Chapter 29

Jiang Henian haltingly recounted the whole ordeal of her day, focusing in great detail on how she had bravely kicked open the wooden door and chased the man down with her butcher knife to fight back.

Of course, she conveniently left out the part where she’d thrown cow dung at Song Wenqing.

As she spoke, she couldn’t help sneaking glances at the towel in He Jinshan’s hands—now torn clean in two. It completely distracted her from crying.

So strong… she thought, a little awed.

Good thing I’ve been on my best behavior. Hopefully, Lord He never regains his memory.

When he’s He Ye, he sics dogs on me to collect debts. When he’s Little Uncle, he feeds me sweet jujubes.

He Jinshan’s expression grew darker and darker as he listened. The usual laid-back air about him had entirely vanished.

His cold gaze swept over Jiang Henian’s dirt-stained pant legs.

This little girl came back every day mumbling about how tired she was—yet today she was out the whole day, got bullied while working, ended up brawling, scratched her neck, and even got peeped on when using the filthy outhouse…

Scared half to death.

The mounting frustration in his chest grew hotter and heavier.

With a furrowed brow, He Jinshan grabbed her fair ankle and, without a word, pulled up her baggy black pants to the knee, revealing a slender white leg.

A bruised scrape stood out starkly on her skin.

Jiang Henian jumped at the touch, instinctively trying to draw her leg back, but his grip only tightened.

He Jinshan didn’t say a word. He checked both her arms and legs, lifting her sleeves to inspect thoroughly before finally meeting her eyes.

“So, you chased him down with a knife and ended up falling into a ditch and bruising yourself all over?”

Jiang Henian, whose hands were uninjured, awkwardly pulled her sleeve back down and frowned at his phrasing.

“I did catch up to him! The grass was too thick and tall, and it was getting dark—that’s the only reason I tripped.”

He Jinshan didn’t argue. He lowered his gaze, his large, calloused hand gently pressing on the bruise at her knee.

Seeing her wince slightly but not cry out in pain, he began expertly massaging the area with his palm and fingers.

Jiang Henian felt a tingling, sore ache under his touch—uncomfortable but oddly soothing. She didn’t resist, just kept her leg out and leaned back on her hands, staring at his movements with a dazed expression.

Suddenly, He Jinshan looked up, catching her gaze directly.

“Scared you, didn’t it?”

His eyes were deep and dark, as if they could see right into her soul. His voice held a rare gentleness.

Jiang Henian froze.

Her fingers slowly curled into her palm. Her lips and nose trembled, and tears began to well up in her beautiful eyes.

“You can cry now.”

His voice was low, calm, with a teasing softness to it—yet there was also a quiet kind of tenderness, like nothing could hurt her as long as he was here.

Jiang Henian lifted her arm to cover her eyes.

Moments later, tears began to fall silently down her cheeks, right in front of He Jinshan.

She had been terrified.

Utterly overwhelmed and deeply wronged.

The trauma of locking eyes with that filthy man through the crack in the latrine wall—it might take a lifetime to forget.

It reminded her exactly of that horrifying scene in Silenced (The Crucible), where the twisted principal peeked into the toilet stall—except in her case, it was even closer, more sudden.

Her furious act of screaming and charging with a knife now felt less like heroism and more like a desperate, automatic defense response from someone pushed to the brink.

Jiang Henian cried with her mouth open, sobbing until she was gasping for air.

Only now, in this moment, did her tightly wound nerves finally loosen.

A warm, strong hand gently took her wrist, pulling her arm away. Her tear-streaked face was cupped between his palms.

His calloused fingers wiped away her tears—not as rough as before, but still unrefined, just a little more careful.

He Jinshan lowered his eyes and asked softly:

“Did you see his face?”

Jiang Henian scrunched up her face and shook her head. Tears flicked from her lashes.

“He was short and fat. I hit him with the back of the knife.”

“Atta girl.”

He Jinshan gave her a rewarding pat on the head.

“Don’t be scared. Your little uncle will wring his neck for you.”

That handsome, roguish face—saying something so bloody with a smile, like twisting off someone’s head was as casual as lighting a cigarette.

Jiang Henian hiccupped through her sobs and bargained weakly:

“Do it tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll twist it off and stuff it in the latrine.”

Chuckling, He Jinshan spread his arms and pulled the tear-soaked girl into his chest, one big hand clumsily patting her head in comfort.

This delicate little thing was brought here by him.

The one who clumsily treated his wounds, who liked to mutter under her breath, who secretly had a crush on him—so sweet and obedient.

He could tease and pinch her as much as he liked. But no one else—especially no filthy creep—had any right to make her suffer.

While he held her close and soothed her, his mind was already spinning, mapping out a dozen brutal ways to snap someone’s neck.

Jiang Henian, oblivious, stayed curled in his arms crying softly.

Her mind drifted back to all she’d endured—from her trash of a dad selling her out, to being chased over debts, to this chaotic mess after time-traveling. The more she thought, the more pitiful it seemed. Her sobs turned louder, burrowing deeper into his chest.

She could really cry.

He Jinshan was starting to crack—he didn’t have the heart to push her away.

Lowering his gaze, he noticed the bright red tips of her ears peeking out from her hair—so red they looked like they might start bleeding. Like translucent blood-jade.

He couldn’t help but reach over and pinch them.

Soft.

Springy and warm.

Jiang Henian was deep in self-pity when suddenly her whole body jolted. She lifted her head from his chest, eyes wide with disbelief.

Did he just pinch my ear?!

He Jinshan blinked, a bit surprised himself.

So sensitive? Just a light touch and she was trembling like that?

But instead of backing off, his fingers went back again—this time adding a little more pressure, gently rubbing.

She twitched again, nearly let out a sound, and immediately clapped her hands over her ears, backing away like a startled bunny.

This guy!!

Even with memory loss, he still couldn’t stop teasing people!

Face flushed from her ears to her neck, Jiang Henian glared defensively, ears burning as she declared in a shaky voice:

“Don’t touch my ears—they’re really ticklish.”

He Jinshan chuckled lowly, crossing his arms as that wicked, domineering grin crept back onto his face.

“I didn’t touch them before, though.”

“…What?”

Jiang Henian blinked, confused—then the meaning hit her. Her face went crimson from head to toe.

Her ears had been burning all night—because he had kissed them.

Feeling both embarrassed and guilty, she looked away, pretending not to understand. She stayed silent.

But He Jinshan’s smile faded. His voice turned serious again:

“Where’d you get the butcher knife?”

Jiang Henian froze, her entire body going stiff. She glanced nervously at him, her expression unnatural.

“…Did I say it was a butcher knife?”

“No… I think I said it was a sickle I chased him with…”

He Jinshan narrowed his dark eyes and stared at her silently.

Jiang Henian grew more anxious under his gaze. Her fingers twisted together in her lap. She was beating herself up inside.

She had kept the secret of her space (dimensional storage) very well this whole time—and now she’d just blurted out the butcher knife like a fool.

Who the hell brings a butcher knife to the outhouse?!

(꒦ິ⌓꒦ີ)