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

"You... talking nonsense!" She caught her breath, her voice even shriller, "When did we stop feeding you?"

"Mother, why waste words with her!" Wang Hehua stepped in from the side, rolled up her sleeves, and said, "Hurry up and search the house!"

"Hand over the keys." Old Mrs. Lin stood up from the ground, dusted herself off, and changed her expression.

"No. Why should I listen to you?"

"Are you going to give it to me or not?"

Lin Qianqian remained silent.

"Kick down the door," said Old Mrs. Lin.

Upon hearing this, Wang Hehua rolled up her sleeves and headed towards the door.

Lin Qianqian's hand touched the broken knife in the basket. The cold wooden handle gripped her palm, and her heart skipped a beat—she knew she couldn't actually use this knife; if she did, she would lose. But she also knew that if she didn't draw it now, they would rush in.

Wang Hehua raised her foot, but before she could kick the door shut—

Lin Qianqian moved.

She didn't use the knife. The knife was the last card, not to be revealed lightly. She simply took a step forward, her shoulder slumped, and like an enraged calf, she rammed squarely into Wang Hehua's side.

Wang Hehua cried out "Ouch!" and flew sideways, crashing onto the bluestone steps. She hit the back of her head and cried out in pain.

"Ouch! That hurts so much! You brat, I'm your aunt!"

Lin Qianqian didn't look at her.

She pulled the sickle from her basket. The blade wasn't large, but it was polished to a gleaming shine, reflecting a cold light in the twilight. She gripped the handle, the tip pointing at the three people in front of her, her arm not fully extended, but steady and unmoving.

"Let's see who dares!"

Her voice wasn't loud, but the courtyard fell silent instantly. Even Old Mrs. Lin's wailing stopped.

"Anyone who dares to touch my house today, I'll kill them."

The air felt frozen.

The onlookers outside the courtyard held their breath. Some took a half step back, others hugged their children tighter. The sickle wasn't big, but Lin Qianqian's eyes made everyone believe—she was telling the truth.

Grandma Lin took half a step back.

Her lips trembled slightly, and her face changed color several times. She wanted to say something, but something seemed stuck in her throat, unable to come out. Finally, she found her voice, but it was no longer the tantrum she had just spoken; instead, it was lower, deeper, and carried a tone that was hard to define as either a threat or a plea.

"Aren't you...aren't you afraid of ruining your reputation?"

reputation.

In those days, a girl's reputation was more important than her life in the village. Old Mrs. Lin slammed the last card on the table.

Lin Qianqian looked at her but did not sheathe her knife.

Lin Xiaohua shouted a sentence

"Mother, the basket!"

Grandma Lin's eyes lit up instantly. Forgetting the knife in Lin Qianqian's hand, she rushed over, and Wang Hehua followed suit, the two of them flapping their wings like old hens as they lunged towards the crooked jujube tree.

Lin Qianqian did not move.

The knife was still in his hand, but his feet were rooted to the spot. It wasn't that he couldn't stop them; it was that he didn't want to.

Grandma Lin reached into her basket, first pulling out a handful of wild vegetables and throwing them on the ground, then feeling for the hard object at the bottom and pulling it out—

"Poisonous potatoes?"

Her voice changed tone. Her hand trembled, and the cassava fell to the ground. She recoiled as if burned, slipped, and landed hard on her bottom on the bluestone slab.

"Poisonous cassava! It's poisonous cassava!" She pointed at the cassava on the ground, as if she were pointing at several snakes.