Chapter 2: It Can Even Soothe a Crying Child

Liang Anrong wanted to curse, but she didn’t even know what to say, so she could only grumble indignantly, “This is simply outrageous!”

“Ningning is only ten years old. There’s no rush about this matter. Once our days get better, we’ll find a way to dissolve the engagement. We can’t just hold up the girl’s life. When the time comes, we’ll make it up to the other party properly,” Fang Zhinian remained optimistic.

“That’s all we can do!” Liang Anrong sighed helplessly. “But there’s one thing we really must remember: everyone calls their parents ‘father’ and ‘mother’ in this era. We mustn’t slip up, or we’ll be branded as monsters and burned at the stake!”

Fang Ning nodded. “Yes, we all need to be careful.”

Hunger reminded Fang Ning of her current predicament. Looking at the bare walls of their “new home,” she consoled herself that at least her family was alive and had a shelter from wind and rain.

“I’ll go see if there’s anything to eat,” Fang Ning said, stepping toward the kitchen on the left side of the house. But when she saw the state of the stove and utensils, she nearly gagged.

No one knew how long those bowls and chopsticks had been left there; they had grown moldy fuzz, and there seemed to be worms squirming about!

Fang Ning quietly turned away. The rice jar was empty, the dish cupboard just as filthy and chaotic.

Meanwhile, Fang Zhinian and Liang Anrong had gone to check the rest of the house. In the end, the three of them exited into the courtyard, each seeing the same unspeakable despair in the others’ eyes.

Swallowing whatever complaints they had, Fang Ning began to organize things. “Dad—oh, I mean, Father, you stay home and clean up a bit. Mother and I will see if we can dig up some wild greens or something. We can’t really starve.”

“Alright, you two go ahead,” Fang Zhinian agreed without worry. Heavy cleaning was a job for the man of the house, after all.

Fang Ning gathered what they needed and left with Liang Anrong.

Judging by the sun, it was about three in the afternoon.

The country they were in was called Great Liang, not belonging to any dynasty in history.

Futian Village lay in the south of Great Liang, under the jurisdiction of Shichuan Town, Changping County, Tongzhou City, a region mainly given over to rice farming.

The original family had never worked a day in their lives, so Fang Ning had no idea where to find wild greens. She decided to try the back hills.

They lived at the east end of the village; to reach the back hills, they had to pass through the entire settlement.

At this time, the villagers were also heading out to work the fields.

When the villagers saw Fang Ning and her “mother” with baskets, sickle, and hoe—clearly on a mission—their expressions changed at once.

“Hurry up! Watch the crops or they’ll ruin them again!” someone shouted.

Farmers hefting their tools quickened their pace, giving Fang Ning and Liang Anrong a wide berth as they passed by.

Meanwhile, the women sewing and chatting by the walls immediately packed up and hurried indoors, slamming their doors shut behind them.

Even the wailing children instantly hiccupped and fell silent!

Fang Ning, who had been all ready to smile and ask where to find wild greens, was left speechless.

Did she really look that plague-ridden?

Liang Anrong, never before so despised, blushed furiously and tugged Fang Ning away. “Let’s just go, let’s go!”

No sooner had they left than the child’s wails grew even louder.

Fang Ning covered her face.

She had never imagined she’d have the power to silence children!

“In all my years, I’ve never met a child who didn’t like me as their aunt!” Liang Anrong slapped her thigh. “No, we need to fix our relationships. Out here in the countryside, connections are everything. Otherwise, if we ever need help, there’ll be no one to turn to.”

Fang Ning agreed wholeheartedly. “Yes, family is everything in the old days. I don’t even know how they managed to offend everyone like this!”

Liang Anrong sighed, “But whatever they’ve done, we’re living off the goodwill of others now. We’ve no right to criticize them. Thank goodness it’s April and wild greens are everywhere, otherwise the three of us would starve.”

Wild greens grew easily at the edges of fields, so they weren’t hard to find.

But—

Whenever Fang Ning and Liang Anrong got close to someone’s field, they were driven off. “What are you doing? Get away from here! Come any closer and I’ll break your legs!”

Fang Ning looked at the burly farmer who spoke—Jiang San, a tall, fierce man, and the only villager the original family feared.

“Still staring?” Jiang San roared. He bent down to pick up a stone, threatening to hurl it at them. “Others might be scared of you shameless lot, but not me!”

“We’re not here to ruin your crops,” Fang Ning explained patiently, pointing at the fresh shepherd’s purse by the field. “We’re just here to dig wild greens. There’s nothing left to eat at home. Uncle Jiang, have a little mercy.”

Jiang San only grew more irritable. “Last time you said that, you drained Da Shi’s field dry. He’s too timid to confront you, but if it were me, you’d be bedridden by now! Get lost or I’ll smash your heads in!”

Fang Ning had no retort.

That was indeed what the original family had done: draining Da Shi’s paddy and nearly ruining his entire year’s harvest.

She had no defense.

What’s more, that very morning, the three of them had done something else to offend everyone.

Liang Anrong had no desire to cause trouble and pulled Fang Ning away.

No one else in the village would let them near the fields, either.

Among the lush green paddies, a few plots stood out—barren and untended.

“Are those our fields?” Liang Anrong asked, pointing.

Fang Ning vaguely recalled that the Fang family had allotted the original family three acres of good paddy field there, plus two acres of dry land. “I think so, but it’s already late April. There’s no way we can plant early rice now.”

Liang Anrong grew worried. “Your father and I farmed as kids. Mid-season rice can still be sown now, but it takes a long time to mature—not till late September. We have no capital, can’t do any business, and wild greens won’t last us long.”

“The worst part is,” Fang Ning reminded her, “yields here are only about two or three hundred jin per acre. Not like the two or three thousand of modern times. And we only have three acres of paddy.”

Mother and daughter fell silent, almost on the verge of tears.

“Let’s go dig wild greens,” Liang Anrong said after a moment, and walked on.

Fang Ning followed quietly.

There were shepherd’s purse and dandelion in the wild, water celery by the streams. Soon enough, they had two baskets full.

Liang Anrong was ready to head home, but Fang Ning glanced at the verdant hills and said, “Mother, I want to try the mountain!”

“No way!” Liang Anrong refused without hesitation. “You’re still just a child! Do you think you’re still that special forces Fang Ning?”

Neither Fang Zhinian nor Liang Anrong actually knew Fang Ning had not only been in the special forces, but was a top agent who’d completed countless secret missions. Even as a child, climbing a mountain was nothing to her.

But Liang Anrong was adamant, so Fang Ning didn’t insist.

The two of them went to the river to wash the wild greens before heading home, where Fang Zhinian had already cleaned and tidied their dilapidated new house.