They let you go out. They kept you in the village, and then kept you in the hamlet for two years before finally letting you go, only then feeling at ease letting you go to lure outsiders in, because... for various reasons, the Lan people can never leave the village, but you can, because you are not a Lan person at all, and you don't have Lan blood flowing in your veins. And your sister was the village chief's wife, his deceased wife, Lan Cuicui's mother.
Yan Miao's face contorted inch by inch before her eyes, her head throbbing with pain. It felt as if something important was about to burst from her mind, like someone was hammering her head with a giant sledgehammer. Could it be? She knelt on the ground in agony, desperately banging her head against the floor—once, twice, three times. Turning to the back... Hmm.
Even with blood everywhere, he still couldn't recall the missing parts of his memory, and prepared to slam his head against the ground again. But a delicate hand grabbed him by the back of the neck. "You want to die? Not so easy. You killed my mother with your own hands, regardless of the truth. Regardless of whether you were or not. You were forced into the village, but the fact remains that you killed her, huh?"
"A sin you can never wash away in your entire life, do you really think you can just let it go so easily? Do you think you can just die and be done with it? Let me tell you, no way!" He used all his strength... Okay, then, this sacrifice... He didn't want to come; he couldn't bear to see these outsiders killed before his eyes. And when he left, Adi... tied him to the bed with a two-meter-thick hemp rope. But in her despair, Cui Cui remembered her mother's resolute act of saving lives; she, she absolutely could not associate with the villagers. What difference would that make between her and beasts?
He struggled with all his might, finally breaking free of the ropes, and ran to stop everything. But he heard a truth he didn't want to face: the man was his own uncle, and he had killed his mother and his sister. He felt his entire life was a joke. Living in a village where murder was rampant, I felt a father who refused to turn back, obsessed with gods, and an uncle even more ruthless, who specifically lured outsiders into the city. And their combined actions were responsible for my mother's death.
I'll never forget that day. My mother cut the ropes, releasing those outsiders and letting them escape. But you all found out. He's from the village, after all. He married my father and gave birth to me. Why did you treat him like this? You could spoil him. You could even do those things behind his back, as long as he didn't see it, anything was fine. She's a weak woman, powerless to even kill a chicken. How could she withstand those blows?
As they spoke, Cui Cui picked up the hammer the leader had just brought over. It was so heavy; he couldn't lift it even with all his might. The atmosphere was tense for some onlookers. From Yan Miao and Lan Cui Cui's fragmented conversation, they had roughly pieced together the truth of the matter: Liang Youcuo and the village chief's faction in this village had truly caused immense harm. Hmm.
Although they felt Yan Miao's words were somewhat far-fetched—the exile from a high-level path to a lower-level plane—they still had doubts about the facts. However, what happened to Lan Cuicui was undeniably real. It was because of them... But when Cuicui couldn't lift the iron hammer at all, he unleashed the trembling muscles throughout his body that day, recalling his mother's tragic death. He forcefully swung the hammer and stomped down, smashing it hard against Lan Da's hand. A scream accompanied the sound of bones breaking. Could it be? He had already become numb from the pain.
He curled up on the ground, his mind a blank. He couldn't see anything, and suddenly he became a gentle girl. "Sister, don't run so fast. Achoo! Dad and Mom were just joking with you, don't go." The girl tried to reach out and tug at his sleeve, but he shoved her away without looking back. He rushed out of the dilapidated shop and walked down a path he had never walked before.
Then came the image of him raising the hammer and smashing it down on the woman's head. Blood splattered all over his face, while the little girl beside him frantically pounded his legs. Snot and tears streamed down her face, and her heart-wrenching cries filled the room. Was a tear of blood streaming from her eye? He looked up one last time at Lan Cuicui, who looked exactly like his second sister, so much so. And... I was wrong.
A resolute determination welled up within him. With his last ounce of strength, he stood up and resolutely slammed into the altar. With a deafening crash, the altar collapsed, and Grandpa Lan lay lifeless on the ground. "Mom, did you see that? The one who missed you has finally paid the price." He cried and laughed at the same time, unable to tell whether he was happy or in pain. Yan Miao, however, knew he must be suffering terribly. Such a kind person, even in her own peril, still wanted to help a stranger. How could she not be in pain upon learning that Lan Da was his uncle?
But what happened in their world was truly unsolvable, and those two beasts, Nanda and the village chief, were doomed to die.
I want to know how he became like this, and my mother, and why she became my father's wife and gave birth to me. Lan Chenchen showed him the paint; he knew only he could answer his questions. He no longer wanted to care about his father, who was half-dead on the ground. I initially thought he was superstitious, superstitious about gods, and afraid of Lan Da, so he was forced into this situation. I watched him kill my mother, but I never imagined he was the culprit behind everything. If it weren't for him, his mother and Nan Da would probably be... There are mountains in the small town outside.
They were a loving, ordinary, and kind brother and sister. Perhaps they would have inherited their grandparents' steamed bun shop, running their small business honestly and living a simple life in an ordinary family. But alas, all of that has already happened.
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