Xue Gouzi’s voice was barely audible, so soft it seemed it could be carried away by the wind.

Xue Cuiping shivered and quickly shook her head. “It wasn’t your uncle who told me to come. I came on my own. I just thought…”

But before she could finish, Xue Gouzi interrupted her again.

He gave a shy smile, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “As long as it wasn’t Uncle who sent you. You really scared me, Aunt. I thought he only cared about Brother Juncai and didn’t care about me anymore. But Uncle always said I was his favorite.”

At that, whatever Xue Cuiping had meant to say completely dissolved. She mumbled a few incoherent words, lifted the curtain, and hurried out.

The room fell silent. On the kang bed, the boy’s gaze dimmed, and for a brief moment, there was a trace of weariness in his eyes far beyond his years.

Faced with this small yet heavy-hearted figure, Zhao’er hesitated to approach. It took her a while to finally walk over and sit at the edge of the bed. She hesitated, then asked, “Gou’er, are you alright?”

Seeing the worry on her face, Xue Gouzi gave a faint smile. “I’m fine.”

Zhao’er pressed her lips together, then gently patted his head. “Believe me, one day, we won’t have to beg anyone for anything.”

Xue Cuiping left without even staying for lunch, carrying with her a sack of wheat seeds that Mrs. Zhao had given her.

No one knew what was said between her and Mrs. Zhao, nor what Zhao had said in return. All anyone could see was that by the time lunch rolled around, both Mrs. Zhao and Mrs. Yang’s expressions were dark and stormy, making even Mrs. Sun and Mrs. Zhou tread carefully around them.

Zhao’er had never paid much attention to such tensions. Once the food was set on the table, she took two bowls, scooped rice into them, and started serving the dishes. The meal wasn’t anything fancy—just millet rice, simmered napa cabbage with radish, and some homemade pickled vegetables. There was meat, but only a small plate of fatty pork, placed squarely in front of the men.

The men needed to work the fields, and meat gave them strength.

Zhao’er didn’t want any meat anyway. The pork stewed by Mrs. Zhou was pale and greasy, just looking at it killed her appetite. As usual, she helped herself to a small portion of hot vegetables and pickles. But just as she reached out with her chopsticks, Mrs. Zhao suddenly slammed hers down.

“Just this little bit of food, and you two are piling your bowls like starving ghosts reborn?!”

The words were cutting and humiliating—anyone with a shred of dignity would have been stung but Zhao’er was used to it. This was how Mrs. Zhao always was—anyone who displeased her got a dose of her venom.

Zhao’er didn’t get angry. She just kept serving food. In fact, because of Mrs. Zhao’s outburst, she deliberately took two extra chopstickfuls.

“What can I do, Granny? Gou’er needs to recover, and he won’t get better without good food. He has to eat his fill,” she said calmly, then turned to Mrs. Zhou. “Third Aunt, next time you’re washing and prepping the vegetables, call me over. Our family isn’t so poor that we can’t even afford to eat. We’ve got a scholar in the house, and even a tongsheng (qualified student). Granny may be thrifty, but she’s not the kind of person who’d begrudge us a few vegetables.”

When it came to making sharp, indirect jabs, Zhao’er prided herself on not being outdone. And she had been holding in her resentment for a while.

As expected, Mrs. Zhao exploded. “Even the richest families can’t afford to feed someone like you! You laze around all day and eat more than anyone! A dumb girl like you—if it weren’t for this family, you would’ve been kicked out long ago!”

Zhao’er’s smile vanished instantly. “Granny, that’s not fair. I came to this family at seven, and I’ve done every chore inside and out. When my father died, I mourned and kept vigil. When my mother passed, I cared for her at her bedside day and night for months. I’m the daughter-in-law of the second branch—I tended the funerals of both elders. Go ask around in the neighboring villages—no one has the right to drive me out.

