Chapter 27

Inside the narrow outhouse.

Under the dim lighting, beneath the hem of her clothes, a section of bare thigh gleamed stark white. On it was a clear crescent-shaped scar.

It was the same scar Jiang Henian had gotten as a child when the neighbor’s pet dog bit her.

And now, that exact scar had appeared on the thigh of the 1974 version of “Jiang Henian.”

She stared at it, blinking rapidly.

My body… really came back?!

Over the past few days, she had vaguely felt something changing—her skin growing paler, the calluses on her hands thinning, her strength decreasing, making farm work increasingly difficult…

Jiang Henian: “…”

No wonder. So it was because her real body had started transferring here too.

Wait—traveling through time involves the soul and the body arriving separately???

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

What is this—newbie protection period over, and now even the original body’s being taken away?

Sure, it felt familiar to be in her real body again, but Jiang Henian was self-aware enough to know—

In her modern-day “delicate frame,” once she hit the fields tomorrow, she’d be lucky to earn even two work points.

That scene is too tragic to imagine.

With a sigh, she pulled her pants leg back up—only to abruptly make eye contact with a pair of bloodshot, murky eyes staring through the five-centimeter gap at the top of the outhouse wall!

The eyes were pressed close, wide open as if they wanted to leap from their swollen, squinting sockets to see more clearly—filled with sick excitement and lechery.

She could even hear the thick, heavy, disgusting sound of the man’s breathing.

It was like being struck by lightning in broad daylight.

Jiang Henian froze, every hair on her body standing on end. Her mind went blank, and she couldn’t breathe.

“AHHHHHHHH—!!!!”

A scream of terror, sharp enough to pierce the sky, sent a flock of birds flying in panic.

Thud.

A heavy object hit the ground outside, followed by a man’s yelp of “Ow!”

Jiang Henian shuddered violently. Tears streamed from her wide eyes.

She clutched her hastily pulled-up pants, her whole body trembling as she turned stiffly, fumbling with numb fingers to untie the latch on the outhouse door.

She was shaking so hard, she couldn’t get it open.

The next second—

BAM! The door was kicked open from the inside!

With eyes red as blood and a massive cleaver in hand, Jiang Henian stormed out, her pale lips trembling as she forced out three words through clenched teeth:

“You. Bastard.”

The rage and trauma that had driven her to the brink exploded. Her fractured spirit snapped back into place in a blaze of fury.

Her eyes blazed, her voice hoarse with rage as she shouted:
“You bastard! I’m going to kill you!”

She charged toward the side of the outhouse.

There, a short, chubby man in gray clothes was clutching his backside, scrambling to flee.

Jiang Henian took a sharp breath, her chest swelling with overwhelming emotion.

Fear, humiliation, grief, fury—they all surged through her, her eyes nearly spitting fire.

“Bastard! You’re all bastards! How dare you—”

“Everyone bullies me… You all think I’m easy to push around, don’t you?!”

Her voice was trembling from fear and rage, every word like a blade.

Tears the size of beans streamed from her wide, unblinking eyes.

With a swish, Jiang Henian pulled out another butcher’s knife.

Gripping one in each hand, both blades gleaming coldly, she charged forward without hesitation.

“STOP RIGHT THERE! I swear I’ll hack you to pieces!”

“BASTARD!!”

“DISGUSTING PERVERT!!”

“CURSED FAT PIG!!”

Her murderous aura roared through the empty, post-harvest wheat field like wildfire.

The man tripped and rolled, then scrambled up, running even faster through the hay.

—

“Shan’er, listen to me. Come back home, okay?”

“The house is cleaned up, your big brother, your sister-in-law, your second brother, your second sister-in-law, your grandma—they’re all waiting for you. Don’t worry, once I’ve saved enough, we’ll go to a big hospital in the city for your leg…”

“No need. I’m fine here. You should go back.”

No matter how much Zhang Fengying pleaded, her son wouldn’t budge. In the end, she could only leave the basket behind and walk away, wiping her tears.

The commotion in Huagou Village after the end of the workday hadn’t reached the secluded hillside at the edge of the village.

He Jinshan glanced again at the darkening sky, his expression growing more and more irritable.

