TSWPF – Chapter 18 The Thief

As soon as the villagers heard Li Qingling say she’d gone into the mountains to look for food, every one of their eyes lit up, and they eagerly asked her what she’d found to eat.

Since the crops hadn’t been harvested yet, everyone was living tight. They were all desperate to find something—anything—to fill their stomachs. So when they heard Li Qingling had gone into the mountains to look for food, how could they not be curious?

Li Qingling sighed, her expression full of sorrow. She pointed at the small, cut-up tubers on the ground. “I didn’t find much… just these things. I don’t even know if they’re edible.”

Those little tubers had been watered with her blood last night, and by morning, they’d already started sprouting. So she’d cut them up and brought them to the field to plant.

Potatoes were tough plants that didn’t need rich soil. If she planted them now, they might yield something edible later.

The villagers glanced at the sprouting potatoes on the ground, then at Li Qingling with pity. “No one’s ever seen those before… Who knows if they’re safe to eat? Planting them will just waste space. Better toss them out.”

They were right—if there were any edible wild plants in the mountains, they would’ve been picked clean long ago. What could possibly be left for Li Qingling to find?

Madam Zhao smiled bitterly. “Let’s just try. If they’re edible, they’ll at least fill our bellies a little. We don’t have much grain left anyway.”

Her daughter insisted these things were edible and wanted to plant them, and Madam Zhao couldn’t bear to refuse. Still, she wasn’t confident—it was just hope keeping her going.

Hearing that, the villagers felt even more sympathy. After offering a few words of comfort, they left, except for two or three gossiping women who lingered, curious.

“Qingling,” one asked, lowering her voice, “did you go with Liu Zhimou?”

If Li Qingling said yes, it wouldn’t take long before she and Liu Zhimou became the next hot topic of village gossip.

She wasn’t stupid—why would she admit it?

“How could I possibly go with Brother Zhimou?” she said innocently, her large black-and-white eyes blinking. “Even if we’re engaged, it’s not proper for us to be alone together before the marriage.”

The women exchanged glances. One asked suspiciously, “So, Zhimou hasn’t been home these past few days either? Where did he go?” The tone clearly implied they didn’t believe her.

Just then, Li Qingling spotted Liu Zhimou approaching. Her eyes brightened, and she waved. When he came near, she said sweetly, “Brother Zhimou, these aunties were just asking where you’ve been these past few days. Why don’t you tell them yourself?”

The women turned toward him. Seeing the handsome, refined young man, they couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—what a shame! If they were ten or twenty years younger, they’d have all fallen for him. He was well-read, good-looking, and gentle—a true catch.

Liu Zhimou set down his hoe, his smile calm and polite. After greeting them courteously, he explained where he had been the last few days.

When he finished, he added kindly, “Do you ladies have any other questions?”

The women smiled awkwardly, shaking their heads. They muttered excuses and left quickly.

Li Qingling gave him a thumbs-up. “Nice one. You handled that perfectly. Do it again next time!”

He rolled his eyes at her. Then, seeing Madam Zhao working hard to plant the potatoes, he quickly said, “Auntie, let us handle the digging. Please, sit and rest.”

“Mother, go sit down,” Li Qingling added, teasing, “Every time I see your big belly, I get nervous.”

Madam Zhao refused. “Farm women aren’t that delicate. When I had you, I was still working in the fields right up until the moment!”

That was true enough, but Li Qingling didn’t care—she firmly pulled her mother aside. “We’ll handle it. It’s only a few potatoes; no need for three people.”

Madam Zhao could only stand nearby and give directions, her heart secretly warmed by her daughter’s thoughtfulness.

One dug holes, the other planted. They worked in perfect sync, and before long, the job was done.

Li Qingling straightened up, looking at the bare patch of soil with satisfaction. “Soon, we’ll have something to eat!”

Madam Zhao’s face was full of worry. “Are you sure it’s really edible?”

“Mother, I already told you—I’ve eaten it before! If it weren’t safe, I’d be long dead by now.”

“Pah pah pah! Don’t talk nonsense like that,” Madam Zhao scolded, frowning. She made her daughter spit twice to ward off bad luck.

Seeing her mother’s stern look, Li Qingling obediently spat twice and dropped the subject.

The fields were already so clean there wasn’t a single weed left. “Let’s go home,” she said, hefting the hoe onto her shoulder.

Seeing her thin frame, Madam Zhao’s heart ached, and she reached to take the hoe. “Let me carry that.”

