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Rolling its eyes furiously…
Time passed minute by minute. Song Anning’s entire body ached, but she didn’t dare move. Finally, the male pheasant finished its patrol and lowered its head to forage.
It inched closer to the basket. Song Anning swallowed nervously. Perhaps her acting had been too clumsy as a child, or maybe the domesticated chickens had been too clever—she had never once succeeded in catching a chicken with a basket.
The chickens would always glance at her as if she were an idiot before retreating to their coop.
But wild pheasants in the mountains were different. After starving all winter, they fed voraciously to restore their bodies to peak condition for breeding.
Sure enough, the male pheasant tilted its head, eyeing the basket before following the scent inside.
It pecked a few times, and when no danger appeared, it stretched its neck and let out a few clucks.
From the nearby bushes, two female pheasants poked their heads out. Seeing food, they responded cheerfully and hurried over to join the male, burying their heads in the meal without a second glance.
“!!!”
Who knew it had two wives? The basket was big enough. Once all three pheasants were underneath, Song Anning seized the moment and yanked the string.
“Cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck—!”
The three pheasants struggled desperately. Song Anning scrambled forward and pressed down on the basket.
Buy one, get two free—this hour of waiting had been worth it!
After a while, when the pheasants in the basket had calmed down, Song Anning twisted more ropes and tightly bound their legs and wings.
Following the direction the female pheasants had come from, she carefully searched the area and found two nests with over a dozen pheasant eggs.
Brimming with loot, it was time to head home!
Domesticated chickens were common, but wild pheasants were a rarity. The taverns in town prized such game, and a live pair would surely fetch a good price.
On the way back, Song Anning rubbed her sore lower back. Her arms ached terribly, and her hands were covered in blisters. She couldn’t help but sigh, “Money really doesn’t come easy…”
She decided to keep one hen to improve the family’s meals and sell the other two—a perfect pair—to Grandpa Lin.
Just imagining the little ones eating meat brought a smile to her face.
As she neared the foot of the mountain, Song Anning heard Anyue crying. She hurried down.
At the doorstep, Song Zeyuan and Song Zefeng—her second uncle’s son—were pinned to the ground by two older boys, their faces and hair covered in mud. Song Anyue’s forehead was split open, blood and tears smeared across her face.
“Dad’s dead, mom’s crazy, big sis is a rotten jerk, and she got dumped—shame, shame, shame…”
“Ha ha ha…”
Five or six children, around eight or nine years old, chanted in unison while two others spat on Song Zeyuan and Song Zefeng’s faces.
The sight sent Song Anning’s fury straight to the top of her skull. Even when they saw her return, the children didn’t let go—instead, their taunts grew louder.
They had done this before. The eldest Song sister never cared about the younger ones, and over time, these little brats had grown bolder.
The Song children stared at their elder sister with hopeful eyes. She had changed for the better, hadn’t she? She wouldn’t abandon them now, right?
But Song Anning only glanced at Song Anyue’s forehead—the wound wasn’t serious, likely just a scratch from a branch.
Then, without a word, she walked straight into the courtyard.
“Hahaha, I told you! Your sister only cares about sneaking food for herself and won’t bother with you.”
Song Zeyuan, lying on the ground, closed his eyes in despair. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. Had their elder sister truly abandoned him and A’Yue?
Song Anning, who had just entered the courtyard, first set down her basket and picked out the sharpest sickle. The next moment, she dashed out like the wind, swinging her arm in a wide arc—
*Slap!*
With all her strength, she struck the ringleader across the face. Before the boy could react, the cold blade of the sickle was already pressed against his neck.
“You motherf*cking little brat! How dare you bully my siblings? I’ll kill you! @#￥%……&*#%￥”
Song Anning cursed with every filthy word she had ever learned, yet it still couldn’t quell the fury in her heart.
The ringleader, Huzi, was the only son of Widow Song from the village—one of those nasty gossips.
Dazed from the slap, Huzi finally came to his senses only to see the sickle at his throat. Just a nine-year-old child, he was so terrified he forgot to cry, yellow liquid trickling down his pants.
The other accomplices hurriedly helped Song Zeyuan and Song Zefeng to their feet, their faces pale as they backed away in fear.
“All of you, stay right there! Try running, and I’ll kill whoever dares to move!”
The sickle’s hooked blade pressed firmly against Huzi’s neck, drawing tiny beads of blood. The other five children froze, trembling as they pointed at Huzi.
“B-blood! She’s killing him! Song’s eldest is murdering someone! Mom… waaah—”
“Shut up! All of you, get back here and stand straight!”
Song Anning’s glare could have killed. She swept her gaze over the three siblings. “Listen well. From now on, if anyone bullies you, fight back with everything you’ve got. If you can’t win, call for me or Second Uncle. No one gets to torment you for free!”
The three younger ones were stunned by her ferocity, nodding dumbly.
*Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!…*
The crisp sound of her palm striking flesh landed on each of them. “Like spitting, huh? Smack your faces hard enough, and you won’t be able to spit anymore. Like cursing? Cut out your tongues, and you won’t be able to curse anymore.”
Adrenaline surged through her, lending her inhuman strength.
After delivering five or six slaps to each of them, Song Anning spotted Widow Song sprinting down the hill.
“Oh, my son! My precious boy…!”
The woman lunged forward to snatch Huzi, but Song Anning didn’t give her the chance, tightening the sickle’s grip.
“You wretched bastard! If anything happens to my son today, I won’t live—and neither will you! Let go of my boy…!”
Song Anning remained unfazed by Widow Song’s threats. The growing crowd that had rushed over at the commotion quickly tried to mediate.
“Ning girl, put the sickle down. Let’s talk this through.”
“The elders are here. We’ll make sure justice is served. Just release Huzi first—that sickle can really kill someone. This isn’t a joke.”
Song Anning scanned the crowd and let out a cold laugh. “Justice? What damn justice? Where were all of you when my siblings were being bullied?”
“And you, Huzi’s mother, listen well. Today, I’ll tell you this—I, Song Anning, am a scoundrel who fears nothing. My family’s already in debt and has nothing left to lose. Bare feet don’t fear shoes. Let’s all die together!”
“No, no, no, he can’t die, he mustn’t die! Huzi is my only hope, I beg you, let him go…”
Widow Song wailed heart-wrenchingly, but Song Anning remained unmoved:
“If Huzi is your only hope, then my siblings are also my hope. How is it that they can be bullied at will?”
“And these little brats—if this matter isn’t resolved properly today, none of them will walk away unscathed!”
The crowd grew larger, and soon the Village Chief arrived with a group of villagers…