The excruciating pain from Shen Qingzhu’s ruthless kick left Zhou Xiaofu writhing on the ground, gasping for breath and silently cursing him as a vicious scoundrel. After finally managing to catch his breath, he looked around the deserted path only to find no trace of anyone else. Climbing to his feet, he spat angrily, “Damn it! You just wait. You caught me off guard this time, but don’t think you’ll get away with it next time. Ungrateful wretch!”

His curses, filthy and spiteful, filled the air as he viciously kicked a nearby tree, shaking loose a flurry of dead leaves onto his head. Frustrated, he pointed at the tree, pretending it was Shen Qingzhu, and vented his anger.

“Damn you! Stupid slut! A Kun Ze like you should be obediently lying under a man instead of putting on airs. I’m the best thing that could happen to you! How dare you lay a hand on me?”

Lost in his furious muttering, he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps rustling through the fallen leaves behind him. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his collar, dragging him back.

“Who dares to touch m— Ah!”

Before he could finish his sentence, a fist smashed into his face with enough force to almost knock it askew. His scream hadn’t even finished when another punch landed.

This time, the person didn’t hold him up, and he fell hard to the ground, his blubber unable to cushion the pain of hitting the dirt. Zhou Xiaofu finally saw who was attacking him: it was Zhou Song. Clutching his bloody nose, he glared, “Zhou Song! How dare you hit me?!”

Zhou Song’s face remained cold and unyielding as he stepped forward and continued to pummel him.

“Ah! Ah! Zhou Song, you bas— Ah!”

Zhou Xiaofu’s wails echoed through the deserted path, interrupted by the relentless punches that left him barely able to form a complete sentence. This quiet spot, where he had planned to corner Shen Qingzhu, now became a place where his own cries for help went unanswered.

With red eyes, Zhou Song kept hitting him, his pent-up anger pouring out in every punch. Why should he have to hold back, afraid of disturbing the person he treasured? How dare this disgusting fool even think of laying a finger on Shen Qingzhu? He was nothing but filth!

At first, Zhou Xiaofu managed to shriek and curse back. But as the blows kept coming, he quickly began to plead for mercy, his voice gradually fading until he could barely make a sound.

When Zhou Song finally saw that Zhou Xiaofu was half-dead and on the verge of passing out, Shen Qingzhu, who had been standing quietly nearby, spoke up. “Zhou Song.”

That simple call stopped Zhou Song’s raised fist mid-air. Breathing heavily, his eyes were still wild with fury, like a beast ready to kill.

Shen Qingzhu walked over and placed his hand over Zhou Song’s clenched fist, patting it gently. “That’s enough.”

He led Zhou Song a few steps away from the crumpled heap of Zhou Xiaofu, lowered his gaze, and began gently wiping the blood off Zhou Song’s hand with a handkerchief. “Killing him is a minor matter, but carrying a murder on your back is serious. He’s not worth it.”

Zhou Song gradually calmed down, watching as the Kun Ze he cherished carefully wiped his hand. Shen Qingzhu’s calm and gentle demeanor, the very picture of what he held dear, made his throat tighten. “I’m sorry…”

Shen Qingzhu paused, looking up at Zhou Song. Seeing this fierce, battle-ready man suddenly look like a remorseful puppy, he felt a mix of amusement and helplessness. “Why say sorry again?”

He understood that Zhou Song felt ashamed because of his cousin’s actions, but it wasn’t his fault.

Truthfully, Shen Qingzhu had only told him about the incident to get a bit closer to him, maybe even garner a little sympathy. He knew Zhou Song would be angry, but he hadn’t expected him to react like this.

But since Zhou Song had already vented his anger, it was best to let the matter rest. There was no need to let it burden him or make him feel guilty.

Shen Qingzhu looked at the downcast Zhou Song, who seemed to be sulking like a disappointed puppy. Unable to resist this time, he reached out and gently patted his head.

Zhou Song blinked, then slowly looked up, meeting Shen Qingzhu’s smiling eyes. Feeling the soft touch on his head, he stared blankly, a little stunned.

