Chapter 93: 93. Chapter 93: Sharpening Knives at Midnight

93. Chapter 93: Sharpening Knives at Midnight

Xu the Widow suddenly remembered the horse carriage that had come to the village ancestral hall a few days ago; her conviction grew stronger that Jiang Shi had attached herself to a wealthy household—otherwise, how could she suddenly have so much money to buy land and even spend it hiring people to work at home?

In the past, Jiang Shi was merely a widow cast out by the Li Family, nearly leaving with nothing but the clothes on her back, her garments tattered and ragged—how could someone so poor and destitute possibly earn so much money?

Zhao the Ruffian, obsessed with Chunmiao and Chunya's wages, hurried home after rolling in bed with Xu the Widow.

That night, he once again called the two sisters back home and thoroughly searched them, yet found not a single copper coin.

This time, Zhao the Ruffian did not torment Chunmiao; he waved his hand and let the two sisters enter the house, but secretly noted how many days it had been since they started working at the Jiang Family—he would go to Jiang Shi and demand their wages soon!

He no longer went to mingle with Xu the Widow at night; instead, he stayed home, keeping a tight watch on the two sisters, afraid they were secretly hiding money away from him.

Yet, at night, Zhao the Ruffian could not sleep.

The kitchen lay right next to his room; his bed pressed against the wall, and as he was half-asleep, he suddenly heard the sound of sharpening a knife.

"Crack—crack—"

Especially in the deep, silent night, the sound was unnervingly clear.

Zhao the Ruffian jolted upright from his bed.

There were two beds in the house: Zhao Dasao slept on the other one, with Chunya beside her, but Chunmiao was not inside.

Zhao the Ruffian felt uneasy; after hesitating a moment, he got up, slipped on his straw sandals, and went out to investigate.

The kitchen door was open; Zhao the Ruffian immediately saw Chunmiao's thin, tall figure—he was about to curse her for staying awake and coming to the kitchen at this hour—

But before the words left his mouth, he saw Chunmiao standing before the stove, sharpening the kitchen knife in slow, steady strokes, while water bubbled in the pot beside her—yet nothing was being cooked.

Moonlight streamed through the window, falling upon her slender figure; most of Chunmiao's face lay hidden in shadow, her expression unreadable.

Zhao the Ruffian's eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly; he suddenly recalled what the village elders had said—that mountain spirits and wild ghosts often descended at night to devour people, and they specifically targeted men…

At that moment, as if sensing something, Chunmiao—who had been focused on sharpening the knife—suddenly turned her head toward him.

Moonlight glinted off her pale, ashen face, giving it a sinister glow; the kitchen knife in her hand reflected the moonlight with a chilling gleam…

Zhao the Ruffian screamed "Ah!" and bolted back into the house.

The commotion woke Zhao Dasao; she turned over and saw Zhao the Ruffian hiding under the quilt, mumbling about people being eaten alive…

Zhao Dasao found it strange but assumed he was having a nightmare; she rolled over and fell back into deep sleep.

Zhao the Ruffian, however, was too terrified to sleep; images of Chunmiao's sinister knife-sharpening figure kept flashing in his mind—the pot beside her boiling hot water, as if waiting for raw meat to be dropped in…

The more he thought, the more terrified he became; his heart pounded, he dared not close his eyes, afraid that if he slept, his own daughter would sneak in and slice him open with a single crack of the knife.

But by morning, the thing he feared did not happen.

Chunmiao acted as usual—she still lowered her head in fear when she saw him, finished her chores, then left home holding her sister's hand.

Zhao the Ruffian couldn't help but begin to doubt: had he imagined it all last night? Or was it just a nightmare?

After reassuring himself, Zhao the Ruffian finally calmed down.

When Chunmiao returned that night, he once again grabbed her arm and searched her thoroughly—still not a single copper coin.

Zhao the Ruffian silently noted how many days it had been, but then caught Chunmiao glancing sideways at him with a dark, hostile look; instantly, last night's scene flashed back—her face merged with the pale, sinister figure sharpening the knife.

Zhao the Ruffian stepped back in fright and released Chunmiao's arm.

Chunmiao didn't even look at him; she walked straight into the room, said nothing, climbed onto the bed, and resumed sleeping.

During the day, while working at Jiang Xiaoxiao's home, she only had time at night to boil medicine with sharpening water.

Moreover, these past few days Zhao the Ruffian had been home; she feared he might steal the herbs she had worked so hard to obtain, so she could only go to the kitchen to boil the medicine while he slept.

She had specifically told her mother not to reveal this, and to avoid Zhao the Ruffian when taking the medicine, lest he ruin it.

Jiang Xiaoxiao had specifically instructed that the medicine must be boiled with sharpening water; Chunmiao had been forced to sharpen knives relentlessly—last night, she had probably made too much noise; when she noticed Zhao the Ruffian peeking from outside, she turned pale with fear, but luckily the herbs had not yet been added to the pot—she had hidden them in her bosom.

She thought Zhao the Ruffian hadn't noticed, but tonight she must be even more careful.

That night, Zhao the Ruffian heard the sharpening sound again.

"Crack—crack—"

Just as unnerving as last night.

Zhao the Ruffian quickly pulled the quilt over his head, telling himself it was just a dream—but the relentless "crack—crack—" drilled into his ears; he simply could not sleep.

He got up again and went to check the kitchen.

Just like last night: Chunmiao stood before the stove, sharpening the knife, the pot bubbling with boiling water.

Zhao the Ruffian swallowed his saliva silently—who in their right mind would sharpen a knife and boil water at midnight, with nothing in the pot…

As he hesitated, Chunmiao turned and walked toward him; her face was deathly pale, her lips moving slightly, yet no sound came out.

Only the kitchen knife in her hand gleamed with a chilling, icy light under the moon.

Watching Chunmiao advance toward him with a dark, grim expression, Zhao the Ruffian finally broke—screaming, he fled out of the courtyard.

When Chunmiao recounted this, Jiang Xiaoxiao doubled over laughing.

Ha! Indeed, evil men fear the ruthless, and the ruthless fear those who don't care if they die.

Zhao the Ruffian probably dared not go home now, terrified that one night Chunmiao would come with a knife and slice him open with a single crack.

Jiang Xiaoxiao's eyes darted, and she lowered her voice: "... Chunmiao, do you want your mother to separate from Zhao the Ruffian and live on her own?"

Chunmiao nodded vigorously: "Yes."

Desperately yes!

But her mother couldn't leave Zhao the Ruffian; no matter how he treated her, she still clung to a sliver of hope, believing she simply hadn't done enough, that was why Zhao the Ruffian was dissatisfied and beat her.

Jiang Xiaoxiao listened and sighed helplessly—these two were like Zhou Yu beating Huang Gai: one willing to strike, the other willing to endure.

If not for Chunmiao and Chunya, she wouldn't have intervened in this matter.

Ancient customs imposed many restrictions; mutual divorce was hard to obtain, but the greater obstacle lay with Zhao Dasao—being a native of this ancient world, her feudal belief that the husband was heaven was deeply rooted; even if the chance for divorce were placed before her, she would likely hesitate.

For a person like this, only a powerful medicine could jolt her fully awake.