“But Granny, don’t blame me for speaking up. Since when is food divided by rank? Some people eat all the best things, grease dripping from their mouths, and no one says a word. But if others eat a little boiled cabbage, suddenly it’s ‘stuffing themselves like pigs’? We have a dozen chickens in this house—yet not a single egg makes it to the table. Tao’er and I feed them every day, but who knows where the eggs go? Gouzi was sick for days, and he’s only had one egg. From now on, don’t ask me to feed them. If I can’t eat any, then whoever’s eating them can do the work too.”

Her words turned everyone’s faces sour, but none more so than the members of the main branch. Their complexions turned blotchy red and white—like someone had spilled dye on them.

The bit about greasy mouths not even wiped clean clearly referred to them. Mrs. Zhao might be stingy, but not when it came to her eldest son and grandson. Mrs. Yang and her youngest son, of course, benefited from that favoritism too.

The youngest, just a seven-year-old boy, looked indignant, as if he wanted to argue—but Mrs. Yang quickly tugged him back.

Little Maodan from the fourth branch was still small and greedy by nature. He was already sick of eating boiled cabbage every day. As soon as he heard the word “egg,” he couldn’t hold it in anymore and began to wail, “Mom! I want an egg! I want an egg!”

The once-quiet main hall now echoed with his sharp, shrill cries, making everyone’s temples throb.

Mrs. Sun, frustrated by the noise, finally lost her temper and slapped him. “What are you yelling for? Where are we supposed to get eggs? There are no eggs for you!”

Her tone was sharp and impatient. Truthfully, everyone harbored some resentment—they just didn’t say it out loud.

After the slap, Maodan cried even harder. Mrs. Zhao, already fuming, seized the chance to lash out again. “Mrs. Sun! You’ve gotten bold—hitting my grandson now?”

Mrs. Sun had always been afraid of Mrs. Zhao. She immediately forced a weak smile. “Mother, Maodan was just making a fuss over an egg. We don’t even have eggs.” The last sentence was muttered under her breath as her eyes flicked reflexively toward the main branch’s mother and sons.

Old Master Xue usually didn’t interfere in the affairs of his daughters-in-law, but even he couldn’t stay silent this time.

With a dark expression, he slapped the table. “Enough! What’s all this noise about?!” The square table rattled under his palm, the legs shaking so hard the dishes bounced and clinked together.

Zhao’er didn’t pretend to stay out of it either. She turned to him with a wounded look and said, “Grandpa, it’s not our fault—Grandma said Gou’er and I were eating like starving pigs.”

She slammed her bowl down on the table and covered her face, breaking into tears. “It was just a bit of plain, scratchy rice—there wasn’t even a hint of oil in it! And that’s called gorging ourselves? Take this out and show it to people, they’d laugh themselves silly. If Grandma really finds me and Gou’er such a burden, then why not let Second House split off from the family? That way we won’t be eating or drinking from the household anymore!”

At the word split, Old Master Xue’s brow twitched reflexively. He barked, “Split the family? Don’t even think about it—no one is allowed to mention such a thing!”

Realizing perhaps his tone had been too harsh, he softened slightly and added, “Your grandma is upset because of something involving your eldest aunt’s family. She just took it out on you. But you’re the younger one here—how can you talk back to your elders?”

He then turned to Mrs. Zhao and scolded, “People always say you never learn. Have you lived all these years just to feed your wisdom to the dogs? What are you hoarding those eggs for? Letting them go rotten before anyone eats them? Third daughter-in-law, go get a few and scramble them—add a dish to the table for everyone.”

With that blend of criticism and compromise, Old Master Xue’s words finally brought silence to the room.

Zhao’er’s eyes flickered. She hadn’t made an empty threat—she did want the second branch to split off. But clearly, that idea was stillborn the moment it left her mouth. Of course Old Master Xue wouldn’t allow it. If word got out, people would say the whole family was ganging up on two kids. Besides, he still wanted the whole family to stick together—united, working toward producing another scholar for the Xue family name.

