Chapter 26: Changing Fate

Yi An’an looked into the man’s wicked eyes and, for a moment, genuinely felt a bit afraid.

This man had wiped out the entire Yan family village. Judging from his expression, he clearly wasn’t joking.

“Don’t worry. I don’t know anything about what happened today, and I won’t remember anything either. Uh, you should go to sleep now. Are you cold? Do you want me to cover you with a quilt?” Yi An’an hurriedly grabbed a quilt and leaned over to cover him.

Zhan Nanhui looked down at her.

Only then did Yi An’an realize that, in her panic, she had accidentally pulled her own quilt over him—meaning they were now sharing the same bedding…

“Oops, my mistake! Look at me, I can’t even tell our quilts apart. That just proves I won’t remember a thing come morning. Once I wake up, I’ll have forgotten everything!” Yi An’an quickly pulled her quilt back and covered her head with it.

Zhan Nanhui’s lips curled slightly as he turned over to lie down. Thinking about her earlier words, his heart skipped a beat.

If someone’s going to kill, why do they have to do that first?

He glanced at the woman beside him, who had bundled herself up tightly under the quilt, and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I was joking earlier,” he said. “I only went to town today to take care of some business. I saw you selling books there and was going to help, but then noticed a few people following you. So I tailed them.”

Yi An’an slowly lowered the quilt. Seeing that he was acting normal again, she quickly nodded and said, “Thank you so much! If everything’s fine, let’s go to sleep!”

Zhan Nanhui nodded.

Yi An’an turned her body away and let out a slow breath.

That was close!

---

The next morning, Yi An’an got up early and made noodle monkeys. She eagerly brought them to Zhan Nanhui, who had just gotten up, and beamed at him.
“Comrade Zhan, hungry? I made noodle monkeys with chunks of fatty pork. They’re delicious—would you like a bowl?”

Zhan Nanhui glanced at her and pointed at the table in front of him.

Yi An’an quickly responded, placing the bowls and chopsticks down and standing respectfully to the side.

Zhan Nanhui looked at her and couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

This wasn’t bad. Even if she had accidentally learned something she shouldn’t have, it was still better than the cold-and-hot treatment he used to get from her.

“Eat with me,” Zhan Nanhui said as he sat down and picked up his chopsticks.

Yi An’an nodded and brought over her own bowl and chopsticks, sitting at the opposite end of the table and eating slowly.

Neither of them spoke during the entire meal, which Zhan Nanhui found a bit boring.

Just as he was about to strike up a conversation, a male voice sounded from outside:

“Excuse me, does Comrade Yi An’an live here?”

Zhan Nanhui looked up. He was tall enough to see out the window without standing up and recognized the man standing outside the fence—it was Tang A’ren, the man they had seen at the station yesterday!

Zhan Nanhui frowned slightly and glanced at Yi An’an as she ran outside. Then he lowered his head and continued eating, but his ears perked up.

“What brings you here?” Yi An’an asked with a smile when she saw Tang A’ren.

Tang A’ren rubbed his hands shyly and replied, “Thanks for the meal ticket and money yesterday. We completed our squad’s task. Since we got the day off today, I remembered you said you might need help, so I came to see if there’s anything I can do.”

Yi An’an had originally wanted to take Tang A’ren with her to sell books. But after almost getting caught yesterday, she knew it was too risky for now. So she decided to focus on the pickled vegetable business instead.

“There is something. I need to pick up a batch of ingredients for pickling vegetables. But I don’t even have a handcart, and I can’t carry that much on foot. Could you maybe help me…” She hadn’t finished speaking when Zhan Nanhui suddenly emerged from the shack, walked to the woodblock in the yard, picked up a rusty axe, and brought it down hard—splitting the firewood in one clean stroke.

His neck bulged with veins from the effort, and his bare arms looked powerful.

Tang A’ren glanced at Yi An’an and asked in a low voice, “Your man looks pretty strong. Why not ask him…”

“He has more important things to do!” Yi An’an was startled by Zhan Nanhui’s sudden movement. She thought he might still be upset about her seeing him sneak out last night, so she quickly grabbed Tang A’ren’s sleeve and pulled him away. “Let’s go. I need to deliver pickles to Sister Lan the day after tomorrow!”

Tang A’ren was dragged along, but kept glancing back at Zhan Nanhui, who continued chopping wood. Why did he feel like the man’s eyes were trying to kill him?

---

As they walked along the rural path, Tang A’ren still shivered inside, recalling Zhan Nanhui’s glare.

Yi An’an looked at the river outside the village, then at Tang A’ren beside her, remembering how he had once held Xiao Ni by the river in her previous life. Her heart filled with gratitude.

In this life, she would help Tang A’ren leave this little mountain village—change her own fate, and his too!

Yi An’an took Tang A’ren to the village head’s daughter-in-law in the next village and picked up an even larger batch of vegetables for pickling.

By the time they returned, Zhan Nanhui was gone—likely at the pigsty. So she got Tang A’ren to help wash vegetables, and the two of them worked all morning before they finished pickling the batch.

“Stay for lunch!” Yi An’an said enthusiastically. “There’s still a head of fresh cabbage left, plus tofu and pork belly. I’ll make a southern-style hot pot for you!”

Tang A’ren was about to decline, but when he heard “hot pot,” his expression changed and he asked, “How do you know how to make that?”

“You like it?” Yi An’an asked.

“My grandma was from the south. She used to cook it with lard like that. After I left for the countryside, I never had it again,” Tang A’ren said.

“Then take a rest. I’ll make it for you. See if it tastes like your childhood!” Yi An’an brought out a large basin and began washing vegetables.

Tang A’ren nodded.

---

Normally, the brigade provided lunch for Zhan Nanhui, but that day he fetched his food and decided to take it home. As he approached the yard, he saw Yi An’an placing a double-handled pot on a simple outdoor stove she had just built. She moved the cutting board with meat and vegetables nearby, chatting and laughing with Tang A’ren while preparing to cook.

Zhan Nanhui pushed open the door and entered.

Yi An’an, busy stir-frying meat, didn’t notice him and said cheerfully,
“A proper hot pot needs lard as the base and lots of crushed red chili—only then does it taste good. Can you handle spicy food?”

“I can’t,” came a cold voice—Zhan Nanhui’s.

Yi An’an looked up and jumped.
Wasn’t Zhan Nanhui supposed to eat at the brigade?
Why had he come home for lunch today?