Characters:

Ruan Mingzi: The Female Lead of the story.

Ruan Mingyan: Blood Sister of Mingzi. A mute.

Old Madam Zhao: The matriach of the Ruan Family.

Madam Mao: A daughter in-law, wife of the 2nd son of Ruan Family.

Ruan Angui: Third son of the matriach. “Ruan Laosan” 3rd Uncle of the Female lead.

Ruan Chengzhang: The eldest male son of the Ruan's 3rd Generation. From the second branch of the 2nd Generation. Cousin of Female lead.

Ruan Mingzi’s face was deathly pale, almost ghostly, yet a faint smile curved her lips. She fixed her gaze on Old Madam Zhao and spoke softly, unhurried.

“I’ve heard,” she began slowly,

“That Scholar Gao truly possesses remarkable talent. In all the villages within ten miles, only a handful have ever passed the scholar’s exam, and he is one of those rare few. But Scholar Gao has always been a man of integrity and pride, he disdains the company of fools and villains alike. Above all, he values propriety, righteousness, and moral virtue. I heard that even the wealthy Master Zhao of the county once came bearing silver, begging Scholar Gao to take his young son as a student. Yet because that Master Zhao took his concubine as a wife, disrupting the proper order of family and ritual, Scholar Gao refused even to grant him an audience, he turned them away without a second glance.”

Her tone grew lighter, her smile brighter, as she raised a hand to point at the ugly wound on her forehead.

“So, Grandmother.” she continued, her voice light and almost cheerful,

“If Scholar Gao were to learn that your precious Zhang-ge’, your beloved grandson —pushed his orphaned cousin down the mountain, intending to see her dead… tell me, would such a man of virtue still be willing to take Zhang-ge as his disciple?”

“You dare ruin my Zhang-ge’er’s future!?” Old Madam Zhao’s face turned crimson. The veins on her forehead bulged as her whole body trembled with rage. In that moment, she looked as though she might strike Ruan Mingzi dead where she stood.

Ruan Mingzi merely chuckled, slow and airy “Dare I or not? Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Just then, the reed curtain over the doorway was suddenly flung aside with a loud rustle. A woman strode out quickly, her sharp cheekbones over her face, giving her a harsh, almost mean look.

Her expression was tense, and she called out in a panic, “Mother!”

Ruan Mingzi recognized her immediately—the woman was Madam Mao, Zhang-ge’s mother.

Old Madam Zhao turned on her sharply. “Why are you out here? You should be inside watching over Zhang-ge’er! What are you doing coming out here for!?”

Mao-shi’s eyes flickered with resentment as she cast a venomous look at Ruan Mingzi. Ruan Mingzi caught it, and the corner of her mouth lifted faintly, almost in amusement, though she said nothing.

After a moment’s hesitation, Madam Mao forced a smile—one that looked worse than crying.

“That string of coins… perhaps it should go to Mingzi… Zhang-ge’er has always been affectionate toward his cousins. He won’t mind such a small thing.”

Madam Mao’s eyes flashed with warning as she looked at Ruan Mingzi. “Mingzi girl, don’t you agree?” she said with forced sweetness, her tone edged with threat.

Ruan Mingzi knew what that meant—hush money. She smiled faintly, her voice hoarse but calm. “Of course.”

Old Madam Zhao trembled with rage. Her arms shook as she glared daggers at Ruan Mingzi, before turning on her heel. She went into the room, fetched a string of coins, and hurled it at Ruan Mingzi’s chest.

“Take your mute sister,” she barked, pointing toward the yard gate. “And get out of my sight!”

Ruan Mingzi caught the coins with one hand, the other clasped tightly around little Ruan Mingyan’s small. Without a word, without a backward glance, she stepped through the wooden gate and left the Zhao household behind. She still remembered where the original owner’s home had been—some distance from the Ruan family courtyard. Thanks to those memories, she managed not to lose her way.

It wasn’t far, though the winding dirt paths of the village twisted confusingly. Guided by memory, she led Mingyan through the muddy lanes, the sky heavy with thunder and the wind slicing cold against their cheeks.

She led her sister along two muddy forks before reaching a dilapidated courtyard. The main house, built from mud and thatch, was half-collapsed from neglect. Wind and rain had stripped much of the walling, exposing clumps of straw like the ribs of a dying beast. The small vegetable patch in front was swallowed by weeds, and the bamboo fence surrounding it leaned precariously, full of holes and rot.

