Early in the morning, Fan Changyu went around the marketplace and bought an old hen to bring back and nourish Yan Zheng with.

When she met familiar faces in the alley, she greeted them as warmly as usual, yet the other party seemed to avoid her, only forcing out one or two replies.

Those women who were on good terms with the Song family directly rolled their eyes, retreating from her as if avoiding a flood or a beast:

“Truly a bringer of misfortune. Her husband’s elder brother went to her house a few times, and she cursed him to death. Even that husband who married into her family has been sickly and weak, never recovering. Luckily, the elder Madam Song specially went to match the Eight Characters of Birth. If Song Yan had truly married her, who knows what calamity would have befallen the Song family!”

Some people who had once been on good terms with the Fan family, hearing this, quietly distanced themselves as well.

If before, when the Song family broke off the engagement, people said she was born under the fate of a Heaven-struck Lonely Star, few had taken it seriously.

But in these past two days, disasters kept occurring around her household. If not for the government soldiers arriving in time last night, the two elders of the Zhao family might have been implicated as well. The neighbors, inevitably, began to grow wary.

If it were in the past, Fan Changyu would have already talked back.

But it was true that the Zhao family had almost been dragged into trouble last night, and Yan Zheng was indeed injured.

She pressed her lips together, carrying the chicken in silence as she walked toward the Zhao residence.

Passing by the door of the woman who had spoken so sharply earlier, she had just stepped past when the woman splashed a basin of rice-washing water out the door. The cold droplets splattered over Fan Changyu’s embroidered shoes and hem.

Fan Changyu stopped walking and lifted her calm eyes toward the woman.

That old woman’s surname was Kang. She had once lived next door to the Song family, and ever since Song Yan passed the imperial exam for juren, she had gone out of her way to curry favor with them.

In order to please Madam Song, she would often drop by for chatter, speaking a basketful of ill words about Fan Changyu.

Probably because she still had some use in keeping Madam Song company, after the Song family moved to the county town, she alone among the whole alley had been invited once to dine at the Songs’ new residence.

Old Madam Kang took pride in that, and upon returning, she would boast to everyone about how grand and beautiful the Song family’s new house was, how they even had servants at Madam Song’s disposal, praising Song Yan’s true ability—while, incidentally, stepping on Fan Changyu once or twice.

Now, seeing Fan Changyu look over, Old Madam Kang dumped the rest of the rice-washing water outside again, cursing: “Such bad luck early in the morning! I’ll have to find some dried pomelo leaves later to hang by the door!”

Among the common folk, it was said that rice-washing water and pomelo leaves could drive away misfortune.

Fan Changyu’s lips moved slightly, but when she saw how the other neighbors either stayed silent or quietly withdrew from her, she only pressed her lips tighter, clutching her things and walking quickly toward the Zhao house.

The rice-washing water had soaked through her shoes and socks; the icy damp clung to her ankles, seeping from flesh to bone, and a chill rose from her chest.

When Fan Changyu entered the Zhao courtyard, Aunt Zhao was sweeping snow in the yard.

Seeing her skirt hem and shoes wet, she asked in alarm, “What happened?”

Fan Changyu went straight to the kitchen and said, “The snow on the road hadn’t melted yet—I stepped on it and got wet.”

Aunt Zhao frowned, watching Fan Changyu’s back, knowing full well she wasn’t telling the truth.

Fan Changyu’s heart was in turmoil.

After slaughtering the old hen and stewing it in an earthen pot, she feared Aunt Zhao would question her further, so she made an excuse to deliver medicine to Yan Zheng and went up to the loft.

“Drink your medicine.”

Her voice lacked its usual liveliness—it was muffled, low, and heavy.

When Xie Zheng took the medicine bowl, he couldn’t help glancing at her expression.

There seemed to be nothing unusual on her face, yet he could tell at a glance that her mood was off.

He asked, “What happened?”

Fan Changyu only said nothing was wrong. “Drink the medicine while it’s hot. If it’s too bitter, there’s dried tangerine peel candy beside your pillow.”

She drew her knees up and sat on a low stool by the brazier, warming herself by the fire. Her head was lowered, revealing a slender stretch of neck—her face hidden, her expression unreadable.