Li Qingling wouldn’t allow it. She could hunt wild game—how could she not handle a hoe?

Liu Zhimou chuckled. “Auntie, don’t worry. Qingling’s strong—stronger than me, actually.”

Madam Zhao smiled helplessly. “Then be careful.”

She followed them home, not noticing the pair of eyes watching them from the shadows—Lame Li, staring at Madam Zhao with a disgusting gleam in his eyes and drooling slightly.

That night, when the village was silent under the moonlight, a man crept toward the Li family’s courtyard. He gauged the height of the mud wall and decided he could climb it.

Spitting into his palms, he rubbed his hands and scaled the wall. When he jumped down, he landed with a bit too much noise.

That sound was enough to wake Li Qingling.

She frowned, quietly lifted her quilt, and slipped out of bed. Taking the bow hanging on the wall, she tiptoed barefoot toward the door.

Just as she stepped out, she heard the faint sound of someone prying at the door handle. Narrowing her eyes, she crept toward the window of her mother’s room and peeked outside.

There was a man—knife in hand—trying to force open the door.

A cold smile touched her lips. Without hesitation, she nocked an arrow, pulled the string, and thwack!—released.

The arrow struck the man’s thigh. He let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The villagers, startled awake by the noise, got up in a panic, throwing on clothes.

“What’s going on?” Madam Zhao scrambled up, eyes wide with fear when she saw her daughter. “Is there a thief?”

They had nothing worth stealing—why would a thief come here?

Li Qingling nodded grimly. She saw the man limping away, trying to escape, and coldly fired another arrow.

This one hit his other leg. He fell to the ground with a thud, howling in agony.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d thought to take advantage of a helpless widow and her daughter—but instead, he’d been shot!

“Mother, stay here. Don’t go out,” Li Qingling ordered, her voice icy.

Madam Zhao was so shocked by her daughter’s aura that she could only stammer, “Be careful.”

Li Qingling nodded. “He’s already injured—he won’t get far.”

“Sister…” Little Li Qingfeng had also woken up. He ran out, terrified, clinging to her leg. “Sister, you’re going outside? Don’t go… I’m scared…”

She reached down and patted his head gently. “Don’t worry, I already shot the thief. He can’t hurt us.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She smiled softly, her killing intent fading. Then she opened the door.

Outside, Liu Zhimou’s anxious voice called, “Qingling! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, before glancing down at the man writhing on the ground.

“Lame Li?” she said coldly. She recognized him immediately—the village good-for-nothing who loafed around and stole chickens. “Why are you here? Trying to steal something?”

Lame Li stared at her, terror in his eyes. He hadn’t expected the one who’d shot him to be Li Qingling.

“Y-You…”

“Qingling, open the gate!” Liu Zhimou called from outside. Hearing the male voice, he grew more anxious and knocked harder.

She walked over and opened the door.

“What happened?” he asked quickly, seeing her holding a bow. “Was there a thief?”

She jerked her chin toward Lame Li, her tone mocking. “Yeah. Some fool decided to try his luck.”

Seeing the two arrows stuck in the man’s thighs, Liu Zhimou sucked in a sharp breath. That was… brutal.

He strode inside, his face darkening. Kneeling, he grabbed one of the arrows and twisted it slightly.

Lame Li screamed again, sweat pouring down his face.

“Talk,” Liu Zhimou said coldly. “Why did you come here?”

Li Qingling hadn’t expected him to be even harsher than her.

“I-I just… ahh!” Lame Li howled, wishing he could faint.

But then his eyes darted toward Madam Zhao—who stood pale and trembling at the doorway—and he suddenly shouted, “Madam Zhao, save me! You told me to come! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have ended up like this!”

“What nonsense are you spouting?!” Madam Zhao’s eyes turned red with fury. She glared at him viciously. To slander her like that—if the villagers believed it, how could she or her children ever hold their heads up again?

“Madam Zhao! You told me to come! Don’t deny it!”

Before he could say more, Li Qingling stepped forward and stomped on his wound. He screamed in agony again.

“You dare talk nonsense again?” she said, her tone freezing cold. “Believe it or not, I’ll shoot you once more!”

In this era, a woman’s reputation was worth more than her life. She would never let anyone slander her mother.

At that moment, the villagers arrived—only to see the scene before them: a bloodied thief, arrows through his legs, and Li Qingling standing tall with her bow, eyes like ice.

Everyone was stunned. “What… what happened here?!” someone asked, their voice trembling.