He rolled a few bright red wild jujubes in his palm.

After sitting a while, he shifted his leg into a new position, then looked at the sky again.

It was completely dark now. Where was the little girl?

He picked up a jujube, rubbing it between his fingers. He squeezed a bit too hard and crushed it by accident.

Sticky pulp clung to his fingers. The fresh sweet-and-sour scent drifted to his nose.

His brow furrowed deeply as he stared at the fruit he had picked from the back hill.

Earlier that morning, when the little one had come to doze off, she’d grabbed his hand and fallen fast asleep, even mumbling in her dreams.

He Jinshan had awkwardly leaned his ear close to hear her murmuring, “fruit… eat fruit…”

At the time, he’d found it amusing—such a greedy little thing, dreaming about food.

But that afternoon, sitting by the window, his sharp eyesight had caught sight of bright red fruit about fifty meters up the back hill.

Coincidentally, his injury had mostly healed, and yesterday he’d already covertly scouted the entire village. He had nothing to do today—perfect time to stretch his legs.

A fifty-meter hike? Easy.

He had washed the ten best jujubes and laid them in an empty bowl by the kang for the whole afternoon.

Now they had been in his hands for over an hour—he was practically treating them like prayer beads.

Zhang Fengying had left ten minutes ago. But where’s the kid?

The black wind blew through the trees on the back hill, the rustling leaves no longer soothing but harsh and jarring.

His strong brow drew low, and the usually lazy curve of his lips pressed into a line. His eyes darkened with a dangerous, simmering rage.

Did she get held up in the fields again? Bullied by someone?

Maybe that shrew of a relative locked her up again?

Maybe she tripped in the dark because she couldn’t see the road?

With every possibility that crossed his mind, the fury in his eyes deepened.

Fragments of their past interactions flashed before him—her squatting on the floor, mumbling as she ground herbs… even her random complaints about potholes in the road. All of it had seared into his brain like carvings on stone.

But tonight, the usual small head peeking through his door after work, whispering “Little Uncle…”—never appeared.

It was long past her usual time.

This frantic, anxious feeling… He Jinshan had never felt this before.

Not even when a red sniper laser targeted his forehead, or when he skydived from the arctic at 1,000 meters while exchanging fire with mercenaries—not even then had he felt like this.

He felt hungry.

A gnawing, wild hunger, a thirst that made his chest burn.

He hadn’t felt any intense emotion since he came back to live a low-profile, peaceful life.

But now—he needed to see her.

That chatty little rascal—he needed to see her now.

With a sudden flex, the three wooden splints still tied to his leg snapped in two with a crack.

Like a leopard, he leapt off the kang, charged out the door in two strides, and raised two fingers to his lips—ready to whistle for the beast he kept on the back hill.

But before the whistle even came—

Out of the darkness, a familiar small figure walked slowly toward him.

That wildly pounding heart finally came crashing down.

And in the next instant—fury flared.

He Jinshan’s face darkened as he strode over, grabbing Jiang Henian by the shoulders. The sharp “Where the hell were you?” that was on his lips vanished when he saw her face.

Pale. Dirty. A bruised temple. Eyes red from crying.

She’d been hurt.

An unfamiliar and overwhelming mix of panic and fury slammed into him.

His grip softened, turned into an embrace. His large hand cupped her face gently, jaw taut as he urgently asked:

“What happened?”

Jiang Henian’s eyes, dull with exhaustion, blinked slowly. When she finally recognized who she was looking at, her whole body slackened. Her legs gave way.

He Jinshan caught her instantly, arm wrapped tight around her waist, holding her to his chest. His brow creased tightly.

“Talk to me.”

“Kid, what happened to you?”

Jiang Henian stared into his deep black eyes. Her dry lips moved weakly, voice faint as a whisper, as if completely spent.

He lifted her easily, her feet off the ground. He bent his ear close to her lips.

And then, the man who had weathered every kind of battlefield, who had never flinched under pressure, froze.

His famously calm, calculating, and decisive mind… crashed.

Because what she whispered, in a hoarse, trembling voice, was:

“Kiss me.”

She tugged weakly at the hem of his shirt and said:

“Little Uncle… kiss me, quick…”