Xie Zheng noticed that the hem of her skirt and her shoes and socks appeared damp.

He said, “The snow last night, in the latter half, fell quite heavily.”

Fan Changyu made a vague sound of agreement.

Xie Zheng frowned slightly—there hadn’t been any snow at all in the latter half of the night. She was behaving strangely today.

She stayed silent.

After Xie Zheng finished the medicine and set the bowl on the small round stool beside the bed, he too said nothing.

The room was quiet for a long while before Fan Changyu suddenly said, “I’ll find you an inn, and give the inn servant some extra money, have him look after your meals and daily needs. How about that?”

The fingers Xie Zheng had resting on the edge of the bed pressed down slightly harder.

He asked, “Why?”

Fan Changyu said, “The yamen has yet to close the case. I’m afraid those people might come again seeking revenge.”

Xie Zheng replied, “Did you not say there are government soldiers secretly guarding this place?”

Fan Changyu was silent for a few breaths, then looked up at him and said solemnly, “Then just stay here and recuperate for now. When you’re healed—leave.”

After she descended from the loft, Xie Zheng picked up a piece of tangerine peel candy between his fingers. His lips pressed into a thin line; in the next instant, the candy crumbled to powder between his fingertips.

 ─ ·✶· ─ 

It was not until noon that the old Madam Kang from the alley came storming in, cursing and shouting at the Zhao household, demanding justice.

Xie Zheng finally understood the reason for Fan Changyu’s strange behavior that day.

“Fan Changyu! Come out here!”

Madam Kang’s voice was loud; her talent for hurling insults was second to none.

At her shout, a number of people gathered at the Zhao household gate to watch the commotion.

When Aunt Zhao heard the banging at the door—loud as if it were being kicked—she hurried to open it.

She saw Madam Kang standing at the doorway with her grandson, both of them looking fierce, and asked, “What’s going on?”

Madam Kang shoved her grandson forward and scolded with hands on her hips, “Tell Fan Changyu to come out! Her younger sister pushed my grandson down the steps—his front tooth is chipped! You ask what’s going on?”

Fan Changyu had been in the kitchen stewing the chicken. Hearing the shouting outside, she came out into the courtyard.

She saw Madam Kang’s plump, round-headed grandson crying until his eyes were swollen like peaches. Two strings of snot hung from his nose, which he occasionally sniffed back in—only for it to drip out again the next moment. His chin was swollen, and indeed, one of his front teeth was chipped.

She said, “My younger sister has always been weak. Your grandson is a few years older than her—how could she possibly have pushed him?”

At that, Madam Kang, hearing Fan Changyu still trying to deny it, immediately sprayed spittle as she yelled, “You think I’d slander you? Bring your Ning-niang out and ask her yourself, you’ll know whether she pushed him or not!”

Aunt Zhao saw that quite a few neighbors were peeking their heads out to watch the spectacle, and tried to mediate,.“Whatever it is, come inside to talk. It’s common for children to scuffle and get a few bruises. Arguing in the doorway only makes a laughingstock for the neighbors.”

But Madam Kang refused to yield.

“I’m here to demand justice for my grandson! Why should I be afraid of people laughing?”

Fan Changyu knew well that this Madam Kang was famous in the alley for being sharp-tongued and unreasonable. Her daughter-in-law had been driven away by her, worn down day by day until she finally fled.

Even now, whenever Madam Kang mentioned her daughter-in-law, she would still curse her as a “shameless wench” who ran off with a wild man—never once realizing how wrong it had been to treat her like a beast of burden.

Later, her son got involved with a widow, but she disliked that the woman had once been married—that she had a dead husband and might bring misfortune to men. After she stirred up trouble, the widow, seeing things turning sour, hastily broke off with her son. To this day, her son remained an old bachelor.

Fan Changyu had no wish to waste words with such a person. She said coldly, “Whether this so-called justice is yours to demand or not, I’ll ask my younger sister first.”

She called out, “Ning-niang, come out.”

Little Changning dawdled out of the room, standing behind Fan Changyu like a small tail.

Fan Changyu lowered her head and asked her, “Did you push Hutou?”

Changning pressed her lips together, both hands tightly clutching the corners of her clothes—she nodded, then shook her head.

