Sold into a ghost marriage? Four-year-old and his thuggish father go on a killing spree.

"Niannian! Come with your second uncle, let's go back to Grandma's house!"

When the voice came from behind Cheng Tiezhu, Niannian's body stiffened abruptly.

Her reaction was faster than Gu Yanqiu's.

She recognized that voice—that tone.

In the kitchen of her maternal grandmother's house, on the night she was bound hand and foot and stuffed into the oxcart,

As she desperately peered out through the crack in the coffin lid—

The voice kept saying, "Get it away quickly, get it away quickly, don't let the neighbors hear it."

Second maternal uncle. Song Jianguo.

He stood behind Cheng Tiezhu, wearing a dusty old cotton-padded jacket, with a fawning smile on his face.

A man in his forties, with a pointed face and a few sparse stubbles on his chin.

His eyes darted around, clearly indicating he wasn't someone to be trifled with.

Gu Yanqiu shielded Niannian behind him, his body tensing instantly as he assumed a defensive posture.

"Who are you?"

"Oh my, isn't this Brother Yanqiu?" Song Jianguo grinned, his face crinkling with wrinkles as he rubbed his hands inside his sleeves. "I'm Nian Nian's second uncle! Her grandmother was frantic, saying the child had been missing for days and they couldn't find her anywhere—she heard she'd come here, so she quickly sent me to check on her."

His gaze passed over Gu Yanqiu's shoulder and landed on Nian Nian's face.

"Niannian, your second uncle is here to pick you up. Your grandma misses you so much she can't even eat—"

"She wants me dead."

Niannian's voice wasn't loud, but every word was as sharp as ice shards.

There were a few neighbors who had been watching the commotion outside the courtyard, but they were all stunned when they heard this.

Song Jianguo's smile froze on his face.

Niannian peeked out from behind Gu Yanqiu, her bright black eyes staring straight at Song Jianguo.

"Second Uncle, how much did you sell me for?"

Song Jianguo's expression changed.

"You, you child—what nonsense are you spouting—"

"Two hundred yuan." Niannian's voice was flat and calm, like she was reciting a text. "Grandma took two hundred yuan and sold me to the Wang family for a ghost marriage. My second aunt helped tie the rope. You drove the oxcart."

The entire audience fell silent.

Cheng Tiezhu's face darkened, and his thick eyebrows furrowed tightly.

Song Jianguo's lips twitched, his eyes flickered several times, and his voice suddenly rose.

"This child, this child is mentally ill! Who sold her? Her grandmother loves her so much—"

"Alright." Cheng Tiezhu's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a slap on the table. "Song Jianguo, listen to me carefully—selling children for ghost marriages is illegal. If I report this to the commune, not a single member of your Zhao family will escape."

Song Jianguo's face turned pale instantly.

"I...I'm not here to cause trouble—"

"Then what are you doing here?" Cheng Tiezhu took a step forward, his square face filled with murderous intent. "Here to pick up the child? Where to take him? To sell him again?"

"I--"

"roll."

Cheng Tiezhu slammed his large hand on the door frame, making the door bang loudly.

"Go back and tell Zhao that Niannian is Gu Yanqiu's daughter, registered in Chengjiawan, and under the jurisdiction of our brigade. If anyone dares to come and claim her again, I, Cheng Tiezhu, will accompany them to the commune to reason with them."

Song Jianguo stood there, his face turning pale and then flushed.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but when he met Cheng Tiezhu's piercing eyes, he ultimately didn't dare to speak.

He took two steps back and glanced at Niannian's face again.

There was hatred in that glance—not hatred for Niannian herself, but hatred that she had come back alive.

If you come back alive, you are a witness.

He turned and left.

As I stepped out of the courtyard, my steps were so hurried, as if I were on springs, that I plunged headlong into the darkness of Chengjiawan.

Cheng Tiezhu watched his figure disappear, then turned back to look at Gu Yanqiu.

"Your daughter's maternal grandmother's house is quite something."

The sarcasm in that sentence is as sour as vinegar.

Gu Yanqiu stood at the door, his face ashen, his knuckles white from clenching his fists.

