Liu Haitao, Grandma Shen’s maternal relatives, and Chuntao’s face kept flashing through Wang Lanhua’s mind, leaving her so troubled that she tossed and turned all night.
As it happened, Li Dazhuang, lying on the other side of the bed, was awake too.
After holding it in for a long while, Li Dazhuang finally lowered his voice and said, “Lanhua, I just can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong. Why don’t we simply give the ring to Chuntao?”
The moment Wang Lanhua heard that, she bristled. Her voice turned sharp and frantic. “Dream on! That ring is mine. Why should I give it to her?”
“Lanhua, your uncle and the Shen family have all come asking about Grandma. It’s obvious they’re after that ring.”
Li Dazhuang sighed, his voice full of worry. “We don’t have to be afraid of the Shen family, but your uncle is a high-ranking army officer. If he finds out we kept the ring for ourselves, we won’t be able to bear the consequences!”
“If I don’t say anything and you don’t say anything, nobody in the whole world will know!” Wang Lanhua’s mind was in utter turmoil, but she refused to give an inch.
Li Dazhuang could only sigh anxiously. “There’s no wall that doesn’t let wind through. What are we going to do if this gets exposed?”
Wang Lanhua gritted her teeth. “I already sold the ring!”
“You—you sold it? How could you sell it?” Li Dazhuang was so shocked that he sat bolt upright in bed, his voice trembling.
“It was mine. I could sell it if I wanted to. Nobody else has any say in it!” Wang Lanhua retorted stubbornly, her neck stiff.
“Who did you sell it to? Go and get it back right now!” Li Dazhuang slapped the edge of the bed in his desperation.
Wang Lanhua frowned impatiently. “Stop making such a racket! It’s the middle of the night. Go to sleep!”
“Lanhua, the ring itself isn’t worth much money. We should still get it back. What if Chuntao really is your uncle’s biological daughter? When that happens, we’ll be in serious trouble… Who exactly did you sell it to? Tell me, and I’ll go get it back!”
Wang Lanhua kicked him, and Li Dazhuang finally shut his mouth.
The next morning, after breakfast, Wang Lanhua scampered off toward the Wang family’s village.
She claimed she was going back to visit Wang Xiaoming, but in reality, she wanted to secretly find out more about Chuntao and see whether Liu Haitao had gone there.
By the time she reached Wang Village, it was nearly noon. Wang Xiaoming had gone out to work in the fields and had not yet returned. The kitchen door was unlocked, so she went inside and made lunch.
When Wang Xiaoming came in and saw her, his face fell. He could not even be bothered to acknowledge her. He simply served himself a bowl of rice and bent over it, eating in silence.
Wang Lanhua moved closer and tried to make conversation. “Xiaoming, is the rapeseed in the fields ready to harvest?”
Wang Xiaoming did not answer.
“Xiaoming, there are only the two of us left out of the four siblings. I don’t want us to become strangers. I came back today especially to see you…”
Before she could finish, Wang Xiaoming cut her off coldly. “It’s the busiest time of year. You came all this way from so far away, so I doubt you came just to say that.”
Wang Lanhua’s face stiffened. In a low voice, she said, “I know you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. Why would I hate you?” Wang Xiaoming tossed back before taking his bowl straight into the main room.
Seeing him leave, Wang Lanhua carried her own bowl outside as well.
Under the shade of a tree not far away, Wang Chunxiao and several women were eating lunch from rough earthen bowls. Wang Lanhua hurried over.
“Well, look who it is!” Wang Chunxiao’s eyes widened in surprise. “What brings you back, Lanhua?”
“I came back to see Xiaoming and ask whether he’s finished cutting the rapeseed,” Wang Lanhua replied with a forced smile.
Wang Chunxiao glanced toward the entrance of Zhou Zhijun’s house and lowered her voice. “Don’t worry. With Zhou Zhijun helping out, it’s almost all been harvested.”
“That’s right. Xiaoming and Chuntao’s family are as close as relatives. The two families often work together. Zhou Zhijun takes care of the river embankment, and Xiaoming often goes over to lend him a hand,” one of the women beside her added.
Another woman joined in. “Zhou Zhijun has taken over the river embankment. He’s going to make a fortune from all those fish!”
“Isn’t he, though? Now that he’s married and has a child, he’s got even more drive!”
“Li Chun Tao is truly lucky to have married Zhou Zhijun. She doesn’t have to do any heavy work, and she eats well and dresses well. She’s practically fallen into a nest of blessings!”
“Exactly. Zhou Zhijun always looks so cold and doesn’t say much. Who would’ve thought he’d dote on his wife so much…”
The women did not bother hiding anything from Wang Lanhua. They chatted away about Chuntao’s happy life, their eyes glowing with envy.
After listening for a long while, Wang Lanhua did not hear a single word about any stranger coming to look for Chuntao or asking about her background.
Knowing that Chuntao was living such a comfortable life felt like a huge stone pressing down on Wang Lanhua’s heart, making it hard for her to breathe.
Still, learning that Liu Haitao had not gone to Wang Village finally eased some of the tension in her chest.
The rapeseed had only just been harvested when the wheat in the fields ripened as well. Before long, the villagers were plunged into the frantic harvest season.
From cutting the wheat to drying it and storing it in the granaries, only two light showers fell.
Once the wheat was harvested, the ground cracked from dryness, making it impossible to plant the autumn crops.
