TSWPF – Chapter 4 Change

Liu Zhimou turned his head and looked deeply at Li Qingling. He could keenly sense that she had changed. She used to be quiet and withdrawn, enduring scolding without ever talking back.

But just now, not only did she talk back, she even subtly stirred up public anger against Madam Liu. The villagers might not have noticed it, but as an observer, he saw everything clearly.

And in the past, every time she saw him, her face would flush red, and she would only dare to lower her head and softly call him “Brother Zhimou” before quickly running away.

Yet now, she not only didn’t blush—she even dared to speak to him boldly.

Such a completely different temperament— which one was the real her?

He found himself intrigued.

“Brother Zhimou?” Li Qingfeng called when he noticed Liu Zhimou didn’t respond.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Liu Zhimou retracted his gaze and nodded. “Alright, but the water is too cold right now. You’ll have to wait until summer.”

“Okay! Thank you, Brother Zhimou!” Li Qingfeng nodded happily. As long as he could learn to swim, it didn’t matter when.

Seeing her younger brother so cheerful, Li Qingling couldn’t help but smile. Children should be lively—he had been far too gloomy before.

As she turned her gaze away, she subtly glanced at Liu Zhimou. The way he had looked at her earlier made her heart tighten—she was afraid he might have sensed something.

He was far sharper than Madam Zhao, not someone easy to fool. She reminded herself to be careful around him—she couldn’t let her personality change too abruptly. It had to be gradual, so as not to draw suspicion.

When they reached home, Liu Zhimou set Li Qingfeng down, greeted Madam Zhao, and was about to leave.

Madam Zhao stopped him and divided half of the hairy mushrooms Li Qingling had picked, handing them to him. She told him these mushrooms were edible—she and her children had eaten them and hadn’t died—so he could eat them safely.

Liu Zhimou looked down at the half basket of mushrooms, then glanced at Li Qingling, who was lighting the fire. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. “Auntie, did Qingling pick these mushrooms herself?”

“Yes, she did. She was lucky yesterday—she met an old man in the mountains who kindly told her that these hairy mushrooms are edible. That’s why she brought them back.”

Madam Zhao smiled as she spoke. She didn’t tell him that when she ate them yesterday, she had done so with the thought of dying together with her children.

But this morning, when all three of them woke up safe and sound, she felt both grateful and relieved. Now that they had something edible, they might be able to hold on until the autumn harvest.

“That truly is good fortune,” Liu Zhimou said, looking at Li Qingling, who was busy boiling water. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Sister Qingling, next time you go to pick mushrooms, could you call me along?”

His household didn’t have much food left either. If they could find more of these mushrooms, at least he and Zhiyan wouldn’t starve, and he could save his book-copying earnings to buy fine rice for his sister.

Li Qingling was testing the water temperature—still too hot. She added a ladle of cold water. Without turning her head, she answered softly, “Mm.” After checking again and finding it just right, she called out, “Xiaofeng, hurry up! If you keep dawdling, the water will go to waste.”

Li Qingfeng shuffled over with his wet clothes, blushing. “Sister, I’m already grown up. I can bathe myself now.” It was embarrassing to still have his sister help him bathe at his age.

“Grown up? You’ve barely grown any hair!” Li Qingling didn’t give him a chance to resist. She strode over and quickly stripped him clean. Li Qingfeng, red-faced and on the verge of tears, covered himself and ran straight into the tub, hastily using a cloth to hide himself.

After setting his wet clothes aside, Li Qingling turned and noticed Liu Zhimou was still there. Raising an eyebrow, she said, “Aren’t you cold? Go take your bath already. I’ll come call you tomorrow morning when I go up the mountain.”

Liu Zhimou bent his eyes and smiled at her in reply. Even Li Qingling, who had seen plenty of handsome men in her previous life, was momentarily stunned.

He truly was good-looking—but a daughter shouldn’t be staring at someone like that!

Madam Zhao shook her head helplessly and coughed lightly twice. Li Qingling didn’t respond, so she tugged her sleeve and said, “Xiaoling, hurry and help Xiaofeng bathe. The water’s getting cold.”

Snapping back to herself, Li Qingling blushed slightly and said politely, “You’re welcome,” before turning to help her brother.

A hint of amusement flashed in Liu Zhimou’s eyes as he bent down, picked up the basket of mushrooms, and said, “Auntie, I’ll head home now.”

“Alright. Remember to take a hot bath and drink some ginger tea.”

“Mm…”

After stepping out of the kitchen and walking a few paces, he couldn’t help glancing back. Li Qingling was scolding Li Qingfeng again, saying, “Grown up, my foot—you haven’t even grown hair yet.”

He chuckled to himself.

She was only ten years old, yet she spoke with such an adult tone—it was oddly amusing.

Indeed, Li Qingling was treating Li Qingfeng with an adult’s mindset, having completely forgotten her current age.