Madam Kang shrieked, “Look at that! Even a child this small knows how to lie! The Fan family really teaches them well, doesn’t it? She nods, then shakes her head—”

“Shut your mouth!” Fan Changyu’s cold shout cut through like a gust of blizzard wind, instantly drowning out Madam Kang’s shrill voice.

That morning, when Madam Kang had splashed that basin of rice-washing water and Fan Changyu hadn’t said a word, she had thought the girl easy to bully. But being suddenly barked at like this, she froze—then shrieked even louder, “Is there no justice left in this world? Everyone, look at her! The Fan family dares act so high and mighty! My grandson was hurt by them, yet she’s the one putting on airs!”

Upstairs, even Xie Zheng’s ears ached from the sharp clamor; his brows knit in annoyance.

Were all these market women so noisy?

Just as he grew more irritable, he heard that woman’s cold, cutting voice: “Keep shouting, and see if I don’t grab you by the legs and throw you headfirst into the slop jar!”

The corners of Fan Changyu’s eyes and brows were edged with frost.

She had endured Madam Kang that morning only out of guilt—for the trouble brought upon others by her family’s enemies. But now that Madam Kang dared to push further, she had no intention of yielding again.

Madam Kang met Fan Changyu’s gaze and felt a chill of fear crawl up her spine.

She quickly turned toward the gathered onlookers, opening her mouth as if to say more, hoping to use the crowd to pressure Fan Changyu.

Fan Changyu seemed to see through her ploy entirely. Her tone was icy as she said, “You and that old hag from the Song family gossip about me behind my back every day—did you think I didn’t know? My reputation’s already been ruined by your tongues to this extent. Do you really think I still care what others say? If I truly decide to act, do you think anyone here would dare stop me?”

Those words snuffed out the last spark of defiance in Madam Kang.

She swallowed hard; the mouth that could curse all day without pausing for breath now seemed sewn shut, not a sound squeezing out.

Only then did Fan Changyu crouch down and ask her sister, “When I asked if you pushed Hutou, why did you nod first, then shake your head?”

Changning’s round, dark eyes were already rimmed red. Her plump, pale fingers clutched at her clothes as she said, “I did push him—but he’s too fat, I couldn’t move him. He chased after me, slipped on his own, fell down the steps, and broke his tooth.”

Madam Kang immediately started up again, “My grandson said you did push him—”

One cold glance from Fan Changyu silenced her once more.

Fan Changyu continued asking, “Why did you push him, Ning-niang?”

Little Changning lowered her head; tears the size of beans rolled down her cheeks.

“He pulled my hair, stole my pine-nut candy, and poured water on me. He said his grandma just poured rice-washing water on Elder Sister this morning to drive away bad luck, and since I’m the unlucky star’s little sister, he had to pour water on me too to get rid of misfortune…”

After hearing those words, Fan Changyu’s face turned so cold it was terrifying.

Aunt Zhao’s eyes reddened with fury. She had wondered earlier why Fan Changyu’s shoes and skirt hem were wet that morning—so it had been that vile old hag who splashed her with rice-washing water.

That rice-washing water was meant for “driving away evil” when breaking ground; for her to pour it right after Fan Changyu passed by—how malicious could she be!

Aunt Zhao ground her teeth and cursed, “You filthy old wretch who won’t even have a coffin lid when you die! Even if you won’t spare a good word for yourself, at least accumulate some virtue for your children and grandchildren! Aren’t you afraid that when you meet King Yama one day, he’ll have your tongue hooked out?”

Madam Kang faltered for a moment, but her tongue, sharpened over decades of bickering, couldn’t stay still. She jutted out her chin and snapped back.

“How have I not accumulated virtue? Did I kill her parents? Did I kill those people who died at her house? Everyone in this town knows she’s a bearer of doom! Only you and that old husband of yours—who don’t even have children to tend your graves—would still take in that family of misfortune. Aren’t you afraid she’ll bring your own deaths one day? I say the Fan family should’ve long rolled out of this alley! Who knows when their enemies will come again looking for trouble?”

“You—!” Aunt Zhao was shaking with anger.

Fan Changyu brushed away the tear on her sister’s cheek with her thumb, then slowly stood up. Her gaze was as sharp and cold as a blade of ice.