For farmers, missing the autumn planting was a disaster. The village cadres from several villages discussed the matter and pooled their money to hire an opera troupe.
They built a stage on the wasteland north of Wang Village. They also hired a team of drummers and gongs, then went dozens of li east to Pangu Mountain to invite Lord Pangu down the mountain. They burned incense, offered sacrifices, and prayed for Heaven to send down a thorough soaking rain.
The opera performances continued for seven or eight days. The villagers kowtowed and prayed every day, but not a drop of rain came.
Whenever people met, they gathered together to complain about the weather, all hoping that Heaven would send a good rain so they could hurry and plant the autumn crops.
But there was also a group of people in the village who were not hoping for rain at all. In fact, they wished the drought would last for half a year, drying up every last drop of water in the river embankment so that Zhou Zhijun would suffer a complete defeat.
“If the crops can’t be planted, that only ruins one season. If all the fish in the embankment die of drought, Zhou Zhijun will lose everything he owns. What’s there to fear?” some people muttered sarcastically in private.
Rain was hard to come by during a drought. The sun was so fierce that smoke seemed to rise from the parched earth, and the water level in the river embankment fell lower by the day.
Zhou Zhijun was so worried that he could neither eat nor sleep. Every day, he walked around the embankment, afraid that something would happen to the fish from lack of oxygen.
One day, before dawn, he got up at four in the morning and hurried to the embankment. The sight before him made his heart sink instantly.
A layer of small fish floated belly-up across the shallow areas, their eyes rolled back. The stench of fish and decay drifted straight into his nose on the hot wind.
The larger fish were packed tightly into the only remaining deep-water area. They all floated at the surface, their mouths opening and closing as they desperately gasped for air. It was obvious they were about to suffocate.
Zhou Zhijun was frantic with worry, but with the drought and no water to spare, there was nothing he could do.
Early that morning, some villagers came to the riverbank to let their cattle graze. When they saw all the fish surfacing, the news quickly spread throughout the village.
Men, women, and children immediately grabbed fishing nets, water buckets, and bamboo baskets and rushed toward the embankment.
“The water’s going to dry up and the fish are going to die anyway. Better for everyone to catch them and eat them than let them rot in the water and stink up the place!”
A crowd of people jumped into the embankment without a second thought. Some cast nets, while others scooped up fish with baskets. Not one of them cared that the fish belonged to Zhou Zhijun.
Zhou Zhijun’s face turned livid with rage. He snatched up a shovel from the bank and held it across his body, roaring until his voice went hoarse, “All of you, get out of there! I signed a contract for this embankment and paid the management fee. The fish belong to me! Even if they really do die from the drought, you don’t have the right to come here and steal them!”
“The water’s almost gone, and the fish are going to die sooner or later. Why not let everyone have a share?” one hotheaded young man shot back on the spot, completely unafraid of him.
Everyone in the village knew that Zhou Zhijun had a hard temper and was not someone to provoke. But at that moment, the entire village had bloodshot eyes as they scrambled for fish, their fear long since crushed beneath their greed.
The villagers surged forward all at once, and in an instant the river embankment was packed with a dark, jostling crowd.
Aunt Zhou and her husband, along with Zhou Zhiguo’s family, hurried over to stop them, but the people grabbing fish simply pretended not to hear and ignored them completely.
The village Party secretary, Zhou Dana, also came over and put on a show of trying to persuade them, but his words were about as useful as a silent fart.
Some people carried away buckets brimming with fish. Others slung heavy bamboo baskets over their arms, while still more hauled fertilizer sacks over their shoulders or scooped fish into washbasins. Everyone fought and shoved for their share in the riverbed, throwing the whole place into chaos.
Just then, “Crack!”
A thunderclap suddenly exploded overhead. The sky, which had been clear only moments before, turned as black as spilled ink in the blink of an eye.
A blinding bolt of lightning tore across the heavens. Before anyone had time to react, torrential rain came pouring down like water dumped from a bucket.
The rain arrived without warning—hard, fast, and merciless. Curtains of water blurred together, drenching the earth and sky until everything became a vast, hazy white.
The villagers who had climbed into the riverbed to catch fish panicked completely. They fought desperately to scramble back up the bank, but the mud at the bottom clung to their legs, making it nearly impossible to pull free.
Some fell into the muddy water, and all the fish they had just scooped up flopped away.
Others staggered toward the bank, carrying nets and buckets, while icy rainwater ran down their necks and seeped into their clothes, making their whole bodies shiver.
There were even older children who had followed the adults. Terrified, they cried out for their mothers and fathers.
Shouts and cries, the sounds of people falling, the rumble of thunder, and the roar of rain all blended together in a complete mess.
Rainwater poured into the riverbed, and the water level rose at a visible speed. The fish that had been floating on the surface, starved of oxygen, were jolted awake by the cold water. They immediately plunged into the depths and swam away happily.
The villagers who had been grabbing fish were trapped in the muddy water. One by one, they struggled onto the bank, soaked from head to toe and covered in mud, each of them looking utterly miserable.
Zhou Zhijun’s entire family crowded into the house beside the river embankment. As they watched the downpour outside, relieved smiles spread across their faces.
Aunt Zhou pressed her hands together and kept murmuring, “Thank heaven! This rain came just in time!”
No sooner had she finished speaking than a figure, covered in mud and water, came stumbling toward them. In a tearful voice, the person shouted, “Something’s wrong… Something terrible has happened! Someone’s dead!”