Putting those thoughts aside, despite all the drama, the Xue family ended up having a rare meat dish that day.

Mrs. Zhou cooked up a large bowl of scrambled eggs and even made sure to set aside one for Zhao’er.

That, in itself, was intriguing. The couple from the third house had always been quiet and hardworking, like dependable old oxen. They rarely spoke up for Zhao’er and Gouzi, so this small gesture now stood out.

But Zhao’er didn’t overthink it. In a family this big, everyone had their own agenda. She didn’t have time to worry about what others were planning—as long as no one pushed her too far.

She carried the bowl back to her room, and as soon as she stepped in, she beamed at Xue Gouzi. “Look, Gou’er—we get to eat eggs for lunch today!”

Seeing the bright smile on the girl’s face, Xue Gouzi’s eyes flickered with something complicated.

Though he’d been in his room, he hadn’t missed a word of what went on in the main hall.

This was just how Zhao’er was—bold and fiery, never caring what others thought.

There was a time when he cared a lot. He used to think she was embarrassing, always causing trouble, and getting in his way. He’d tried to stop her more than once. And because of other things too, he’d harbored a quiet resentment toward her for a long time.

Little did he know—the one who was hypocritical, insecure, and foolish was himself. Unfortunately, by the time he came to understand that, it was already too late.

“All that arguing with Grandma… just for one egg.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately realized he hadn’t yet shaken off his old, awkward way of speaking. She might misunderstand again.

Sure enough, a flicker of gloom passed across Zhao’er’s face—but it was gone in a flash, replaced by a bright smile. “If Xue Juncai can eat one, then so can my Gou’er. Come on, eat up. With a good meal in your belly, you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

See? She was always like this—still treating him like a child, always saying “my Gou’er” like he was some little boy who needed coddling. But he wasn’t a child anymore.

And boys his age were sensitive, easily unsettled. He didn’t like any of this, but didn’t know how to explain it. That discomfort slowly festered, turning into a kind of resentment, into a quiet instinct to keep his distance.

Xue Gouzi didn’t even know why these thoughts were surfacing now. He only felt that something inside him had changed—like he’d become two people. One was still Xue Gouzi, and the other… Xue Tingrang.

And whenever it came to Zhao’er, it was as if a voice deep in his mind would begin to whisper—soft and persistent—revealing what it was he truly felt.

As his thoughts wandered, something was suddenly held up to his mouth. He looked down—it was a piece of scrambled egg, golden-yellow, soft, and slightly crisp at the edges.

“Third Aunt may not be good at much, but her scrambled eggs are great. Eat a big bite, Gou’er—eat well and grow tall and strong.”

The words had barely left Zhao’er’s mouth when she regretted them.

He was being especially quiet and obedient today, and somehow, she’d slipped into the habit of treating him the way she had when he was younger—coaxing him to eat like she used to when he was still a small boy. Back then, this was exactly how she’d cheerfully fed him. But at some point—she didn’t even know when—he had started to resist her. He especially hated it when she treated him like this.

As anxiety crept up on her and she saw that he still hadn’t moved, she gave an awkward laugh and was just about to pull the spoon back—

When suddenly, he leaned forward and took a big bite, finishing the whole spoonful of rice and egg.

“It’s really good.”

Watching him chew with his eyes lowered, Zhao’er broke into a smile. “If you like it, eat more. Once I start earning money, I’ll make you scrambled eggs every day.”

As she spoke, she stole a glance at Xue Gouzi from under her lashes. When she saw no trace of irritation on his face, she finally let out a quiet breath of relief.

Truthfully, she had said that on purpose. He had always hated it when she ran around outside trying to do business, hated that she wanted to get involved in trade. They had fought about it more than once. But how could she just stop trying to earn money simply because he didn’t like it?

She wanted to be rich. She wanted to earn enough to send him to school, so he wouldn’t have to fight over scraps like chickens pecking at each other. She had so many hopes for them—but all of them required his support. After all, they were a family. And now, the second branch was just the two of them.