Unable to resist, Shen Qingzhu then pinched his cheeks, watching with delight as Zhou Song’s rugged face morphed into a silly expression. Laughing, he teased, “Zhou Song, you’re so obedient.”

Obedient? Zhou Song’s eyes showed a flicker of confusion. He’d heard people describe him as hardworking, quiet, reliable, but obedient? He hadn’t heard that word since he was a child.

As the confusion faded, he became aware that the Kun Ze was touching his face. Realizing this belatedly, his face turned bright red, but he didn’t pull away, enjoying the feeling too much to move.

Watching Zhou Song stand there, blushing and letting him pinch his face, brought Shen Qingzhu endless amusement. After releasing his grip, he gently rubbed Zhou Song’s face where he’d pinched it, then continued wiping his hand as he advised, “Zhou Song, don’t take every mistake onto yourself. Since you separated from them, it means you don’t get along. Their actions have nothing to do with you. Understand?”

Having his face rubbed and his hand held by the Kun Ze, Zhou Song was too absorbed in the moment to focus on anything else. “I understand.”

Once Zhou Song’s hands were clean, Shen Qingzhu checked carefully to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself. He even felt his knuckles, asking, “Do your joints hurt?”

Zhou Song quickly shook his head, showing he was fine. He was sturdy and knew better than to hurt himself punching a useless thug.

Once Zhou Song was cleaned up and assured he wasn’t injured, Shen Qingzhu finally spared a glance at Zhou Xiaofu, lying on the ground. His face was swollen, bruised, and bloody, looking quite disgusting. Shen Qingzhu wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Just then, a large hand came into his view, shielding his gaze from the sight. Zhou Song’s hand didn’t touch him, only gently blocking his line of sight.

Zhou Song didn’t want such filth tainting the Kun Ze’s eyes. Looking back at Zhou Xiaofu, he said, “He’s passed out. Won’t be waking up anytime soon.”

Shen Qingzhu didn’t object. Since Zhou Song didn’t want him looking, he didn’t look. Instead, he turned to Zhou Song and asked, “What should we do with him?”

Leaving Zhou Xiaofu here wasn’t an option, but taking him home would invite trouble. Shen Qingzhu had witnessed Zhou Xiaofu’s mother’s behavior and suspected she wouldn’t let the matter rest.

Zhou Song, a straightforward person, had already thought of the consequences when he’d decided to act, so he didn’t feel particularly troubled. “I’ll take him back. You act like you never saw him today.”

Zhou Xiaofu’s attempted assault, even if unsuccessful, would still tarnish Shen Qingzhu’s reputation if it became known. To protect him, Zhou Song needed to ensure he was completely uninvolved in the incident.

But Shen Qingzhu disagreed. Since this had all started because of him, he couldn’t let Zhou Song bear the consequences alone.

Zhou Song was about to protest when Shen Qingzhu raised a slender finger to his lips, effectively silencing him and making him unconsciously hold his breath.

Raising an eyebrow, Shen Qingzhu smiled. “You hit him. With no witnesses, why should we admit to anything?”

Zhou Song blinked in surprise.

•

During the farming off-season, men who hadn’t gone off to find extra work were busy helping around the house, often taking on tasks their wives couldn’t manage.

Some were repairing roofs or adding insulation to their houses to keep the cold at bay during the upcoming snowy nights. Others fetched water or chopped firewood, all the while teaching their sons some basic maintenance skills.

When they needed a break from the confines of the house, they’d set up a stool by the door and relax for a bit.

“Anyone home?”

A middle-aged man who’d been sitting by his door fixing some worn-out farm tools heard a distressed voice from afar. Looking up, he saw the young Shen Xiaolang, who seemed to have run over from somewhere, looking quite shaken.

This young man lived nearby and would greet him politely whenever they passed each other. The man was naturally kind-hearted, so seeing him in such a flustered state, he quickly stood up and called out, “What’s wrong?”

