Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

Laughter from outside poured into the house.

Some people banged on the table, some whistled, and others shouted "Groom!" The lively atmosphere seeped in through the cracks in the windows and doors, clashing with the lifeless silence inside the room, making people feel even more suffocated.

The west room was not large.

The paint on the walls had peeled off layer after layer, and the mirror by the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) was an old object that Wang Xiulan had dug out from the top of her own cabinet. The frame was blackened, and the mirror surface was also somewhat dull. When people were reflected in it, it was as if they were looking through a layer of fog, and nothing looked very clear.

A new quilt cover was laid on the kang (a heated brick bed), red with two fat, clumsy mandarin ducks printed on it, the colors so bright they were almost blinding.

But the musty smell from the old quilt underneath hadn't dissipated, mixed with the cloying sweetness of face cream, the smell of stove ash, and a hint of staleness, lingering in the room. Calling it festive felt more like covering a lump of moldy, dead flesh with a red cloth.

On the table were an open box of face cream, a wooden comb, a red hair tie, and a half-used box of clam oil.

Wang Xiulan sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), holding a wooden comb in her hand, combing Zhao Xiaoyu's hair one stroke at a time.

She tried to be as gentle as possible with her hands. Halfway through combing, the comb teeth tripped over a hair tip. She panicked for a moment, quickly lightened her grip, and asked softly:

"Does it hurt?"

Zhao Xiaoyu remained silent.

She sat there straight in front of the mirror, her back ramrod straight, her hands resting flat on her knees, like a wooden doll to be manipulated.

My face is already clean.

The black ash, mud stains, snot, and tear stains from crying a few days ago are all gone, revealing a thin, pointed little face.

There were still slap marks on the side of her face that hadn't completely faded, and a faint scab remained on the cut at the corner of her mouth.

Even so, once her face was cleaned up, it still had an indescribable fair and delicate appearance.

Wang Xiulan smoothed her hair strand by strand and then tied it up with a red ribbon.

Her hair, which was originally dry and yellow, had become more manageable after being heated with hot water for the past two days. It hung down heavily, making her already small face appear even more pointed.

Looking at the person in the mirror, Wang Xiulan felt increasingly uneasy.

This doesn't look like someone going out to get married at all.

It's like taking a dead person who has just been dug out of the mud, washing them clean, polishing them, and dressing them in red clothes in preparation for their funeral.

She held the red ribbon in her hand, but didn't tie it down for a long time.

Suddenly, an even louder burst of laughter erupted outside, and someone shouted:

"Brother Lai, don't be stingy with letting the brothers make a ruckus in the wedding night tonight!"

Then came another burst of filthy laughter, with people slamming tables, whistling, and swearing—all mixed together in a chaotic mess that sent chills down one's spine.

Wang Xiulan paused, finally unable to hold back any longer.

She slowly tied the red ribbon, then brushed the stray hairs from Zhao Xiaoyu's ears, and whispered:

"Xiaoyu".

Zhao Xiaoyu still didn't respond.

Looking at her overly quiet face in the mirror, Wang Xiulan felt increasingly uncertain, and her voice tightened:

"Are you really sure?"

"You didn't think this way a few days ago! Don't be discouraged, there's still a way. At worst, I'll go to the county, then the city. I refuse to believe that in this new China, there's still such a thing as selling women!"

Zhao Xiaoyu's eyelashes fluttered slightly.

But it only lasted for a moment.

She still didn't say anything.

Wang Xiulan's heart sank, and she lowered her voice even further:

"If you really don't want to, it's not too late. If you say you don't want to now, I'll stop them for you, and we'll think of another way."

This time, Zhao Xiaoyu finally reacted.

She first raised her eyes and glanced at Wang Xiulan.

Those eyes were terribly red, as if they had been holding back tears for too many days and could finally let them out.

"Auntie..."

Her voice trembled as soon as she spoke, and tears streamed down her face.

"Thank you so much."

"If it weren't for you protecting me these days, I would have been arrested by them long ago."

Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the hem of her clothes tightly, as if she had so many words stuck in her throat, swallowing them several times before finally managing to squeeze them out bit by bit:

"I know you genuinely care about me."

"I know you've suffered a lot because of me."

"But this time... it's different."

Wang Xiulan's heart sank suddenly, and she instinctively grabbed her hand:

"What's different? Xiaoyu, don't scare your aunt."

Zhao Xiaoyu lowered her head, tears falling one by one onto the back of her hand, her voice so soft it was almost ethereal:

"Auntie, I can't be a burden to you anymore."