“If I truly bring misfortune,” she said, “then I’ll start with you, you old wretch who refuses to die!”

She gave a low laugh.

“You want me to move out of this alley? And based on what—your rotten tongue and a mouthful of spittle? If you’re so scared, why don’t you move yourself?”

Madam Kang was struck speechless. She pointed at Fan Changyu, trying to find words to hurl back, but Fan Changyu went on coldly: “And another thing—keep an eye on your grandson. If he dares touch a single hair on my sister’s head again, whichever hand he uses, I’ll cut off that hand.”

The boy met Fan Changyu’s fierce, murderous gaze and instantly burst into tears, his face crumpling, snot and tears streaming everywhere.

Madam Kang shielded her grandson behind her, blustering though her voice trembled, “Scaring children now—what kind of ability is that?”

Fan Changyu’s lips curved into an icy smile.

“Scaring him? Oh no—I’m not scaring him.”

She glanced at the boy’s arm and said coldly, “I can cleave through a pig’s knuckle with one stroke. Cutting off an arm would be even easier.”

At once, the boy clutched one arm to his chest and wailed, tugging at his grandmother, “Grandma, let’s go home… I want to go home…”

Madam Kang, seeing her grandson frightened into such a state, was both furious and flustered, yet she didn’t dare confront Fan Changyu directly.

She could only curse under her breath as she led the boy away. But when they reached the steps outside the Zhao household gate, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her knee. With a cry of “Aiyo!”, she tumbled down the stairs. Her chin struck the lowest step with a thud—she didn’t get up for a long time, groaning in agony, her mouth full of blood.

The onlookers in the alley stared at one another in silence.

Fan Changyu froze for a heartbeat, then instinctively looked up toward the Zhao house loft—and as expected, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark-blue sleeve disappearing from sight.

After her shock, Aunt Zhao quickly said, “Retribution! Everyone saw it—neither I nor Changyu stepped outside! That old hag fell all on her own! This is retribution right before our eyes!”

Madam Kang, already aged, had knocked out several teeth in the fall. She sat on the ground sobbing and pointing at Fan Changyu, crying, “It was her! That cursed star kicked me!”

The neighbors who had been watching the commotion for quite a while hadn’t seen Fan Changyu move at all. Seeing Madam Kang’s shameless accusation, they couldn’t help speaking up for her.

“Enough, Madam Kang. Everyone saw—Changyu didn’t move a step. You just slipped and fell yourself!”

Madam Kang still wanted to argue, but Fan Changyu gave a cold snort.

“You’ve done too many wicked deeds—it must’ve been a ghost that pushed you.”

And for the elderly, such words—speaking of spirits and retribution—cut deeper than any blade.

Those words made Madam Kang shudder violently. She really had felt something strike the hollow of her knee just before she fell—and now, recalling Fan Changyu’s so-called fate as a Heaven-struck Lonely Star, her lips trembled as she pointed at Fan Changyu and shrieked, “It was you—your cursed fate brought this upon me!”

Fan Changyu crossed her arms.

“If you don’t hurry up and get out of here, who knows—you might lose your life next.”

This time Madam Kang was truly terrified. Covering her bloodied chin, she clutched her grandson and fled from the Zhao household in disgrace.

“She really brought this on herself!”

“Everyone in the alley’s been stung by that mouth of hers—it’s retribution, that’s what it is!”

The bystanders murmured and chuckled a few words of gossip before shaking their heads and dispersing.

When the courtyard gate closed again, Fan Changyu crouched down so her eyes were level with her younger sister’s. She said earnestly, “From now on, Ning-niang, if anyone bullies you outside, you must tell your big sister at once, understand?”

Changning nodded obediently.

Aunt Zhao, remembering the insults Madam Kang had hurled earlier, couldn’t help but cry quietly on Fan Changyu’s behalf.

Fan Changyu comforted her with a few soft words, then her gaze fell upon a piece of tangerine-peel candy lying by the gate. Using it as an excuse, she made her way up to the loft.

Pushing the door open, she saw that Xie Zheng was no longer on the bed but sitting by the window in a bamboo chair. His face was still a little pale, but far better than it had been in the past two days.

Before she could speak, his gaze swept toward her—cool and detached.

“What you told me this morning,” he said, “was it only because of a few words from others?”