Chapter 2

“Thank you, Aunt Ju Hua. Do you happen to have any radishes or greens I could buy as well?” Xu Jiaojiao asked, still feeling a little embarrassed.

Why trouble two people when one will do? The weather was bitterly cold, and Xu Jiaojiao abandoned her plan to visit anyone else.

“Radishes and greens? Of course! Let me fetch them for you,” Aunt Ju Hua replied warmly.

Aunt Ju Hua’s husband was a skilled farmer, and their family always had an abundance of vegetables.

In the courtyard, the Qin brothers—Qin Dazhuang and Qin Daqiang—inserted bamboo carrying poles into bundles of firewood, hoisting two large bundles each onto their shoulders.

Aunt Ju Hua came out with a bamboo basket.

“Since you don’t have a basket of your own, take this vegetable basket home first. Dazhuang can bring it back later,” she said matter-of-factly, handing it to her.

“Thank you, Auntie,” Xu Jiaojiao said, accepting the surprisingly heavy basket.

This original body is truly weak, Xu Jiaojiao sighed inwardly.

Leaving Aunt Ju Hua’s house, Xu Jiaojiao walked against the biting wind until she reached the Zhiqing Compound.

“Please put the firewood in this room.”

Despite its years of neglect, the Zhiqing Compound wasn’t too bad. It was spacious and had plenty of empty rooms.

After setting down the vegetable basket, Xu Jiaojiao opened the door to one such room.

“Sure thing,” the Qin brothers replied, carrying the firewood inside.

Xu Jiaojiao quickly emptied the vegetable basket and returned it to Qin Dazhuang.

“Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome,” the Qin brothers replied with nods before departing.

Only then did Xu Jiaojiao close the heavy courtyard gate. As she turned around, she spotted Qin Jiashu peeking out furtively from the kitchen doorway, his head poking out like a curious mouse.

The Qin brothers headed home. Having just carried firewood, they didn’t feel the cold as much.

“Brother, Brother Zhengye’s wife is so polite and beautiful!” Qin Daqiang said as he swung his carrying pole back and forth.

“What good is beauty?” Qin Dazhuang scoffed.

“It’s nice to look at!” Qin Daqiang retorted.

“A farm woman needs to be strong. Look at her tiny waist—and how she struggled with that basket earlier. I doubt she can even bear children,” Qin Dazhuang said, shaking his head.

Xu Jiaojiao’s beauty was well known throughout the surrounding villages, but so was her reputation for being frail and medicine-dependent.

Most families wouldn’t dare marry her. After all, even cooking firewood had to be bought—she’d be a bottomless pit of expenses.

“Tsk,” Qin Daqiang clicked his tongue. “Hey, Brother, did you see Sister Zhengli’s baby earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is he so skinny? He doesn’t even look as tall as Huzi, Brother Zhuzi’s kid who’s just learning to walk!”

“Mind your own business,” Qin Dazhuang snapped, rolling his eyes.

In their impoverished village, even children with both parents could starve. What hope did an orphaned child have?

Qin Daqiang scratched his head sheepishly. “I just feel sorry for him.”

“There are plenty of pitiful people. Let’s hurry home—it’s freezing,” Qin Dazhuang replied, urging his brother forward.

Unaware the Qin brothers were still talking about her, Xu Jiaojiao entered the house. She untied a bundle of firewood and carried some to the kitchen.

Inside, Qin Jiashu was still hiding behind the chimney. The walnut pastries she’d left earlier had vanished, the bowl now empty and sitting at the edge of the stove.

“Come out. Aunt needs to put in the firewood,” Xu Jiaojiao said patiently, her eyes fixed on the boy.

Qin Jiashu’s eyes darted nervously. His lips were pressed into a conflicted line as he savored the lingering sweetness of the pastries. Resigned to being scolded, he finally crawled out.

The boy was truly small and thin. Because of the cold, he wasn’t wearing shoes. His bare feet were swollen with chilblains, red and puffy.

“Go sit on that stool over there,” Xu Jiaojiao urged, her heart aching at the sight.

After reminding him, she placed the firewood into the chimney.

When she turned around, Qin Jiashu was still standing there, eyes closed, his face a picture of resigned defiance, as if bracing for a beating.

Xu Jiaojiao reached out and pinched his armpit, lifting him onto the tall stool beside the stove.

His eyes flew open in surprise, long eyelashes fluttering.

His aunt didn’t hit him?

