Chapter 8: Different Faces

The young man nodded repeatedly, saying, “Yes, yes, exactly like that,” while shaking his leg and adjusting his posture, preparing to climb down the ladder the way he came.

But Jiang Yuan suddenly pulled the ladder away. “The village head will be here soon. Save what you want to say for him.”

Expenses had been high these past few days. Now that Xie Guanniang had somewhat recovered, and the household chores were done, Jiang Yuan planned to take advantage of the free time to catch some small game. Yet, this impulsive decision nearly put Xie Guanniang in grave danger.

He had been careless, failing to check with the second son of the village head, Chen Lizhèng, next door to see if his daughter-in-law was home before leaving.

If it hadn’t been for a village child who heard the commotion, glanced over, sensed something was wrong, and smartly ran to the fields to call Lizhèng—who happened to overhear it—Jiang Yuan dared not imagine what might have befallen Xie Guanniang.

Originally, he had told Xie Guanniang not to open the door just as a precaution. Little did he expect this wasn’t a mere “precaution” but a crisis bound to happen under the greed and scheming of certain people.

As Jiang Yuan said, Lizhèng arrived quickly.

He had been weeding with his sons in the fields when the child told him that someone from the Han family was climbing the pillar onto Jiang Yuan’s courtyard wall, and that his wife was standing guard at the door for him. Lizhèng immediately rushed back at full speed.

Behind him were other villagers who had abandoned their fieldwork, eager to witness the unfolding drama.

Among them, the younger and stronger men arrived only slightly slower than Jiang Yuan.

Just as Jiang Yuan snatched the ladder, those robust young men surged forward.

The mother and son, already terrified by the disturbance that had alarmed Chen Lizhèng, were now utterly shaken by the sudden appearance of so many people.

When Lizhèng arrived, panting and with a stern expression, the mother and son were left speechless.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Jiang Yuan set the ladder in place, and the young man clumsily climbed down.

The woman, under the intense scrutiny of the onlookers, stammered out the same excuses she had previously told Jiang Yuan, this time to Lizhèng, which only infuriated him to the brink of fainting.

Pointing at the woman and her son, Lizhèng shouted furiously.

“Going to someone else’s house and knocking, and when no one answers, you take a ladder and climb over the wall to open the door yourselves—do you know what kind of behavior this is?”

“And you even have the nerve to say it’s because you were worried something happened at Jiang Yuan’s house. So if the door isn’t opened and they don’t let you in, that means something’s wrong? Couldn’t it just be they don’t want to deal with you? Or that no one’s home?”

“In our village during busy farming seasons, many households leave no one at home! According to your logic, does that mean next time when you knock and no one answers, you can just barge in under the pretense of concern?”

“Do you even respect the law? Tired of living a good life and want to end up in the county jail? Fine, I’ll help you with that!”

Lizhèng unleashed a torrent of words that left the mother and son utterly crushed. The other villagers, whose own interests were at stake, abandoned their initial curiosity and joined in the condemnation.

They agreed wholeheartedly with Lizhèng’s words. If the pair got off lightly this time, they would undoubtedly continue using such excuses to sneak into people’s homes while everyone was busy in the fields and steal.

After all, stealing is a habit hard to break once started; whether it’s the first victim or the first stolen item, the thief will grow addicted to the thrill of “easy gains.”

The villagers didn’t want to be victims, nor did they want to live in constant fear. And unlike Lizhèng, they had no qualms about speaking plainly.

Though Lizhèng spoke carefully, knowing he had no concrete evidence to directly accuse the pair of targeting Xie Guanniang, the villagers had no such reservations. They vociferously tore away the thin veil of excuses the mother and son had tried to maintain.

Throughout this, Jiang Yuan remained silent, and Xie Guanniang didn’t even show her face. After all, it had only been an attempted trespass, and all that could be done was for Lizhèng and the villagers to rebuke them.

Once the villagers finished their scolding and threats, Lizhèng waved them off.

Jiang Yuan first thanked Lizhèng and the outspoken villagers, then stood watching as the crowd dispersed in small groups.

After the crowd left, Xie Guanniang opened the courtyard gate, smiling as she stood by the door waiting for Jiang Yuan to come in.

Their eyes met, and an unfamiliar feeling stirred in Jiang Yuan’s heart—a warm, tingling sensation that was both joyful and a little unsettling.

He stepped into the yard. “You were scared, weren’t you?”

Xie Guanniang smiled and shook her head, then extended her hands, hidden behind her back, toward Jiang Yuan. “I armed myself with a wooden stick and a kitchen knife.”

Jiang Yuan: ???

Jiang Yuan: !!!

It was the first time he had seen a side of Xie Guanniang beyond her gentle demeanor, and he was profoundly shocked.

That night, Jiang Yuan made her vegetable and minced meat porridge with preserved chicken scraps. The meat and chicken bits were chopped from leftover chicken from lunch, and the pickled vegetables were mustard greens preserved by the village women last year at Hao Yu’s request.

The chicken mince and pickled vegetables were stewed until tender and flavorful—a perfect companion to the porridge.

Xie Guanniang ate heartily, while Jiang Yuan, knowing he could only cook the simplest dishes, inexplicably felt guilty as if he were shortchanging her. He forgot that his own diet mainly consisted of coarse grain buns and various vegetables; if anyone was being shortchanged, it was himself.

After dinner, as Jiang Yuan quickly tidied the dishes, he whispered to Xie Guanniang, “Tomorrow I’ll go to town to buy some steamed buns and pastries.”

The three rabbits he had caught were still alive; he planned to take them to town to sell, then buy some wheat flour, polished rice, fabric, needles and thread, soap nuts, and grass paper.

As for the two chickens that had died, he intended to stew one for dinner tomorrow and have his sister take the other home to avoid stirring up resentment among her sisters-in-law with her frequent visits.

While Jiang Yuan was mulling this over, Xie Guanniang, walking beside him as they left the main room, said, “I can steam the buns. I’ll make a batch tomorrow. As for the pastries, I can make almost all of them that don’t require an oven—just tell me which ones you want.”

It wasn’t that she couldn’t use an oven; Jiang Yuan simply didn’t have one at home.

Jiang Yuan was surprised to hear this. He hadn’t expected that Xie Guanniang, who clearly grew up pampered, was so skilled in the kitchen.

A girl from a wealthy household wasn’t supposed to have ever soiled her hands with housework, was she?