He bent down and squatted in front of Niannian.

"Niannian, are you scared?"

Niannian tilted her head.

"I'm not afraid."

She spoke in a very steady voice.

But Gu Yanqiu noticed—her two little hands were trembling.

It's not because of the cold.

It was because of that voice. The voice of my second uncle.

That sound represented an oxcart, a rope, a coffin, and a moonless night.

Gu Yanqiu picked up Niannian and turned to go into the house.

Cheng Tiezhu stood outside the door, lit the cigarette in his hand, and took a deep drag.

"Those people from the Zhao family..."

He muttered something to himself, but the sound was carried away by the wind.

-

The next morning, Gu Yanqiu got up even earlier than the day before.

The sky was still a hazy gray, and the chickens in the yard hadn't crowed yet, but he had already put on his cotton-padded coat.

What happened last night kept him awake all night.

He squatted by the bed and watched Niannian for a while—the little girl was curled up in the quilt, her brows slightly furrowed, as if she were dreaming.

I don't know if the things in my dreams are good or bad.

He placed the half-eaten steamed bun and a bowl of cold water left on the stove by the bedside, bent down and whispered something.

"Dad's gone to work. Close the door and don't go anywhere."

She hummed in agreement, but didn't open her eyes.

Gu Yanqiu pushed the door open and pulled it shut from the outside.

The wind this morning was even stronger than yesterday; it felt like someone was rubbing my face with sandpaper.

He hunched his shoulders and walked toward the threshing ground, taking two steps before turning back to glance at the door of the dilapidated house.

The door panel was crooked and wobbled in the wind.

He felt very uneasy.

But he has to earn work points.

Half a bag of sweet potatoes won't last more than two days.

He gritted his teeth, turned around, and strode away.

-

Niannian was woken up by the urge to urinate.

She lay in bed for a while, her legs tightly pressed together, unable to hold it in any longer.

There was no chamber pot or urinal in the room—Gu Yanqiu, a grown man, never had these things before.

Niannian put on her cotton-padded coat, slipped on her worn-out cloth shoes that were two sizes too big, pushed the door open a crack, and peeked out.

There was no one in the yard.

The Gu family's outhouse was in the southeast corner of the courtyard, about thirty steps away from where she lived on the west side.

Niannian took a deep breath, crouched down, and slipped out.

She walked very fast.

The chilblains on the soles of her feet hadn't fully healed, and every step she took hurt, but she gritted her teeth and kept quiet.

As she reached the door of the outhouse, a sharp voice suddenly rang out behind her.

"stop!"

Niannian's body instinctively paused before she slowly turned her head.

Wang Guifang stood with her hands on her hips at the kitchen door.

The woman, in her fifties, had a sagging face and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Her small eyes were fixed on Niannian with a sharp, predatory gaze.

"What are you doing? Who told you to come out?"

"I need to use the restroom." Niannian's voice was neither too loud nor too soft, neither humble nor arrogant.

Wang Guifang frowned slightly.

What she hates most is this kind of arrogance and servility.

If you cry or make a fuss with a four-year-old girl, she has a hundred ways to deal with you.

But that calm, indifferent look in your eyes—it's unsettling.

"Come over here quickly after you're done! Come to the main room!"

Wang Guifang threw down those words, turned around, and slapped her shoes twice as she walked away.

Nian Nian remained unmoved.

She finished using the restroom first.

Then he slowly walked towards the main room.

-

The main room was more than three times larger than the woodshed where Niannian lived.

A square table and two armchairs were placed directly opposite the door.

Two faded New Year pictures were pasted on the wall, and a kerosene lamp hung above.

A smell of corn porridge wafted from the kitchen, mixed with the smoke from burning firewood.

Wang Guifang sat on a stool next to the octagonal table, clutching a pair of unfinished shoe soles in her hand, her gaze fixed on Niannian like a nail.

"Come here. Stand still."

Niannian walked to the octagonal table and stood still.

His back was ramrod straight.

She had stood in this position many times—at her maternal grandmother's house, Zhao Shi also made her stand like this, punishing her for most of the day. She was not allowed to move, cry, or sit. She was not allowed to lean against the wall.