He watched Xu Jiaojiao leave the kitchen, confused. Moments later, she returned with another bundle of firewood.

Qin Jiashu froze. Then, with a nimble slide from the stool, he darted barefoot out the door.

“Hey…” Xu Jiaojiao started to call after him, but then remembered—the original owner had angrily burned his only pair of worn-out shoes a few days ago.

The original owner was truly heartless! Xu Jiaojiao shook her head in frustration as she fed more firewood into the chimney.

Tap-tap-tap. Light footsteps sounded behind her.

After carefully arranging the firewood, she turned to find Qin Jiashu behind her, struggling to hold a few small sticks.

“Here,” he offered, his face brimming with eagerness to please.

Xu Jiaojiao’s eyes welled with tears.

In her previous life, children his age were cherished. Yet here he was, barely able to speak clearly, already learning to read faces and win favor.

Before transmigrating into this book, Xu Jiaojiao had been in a car accident that killed both her parents. She survived but lost her uterus and the ability to become a mother.

At thirty, Xu Jiaojiao remained unmarried and alone. She always claimed she didn’t like children—but only she knew how deeply she longed for them.

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking the firewood from his hands.

Now free of the bundle, Qin Jiashu turned eagerly to help more.

Xu Jiaojiao quickly grabbed his arm.

He trembled violently at her touch.

“That’s enough firewood. It’s cold—sit still,” she said, pulling him onto the low bench in front of the stove.

The bench, too short for Xu Jiaojiao, was almost too tall for the frail boy. He sat with his small feet crossed at the ankles, head bowed.

Xu Jiaojiao sat beside him and struck a match.

Flick! Flick! Flick! The matches were damp. After several tries, the fire finally caught, and she sighed in relief.

She stood, grabbed a bamboo cooking brush, and began scrubbing the large iron pot.

Once satisfied, she uncovered the small well behind a wooden plank. The kitchen had been built close to the mountain, and a natural spring supplied fresh water.

Splash, splash, splash! Xu Jiaojiao scooped water with a red gourd ladle, filling the pot.

“Can you watch the fire?” she asked.

Qin Jiashu nodded.

“Then keep an eye on it for Aunt. Don’t let it go out.”

She added two large pieces of firewood and ruffled his hair before heading to the adjacent room.

Qin Jiashu tilted his head, puzzled, and stared at the crackling fire.

In the other room, two wooden buckets sat by a large wooden bathtub.

The original owner hadn’t cared about Qin Jiashu but had made herself comfortable, even commissioning this tub from the village carpenter.

Xu Jiaojiao filled the tub with hot water from the kitchen and returned to fetch Qin Jiashu.

“Let’s go take a bath,” she said, picking him up.

His face instantly filled with panic—the most expressive he had ever been.

“Take off your clothes,” Xu Jiaojiao said, stripping him down and dropping him into the tub.

Enveloped in warm water and swirling steam, the boy looked up with wide eyes.

She rolled up her sleeves, scrubbed him clean with soap, then wrapped him in her cotton coat and carried him into the room.

She dressed him in the Mid-Autumn clothes Qin Zhengye had bought for him—clothes the original Xu Jiaojiao had locked away.

It was too cold for just those, so she added her own thick coat for warmth.

“Come on, put these socks on,” she said, pulling out a pair of blue cotton socks.

Bundled in oversized clothes and socks, the frail boy looked both adorable and comical, his little feet wiggling.

“I’m going to make dinner. Will you keep me company in the kitchen?” she asked.

Qin Jiashu nodded gently.

She carried him back and sat him beside the stove.

“Sit still and watch the fire for Auntie. Let me know if it goes out, okay?”

He nodded again, sitting quietly.

Xu Jiaojiao fetched a winter melon and pumpkin. Since radishes and greens kept longer, she decided to use these first.

She washed rice and started the fire in the smaller pot. There was no time to waste—Qin Family Village was still mostly without electricity, and the Educated Youth Point hadn’t had any in years.

She chopped the pumpkin without a peeler, using a kitchen knife, while Qin Jiashu glanced between the fire and her.

Noticing the fire dying down, he opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Instead of stomping his socked feet, he awkwardly shifted to the left.

“What’s wrong?” Xu Jiaojiao asked, looking up.

“…Fire,” he mumbled, pointing.

She chuckled softly, added firewood, then stir-fried the pumpkin and simmered the winter melon soup.

By 5:00 PM, it was already dark.

When dinner was ready, Xu Jiaojiao said gently, “Let’s eat in the room.”