That build. That face.

There was no mistaking it—this was Liu Fen’s eldest brother, Liu Yong.

In Xia Xiaolan’s memories, her uncle Liu Yong had always treated her better than her own father, Xia Dajun. Two helpless women bullied by the Xia family—at last, someone had come to stand up for them. Influenced by the lingering emotions of the original owner of this body, Xia Xiaolan felt her eyes sting with heat.

“Uncle—I’m here!”

Liu Yong was gripping Old Madam Xia, veins bulging thickly along his neck, on the verge of storming inside to smash the place up. Hearing a soft, trembling voice, he turned his head—and there she was. His poor niece.

He flung Old Madam Xia aside and strode forward.

“Xiaolan! Where have you and your mother gone?”

Liu Yong was a mason. During the farming off-season, he helped people build houses. He had only returned from a neighboring county yesterday when he heard rumors about Xia Xiaolan. He rushed straight to Dahe Village today, even stopping by the supply-and-marketing cooperative to buy white sugar and dried noodles—just to help the mother and daughter save face.

The Xia family accepted the gifts first, then casually informed him that Xia Xiaolan and her mother had moved to the old house by the riverbank.

Liu Yong went there immediately—only to find it empty. That was when suspicion took hold.

Convinced the Xia family had done something to them, Liu Yong stayed at the Xia house half the day, demanding Old Madam Xia hand the two of them over.

Villagers usually ate two meals a day—one around nine or ten in the morning, another around three or four in the afternoon. The Xia family was waiting for the afternoon meal when Old Madam Xia tried to chase Liu Yong away. The argument spilled from the house into the yard, leading to the scene just now.

After hearing everything, Xia Xiaolan quickly soothed her uncle.

“We’re staying at the riverbank old house now. We left in a hurry—Grandma only gave us twenty jin of sweet potatoes. We didn’t bring pots or bowls, and even forgot to take our clothes and quilts. We were just about to come back for them when we ran into you.”

Seeing his niece standing there alive and well, Liu Yong finally felt his heart drop back into place. The thick bandages on Xia Xiaolan’s head had been replaced by a small patch of gauze, making her look far less frightening—but his anger surged anew.

“So Xia Dajun just lets his whole family bully you two?”

That so-called riverbank old house was so rundown even dogs wouldn’t live there. This wasn’t moving—it was being thrown out.

Old Madam Xia’s face darkened terribly.

She had assumed the mother and daughter had spent a miserable night there and come back to beg forgiveness. She had even imagined Liu Fen kneeling with her daughter, sobbing and pleading—only for her to refuse without mercy.

Who would’ve thought Xia Xiaolan came back just to collect their things? Thrown out already—what belongings could they possibly have left?

But Liu Yong was here.

And Liu Yong was nothing like his spineless sister. If he said he’d smash the place, he truly would.

Old Madam Xia twisted her expression into something ugly.

“Brother-in-law, you heard her yourself. They had a perfectly good house but refused to live in it. Tell me—what kind of daughter-in-law abandons her mother-in-law? I’m just a useless old woman, I can’t control anyone. We’ll wait for Dajun to come back and let him handle it!”

The onlookers chimed in noisily, siding with Old Madam Xia.

Liu Fen swayed, shrinking in on herself.

Liu Yong realized relying on his sister was pointless—it was better to count on his niece. Xia Xiaolan, having been through hardship, spoke clearly and calmly.

“Enjoying the show, are you?” Liu Yong snapped at the onlookers.

“This is a matter between our two families. Clear out. Go back to whatever you were doing.”

He chased the gossiping women away. Xia Xiaolan liked his no-nonsense style. Combined with the lingering emotions of the original body, she felt instinctively close to this uncle.

“Uncle… when my dad comes back, he might beat me to death. What should we do?”

Liu Yong glared. “He wouldn’t dare!”

A man who couldn’t even protect his wife and child—Liu Yong looked down on Xia Dajun. Liu Fen had always defended the Xia family blindly, which only made Liu Yong furious at her weakness. Even he had heard the rumors—could Xia Dajun, working in a neighboring village, truly know nothing?

If the Xia brothers had all stood together to defend Xia Xiaolan, who would have dared spread nonsense?

Instead, rumors spread across villages, ruining her reputation. A fine young girl—how could she not be driven to smash her head against a pillar?

Living in the Xia house was nothing but courting death.

Liu Yong shoved Old Madam Xia aside.

“Go. Pack your clothes. I’ll take charge today. Don’t live in that broken house! Come home with me!”

Moving into the old Xia house and returning to one’s maternal home were two entirely different things.

Liu Fen’s legs went weak. Xia Xiaolan, on the other hand, felt light all over. She had no intention of staying at her uncle’s long-term—but she could do business there. In Dahe Village, no one would sell her eggs even if pigs grew wings.

Liu Fen didn’t dare move, so Liu Yong told Xia Xiaolan to pack.

Third Aunt screeched, sharp and still, “Brother-in-law, must you go this far? Are you trying to tear a family apart? Can you support them for life?”

Traditionally, maternal relatives urged reconciliation—not separation.

Xia Xiaolan could be driven out—she was just a pampered girl. But Liu Fen was the family’s workhorse. One day without her, Third Aunt would have to do her chores—and that was unbearable.

Liu Fen trembled even harder.

She knew this time, her brother meant it. Her thoughts were a mess—one moment fearing her family would fall apart, the next realizing that even her daughter’s uncle had come to stand up for her, while her husband still hadn’t shown his face…

Was there resentment? Yes.

But she’d been weak for too long to voice it.

Xia Xiaolan sneered.

“Third Aunt, my uncle can’t support me forever—but can you? Tell Hongxia to return my clothes. I’m taking them.”

Third Aunt fell silent.

With no men stepping up, the Xia family couldn’t overpower Liu Yong. Xia Xiaolan rushed into her room—only to see unfamiliar shoes under the bed. Just one night, and Xia Hongxia had already moved in.

The wooden chest by the bed was all Xia Xiaolan owned. A heavy iron lock secured it—the key still hung around her neck. She hadn’t expected to take it with her after all.

Struggling, she carried the chest out.

Liu Fen still didn’t dare pack her things; years of oppression had sunk deep into her bones.

Liu Yong wasn’t a Xia—if he searched the house himself, things would escalate.

But Xia Xiaolan didn’t care.

Ignoring Old Madam Xia’s face, black as the bottom of a pot, she went back in and packed Liu Fen’s clothes. There weren’t many—just worn, tattered pieces. Liu Yong frowned at the sight.

“Uncle, we still have some grain stored at the old house.”

Liu Yong waved his hand.

“Bring it all. I rode my bike here.”

Sure enough—a brand-new 28-inch bicycle leaned against the wall. A bike like that cost over two hundred yuan. Liu Yong earned two yuan a day as a skilled mason.

Xia Xiaolan couldn’t help thinking—

Had her uncle struck it rich?

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