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

When Lin Qianqian returned, Old Madam Lin straightened her back even more, raised her chin slightly, and her eyes, like two blunt knives, slowly scraped across Lin Qianqian's face.

"You brat, where have you been?" Her voice was shrill and sharp, like fingernails scraping the bottom of a rough porcelain bowl. "I came in and you can't even get into the house?"

Lin Qianqian took the basket off her shoulder and placed it steadily at her feet. She didn't rush into the courtyard, but stood outside the threshold, talking to the people inside through the crooked fence.

"How interesting." Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, as if she were reasoning with an ignorant child. "You're already home, what are you doing at my house? Bringing me food?"

After she finished speaking, the corners of her mouth even curved slightly.

The smile was neither warm nor cold, neither salty nor bland, like a soft knife that goes in but is not visible from the outside.

Wang Hehua's face changed first.

Before Old Mrs. Lin could even speak, Lin Xiaohua had already sprung up from the doorframe, hands on her hips, chin held higher than the old lady's, her voice shrill and brittle, popping out like popping beans: "Pah! Why should we send you food! Who do you think you are? Just because you're separated from the family doesn't mean you're no longer a member of the Lin family! We grew up eating the Lin family's rice and drinking the Lin family's water, and now you're turning your back on us?"

Lin Qianqian waited until she finished speaking before slowly opening her mouth.

"Since you're not delivering food, then please leave." She pointed towards the courtyard gate, her tone as indifferent as if she were commenting on the nice weather. "Don't dirty my place."

"Your place is dirty?" Lin Xiaohua's voice rose even higher, sharp enough to shatter glass. "This is the Lin family's old residence! What right do you have to kick us out? You're surnamed Lin, and so are we. This house is the root of our Lin family. What right do you, an old maid who can't get married, have to kick us out?"

Lin Qianqian didn't argue with her.

She bent down and picked something up from beside the threshold—a neatly folded piece of paper, its creases frayed and edges curled, clearly having been examined many times. She unfolded the paper and shook it in Lin Xiaohua's direction, the paper making a crisp "rip" sound, particularly clear in the quiet night.

"It was all clearly written in black and white when the family property was divided," she said, lifting her gaze from the paper to look at Lin Xiaohua, then at Old Madam Lin, and finally at Wang Hehua's face, pausing briefly at each of them. "The Lin family's old house was given to me and A-Long. What? Are you trying to deny it?"

She folded the paper again, tucked it back into her clothes, and patted it down.

"Should I ask Uncle Village Chief to settle this?"

Old Mrs. Lin's expression changed.

It wasn't a sudden, sudden collapse, but rather like ice forming on the surface of water, gradually solidifying.

Her lips were pressed into a line, and two deep nasolabial folds were etched down from the sides of her nose. Her whole face looked like a dried walnut, hard and wrinkled.

"Don't try to scare me with the village chief." Her voice lowered, no longer sharp as before, but a lower, heavier tone, like a stone rolling across the ground. "This old woman isn't easily frightened."

She paused, then stood up from the steps.

She stood up slowly, even somewhat sluggishly—her back was bad, and when Wang Hehua went forward to help her, she shook her off.

She supported herself on her knees and slowly, little by little, straightened up. Once she was steady, she raised her eyes and stared straight at Lin Qianqian.

"I'm asking you, did you find something good on the mountain yesterday?"

Lin Qianqian met her gaze without looking away.

"Hand it over," said Old Mrs. Lin.

The three words, each one seemingly squeezed out from between her teeth, carried an undeniable certainty, as if she were not asking a question, but rather issuing a verdict.

Lin Qianqian was silent for a moment.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her tone flat, like a still lake. "That mountain has been climbed eight hundred times already, what do you think it could possibly have?"

"Widow Wang saw it all!" Lin Xiaohua peeked out from behind the old woman, her voice urgent and sharp. "She saw you covering your basket to prevent her from seeing it. If it's not something good, why are you hiding it? You're guilty! Hand it over right now, or you'll be sorry!"

She said the words "You'll see" through gritted teeth, as if she had chewed them in her mouth several times, savoring the taste before finally spitting them out.

Lin Qianqian looked at her and suddenly smiled.

It wasn't that lukewarm smile from before; it was a genuine smile. The corners of his mouth curved up, and his eyes shone with a hint of light, as if he were looking at a child throwing a tantrum.

"You're right," she said, her voice carrying a lazy, nonchalant tone. "I am quite good-looking."

She tilted her head and looked Lin Xiaohua up and down, her gaze leisurely, as if she were strolling through a market.

"Not like you..."

Her gaze lingered on Lin Xiaohua's face for two seconds.

"Tsk tsk, it looks awful."