As the staggering figures of the thugs disappeared around the village corner, the late autumn night wind swirled with withered leaves outside Lin Wanqiu's courtyard gate, carrying a chill as it crept into the open doorway. Shen Tingzhou slammed the bolt shut, his knuckles turning white from the force—he had deliberately held back when he attacked, only intending to inflict minor physical pain on them, but the thought of their gazes upon Wanqiu and Nian'an ignited a fire of rage within him, like kerosene doused in oil, making his temples throb.
"Dad, will they come again?" Shen Nian'an's little hands gripped Lin Wanqiu's clothes tightly. The panic from being startled awake hadn't completely subsided, and his big eyes were veiled with tears, but he stubbornly refused to shed them. Lin Wanqiu squatted down and gently wiped the coolness from her son's nose with her sleeve. Her voice was as soft as freshly ground soy milk in the yard: "No, they won't. With Dad here, no one can bully us." Though she said this, her fingertips secretly touched the jade pendant inside her clothes. The cool jade pressed against her heart, reminding her of the newly turned black soil in her spatial dimension—her last bit of strength, and the shield protecting her family in this chaotic world.
Shen Tingzhou walked over and embraced his wife and child. He still carried the chill of the night dew, but his palms were warm as he gently patted Nian'an's back to comfort him: "Dad will go to town tomorrow and make sure those people never dare set foot in our village again." These weren't just casual words of comfort; several names had already flashed through his mind—Old Zhang at the town police station was his former comrade-in-arms, and several old friends from his time in the army now worked in the commune's security team, more than capable of handling a few local thugs. He had only hesitated to reveal his connections due to his faked death, but now that someone had targeted his family, he could no longer hide.
Lin Wanqiu looked up at him, the dim light of the kerosene lamp casting varying shades of light on his sharply defined face. His eyes, which had seen blood on the battlefield, were now filled with a fierce, protective resolve. She knew Shen Tingzhou's nature; seemingly gentle, he possessed the unyielding spirit of a soldier at his core, and once his bottom line was crossed, he would never back down. "Don't be too conspicuous," she gently tugged at his sleeve. "Zhao Jianjun is still watching us; let's not give him any leverage."
Shen Tingzhou nodded, put the iron box on the table into the wooden chest in the inner room, and then carefully inspected the wooden fence on the courtyard wall—he had specially reinforced it during the day, and now the moonlight shone on the newly nailed wood, giving it a faint sheen. "I know what I'm doing," he said, turning around to see Lin Wanqiu still tidying up the scattered soybeans, the freshly soaked beans rolled on the ground, covered in dirt. "Don't keep these; I'll go to town and buy some more tomorrow."
“Don’t waste it,” Lin Wanqiu picked up a soybean and wiped it on the corner of her clothes. “After washing it clean, it can be ground into pulp. Food is precious these days.” She remembered when she first transmigrated, Nian’an couldn’t even get enough to eat with cornbread mixed with bran. She was so thin that she was just skin and bones, and she would always shiver in Lin Wanqiu’s arms at night from the cold. Now that things were a little better, how could she bear to waste a single grain of food? Shen Tingzhou looked at her earnest expression and felt both bittersweet and warm inside—this woman always managed to bloom even in hardship, using her skillful hands to make barren years flavorful.
The next morning, before dawn, just as the roosters crowed for the first time outside the courtyard, Shen Tingzhou pushed his wheelbarrow out the door. On it were two freshly sealed jars of fermented bean curd, a gift for Old Zhang—back in the army, Old Zhang always fought over the pickled vegetables from his hometown that Shen Tingzhou brought. Now, he could use these jars of fermented bean curd as an excuse to casually mention the local thugs. The wheels creaked softly over the frost-covered dirt road, and the distant horizon gradually turned a pale white, the shadows of the poplar trees stretching long on the ground like rows of sentinels guarding the village.
When they arrived in town, the supply and marketing cooperative had just opened. Shen Tingzhou first delivered the fermented bean curd to the counter, and Uncle Zhou greeted him with a smile: "Tingzhou, Wanqiu mentioned the local thugs yesterday. I was just about to tell you that you shouldn't come alone to deliver goods anymore. I'll have my son accompany you." Uncle Zhou was a long-time employee of the commune's supply and marketing cooperative and an old acquaintance of Shen Tingzhou's father. Thanks to Uncle Zhou's help these days, the sales of the fermented bean curd had been getting better and better.
"Thank you, Uncle Zhou," Shen Tingzhou offered a cigarette. "I came here today to see Old Zhang. Do you know where he is?" Uncle Zhou paused for a moment, then understood and lowered his voice, saying, "He's on duty at the police station today. I'll take you there." The two walked through the bustling market. The town was already crowded with people in the early morning: farmers carrying vegetable baskets, vendors pushing bicycles, and children carrying schoolbags. The chattering sounds were full of the warmth of daily life.
A worn wooden sign hung on the police station's wooden door. Old Zhang was sweeping the yard when he saw Shen Tingzhou. He dropped his broom with a clatter, rushed over, and patted Shen's shoulder. "You rascal, so many years without a word, I thought you..." He swallowed the words, his eyes reddening. They had been in the same class back then, and when the news of Shen Tingzhou's "sacrifice" came, Old Zhang had secretly cried several times.
"Let's not talk about that," Shen Tingzhou pulled him into the house, took out fermented bean curd from his bag, "It's homemade, have a taste." Old Zhang opened the jar, and a rich aroma immediately wafted out. He scooped a spoonful and put it in his mouth, his eyes lighting up: "Your family's cooking is still the best! By the way, did you come here today for something?"
Shen Tingzhou's smile vanished as he recounted the entire story of the thugs' harassment, specifically mentioning that Zhao Jianjun might be behind it. Old Zhang's face gradually darkened, and he slammed his fist on the table, cursing, "These little brats dare to cause trouble on my turf! I'll take men to investigate right now and make sure they never dare to show their faces again!" He immediately picked up the phone and called the commune's security team, giving them a few stern instructions. After hanging up, he said to Shen Tingzhou, "Don't worry, I'll definitely give you an explanation before noon today."
This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com