She wiped away her tears, but a faint, bitter smile slowly tugged at the corners of her lips:

"You've helped me so much, I'll remember it for the rest of my life."

"If I'm not around anymore in the future, don't worry about me."

"I owe you, I'll repay you in the next life."

Wang Xiulan's face turned pale instantly, and the unease in her heart rose to her throat:

"Xiaoyu! What nonsense are you talking about?!"

Zhao Xiaoyu simply shook her head.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her voice so low it was almost inaudible:

"Auntie, I've figured it out. When a person is driven to a dead end, besides accepting their fate, there's always another way to go."

"Today, I will put an end to this matter completely."

As soon as Zhao Xiaoyu finished speaking, the room fell silent.

Wang Xiulan opened her mouth, wanting to say something more, but looking at Zhao Xiaoyu's face, which was full of tears yet frighteningly calm, her throat seemed to be blocked by something, and she couldn't say a word.

Zhao Xiaoyu stopped crying.

She simply lowered her head, raised her hand and wiped her face haphazardly, slowly wiping away the tears from the corners of her eyes.

When she looked up again, it was as if she had forcefully taken back all the shattered emotions on her face.

Only silence remained.

A deathly silence.

She raised her hand and slowly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then smoothed her clothes little by little, as if the tears and trembling voice that she had just been unable to suppress had never happened.

Wang Xiulan felt a chill run down her spine, unsure of what to do with her hands. After a long while, she finally spoke hesitantly:

"Xiaoyu..."

Zhao Xiaoyu didn't respond, but looked at herself in the mirror and whispered:

"Auntie, you should go back now."

Just then——

Suddenly, a series of hurried footsteps came from outside, followed by someone banging heavily on the doorframe twice and shouting at the top of their lungs:

"Aunt Wang! What are you dawdling for!"

"The auspicious hour has arrived! Quickly bring the bride out!"

The shout that pierced the room sent a shiver down Wang Xiulan's spine.

She subconsciously glanced back at the doorway, then abruptly turned back, looking at Zhao Xiaoyu sitting upright on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her heart growing heavier and heavier.

But the urging voices outside started ringing out again:

"Aunt Wang! Where is she?!"

"Brother Lai is getting impatient!"

Zhao Xiaoyu then slowly stood up.

The red coat hung down, covering her completely.

Her face was expressionless, and her eyes were vacant, as if she were going out.

It was like going to a predetermined dead end.

Wang Xiulan's lips trembled twice, but she finally couldn't hold back any longer. She took a step forward, gripped her wrist tightly, and her voice trembled as she spoke:

"Xiaoyu, you...you should think about it again."

"If you don't want to go out now, I'll risk my reputation to stop you."

Zhao Xiaoyu looked down at the hand that was clenching her fist.

Those hands were rough, with thick calluses on the palms and knuckles red from the cold.

These days, it is this hand that has pulled her up from the ground time and time again, held the door for her, brought her water, saved her a meal, and kept her alive in this cannibalistic place.

Zhao Xiaoyu's eyes reddened again.

But it was only for a moment.

She gently withdrew her hand, her voice soft, but without any hint of negotiation:

"Auntie, it's too late."

Wang Xiulan's face turned pale.

Zhao Xiaoyu didn't look at her again, but lowered her head slightly and pulled her coat up even tighter.

The movement was slow and steady.

It looked like he was tidying up his clothes.

It was as if they were confirming something.

The people outside were clearly getting impatient; the curtain was even yanked open from the outside with a loud bang.

"Aunt Wang! Hurry up!"

"If you dawdle any longer and miss the auspicious time, Brother Lai will start yelling at you!"

Wang Xiulan's heart clenched at the shout, her face turned bitter, and she stood rooted to the spot.

Zhao Xiaoyu, however, had already started walking on her own.

She stepped down from the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her shoes making a soft thud as they touched the ground.

step.

Two steps.

She paused suddenly as she reached the door.

Wang Xiulan's heart tightened, thinking that she had finally changed her mind, and she quickly looked up to look.

But Zhao Xiaoyu just tilted her head and took one last look at the old, tarnished mirror.

In the mirror, she wore a red coat and a red hair tie, her face as white as paper.

She looked for two seconds, and her lips twitched very slightly; it was unclear whether she was smiling or doing something else.

The next second, she lifted the curtain and went out.

A cold wind suddenly rushed in, making the dim yellow light on the table flicker violently.

Wang Xiulan stood there, staring blankly at that figure, a chill creeping down her back.

She felt that the person who had just walked out of that door didn't seem like a girl about to get married.

It's like a string that's been pushed to its limit and finally stretched to its limit.

And that string—

It's almost broken.