Cheng Ying was bundled tightly under the quilts, desperate not to let a giggle escape. How could she not obsess over the fact that her own mother and stepfather still hadn't successfully consummated their marriage?

Cheng Ying’s imagination ran wild. Having an old woman like that around was truly quite unfortunate.

Her stepfather was facing a double blow, both inside and out. Men really couldn't withstand so much torment; probably after just a few more rounds of this, her stepfather wouldn't be able to perform for the rest of his life.

When Cheng Ying recalled her stepfather’s cursed status as a "sent-down youth," she couldn't deny a sense of satisfaction brewing inside. After all, the odds of her new stepmother being dumped were a solid eighty percent.

Speaking of this new mother, they weren't exactly close now, but what was the relationship between a daughter and her mother? They shared in each other's glory.

It was directly tied to the quality of Cheng Ying’s own future happiness. Cheng Ying understood this connection perfectly well.

It was better if he just remained impotent, saving her own mother from constantly worrying about it later on. Cheng Ying wasn't exactly a saint; at her age, getting remarried already drew stares, let alone encouraging her own mother to divorce.

The old woman didn't just scold; her actions were fierce too. Cheng Ying had seen it during the day—the metal bucket at their place, which her own grandmother scrubbed until it rang out clearly.

Cheng Ying vaguely recalled hearing earlier that day when Chi Wu bumped into the bucket; the grandmother had been so distressed she yelled at Chi Wu for quite a while. She wondered just how much the old lady treasured her own possessions while making such a racket.

It was clear the old woman took meticulous care of her things. Before long, the old woman returned to the house, bringing a wave of chill with her.

Cheng Ying got up and grabbed the old woman’s hand; it was ice cold. The old lady had really dashed out, risking freezing herself just to deal with her daughter-in-law.

How cold the northern night could be. Cheng Ying rubbed the old woman's hand, her heart aching—this one woman cared for her completely.

And she was a very authoritative old woman. Cheng Ying wanted nothing more than to set her up on an altar.

She wished things would stay that way until she, the grandmother, could be independent, healthy, and disaster-free. It wasn't worth sacrificing her own health for this.

"Grandma, later we'll secure the chicken coop properly, and we won't go out tonight." The old woman paused in her movements, unable to explain to her ten-year-old granddaughter why she’d been making such a fuss in the middle of the night. "Yingzi, hurry back into bed, Grandma’s cold, don’t catch a chill." Cheng Ying pulled the old woman, who had taken off her padded jacket, into her own warm quilt.

"Grandma, I’m scared, I’ll sleep with you." She then tucked both their quilts in tightly together. The old woman hugged her granddaughter, her heart heavy with emotion; the child had grown sensible and knew how to care for her grandma.

Fortunately, the old woman had lived through enough in her life that her tear ducts weren't so shallow, and she didn't waste too many tears. That’s why the tough Aunties from Northeast China could never pull off a melodramatic Qiong Yao drama.

She patted her granddaughter’s shoulder. "Yingzi, go to sleep.

Grandma will watch over you; you don’t have to be afraid." Then, with one hand, she stroked the granddaughter’s hair, combing it slowly, rhythmically. Seeing the grandmother’s posture and energy, Cheng Ying felt a sudden, sharp realization hit her: the old lady was still planning to get up one more time in the dead of night.

While this incident was satisfyingly infuriating, doing it constantly was wicked. Besides, making the old woman fuss around late at night over such petty matters—Cheng Ying genuinely feared this little-footed woman might fall and hurt herself.

It just wasn't worth the risk. This woman was her future anchor.

Hugging the old woman, Cheng Ying played the part of a tender child. "Grandma, tell me about our family's stories.

I miss Dad." Cheng Ying had already decided: for the sake of her grandmother, for her mother, she couldn't let the old woman keep tormenting herself like this. And it was a multi-purpose move: she got to hear stories and learn about the family situation all at once.

It covered everything. Hearing her granddaughter’s words made the old woman’s heart ache even more.

Thinking of her own eldest son, the grandmother’s heart throbbed with pain. When the old woman began to speak, her voice was raspy.

"Yingzi, your Dad, he was such a handsome boy. His build, no one in ten miles could compare.

And his skills, you wouldn’t believe. Before your Dad was married, so many big girls came calling to our house, all because of him.

When your Dad worked in the team, everyone scrambled to be in his work group. He was worth twelve points for any job." Listening to the old woman's voice, Cheng Ying could sense the immense expectations and pride she held for her son.

Cheng Ying thought, so her dad was quite the charmer. No wonder his life was cut short.

As the saying goes, great beauty often meets a tragic fate; the same principle applied to men. "Then why did Grandma choose my mother?" The old woman paused.

"Hmph, it wasn't Grandma who chose; your Grandpa arranged the engagement before he died. When Grandma looked at your mother’s face, she knew this one was destined for little fortune, but your Dad was fond of her, so Grandma went along with the wishes of both father and son." Cheng Ying could almost picture her grandmother's expression while saying those words, even in the darkness of the night.

On this particular issue, Cheng Ying found herself in complete agreement with the old woman. Her mother’s face—high cheekbones, a narrow face, a pointed chin—did indeed look like she carried little luck.

Even though it was highly probable that this thinness was caused by starvation. Cheng Ying thought of her grandmother’s appearance, wondering what assessment the old woman had of her own looks.

Hers was far more of a typical example than her mother’s. Cheng Ying followed this deep line of thought and was silent for a moment, not responding to the old woman.

The old woman continued, "When your Dad was alive, he treated your mother wonderfully. Your mother is heartless.

It hasn't been that long, and she’s already desperate to bring another man into the house." This was the grandmother’s accumulated resentment toward her own daughter-in-law. Listening to the old woman’s voice, her teeth were clearly clenched in hatred.

Such deep resentment. Then the old woman recounted, "If your Dad hadn't gone up the mountain to hunt some meat for your mother because she was pregnant and couldn't get enough to eat, how could he have died like that?" Cheng Ying thought, no way, she was a posthumous child?

This background story was truly tragic. Then Grandma said, "After your Dad passed, the baby wasn’t kept either.

It wasn't that Grandma was harsh to your mother; it’s just that seeing her made Grandma remember your Dad, and it hurt her heart so much." Cheng Ying took a deep breath. Thank goodness it wasn't because of her, thank goodness that baby was lost.

Otherwise, the old woman seeing that child would have been like seeing his mother, destined to endure hardship. And the grandmother's grief was genuine; Cheng Ying felt her breathing grow heavier as she spoke of it.

Cheng Ying felt terribly guilty for stirring up the old woman’s emotions; losing a child in old age was the hardest sorrow. "Grandma, the mountain is dangerous!" The old woman’s lips parted, revealing only the weariness of years.

"What danger is there on the mountain slopes? Times were hard; which family wasn’t looking to the mountains to find something to get by?

Your Dad, relying on his good skills, went deep into the mountains and ran into a tiger." Cheng Ying swallowed hard. This piece of news was rather shocking.

Okay, first off, there were tigers in this area; the Northeast mountains were dense and vast, so tigers weren’t unusual. Secondly, her own father had become a Wu Song who succeeded only in death, meeting his end in a tiger’s jaws.

Perhaps due to blood ties, Cheng Ying’s eyes suddenly welled up. Who wouldn't want a heroic father?

Cheng Ying had gotten one. And a spectacularly dramatic one, Cheng Ying thought, filling in the blanks herself.

As for the tears welling up, it was largely influenced by the grandmother’s emotion. She felt for this old woman who protected her so fiercely.