When someone in the family fell ill, the father and sister-in-law would only contribute twenty wen, while a complete stranger, with no blood ties whatsoever, readily offered a hundred wen.

Yan Xiaoyu found it ironic, yet he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Asking Tao Cuiqin and Old Master Yan for money felt like begging for their lives. Yan Xiaoyu had even considered proposing a family division right then—taking his share of the household assets to treat Yan Xingmao’s leg.

After all, this matter couldn’t wait.

Yan Xingmao already limped on one leg; if the other were to fail as well, it would be too cruel a fate. Even if proposing division would put him at a disadvantage, Yan Xiaoyu refused to delay Yan Xingmao’s treatment over it.

After Aunt He offered to lend money, another husband volunteered to go to the village chief’s house to borrow an oxcart.

After Yan Xiaoyu and He Qiuhua thanked both men, they began preparing for the trip to the clinic. Aunt He returned home to fetch the silver, the Li man went to the village chief’s house, and the other women and men returned to their respective homes.

The ox cart journey from Xiling Village to town took about half an hour. The entire route was mountain roads, inevitably bumpy. Yan Xingmao’s leg must be properly immobilized first, or his injury would worsen. Dinner time would be another hour away, and they would certainly miss the Yan family’s evening meal. To save some silver, they would have to prepare some food to eat along the way. Yan Xingmao’s physical condition meant he couldn’t go hungry.

He Qiuhua and Yan Xiaoyue went to prepare the meal. After Yan Xiaoyu chased Tao Cuiqin down to collect the agreed-upon twenty wen, he rummaged through his own room and pulled out a straight piece of firewood, intending to help splint Yan Xingmao’s leg.

Old Master Yan followed in, hands behind his back, strolling leisurely: “Your father’s already crippled with one leg gone. What difference would losing another make? Why must you squander silver?”

Yan Xingmao’s hand, hanging limply at his side, clutched the quilt so tightly the veins stood out. Yet Yan Xiaoyu didn’t grow angry—he only smiled.

“So what if I’m wasting silver? As long as we haven’t divided the family estate, you and my eldest uncle must pay for Father’s leg treatment. If he can’t be cured, you’ll still have to support him!”

Old Master Yan flew into a rage, ready to strike again. Yan Xiaoyu pointed at his own head: “Go ahead! Hit me! Hit me right here! If you hurt me, you’ll have to treat my injuries and support me! Otherwise, I’ll go begging at the county school and see how my eldest cousin’s classmates and teachers treat him!”

Old Master Yan’s outstretched hand froze. His face turned green with suppressed rage, his chest heaving violently as he glared fiercely at Yan Xiaoyu.

Tao Cuiqin, who had been watching the situation, feared he might provoke the reckless Yan Xiaoyu and drag Yan Yonghe into trouble. She hurriedly interjected, “Father, I’ll prepare dinner now. Why don’t you go to the village entrance and see if Xingsheng and the others have returned from town?”

Old Master Yan stormed out, muttering curses under his breath: “A family of good-for-nothings! A useless father, lazy ger! If I’d known this day would come, I should’ve strangled you all at birth!”

His words were so venomous that He Qiuhua and Yan Xiaoyue, who had just entered carrying food, froze in their tracks. Yan Xiaoyu, however, paid no heed: “Hurry and feed Father. The ox cart will be here any minute.”

Yan Xingmao had kept his eyes closed the entire time. Only after being helped to sit up did he open them to look at Yan Xiaoyu and the others.

“I’m useless, dragging you all down.” The man looked gaunt and haggard, his complexion ashen, his voice weak and breathless. “Xiaoyue, Xiaoyu, if my injuries prove untreatable, don’t bother. After I’m gone, support each other and take good care of your mother.”

Yan Xiaoyu, seeing his dejected state, grew angry. “So that old fool called you useless, and you just accept it? Others born without parents, tossed into trash heaps at birth, still cling to life with desperate tenacity! Your father may as good as gone, but you have a mother who cherishes you, a wife and daughter willing to kneel and beg for you—why would you give up so easily?!”