Nian Nian knows better than anyone how to stand and take a scolding.

Wang Guifang looked her up and down, then curled her lip in disapproval.

"Now that you've come to our Gu family—I don't care where you're from or who your mother is—once you're in this door, you have to know the rules."

Niannian didn't say anything.

In our Gu family, children must be obedient! You're not allowed to talk back to your elders! You have to do whatever we tell you to do!

Wang Guifang raised her voice and slapped her shoe on the table with a "thud".

"Don't think you can freeload just because you're young! Your father is a good-for-nothing; the few work points he earns aren't even enough to fill a tooth gap. Since you're here, you have to contribute to the family—sweep the yard, feed the chickens, wash the dishes, fetch water—you can't miss a single one!"

Niannian stood there, motionless.

Her two small hands hung down at her sides, her fingers slightly curled—a posture that suggested she was ready to be hit at any moment.

But she did not bow her head.

She looked at Wang Guifang calmly.

This calm made Wang Guifang feel inexplicably uneasy.

She had seen all kinds of children—children from dozens of families in Gujia Village. When scolded, they would either cry or run away. The bolder ones would talk back, while the timid ones would cower in a ball and tremble.

But I've never seen a four-year-old girl who, after being scolded, neither cries nor talks back, but just quietly looks at you.

Those eyes were dark and bright, like two deep wells.

You look inside, but you can't see the bottom.

There was no fear, no resentment, not even hatred—only an unsettling calm.

It's as if they're saying: Are you done training? Can I leave now that you're done?

Wang Guifang unconsciously lowered her voice.

She always felt that her methods of disciplining people were ineffective against this girl—like punching cotton, soft and yielding, with no point of impact.

Just then, the curtain to the inner room was lifted, and a little girl came out carrying half a bowl of corn porridge.

Gu Xiaohe. Daughter of Gu Yanchun and Sun Xiufen.

Five years old, chubby and fair-skinned—in this day and age, being chubby and fair-skinned meant that one was well-fed at home.

She had a round face, her hair was tied in two small buns, and she was wearing a floral cotton-padded jacket. In the bowl in her hand, besides corn porridge, there was also a piece of brown sugar.

In rural areas in 1964, brown sugar was a precious commodity that was only used during the Lunar New Year.

When Gu Xiaohe came out, she first glanced at Niannian, then seemed to be startled by this unfamiliar little girl who was as thin as a bamboo pole, and moved closer to Wang Guifang.

"Grandma, who is she?"

Wang Guifang reached out and pulled Gu Xiaohe to her side, her expression instantly changing from fierce to loving—the change was so swift that Nian Nian saw it and suddenly felt a chill in her heart.

The Zhao family was the same.

They show one face to strangers' children and another to their own beloved children.

He flips through the pages faster than he flips through a book.

"This is a wild girl your second uncle picked up from outside," Wang Guifang said nonchalantly.

I found it.

Wild girl.

Niannian's eyelashes fluttered.

Hearing this, Gu Xiaohe became bolder. She took the bowl, walked two steps away from Niannian, deliberately picked up the piece of brown sugar from the bowl, and put it in her mouth, crunching it loudly.

They chewed very loudly.

While chewing, he glanced sideways at Niannian.

"This is what my grandma only gave me to eat; you don't have any."

When the five-year-old girl said this, her tone carried a sense of superiority that she had learned from adults—not innate, but taught.

They were taught by Wang Guifang and Sun Xiufen.

The old hen in the yard clucked twice, as if in agreement with something.

Niannian glanced at Gu Xiaohe.

Then she said calmly—

"Thank you, but I don't like sweets."

Four words.

It's light and airy, like a feather.

But when the feather fell, the brown sugar in Gu Xiaohe's mouth suddenly tasted different.

She was stunned.

She was prepared for the other child to cry, beg, and stare longingly at the candy in her hand—that was how the other child always reacted when she showed it off to other children in the village.

But the thin, dirty girl with a strip of cloth wrapped around her forehead barely even glanced at the candy.

It's like—that piece of candy is not worth mentioning.

It was as if she didn't care at all.

