Chapter 5: What Kind of Eyes Were Those?

As they reached the town’s entrance, the last ox cart was just about to depart. Song’s mother hurried forward to call the driver to stop.

“I was wondering if you had already left,” the driver waved his hand. “Hurry up and get on—if you wait any longer, it’ll be dark.”

With a sigh, Song’s mother quickly climbed into the cart. She turned back to see Huanya standing there nervously.

“Oh, come on, get in! Let’s head home quickly!” she urged.

Only then did Huanya dare to climb aboard, shrinking into the corner obediently. Although the cart’s canopy sheltered only her and Song’s mother, she took up just a small space.

The driver glanced back. “Hey, who’s this? Covered in mud, huh?”

Huanya, hearing this, made herself even smaller, afraid of being thrown off.

She wasn’t afraid of pain; a few more steps and it would ease.

But if Aunt Song thought she was too slow and sent her back, that would be far worse.

“Oh, she’s a distant relative,” Song’s mother explained, avoiding Huanya’s true identity. “The family fell on hard times, lost everyone but her. Otherwise, how could I be gone so long?” She quickly changed the subject to avoid any probing questions.

The ox cart wobbled along for half an hour before finally arriving at the Xinghua Village where the Song family lived.

By the time the cart stopped, the moon had already risen.

Song’s mother was anxious, paying no mind to whether Huanya could keep up, rushing straight towards home.

---

Huanya’s body ached terribly, but she dared not slow down, limping to keep pace with Song’s mother.

After another fifteen minutes, she finally caught sight of the small courtyard nestled at the foot of the mountain.

Song’s mother entered first, calling back, “Come in and close the door!”

“Okay!” Huanya quickly stepped inside, shut the door, and, not daring to wander, leaned cautiously against it, surveying the courtyard before her.

Moonlight spilled across the clean and orderly yard, clearly showing that the head of the household was a diligent worker.

There were only three rooms in total: the main hall faced the gate, with an annex on the left and another on the right. Outside, firewood was stacked neatly, and several strings of meat hung under the eaves—presumably the kitchen.

Song’s mother had gone left, which should be her son Song Tiancheng’s room.

Just as Huanya pondered this, she heard Song’s mother exclaim, “Huanya! Find a doctor! Hurry and find a doctor!”

Huanya straightened and rushed out the door, only realizing halfway that she had forgotten to ask where.

Turning back, she met the driver who had brought them. Seeing her anxious expression, he asked, “Did something happen to Dachengzi?”

Huanya let out a couple of distressed sounds, about to explain when the driver said, “Hey, you’re not making yourself clear. Come on, I'll take you there.”

Embarrassed to be mistaken for someone who couldn’t speak, Huanya blushed but didn’t argue, just eager to get the doctor quickly and avoid Aunt Song’s displeasure.

The driver helped summon the village barefoot doctor and accompanied him to the Song residence.

---

As soon as the barefoot doctor entered, he caught the sharp scent of blood.

His expression changed, and he hurried into the room.

Fearing she would be a bother, yet worried she wouldn’t hear Song’s mother call, Huanya stayed at the doorway, peeking inside.

“It’s nothing serious. He just turned over without care, exerted too much, and the wound reopened—there’s a bit more bleeding than usual,” came a low, hoarse voice that struck Huanya’s heart almost instantly.

She leaned forward slightly. Inside the clean and tidy room, on the kang bed sat a thin man.

His face was pale, utterly devoid of spirit, yet his back was very straight.

As her father used to say, this was a man of great resilience.

Huanya blinked. The man seemed to sense her gaze and lifted his eyes to look at her.

What kind of eyes were those? Huanya couldn’t quite describe them, but for many years afterward, she never forgot.