Chapter 119 A Well-Planned Strategy

Madam Xia's legs went weak, and she almost fainted.

Mr. Xia quickly helped her up, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead like broken beads.

Looking at the drafty mud house and smelling the pigsty odor in the air, and thinking about having to face the stinking manure tomorrow, Xia Wenwen's tears welled up instantly—how could her life have turned out like this?

The team leader, too lazy to look at their long faces, turned and left, tossing out a parting remark: "Five o'clock tomorrow morning! Late arrivals will result in deductions of work points!"

The wooden door slammed shut, leaving Xia Wenwen and her son staring at each other in the dilapidated house. Xia Wenwen plopped down on the earthen bed, her brand-new dress now covered in dust, but she didn't care. She covered her face and sobbed, "I won't collect manure! I want to go home!"

Mr. Xia squatted on the ground, clutching his hair tightly, muttering repeatedly, "It's over...it's all over now..."

Hidden behind the wall, Xia Qianqian witnessed everything. She looked at Xia Wenwen's tear-smeared makeup and at Madam Xia's disheveled state as she slumped over the edge of the kang (heated brick bed), and a smile crept onto her lips.

Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind and gripped her waist tightly. Xia Qianqian was startled and about to cry out when she was enveloped by a familiar scent.

Lu Zheng appeared behind her unnoticed, his warm breath brushing against her ear: "It's me."

She abruptly pulled her hand away from his, her eyes still watering with shock as she turned away: "Did you do this?"

Lu Zheng's Adam's apple bobbed, and he suddenly chuckled softly, a sly glint in his eyes: "Feeling better?"

He had been holding back his anger for a long time. The Xia family had bullied Qianqian back then, and now they had fallen to this state; this was their retribution.

Previously, Number 8 was powerful, and he dared not act rashly because he was afraid of harming the innocent. Now it's different. He only mentioned to the captain that "the Xia family is a remnant of Number 8 and needs to be reformed." Unexpectedly, that old guy was a clever man and directly assigned him a "lucrative job."

In the village, there's really no easier job than collecting manure; even the elderly and children can do it. But the Xia family is used to a life of luxury. Asking them to clean outhouses and turn over manure piles is no different from asking them to eat excrement.

Xia Qianqian was no longer a clueless young lady; she understood the situation without Lu Zheng needing to say much.

She suddenly felt her eyes getting hot and turned around to hug Lu Zheng.

"Thank you."

Lu Zheng reached out and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes: "Qianqian, this is what they owe you."

Hearing the arguing inside, Xia Qianqian felt the anger in her heart dissipate. Leaning against Lu Zheng's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, she suddenly smiled: "Let's go home."

It took the Xia family mother and daughter a lot of effort to clean a place on the earthen bed that they could sit on. However, the hem of Madam Xia's silk cheongsam was snagged by a splinter on the edge of the bed, leaving a long tear. The loose thread fluttered in the wind, like a dying centipede.

Xia Wenwen's new dress fared even worse; it had half a patch of black mud on it from the corner of the wall, and no matter how much she patted it off, she couldn't get it off.

"What kind of mess is this!" Madam Xia clutched her chest, panting. Looking at the dust and cobwebs covering the room, tears welled up in her eyes. "If I had known that going to the countryside would be this hard, I would never have let your father give up that land deed!"

Xia Wenwen rolled her eyes in annoyance. They had come in a hurry and each of them only brought one change of clothes. Now their cheongsams were torn and their skirts were dirty. If they didn't wash them, they would have to go out naked tomorrow.

When the mother and daughter arrived at the riverbank carrying their dirty clothes, Mrs. Xia looked at her haggard reflection in the water and hesitated, saying, "This water... how can we wash clothes?"

Madam Xia's eyes darted around, and she suddenly looked at her daughter: "You used to live in the village, so you must have washed clothes before, right? These... I'll have to trouble you with them."

She handed the dirty clothes in her hand to Xia Wenwen.

Xia Wenwen's face darkened.

"Why should I wash?!" She took a step back abruptly, her dirty clothes falling onto the riverbank with a "plop," getting even muddier. "When we were living under someone else's roof in Willow Village, Lin Shulan never let me touch a washboard!"

"You brat!" Madam Xia's hands trembled with anger. "What kind of time is this to be throwing a tantrum like a spoiled princess? What are you going to wear tomorrow if you don't wash your clothes?"

"Why don't we let Xia Qianqian wash them?" Xia Wenwen suddenly said through gritted teeth, "You've raised her for so many years, isn't it only natural that you let her wash a few clothes now?"

The more she talked, the more reasonable she felt: "Yes! She should be the one to do the washing! Why should we suffer here while she lives as a pampered mistress in the village?"

Madam Xia nodded in agreement. How come she hadn't thought of that idea!

Wenwen is right. After all, she is Xia Qianqian's adoptive mother, so it is only natural for her to be filial to her.

She pulled Xia Wenwen back from picking a fight and lowered her voice, "What's the rush?"

Her eyes darted around, and a calculating smile curled at the corner of her lips: "Going to her now would only give people something to talk about. We need to think things through more carefully... let's deal with the immediate situation first."

Xia Wenwen was speechless for a moment, but thinking about it, she realized it made sense. So she reluctantly squatted down and, imitating the village aunties, grabbed a wooden stick and started beating her clothes.

But she had never done such rough work before. The wooden stick either missed and hit the stone, or it slammed heavily onto her clothes, splashing mud all over her face.

Madam Xia's condition wasn't much better. Her Xiangyun yarn cheongsam was stained with mud, and she tried to rub it on a stone like others did, but the more she rubbed, the dirtier it became, and she even made the fabric pill.

The two of them struggled for half an hour, drenched in sweat, their hands blistered. Then they looked at the clothes in the basin—

Xia Wenwen's new dress was punched with several holes, and the hem of Mrs. Xia's cheongsam was wrinkled like dried pickled vegetables, and even the color had faded a bit.

"What...what happened?" Xia Wenwen looked at her beloved dress, her eyes reddening with heartache. "I clearly copied them how to massage it!"

Madam Xia was dumbfounded. She then realized that the village women were all making coarse cloth clothes, unlike the fine silks and satins they wore. How could such delicate materials withstand such rough handling?

"It's over..." Madam Xia slumped down by the riverbank, looking at the tattered clothes floating in the water, tears welling up in her eyes. "Now we don't even have a change of clothes..."

The two walked back dejectedly, pushed open the door of the dilapidated house, and found the kitchen cold and empty, without even a spark.

Mrs. Xia's temper flared up, and for the first time, she complained to Mr. Xia: "We're working ourselves to the bone washing clothes by the river, and you! You don't even know how to start a fire?"

Mr. Xia's face darkened upon hearing this: "When have I ever needed to worry about things inside the house?!"

Madam Xia's arrogance immediately diminished by half, but she still muttered resentfully, "What time is it now..."

Despite complaining, he still angrily picked up the firewood and headed towards the stove.

Where had she ever built such a traditional earthen stove?

She used up half a box of matches before she could light the dry grass. The smoke made her eyes water, and she didn't even notice that a lock of her hair had been singed by a spark.

Xia Wenwen watched from the side, feeling sorry for her own blistered hands and even more sorry for her new dress that had been smashed. The more she thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt, and she squatted in the corner and started to cry.