Chu Qiao carried Little Seven on her back as she rushed back to the servants' rear courtyard. She quickly entered the room, cleaned her wounds, applied medicine, and bandaged her up. Yan Xun's medicine was remarkably effective—not only did it stop the bleeding, but it also contained a mild anesthetic powder. Little Seven only groaned softly a few times before sinking into a deep sleep.
Little Eight, who had been ill and bedridden, woke up and was now barely able to get out of bed. The child had been frightened some time ago and hadn't spoken a word since waking, just staring blankly as Chu Qiao busied herself boiling water and tending to Little Seven, like a fool.
As dusk fell, Chu Qiao wiped the sweat from her forehead. The wound on her shoulder burned fiercely. Leaning against the wall, she listened to Little Seven's faint whimpers of pain in her sleep. Her heart felt as if it were being tightly gripped, then ruthlessly torn out and thrown into a frozen wasteland. The girl closed her eyes, and Lin Xi's face once again surfaced in her mind—that handsome, pure-smiling boy, the one who had repeatedly promised to protect her, the boy who had been beaten beyond recognition, his face a bloody mess.
A clear tear slowly trickled from her tightly shut eyes, trailing down her sharp chin and dripping onto her coarse cloth shoes.
Suddenly, a panicked voice sounded outside the door. Startled, Chu Qiao opened the door and stepped out to see a girl of about twelve or thirteen standing in the courtyard. The moment she saw Chu Qiao, she rushed over as if grasping at a lifeline, crying out, "Yue'er, Zhi Xiang and the other children from your Jing family have been taken away by men sent by Steward Zhu!"
Chu Qiao frowned and asked sternly, "Taken away? When did this happen?"
"They left early this morning. I could only find Lin Xi and asked him to beg the Fourth Young Master for mercy, but it's been a whole day and there's still no news. What should we do?"
"Did they say what they were taken for?"
The girl wiped her tears and sobbed, "They said... they were sent to the Old Master's outer residence villa."
"What?" Chu Qiao gasped, the girl's words striking her like a thunderbolt. The rumors she had heard from Lin Xi about the Old Master's beastly preferences swirled like a tornado in her mind. Her face instantly turned deathly pale.
Little Eight, standing by the door, stumbled forward in a daze, tugging at Chu Qiao's sleeve. In a small, wounded-animal-like voice, she asked repeatedly, "Sister Yue'er, where are Sister Zhi Xiang and the others? Where did they go?"
Chu Qiao snapped back to reality, turned, and sprinted madly toward the gate.
"Yue'er!" the girl called from behind, but Chu Qiao didn't look back. A sense of foreboding quickly seized her heart. She didn't know if she was still in time, if there was still a chance to save those children. She could only run forward with all her might, not daring to stop for a moment.
Passing Green Mountain Courtyard, the stables, the rear garden, and further ahead was the winding corridor leading to the front estate. Just then, hurried footsteps suddenly echoed. Chu Qiao cautiously halted.
"Sister Yue'er?" a small voice called from behind. Chu Qiao turned in surprise to see Little Eight standing there pitifully in an oversized short gown, barefoot, staring blankly as she asked, "Where did Sister Zhi Xiang and the others go?"
Chu Qiao pulled Little Eight close and crouched with her behind a cluster of withered flowers. It was already winter, and all the blooms had long faded. Fortunately, it was nighttime, and the area was poorly lit, making them difficult to spot unless one looked carefully.The sound of footsteps grew closer. Four people were pushing a cart together—one pushing while three others supported it from the sides. The path Chu Qiao had taken was already quite remote, seldom traversed except by cleaning servants. She pulled Xiao Ba down to crouch in the flower bushes, quietly waiting for these people to pass.
Just as they reached the spot where Chu Qiao and the child were hiding, the group suddenly halted. Xiao Ba was clearly terrified, trembling all over, clutching tightly at Chu Qiao’s clothes, not daring to move a muscle. One of the men said gruffly, "Let’s rest for a bit, brothers. We’ve been walking such a long way without a break—at least let me have a smoke."
The others laughed, "Old Liu’s craving for a smoke is acting up again." With that, they chuckled and struck flint to light their pipes.
Chu Qiao grew anxious, her brow furrowed tightly. A cold wind blew, and Xiao Ba, in her thin clothing, shivered even more violently. Suddenly, the north wind picked up fiercely, whipping off the straw mat covering the cart with a sharp rustle. The mat spun several times in the air before landing on the ground with a dull thud. The yellow straw mat was stained a dark crimson, completely soaked in dried blood.
Chu Qiao and Xiao Ba both looked toward the cart and were instantly struck as if by lightning. Chu Qiao swiftly reached out and clamped her hand tightly over Xiao Ba’s mouth!
The moon broke through the clouds, casting a ghastly pale light. On the small cart, piled layer upon layer, were the small corpses of children, stacked like lifeless cabbages and radishes. At the very top lay Zhi Xiang’s emaciated, tiny body, naked and covered in bruises. Her eyes were wide open, the corners caked with dark blood clots. Her lower body was a mess, and her hands and feet were still bound with rough hemp rope, twisted in an unnatural, humiliating pose.
Chu Qiao held Xiao Ba’s mouth firmly, her other arm wrapped tightly around the child. Xiao Ba seemed to have gone mad, desperately trying to break free and rush out. Large, scalding tears fell like drops of fire onto Chu Qiao’s arm. The child’s teeth sank mercilessly into Chu Qiao’s hand, drawing blood that seeped out and trickled down her pale wrist, dripping into the dark soil. Moonlight filtered through the sparse branches of the flowering trees, casting mottled shadows over them, bleak and frost-like.
