you must’ve robbed the pantry like a thief! What a disgrace to this family! Your father toils in the fields while all you do is laze around and steal!”

Jiang Henián was completely baffled. The fury surged.

With a loud thud, she dumped the heavy basket to the ground—fresh pigweed spilling everywhere.

She coldly swept her eyes over the raging Wang Chunfang and Jiang Chengmin, smoking in the yard.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t pretend! Xiaobao said you stole his candy, and you used the house’s money to buy junk food! What kind of girl are you?! If this happened in another household, you’d be dragged out and publicly shamed! No face at all!”

Jiang Xiaobao?

Jiang Henián’s eyes immediately locked on the brat peeking from behind the curtain.

That little punk.

Trying to pull a betrayal right after a candy bribe?

Jiang Henián kicked aside the bamboo basket and stormed over, yanking the squirming boy out from behind the curtain.

“Ah! Let me go! Third Sis, let go! Mom! Mom, she’s gonna kill me!”

The kid wailed at the top of his lungs.

“Third girl! Are you crazy? Let your brother go!”

Wang Chunfang’s favorite was Jiang Xiaobao. Seeing him in Jiang Henián’s grip, she rushed over, ready to slap her across the face as usual.

“You steal and now hit your own brother?! You little—!”

But Jiang Henián blocked her with Xiaobao’s arm and coldly snapped:

“He deserves a slap for that mouth!”

She glared at Xiaobao.

This little brat—six years old and already a liar, a traitor, and a slanderer. Not a shred of respect for the original Jiang Henián.

Rotten to the core—just like his mother.

“Mom! That stupid freeloader hit me! She hit me! Kill her, Mom!”

Xiaobao clutched his red cheek and threw himself into Wang Chunfang’s arms, sobbing like a banshee.