That same winter, five-year-old Jiang Sheng nearly didn't make it through the snow. It was Zhang Xianglian who gave her hot water and food, and then took her back to the dilapidated temple in Shilipu Village, giving her a home that didn't feel like a home.
From the age of five to seven, as she became increasingly clever, she began to steal food and was beaten no less than seven or eight times. Some were just a symbolic slap, while others left her covered in bruises and unable to move for three days. Fortunately, she survived all of them.
Luck, what an ironic word.
You can call her lucky to have survived, or you can consider her unlucky to have suffered such hardship.
Old Madam Jiang lowered her head and remained silent, large tears falling onto the envelope and staining the ink.
Tan Yue stood beside him, her face full of worry, but she dared not utter a sound.
Turning the page further, you'll find speculation about Jiang Sheng's age.
According to the description from her mother-in-law's neighbor, Jiang Sheng was about six or seven months old when she was an infant. It was impossible to determine her age from her later physical development, but the sum of the years matched Jiang Sheng's current age of eleven.
According to neighbors, Jiang Sheng was fair-skinned and chubby at the time. Although she cried loudly after being hungry for a day, her voice was loud and she was healthy. As a result, the whole village wondered who would abandon such a normal child.
The only point of doubt is that the cloth used to wrap the child was very ordinary, without any characteristics of a wealthy family; it was just the most common cotton cloth and could not be used to prove Jiang Sheng's identity.
Of course, this is from the perspective of outsiders.
Only Old Madam Jiang understood why. After thinking it through, her eyes widened in fury, and she slammed her cane down hard on the bluestone slab. "That damned thing!"
"Damn it!"
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