Hearing the response, Shen Qingzhu jogged over but, mindful of propriety, kept his distance. With a distressed look, he pointed in a certain direction. “Uncle, I was taking a shortcut home along that path, and I saw someone lying there, covered in blood. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, and I was too scared to get closer.”

“What?!” The man’s eyes widened. If someone had died, this was no small matter. He immediately prepared to go check it out, recognizing the path Shen Qingzhu had pointed to as a route he sometimes took himself.

“Uncle,” Shen Qingzhu hesitated, “maybe it’d be better to call a couple more people to come with you. I’m worried it’ll be hard to explain otherwise…”

The man paused, realizing he’d need witnesses just in case. He thanked Shen Qingzhu and went to call two more neighbors, also sending his son to notify the village head in the West Village.

As they were about to head out, they saw Zhou Song carrying a bucket of water. The man waved him over to join them.

Before they left, he turned to Shen Qingzhu. “You should head home.”

“Yes, Shen Xiaolang, go home and rest,” the man chimed in. “You’re a Kun Ze, and you look like you’ve had quite a scare. Go home and calm down. If the village head needs to ask questions later, we’ll send someone for you.”

The group reassured him before rushing off, while Zhou Song gave Shen Qingzhu a comforting look before joining them.

Once they were gone, Shen Qingzhu’s frightened expression vanished. With so many “witnesses” now, even if Zhou Xiaofu woke up and claimed Zhou Song had beaten him, no one would believe it.

When Zhou Song and the others reached the path, Zhou Xiaofu was still lying on the ground like a dead pig.

Before he’d left, Zhou Song had checked that Zhou Xiaofu was just unconscious, not dead.

The men surrounded Zhou Xiaofu, startled by his swollen, bloodied face. One of them, braver than the rest, checked his breathing and sighed in relief. “He’s alive.”

With that assurance, they relaxed and checked him over for injuries. There was no sign of life-threatening harm, just a thorough beating.

“Tsk, wonder who was angry enough to do this,” one of them muttered, shaking his head.

The sight alone made them wince in sympathy.

The middle-aged man wanted to try reviving Zhou Xiaofu, but finding nowhere suitable to press, he examined his face more closely and exclaimed, “Zhou, come here! Isn’t this your cousin?”

Zhou Song, who’d been silent until now, raised an eyebrow in “surprise” and stepped closer. “It really is him!”

“What was he doing lying here in East Village, and who could’ve beaten him like this?” the man frowned.

Knowing it was Zhou Xiaofu, the men weren’t entirely shocked he’d been beaten up.

He was universally disliked, despite being Zhou Song’s cousin. He’d grown up causing trouble, and as an adult, he was lazy, crude, and often harassed the village girls. He hadn’t yet crossed any severe lines, which was the only reason the girls’ families hadn’t retaliated.

But with a personality like his, no one was fond of him. Being beaten was something he’d brought on himself.

Still, as a fellow villager, they couldn’t just leave him there.

“Zhou, since he’s your cousin, how about we help take him to your house?” suggested the middle-aged man.

After exchanging glances, the others agreed. Though Zhou Song didn’t get along with his cousin, they were family, so it made sense to take him there.

“Thank you,” Zhou Song replied.

Zhou Xiaofu, with his plump, unconscious body, was dead weight. The men hoisted him up together, reminiscent of hauling a pig to market.

Halfway home, Zhou Xiaofu groaned and bled from his nose again. Someone grabbed a couple of grass stems from the roadside to plug it temporarily.

When they reached Zhou Song’s house, they decided not to lay him on the bed since he was filthy and bloodstained. Instead, they set up two planks in the courtyard as a temporary bed, knowing he wouldn’t be staying there long.

The noise had attracted Lin Erzhu, who peeked through the gate. Seeing the commotion, he stepped in and asked, “Are you guys slaughtering a pig?”

As he got closer and realized it was a person lying there, he awkwardly coughed.

The men stifled their laughter at Lin Erzhu’s comment, smiling slightly but restraining themselves—after all, this was Zhou Song’s cousin, and it wouldn’t be polite.