Yan Xingmao froze, then snapped back with a bitter smile. “I don’t want to give up either. But I’m afraid I’ll drag you both down!”

His laughter cracked as tears spilled. He Qiuhua set down her bowl, sobbing as she clutched his hand. “He… your father… don’t you dare die! You have to live… live well!”

Yan Xiaoyue, standing nearby, also had tears welling in her eyes.

Yan Xiaoyu rolled his eyes impatiently. “Don’t worry. You won’t die, and you won’t be a burden to us.”

His eyes darted outside as he raised his voice: “Uncle and the others are still here! No matter how much silver your treatment costs, they’ll help. They’re your own blood brothers—they won’t abandon you!”

Only after hearing the sound of a basin smashing outside did Yan Xiaoyu feel relieved.

He Qiuhua and the others looked utterly bewildered. Yan Xiaoyu offered no explanation. He picked up the bowl of porridge and handed it to He Qiuhua: “Quick, give Father his porridge.”

Yan Xingmao stared at his ger, whose demeanor and actions were so different from before, utterly bewildered. But before he could ponder further, his wife had already scooped a spoonful of porridge and brought it to his lips. He had no choice but to swallow it.

He Qiuhua and Yan Xiaoyue now clearly regarded Yan Xiaoyu as the backbone of the household. Whatever he said, they did. After Yan Xingmao finished the bowl of millet porridge, Yan Xiaoyu and his sister bandaged his leg.

After they finished, Aunt He brought over the hundred wen. Uncle Li, who had borrowed the oxcart, still hadn’t returned. Yan Xiaoyu found this odd and decided to go take a look himself. Just as he reached the courtyard gate, he saw Li Fulang approaching in the oxcart.

The driver was a young man—robust, unusually tall, and strikingly handsome. Though dressed in simple work clothes, he was far more attractive than the average farmer.

Yan Xiaoyu searched his host body’s memories for a long moment before recognizing him. This man was named Yan Shaocheng, a peddler.

As it happened, Yan Shaocheng had some connection to Yan Xiaoyu—the man who had saved his life the day he crossed over was named Yan Shaoxuan, and Yan Shaocheng was Shaoxuan’s older brother.

Uncle Li, spotting Yan Xiaoyu peering at the doorway, hurried to explain: “The village chief’s family left early this morning in their oxcart for the town market. I came here empty-handed, then turned back to fetch Young Master Cheng from the Yan household. It took longer than expected—did you grow impatient, Yu-ger?”

With such thoughtful effort, Yan Xiaoyu wasn’t ungrateful—how could he possibly blame them?

He bowed his hands to Uncle Li and Yan Shaocheng: “Thank you both for your help, Uncle Li and Brother Yan. Once my father recovers, we’ll properly repay your kindness.”

Uncle Li waved his hands repeatedly: “Just ran an errand for you—no need for thanks.”

Yan Shaocheng also bowed: “We’re neighbors. No need for formalities.”

With medical care as the priority, they exchanged no further pleasantries. Yan and Li handed the oxcart over to Yan Xiaoyu before departing. He hurriedly summoned He Qiuhua and the others to leave.

The three laid the prepared old mattresses on the cart, then carefully lifted Yan Xingmao onto it.

Tao Cuiqin and the recently returned Old Master Yan stood by coldly watching, showing no intention of lending a hand.

As they departed, Yan Xiaoyu shot them a glance. “My father needs to recuperate, my mother must tend to him, and I’m still not fully recovered myself. My elder sister has to look after me. We won’t be able to work the fields for the summer harvest. Auntie, you’d better make other arrangements!”

“Oh, and you must repay Aunt He’s hundred wen as soon as possible. Though we borrowed it, we haven’t divided the family estate. If we don’t repay it, word will spread that the Yan family owes money and won’t pay. It wouldn’t do to tarnish the reputation of the Yan family and our eldest cousin.”