Without flinching, Ruan Mingzi pushed open the creaking gate and stepped inside with her sister. Thunder rumbled overhead. The hut was almost bare—only a broken low cabinet stuffed with old rags, and a clay bed with nothing but a thin layer of straw.

The pain in Ruan Mingzi’s head pulsed dully. The wound from her fall still throbbed, and her body—already weakened from blood loss—felt like it would collapse any moment. She had barely held herself together long enough to spar verbally with the Zhao family. Now, as soon as she lay Mingyan down and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, I’m just going to sleep for a while,” her strength finally gave out. She fell unconscious on the straw mat, the scent of damp earth thick in the air.

Back at the Ruan house, Madam Zhao sat on the clay bed, fuming over the lost string of coins.

Ruan Laosan, holding a bowl of warm water, tried to soothe her. “Mother, don’t waste your anger. The girl’s only eleven, and she’s got a mute five-year-old to feed. No food, no water, just one string of coins—they’ll be dead before long.”

His words soothed her, though she still muttered, “That wretched girl dared threaten me with Zhang boy’s name…”

Before she could finish, loud wails came from the inner room—Zhang Chengzhang, her precious grandson, was crying again, demanding chicken soup. Cursing Madam Mao uselessness, Old Madam Zhao hurried off to quiet him.

Her third son, left behind, smirked as he thought of the silver coins now sitting in Ruan Mingzi’s hands. A greedy gleam lit up his small, beady eyes.

The next morning, Ruan Mingzi woke to noise outside. Her head ached fiercely, but the world was bright—the rain had stopped, the air washed clean. Outside the fence, a few village boys were laughing and pelting mud at Ruan Mingyan.

“You sisters are both cursed stars!” one jeered.

“Broom-stars, bringing bad luck!” shouted another.

“Hey, mute! Your grandma kicked you out, didn’t she? Cry for us! Let’s see if you can even make a sound!”

Little Mingyan crouched by the vegetable patch, arms wrapped around her head, trying to shield the small bundle in her arms. Mud spattered her hair, her face, her thin clothes. She didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Ruan Mingzi’s anger flared. “Stop it!” Instead of backing off, the boys jeered louder and threw again.

Ruan Mingzi narrowed her eyes. She noticed a few villagers peeking from nearby yards. Perfect. She let a few mud clods hit her, then cried out, loud enough for the neighbors to hear, “Stop it! That hurts!”

Then, feigning a stumble, she charged forward and “accidentally” crashed into the fence. Her push was anything but weak.

The half-rotten fence, soaked from last night’s storm, gave way with a loud crack. The boys, perched atop it, screamed as the fence collapsed beneath them. They tumbled into the mud, their faces and clothes smeared, their skin scratched by the broken bamboo stakes. Wailing, they scrambled up and fled down the road, sobbing all the way.

Ruan Mingzi brushed the mud from her sleeves and turned to her sister. She crouched, gently wiping Mingyan’s dirty cheek. “Did they hurt you anywhere?” she asked softly.

Ruan Mingyan lifted her small, dirt-smeared face. Mud streaked her tangled hair, yet her large, bright eyes gleamed like clear spring water. Though her lashes were still damp with tears, she stretched her lips into a wide, silent grin at Ruan Mingzi, her innocent joy shining through the grime.

As she smiled, she eagerly pressed something into Ruan Mingzi’s hand, like a child offering up a precious treasure. Ruan Mingzi looked down—it was a handful of peanuts, freshly dug from the earth, still covered in soil. The silly girl had given her every single one.

A pang rose in Ruan Mingzi’s chest. Her nose stung as she looked at the little fool, her heart tightening with both tenderness and sorrow. Carefully, she reached out and wiped the mud from Ruan Mingyan’s cheeks, her fingers brushing gently over the child’s soft skin.

There was a well in the small courtyard, half-collapsed and hidden by weeds, but still usable. Unfortunately, there was no bucket or rope left to draw it. Everything here spoke of neglect and hardship.

Ruan Mingzi didn’t rush to wash up. She shared the peanuts with Mingyan. When they finished, Ruan Mingzi stayed where she was, calm and watchful despite her ragged state. She knew trouble would come soon enough.

Sure enough, before long, several women stormed over, dragging along the rowdy children from earlier. The one leading them, a woman surnamed Wang wore a sneer that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t Ruan family’s eldest girl. ” she said in a falsely sweet tone, her gaze sharp as a blade.

“How can you have such a cruel heart? Look at my Gang’er—his clothes are torn, he’s scraped up all over. Don’t you think you owe us an explanation?”

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