Once Liu Zhimou left, Madam Zhao frowned slightly and sighed. “Xiaoling, you shouldn’t have talked back to your grandmother today. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Li Qingling knew Madam Zhao had long grown used to enduring humiliation in silence. Before the family split, they had always done the most work and eaten the least. Compared to the rosy-cheeked first household, her family had been pale and thin—yet her parents never seemed to mind.

She couldn’t do anything about it before, but now she intended to change her mother’s meek nature.

“Can a good reputation fill our stomachs?” Li Qingling said evenly, running her hand over the sharp bones jutting out from her brother’s back. Her tone grew colder. “Mother, we used to have a fine reputation—but what kind of life did we live? You know that better than anyone. In the end, how were we treated when they split us off? Do you still remember?”

Seeing Madam Zhao’s pale face, she hardened her heart and continued, “Father’s gone. You’re the only adult left in our family. If you don’t stand tall, what will happen to me and Xiaofeng?”

Madam Zhao looked at the bruises on her daughter’s forehead—marks from kowtowing to her mother-in-law—and her eyes filled with tears. She realized how badly she’d failed as a mother. Not only hadn’t she protected her children, she was even scolding her daughter over her “reputation.”

Lowering her head, she wept. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry, my child.”

Li Qingling frowned slightly, helped Li Qingfeng put on his clothes, then moved closer to her mother. “Don’t cry, Mother. I’m not blaming you.”

She only wanted her to recognize the truth—that if she didn’t become stronger, they’d keep getting trampled.

And in the future, when their life improved, if Madam Zhao remained so soft, all their hard-earned fortune would just be snatched away by Madam Liu again.

Worried her daughter might misunderstand, Madam Zhao hastily wiped away her tears and forced a smile.

“I’m happy,” she said softly. “My daughter’s grown up. She can protect her mother and brother now.” Gently touching Li Qingling’s bruised forehead, she asked, full of distress, “Does it hurt?”

Seeing her mother smile again, Li Qingling relaxed. “It doesn’t hurt. It’ll be fine in a few days.”

The pain had long gone numb—but she didn’t dare say that, or it would only make her mother cry again.

Of course it hurt—she’d hit her head hard enough to hear a “bang.” But looking at her daughter’s determined face, Madam Zhao pressed her lips together and said nothing more.

Instead, she silently made up her mind—she had to stand tall and never let her daughter shield her again.

The next day, Li Qingling went to find Liu Zhimou with her basket. When she entered his house, she saw his younger brother, Liu Zhiyan, reading. She walked over curiously and glanced at the book. Most of the traditional characters, she could recognize.

“You can read?” Liu Zhimou asked, surprised to see her so engrossed.

Li Qingling looked up and shook her head. “When you teach Zhiyan to read, could Xiaofeng and I come learn too?”

That way, it would make sense if she learned to read later, and she could teach her brother in the future.

She didn’t want Li Qingfeng to grow up illiterate. Even if he didn’t accomplish much, at least he should be able to read and count, so no one could deceive him.

Liu Zhimou nodded readily. To him, it made no difference—one or two more children learning together wouldn’t be a problem.

Overjoyed at the thought of being able to read openly, Li Qingling grinned widely. Seeing her silly smile, Liu Zhimou couldn’t help reaching out to ruffle her hair.

“Let’s go. Didn’t you say we’re heading to the mountain?” He picked up a basket even larger than hers and, before leaving, instructed his younger brother, “Zhiyan, make sure you memorize the characters I just taught you. I’ll check when I get back.”

Liu Zhiyan gave him a resentful look but nodded.

“Want to take a break?” Li Qingling asked, stopping to look back at Liu Zhimou, who had fallen far behind her. When he caught up, she continued, “You look tired.”

Seeing her not even out of breath, Liu Zhimou felt a pang of jealousy. Don’t be fooled by her skinny frame—this little girl could walk incredibly fast.

He leaned against a tree, exhaling heavily. “No need. I can still walk.”

“I’m tired, so let’s rest anyway,” Li Qingling said, sitting down on the ground. Then, in an attempt to comfort his pride, she added, “You’re not as sturdy as I am. Walking this far is already impressive.”

He had followed her silently for an hour and a half—she genuinely admired his endurance.

This time, Liu Zhimou didn’t act tough. He sat down beside her, staring blankly at the ground.

Before his parents died, life had been good. Though he did some chores, he never had to work in the fields like other village children.

But after their deaths, he had to shoulder everything. He learned to cook, to farm, to gather firewood in the mountains.

From stumbling at first to becoming skilled—it had been a long, bitter road.

“Alright, let’s go,” Li Qingling said, patting the dust off her clothes as she stood. She took the lead again, heading deeper into the forest. Liu Zhimou came back to his senses, stood up, and followed.

After another half hour of walking, they reached the part of the woods where mushrooms grew thickly.