A bunch of bored villagers—like I have time to play with you!
Behind her, the villagers were murmuring in surprise.
"Hey, what's up with that Fatty Girl? Why didn't she respond to us?"
"Did you all notice her eyes just now? Cold and indifferent—like she's a different person!"
"Maybe she took the wrong medicine or something?"
…
When they saw she wasn't taking the bait, the crowd dispersed and went about their business.
After the crowd cleared, a young boy in a dark blue shirt stood by a corner of a courtyard wall nearby, his handsome brows slightly furrowed as he watched the chubby figure disappear into the distance.
In his clear and handsome eyes was a hint of surprise.
"Zichuan! I told you to fetch a bucket of water from the pond—why are you still standing there?"
A neatly dressed woman came out from a nearby courtyard. Her skin was fair, her hair was perfectly combed and tied into a neat bun at the back of her head, adorned with a silver hairpin. Her facial features still carried a trace of charm.
When the woman called out to Mu Zichuan and got no response, she looked puzzled and muttered discontentedly:
"What are you staring at, boy? You look like you've lost your soul!"
She followed his gaze.
"Eh? Isn't that the Fatty Girl from the old Yang family? I thought she was so sick she couldn't even get out of bed. What's she doing wandering around?"
Mu Zichuan pursed his lips and ignored his mother's mutterings. He picked up the wooden bucket and started walking forward.
Widow Liu suddenly snapped out of it and rushed up to snatch the bucket from his hands.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Didn't you just tell me to fetch water, Mother?" he said dully.
Hearing this, Widow Liu grew anxious and jabbed a finger at Mu Zichuan's smooth forehead.
"You dumb kid, did a donkey kick your brain? Didn't you see Fatty Girl headed toward the pond? Do you still dare go there? What if she clings to you again like some sticky toffee?"
Mu Zichuan stood there, head lowered, letting her jab his forehead. His lips pressed into a tight line.
The way that Fatty Girl stuck to him like toffee had always been his greatest humiliation. Since he was little, it had been a constant joke among the villagers—he couldn't even lift his head walking around the village.
He disliked her, yes—but it was a simple dislike. He just wanted her to stop pestering him.
He never wanted her dead.
These past few days, since school was out, he'd stayed home helping his mother harvest the rice. In the fields, when he overheard people talking about the Yang family, he perked up and listened.
Thankfully, she hadn't died. If she had lost her life over that one angry sentence he said that day, the guilt would have haunted his conscience for the rest of his life.
"Mom, it's fine. I just won't talk to her. Let me go—I'll just fetch the water and come back."
He stood in silence for a moment, unsure of what his mother had been rambling about, then finally spoke again.
He wanted to go over… and say, "Sorry."
Even if… she might not understand.
Widow Liu blinked, then widened her eyes in alarm.
"You dumb boy! That girl's always throwing tantrums and threatening suicide. You can't go anywhere near her again. Come on, forget the water—get back inside with me!"
Without giving him a choice, she snatched the bucket, grabbed his arm, turned around, and dragged him back into the courtyard.
Bang! She shut the courtyard gate behind them, then closed the main house door too!
…
As Yang Ruoqing passed the pond at the edge of the village, a few village women washing laundry there couldn't resist teasing her again.
But she didn't spare them a single glance and just walked on. They could talk all they wanted—she wasn't losing any flesh over it.
Leaving the village entrance behind, she wandered through the fields, stopping every so often as her eyes swept meticulously across the narrow dirt ridges between the paddies, not missing a single inch of ground.
After searching several ridges, Yang Ruoqing was a bit disappointed. She realized her expectations had been a little too idealistic.
In her imagination, rural fields should be full of wild vegetables, and after the harvest, there would still be leftover grains scattered here and there.
But in reality, the ridges were nearly bare—only some cow-nibbled weeds and mugwort. Edible wild greens were scarce.
She searched several ridges and only found a few meager stalks. As for the fields themselves—empty.
Out here in the countryside, people lived hard lives. Wild vegetables were like treasure!
Standing up straight, Yang Ruoqing scanned the area and noticed that not far away, other villagers were also foraging for wild greens.
She sighed softly. Since she was already out here, she couldn't go back empty-handed.
So she turned her gaze toward the hillside behind the village.
After a rain, the hillside might have more wild vegetables. With some luck, she might even find fresh wild mushrooms.
Alright, let's head there!
The forest after the rain was damp and fresh, the leaves still glistening with dew.
The trees ahead were mostly dense pines, with fallen pine needles forming thick layers on the ground. Mixed with yellowing dead branches and leaves, the soft forest floor made a rustling sound underfoot.
Yang Ruoqing held a long pine branch in her hand as she carefully walked through the woods.
Out in the wild, one of the most essential tools was a sturdy wooden stick—it could be used to probe the path ahead and to ward off snakes, bugs, and rodents.
With rhythmic movements, Yang Ruoqing used her branch to part the grass and leaves around the tree roots, sweeping inch by inch in a carpet-style search.
This season—just past the Autumn Equinox—was when crops like rice and cotton were being harvested. But out here in the wilderness, it was the prime time for tasty wild vegetables.
After a careful search through the woods, Yang Ruoqing was rewarded. Her bamboo basket now held many fresh wild greens, still damp with the earthy smell of soil.
She found a shepherd's purse, dandelion, wild mustard, and even a cluster of okra in a shady spot.
The okra was a bit overripe, judging by the color, and it wouldn't be as tender to eat—but that didn't matter. It would still fill the stomach!
When they split from the family, Tan-shi hadn't even given their third branch of the family a single plot of vegetable garden. Even the small vegetable patches in front of Yang Ruoqing's current house were strictly off-limits—Tan-shi had made that clear.
While they were eating lunch earlier, Sun-shi had quietly discussed with Yang Ruoqing that in the next few days, she'd take a bit of the land they'd been allotted and turn a piece—maybe one or two fen—into a vegetable plot.
(End of Chapter)