Still, Zhao’er had made up her mind. Even if he didn’t support her, she would go ahead anyway.

Of course, it’d be better if he didn’t oppose her.

With that thought, she couldn’t help but say a little more: “I mentioned splitting the family to Grandpa earlier, but he shut me down.”

Seeing the boy about to speak, she cut him off. “Just listen to me first. There are some things I didn’t want to tell you too early. I figured you were still young, and I didn’t want to distract you from your studies. But after today, I can see it clearly—you have your own thoughts.”

She paused before continuing, voice steady: “As for this family, if there’s something we can fight for, we should. What’s rightfully ours shouldn’t just be handed over without a word. And if we do give something up, it should be on our own terms—not because we’re being bullied into it. Even if we lose, it’s not the end. I’ve started working on a small business—it’ll be enough to cover your school fees.”

She smiled lightly. “I’m telling you all this so you don’t worry. Don’t be scared. Even if the sky falls, you’ve got me to hold it up. There’s more than one path in life. Only fools make enemies out of themselves.”

Truthfully, Zhao’er had wanted to say all of this to Xue Gouzi for a long time. But she also knew how sensitive and overthinking he could be. She’d been afraid of burdening him. And yet, he had overthought everything anyway—even to the point of falling sick from it. So now that the moment was right, she laid it all out.

Xue Gouzi looked at her.

In his dreams, things had gone very differently. Because of his sudden outburst, chaos erupted in the Xue household. Everyone blamed him for being selfish, immature, unfilial. They said he had upset Grandma to the point of making her faint.

Zhao’er had defended him fiercely, arguing with the entire family. In the end, the matter even drew the attention of the clan elder.

Zhao’er was accused of being disrespectful and sharp-tongued, and as punishment, she was flogged five times in the ancestral hall—an example made of her in front of everyone.

The clan elder buried the incident quickly. Gouzi hadn’t even had the chance to fight back—everything that should have belonged to him was taken away, just like that.

Later, Xue Juncai went off to study at the academy in town, basking in pride and attention. As for the second branch, they were completely ostracized by the family after that incident. Things only got worse with the main branch stirring up trouble behind their backs—life in the Xue household became increasingly unbearable.

No one in the family spoke up for them, and no one in the village sided with them either. He wasn’t even allowed to attend the village school anymore—his uncle said he was an ungrateful wretch and unteachable. He claimed Zhao’er had assaulted his wife and that he didn’t want any more trouble in the family because of them.

At the time, he was only fourteen. Even if he could tell that some people weren’t good, he didn’t fully understand the depth of their malice. Or maybe he did understand, but the weakness of human nature made him instinctively push all the blame elsewhere. Every bit of anger, every frustration and misfortune—he dumped it all on Zhao’er.

Even later, when he realized he had misunderstood her, when he knew deep down that he had been completely and utterly wrong—the rift had already grown too deep. They had drifted apart, and he no longer had the face to go back and explain any of it.

=^_^=

Prince Chu: “Xiao Jiu’er, don’t be afraid. If the sky falls, this prince will hold it up for you.”
Qi Xuan: “Mingyue Jiaojiao, even if you poke a hole through the sky, this lord will still be here to prop it up.”
Tang-ge: “Yao’er-mei, the sky’s yours. Poke it all you want. If you tear it, no need to pay for damages.”
Little Nanny: “I’m a good baby, I don’t poke the sky~”

Zhao’er: “My little Gou’er, even if the sky collapses, don’t be scared. I’ll hold it up for you.”
Xue Tingrang: “Zha-Zhao’er! I strongly object! Can I get a rewrite? If not, how am I ever going to assert my husbandly dignity in the future?”
Zhao’er: “You think you have dignity? You have any to begin with?”
Xue Tingrang: QAQ “I don’t… One line—‘Eat a big bite, Gou’er, and you’ll grow big and strong’—and I’m immediately defeated.”