His tone was neither warm nor cold, yet it infuriated Old Master Yan so much he nearly jumped out of his skin. Even after the oxcart had left the courtyard, Yan Xiaoyu could still hear his curses.

“No division of property, no division of property! They’re exploiting that very fact to fleece us!”

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

On the road, Yan Xiaoyue drove the cart while Yan Xiaoyu and He Qiuhua sat on either side of Yan Xingmao, tending to him. The other three passengers each held a piece of sweet potato to nibble on.

Time was tight. Yan Xingmao’s porridge was made from leftover rice from breakfast, boiled with water. The sweet potatoes in their hands were also leftovers from breakfast, not much to go around—each person could only get a small piece.

Yan Xiaoyue finished hers in two bites, but He Qiuhua still held hers anxiously.

“I heard… I heard the town clinic is very expensive. I wonder if our money will even be enough?”

Yan Xiaoyu didn’t know if it would be enough either.

The original body had never even been to town. Most village households were poor. When someone in Xiling Village suffered a fall or injury, they usually went into the mountains themselves to gather some herbs, ground them into a paste, and applied it to the wound. For other ailments, severe cases might seek medicine from the herbalist in the neighboring village, while less serious ones were simply endured. Few were willing to spend silver on treatment at the clinic.

Fortunately, Yan Xiaoyue had learned to drive an ox cart while working in the fields and had even taken Tao Cuiqin to the county school twice before. Otherwise, they would have had to ask Yan Shaocheng for help driving the cart today.

“We’ll go whether we have enough or not. If it’s not enough, we’ll figure something out when we get there,” Yan Xiaoyu thought to himself. He couldn’t just not go because they lacked money.

He Qiuhua nodded, still lacking the appetite to eat.

Yan Xingmao, having been scolded by his son earlier and having eaten a bowl of congee, felt much better and had regained the strength to speak.

Now, observing Yan Xiaoyu standing with shoulders straight and a resolute expression, he voiced the question that had been weighing on his mind: “Xiaoyu seems different from before. Has his nature changed so much?”

Hearing this, He Qiuhua’s tears welled up again. “Husband, you… You don’t know. Our Xiaoyu… nearly lost his life…”

She stumbled through recounting Yan Xiaobao’s actions. Upon hearing it, Yan Xingmao’s face darkened considerably. “I always thought the brothers would be Xiaoyue and Xiaoyu’s pillars of support. All these years, I’ve done everything in my power to be good to them. Never did I imagine he would nearly take my son’s life.”

At least he hadn’t heard excuses like “Xiaobao is just young and doesn’t understand.” Yan Xiaoyu was somewhat satisfied with his father’s reaction, but the real surprise was yet to come.

“Father, let’s… let’s divide the family with Brother!” He Qiuhua’s voice still trembled with tears, yet her tone was resolute as never before.

Yan Xingmao was utterly stunned. “Why… why would you even consider this?” He’d never imagined his typically docile wife would propose a split. His mind was now a complete jumble.

He Qiuhua knew he couldn’t process it immediately, so she explained Yan Xiaoyu’s ‘rebirth’.

Yan Xingmao remained skeptical. He Qiuhua added, “The reason Xiaoyu changed so drastically is because he spent a year down there. With so many ghosts down below, who knows how many terrors he endured? That’s why his temperament hardened. My poor child!”

Yan Xiaoyu: “…” The host’s mother had quite the vivid imagination.

“Everything Xiaoyu said has come true! He was forced to work while sick, denied food—how could he not develop lasting health issues? As for your leg injury, though the timing doesn’t quite match, Mother must have misremembered in her haste!”

Good grief, she’s covering for him! Yan Xiaoyu silently gave He Qiuhua a mental thumbs-up.

But Yan Xingmao’s fall was just too convenient—so convenient it made him wonder if the man had been cursed.

Finally, He Qiuhua concluded with a pained expression: “We… we absolutely must divide the family property soon. Otherwise, none of us will have a good ending!”

Well, that sounded more like a curse.