After what felt like an eternity, the cart gradually moved away, and silence fell all around. Chu Qiao slowly released her hand. The flesh on her wrist was torn and mangled, a gruesome sight. Xiao Ba seemed to have lost her senses, staring blankly, unable to speak. Chu Qiao patted the child’s cheek, her voice hoarse and ghostly as she softly called her name.
A mournful wind rustled through the withered trees. In the profound stillness of the night, the faint sounds of music and revelry from the front manor seemed to drift over from another world.
"Kill them…"
The six-year-old child suddenly murmured, her eyes fixed and vacant, "I’m going… going to kill them."
Chu Qiao froze, her hand stilling mid-motion.
The child’s eyes were bloodshot as she frantically searched around, as if looking for something. Suddenly, she grabbed a stone from the flower bushes and stood up, ready to charge out. Chu Qiao reacted swiftly, seizing the child and holding her tightly in her arms.
"Kill them! Kill them!" the child screamed hysterically, her small face contorted with frenzied hatred and despair. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she teetered on the brink of collapse.
Chu Qiao’s heart ached as if pierced by a knife. She held the frantic child close, tears finally streaming down her own face.
These beasts, these savages, these scum who deserved to die ten thousand times over without atoning for their sins.Never before had she felt such hatred, never before had she wanted to kill so intensely. An overwhelming tide of hatred seemed to engulf her entire being. She hated with every fiber of her being—hated the cruelty of those people, hated this wicked world, hated her own weakness, hated her own powerlessness, hated that she could only watch helplessly without being able to do anything. The nearly hysterical cries of the child in her arms felt like a knife, stabbing repeatedly into her heart and lungs. If she had a submachine gun at that moment, she would have charged into the former master's residence without hesitation and slaughtered all those scum.
But she didn't. She had nothing. No money, no influence, no background, no martial skills, no sophisticated weapons. She was merely a wandering soul from another world trapped in Jing Yue'er's small body. Though she possessed knowledge and intellect spanning thousands of years beyond this era, at this moment, she could only crouch hidden among the flowers, unable to muster the courage to see them one last time.
Chu Qiao slowly raised her head, the cold moonlight falling upon her face. She silently swore to herself: just this once. Never again would she live like this—utterly destitute, completely defenseless. Never again!
The cold moon shone like water. In the vast Zhuge family mansion, two weak, lowly slaves crouched among the flower bushes in the rear garden, huddled together like two frightened puppies, their hearts boiling with hatred potent enough to destroy heaven and earth.
By the time they returned to the servants' backyard, it was already deep into the night. Before even entering the courtyard, they noticed the door was wide open. Chu Qiao's heart instantly turned cold. Releasing Xiao Ba's hand, she rushed inside to find the room in complete disarray. The bedding on the kang was stained with blood, and the floor bore numerous adult footprints—but there was no trace of Xiao Qi.
"Yue'er, you're back!"
The girl from earlier suddenly emerged from beneath the firewood pile in the corner. Chu Qiao hurried over, grabbing her urgently and asking in a low voice, "Where's Xiao Qi? Where did she go?"
The girl sobbed, "Steward Zhu brought people here. He said Xiao Qi's hand is broken and she can't work anymore. They carried her away, saying they're going to throw her into Ting Lake to feed the crocodiles."
Chu Qiao's vision darkened, nearly fainting. Her heart almost couldn't bear the shock. Clutching the girl's collar tightly, she asked hoarsely, word by word, "How long ago? How long have they been gone?"
"It's already been two hours, Yue'er. There's no saving her now."
Chu Qiao turned to look at Xiao Ba standing at the doorway. The child's eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked back at her. The moment their eyes met, tears streamed down silently, yet neither made a sound.
"Yue'er, I have to go back now. You two be careful. I heard from the laundry workers that Steward Zhu is deliberately targeting you. Did you do something to offend him?"
The room gradually grew quiet. The courtyard outside was a vast expanse of pale, barren ground. The two children stood silently, not speaking for a long time.
Just after the third watch drum had sounded, the last two remaining children of the Jing family quietly made their way through the Blue Stone Forest to Ting Lake behind the Zhuge family. A bleak wind blew, bamboo groves swayed, and the lake lay in deathly stillness—its surface unrippled, appearing no different from countless other days and nights.Chu Qiao knelt on a high slope and said to Little Eight beside her, "Little Eight, kneel down and kowtow to our brothers and sisters."
Little Eight was not yet seven years old. Having experienced great turmoil tonight, the child's small face had lost the innocence typical of her age. She quietly knelt beside Chu Qiao, bowed deeply toward the direction of Tinghu Lake, and knocked her head three times with heavy thuds.
"Little Eight, do you hate this place?"
The child nodded silently without a word. Chu Qiao's voice remained calm as she continued softly, "Then do you want to leave?"
The child replied solemnly, "Yes."
Chu Qiao gazed ahead, her voice flat and devoid of any emotion. She slightly narrowed her eyes, her brows faintly furrowed, and said slowly, "I promise you, I will take you away soon. But before that, we still have some matters to attend to. Once everything is settled, we will leave this place."
The child nodded quietly, kowtowed with her forehead touching the ground, and spoke each word deliberately and solemnly: "Sister Zhixiang, you always prayed to gods and Buddhas for protection, never realizing that Heaven has long been blind. Please walk slowly with our brothers and sisters, and wait—wait for Little Eight and Sister Yue'er to avenge you."
The bitter wind howled fiercely in the pitch-black night. On the high slope of the bluestone forest, two small figures leaned against each other, their hands tightly clasped together.
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