After the family split up, my stepmother and scumbag father begged me to come home.

Lin Qianqian looked in the direction he was pointing.

The gate to the courtyard was open.

That crooked fence gate, which she had personally secured with wire that morning, was now wide open, like a gaping mouth.

"Why are there so many people?" Ding Xiaohu stood on tiptoe to look ahead, his neck stretched out like a little duck being lifted up.

Lin Qianqian did not answer immediately.

Her eyes had already swept from the crowd to the courtyard.

Sitting on the courtyard steps was an old woman, Mrs. Lin, her back ramrod straight, her hands tucked into her sleeves, like a statue carried there, waiting for people to kowtow. Beside her stood Wang Hehua, a folded piece of tattered burlap sack tucked under her arm, her expression a mix of watching a play and acting, a smile playing on her lips. Leaning against the doorframe was Lin Xiaohua, one hand on the frame, the other picking at her nails, her chin slightly raised, her eyes glancing this way like a cat smelling fish.

Is there anything else you don't understand?

Lin Qianqian sighed inwardly.

This is the Lin family causing trouble again.

She should have thought of it sooner. Everyone in the village knew about Widow Wang's sharp tongue. When she ran into her on the mountain yesterday, Lin Qianqian had been wary and covered her basket. It wasn't that there was anything shameful in the basket—back then, it only contained a few wild vegetables and bird eggs, not worth much—but rather that she knew these people too well.

In Wang Hehua's eyes, if you cover it up, it means "something fishy"; if you don't let me see it, it means "something valuable".

If you want to add a crime, there is nothing wrong with it.

She took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.

"Tiger Boy".

Her voice was very low, so low that only the two people next to her could hear it. Ding Xiaohu leaned in, his ear almost touching her mouth.

"Put your things down and go find the village chief."

Ding Xiaohu was stunned for a moment.

He glanced at the courtyard in front of him, then at Lin Qianqian's face. Lin Qianqian's expression remained unchanged, still indifferent, but Ding Xiaohu saw something in her eyes—not fear, but something heavier and more profound, like a stone, firmly pressing down on her.

He nodded without asking anything.

Lin Qianqian took the basket off her shoulder and gently placed it on the ground. Ding Xiaohu also put down his small basket, and the two baskets were placed side by side against the earthen embankment by the roadside. The leaves of wild vegetables peeked out from the gaps in the baskets and trembled slightly in the night breeze.

"Go quickly and come back quickly," Lin Qianqian said.

Ding Xiaohu turned and ran.

He ran very fast, like a wisp of smoke, his shoes making a "pat-pat" sound on the dirt road, the sound growing fainter and fainter until it was swallowed up by the night.

Lin Yulong stood still, clutching Lin Qianqian's clothes tightly.

His palms were sweaty and damp, wrinkling Lin Qianqian's clothes. He didn't speak, but Lin Qianqian could feel his body trembling slightly—not from cold, but from fear.

She knew what Ah Long was afraid of.

They were afraid of those people, afraid of that courtyard, afraid of that old woman sitting on the steps, waiting for them like a judge.

"Don't be afraid," Lin Qianqian said softly, placing her hand on Lin Yulong's hand and patting it. "Come with me."

She reslung her basket over her shoulder, then bent down to pick up Ding Xiaohu's basket and slung it over her arm. The two baskets, one on her back and one in her arm, were heavy, causing her shoulder to tilt to one side.

She did not put down the basket.

It's not that I can't let go, it's that I can't let go.

The things inside—the cassava, wild vegetables, bird eggs, wild honey—are left outside; who knows what might happen? This group of people are gathered here, saying they're "taking a look," but their eyes are like hooks, trying to snatch everything away.

She carried a basket on her back and walked towards the courtyard gate.

The crowd automatically parted to make way.

No one spoke, but all eyes were on her. Those gazes were like needles, fine and dense, pricking her face, body, and back; some were filled with sympathy, some with curiosity, and some with an excitement that seemed to thrive on drama.

Lin Qianqian didn't look at them.

Her eyes were fixed on only one direction—the courtyard gate.

And the three people inside the courtyard gate.

She stepped across the threshold with steady steps.

The cassava in the basket swayed slightly, making a dull thud, as if it were calling out for her: I'm back.