Gu Xiaohe opened her mouth, but for a moment she didn't know how to respond. The smugness on her face instantly turned into confusion.

Wang Guifang frowned slightly.

She looked at Niannian's little face—so thin that her cheekbones protruded, her lips were chapped, her hands were wrapped in gauze, her cotton-padded jacket had several patches, and her cloth shoes were two sizes too big—this was clearly a child who had suffered greatly from hunger and cold.

But the child said, "I don't like sweets."

He said it so naturally, so calmly.

Wang Guifang suddenly had an indescribable feeling—it wasn't that she was soft-hearted, she didn't know what it meant to be soft-hearted in her life—it was a kind of... unease.

Something's wrong with this girl.

A four-year-old child shouldn't be like this.

A four-year-old child should be greedy, should be gluttonous, and should be unable to resist the sight of candy.

These things are not in this girl's eyes.

There was something in her eyes that Wang Guifang couldn't understand—as if she had tasted all the bitter things in the world, and whether something was sweet or not no longer mattered.

Footsteps came from the kitchen.

Sun Xiufen peeked half her head out from behind the kitchen door curtain.

Her face wore a "watching the show" expression—she was waiting to see Niannian embarrass herself in front of her mother-in-law, waiting to see her cry and kneel on the ground begging for forgiveness.

But what did she get in return?

"Thank you, but I don't like sweets."

Sun Xiufen raised an eyebrow.

She retreated into the kitchen, stirring the corn porridge in the pot with her hands, her mind racing.

This girl is no ordinary person.

It's not the kind of role that's easy to handle.

Four and a half years old—at four and a half years old, he can say such things and look at people with such eyes.

If this girl grows up, she'll definitely be a handful.

Sun Xiufen's hands, which were stirring the paste, slowed down.

She suddenly realized that what Gu Yanqiu had brought back from outside wasn't a burden—it was a nuisance.

Inside the main room, Wang Guifang snorted and slammed the sole of her shoe onto the table again.

"Stop trying to talk your way out of this! I don't care if you like sweets or not—from today onwards, you're responsible for sweeping the yard, feeding the chickens, and washing the dishes. Understand?"

Nian Nian looked at Wang Guifang.

Three seconds.

Then she nodded.

"it is good."

One word.

no more, no less.

Neither overbearing nor overbearing.

Wang Guifang was taken aback by the word "good"—she had prepared a whole set of curses to follow up, waiting for Nian Nian to resist or cry, so that she could take the opportunity to curse Gu Yanqiu as well.

But the girl said "okay".

She accepted.

No conditions. No bargaining. No tearful grievances.

That's it—good.

You want me to sweep the yard? Okay.

You want me to feed the chickens and wash the dishes? Okay.

Her calm demeanor was as if to say: I've done all these things before, it's nothing.

Wang Guifang had a strange feeling for the first time—she was disciplining a four-year-old girl, but after the discipline was over, she couldn't say who had won.

Niannian turned and walked out.

She paused suddenly as she reached the threshold of the main room.

There was no turning back.

"Grandma, where's the broom for sweeping the yard?"

Wang Guifang was stunned for two seconds.

"It's leaning against the base of the courtyard wall."

Niannian hummed in agreement, stepped over the threshold, and went out.

The main room was quiet for a while.

Gu Xiaohe was still standing there with the bowl in her hand. The brown sugar in her mouth had melted, but she seemed to have forgotten to chew it.

Wang Guifang stared at the door that Niannian had gone out through for a long time.

"This girl."

She muttered something to herself.

The fierceness in his voice had been somewhat suppressed.

I wasn't moved.

Something she couldn't quite explain was making her uneasy.

A rustling sound came from the courtyard.

Niannian has found the broom.

She held a bamboo broom, taller than herself, in both hands and swept the yard, stroke by stroke.

She moved slowly—her hands were still wrapped in gauze, and it hurt when she held the broom—but she swept very carefully with each stroke.

Through the kitchen window, Sun Xiufen pressed her face against the window frame, watching the small, thin figure in the yard.

Her eyes changed.

A thin layer of apprehension crept in.

This girl—I'll have to keep a close eye on her from now on.