Xianjin lowered her gaze. Miss Wang’s thin trousers were soaked through, clinging to her skin in the snowy wind. Her legs trembled violently.

Xianjin’s eyes moved upward. As expected, the girl’s sleeves were too short, exposing a wrist covered in bruises—blotchy purple welts and long, bloody scratches.

Sensing Xianjin’s gaze, Miss Wang lowered her eyes and bit her lip, awkwardly trying to hide her hands and feet, as if to conceal the marks of years of pinching, beating, and verbal abuse.

This wasn’t ordinary discipline. It was malicious abuse.

Xianjin’s fists clenched.

Chen Fu saw it too and exploded with rage. “Bullshit! Absolute bullshit! So what if she’s your sister? There’s not a single patch of unbroken skin on her! What kind of unforgivable crime could she have committed to deserve this kind of torment?”

Seeing Chen Fu furious, the steward quickly tugged his sleeve and whispered, “…She’s not their full sister. The two older brothers were born of the first wife, who passed away. After the stepmother died, they started settling old scores. And this girl’s got a stubborn streak—never bows her head. When provoked, she even fights back!”

The steward tried to smooth things over. “Ah, ah! At the end of the day, it’s a family matter, a family matter!”

Family matter? So domestic violence doesn’t count as violence? Settling old scores—why didn’t they do that when their mother was alive? Now that she’s gone and their father doesn’t intervene, they dare bully a young girl? How impressive.

Just as Xianjin was about to speak, Chen Fu’s voice rose, distorted with anger. “Family matter?”

“Fine! Then Chen Paper Shop will never buy straw handled by people like this!”

“Paper made from this kind of straw stinks! It’s rotten!” He flung his sleeve. “Tell them to take the straw back! We don’t want it!”

Xianjin looked at Chen Fu. Her fists relaxed, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.

Chen Fu’s defiance always carried a kind of stubborn impulsiveness—blunt, unfiltered, and hard to predict. Like insisting that He Ai’s coffin be carried through the front gate. Like writing “My Wife” on the memorial tablet. Or like saying, “Because you’re cruel, I won’t take your straw”—utterly lacking in business savvy.

Second Brother Wang panicked at Chen Fu’s words and looked to the steward for help.

The steward exclaimed, “Master Chen is a benevolent man. Wang Da, Wang Er, go kneel and apologize to Master Chen. Leave the straw here, and treat your sister better when you get home, alright?”

That “alright” was directed at Chen Fu, clearly trying to downplay the situation.

“How much?” A voice rang out behind Chen Fu.

Xianjin asked as she took a hemp cloth from Zhou Ergou and draped it over Miss Wang’s shoulders. “How much silver do you want to let her go?”

Wang Da and Wang Er exchanged glances. The chubbier Wang Da clenched his jaw. “What do you mean? My son still needs to study for the imperial exams! His aunt can’t be a servant!”

Free citizens couldn’t be enslaved. Once enslaved, their descendants were barred from taking the exams.

Xianjin glanced at Wang Da and smiled coldly. “Don’t worry. With a father like you, your son, grandson, and every descendant will never be scholar material.”

She pulled Miss Wang to her side. “We won’t change her household status. The Chen family wants to hire her as a cleaning maid. How much silver do you want to transfer her registration out of the Wang household?—And let me be clear: this is the last time I’m asking. If you don’t name a price, take your straw and go. Next year and the year after, we’ll collect straw from Dingqiao and Zhangdu instead.”

Essentially, she was offering to buy out the work contract.

Her status would remain that of a free citizen. In addition to the upfront payment to her family, she’d receive monthly wages. Unlike Zhou Ergou and the others, who could quit anytime, entering a household registry meant a lifelong position.

In fact, this system protected women. At least the monthly wages given by the employer were hers to spend freely. Her family couldn’t seize them. She could even use her employer’s name to buy property and build a private life.

That was the Chen family’s intention with Xianjin, too.

Xianjin’s tone hardened. “Dingqiao’s ‘Three-Grain Inch’ and Zhangdu’s ‘Lotus Pond Early’ are rising stars. We can buy from anyone. In Jing County, if the Chen family wants straw, I refuse to believe we can’t find another supplier!”

The steward began to panic. If the Chen family stopped buying from Anwu, he’d starve. He shot Wang Da a look.

Wang Da stiffened and named a price. “Thirty taels of silver. Not a single coin less, or I’ll drag her home right now!”

“Bullshit!” Miss Wang burst out, pointing at Wang Da’s nose. “Just the other day, you tried to sell me to that cripple Wu who makes lanterns—for eight taels! I refused, and you and Second Brother beat me again!”

She wiped her tears, which stung her wounds. “Wang Da, listen up. If someone’s willing to pay to save me, take the money and get lost! If you block my way, I’ll jump into a well the moment I get home! I’ll make sure you lose everything—no money, no person, and you’ll have to wrap me in a mat and dump me in a mass grave!”

Xianjin was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. She’d thought the abused girl was a pushover. Turns out, she was tough as nails. Of course—if she’d been even a little softer, those two monsters would’ve sold her off to the ends of the earth by now.

More and more villagers gathered to watch. Most were laborers from Anwu. Someone familiar with the situation shouted from behind a straw pile, “Wang Da, don’t be greedy! Eight taels are enough to slaughter two pigs for the New Year!”

Chen Fu’s hair stood on end. He pulled two silver ingots from his coat and threw them at Wang Da and Wang Er. “Ten taels. Take it or leave it!”

The brothers exchanged a glance, picked up the ingots, and quietly tucked them away.

Xianjin hooked her arm around Miss Wang’s shoulder and led her to the mule cart. The rest—straw collection, registration transfer, and down payment—was left to Manager Dong.

Chen Fu was still fuming as he climbed into the cart.

Truly furious.

In the dead of winter, Xianjin could almost see steam rising from his head.

“…Ainiang said the world is harsh to women. The Chen family is run by a matriarch and has always been fair and just. We’ve never mistreated our servants or maids. I had no idea our straw supplier’s steward was involved in something so absurd.” Chen Fu shook his head, the steam puffing with each movement.

This pampered young master had clearly been well protected by Old Madam Qu.

Just as Xianjin was about to speak, Miss Wang—half-reclining, pale-faced—let out a bitter laugh. “This is nothing. A few beatings and it’s over. In our village, Wang Wuniang had it worse. Her parents married her off to a sixty-year-old man for two bolts of cloth, which they used to make clothes for her brother’s exam. After the old man died, they married her to his blind nephew, for two chickens and six ducks. The poultry was given to her brother’s tutor as tuition… cough cough… So our village started calling her brother ‘Six-Duck Scholar.’”

A touch of dark humor.

Xianjin couldn’t laugh. What if she’d transmigrated into Wang Wuniang’s life? Even if she could do accounting, sell paper, and write—what then? Maybe she’d be able to negotiate for two extra ducks?

Xianjin spent the whole afternoon in a gloomy mood. As the mule cart entered Shuixi Street, she heard the bustle outside and the crackle of firecrackers.

Chen Fu lifted the curtain to look out.

Seven or eight carriages were parked outside the Chen family’s old residence. Ten or so chests were stacked on the ground. Servants and maids bustled about. Everywhere, the festive atmosphere of the New Year was in full swing.