Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Matchmaking

Li Tao Hua’s fear didn’t last long once she was back within her own fence. By the time the family returned, she had already retreated into the inner room with Tang Da Fu—pinching, scolding, and then dissolving into tears for him to soothe, as if cruelty and sweetness were just two costumes she swapped without thought.

Yi Xiao had wanted to tell his father how close Lu Wu had come to dying. But the sight of Tang Da Fu murmuring apologies to Li Tao Hua, useless and dazed, killed the words in his throat. He swallowed his fury and turned away.

In this house, the siblings could only rely on each other.

Qin Hui Yin found a clean set of clothes and held them out to Lu Wu.

Lu Wu blinked at her, confused. “To wash?”

“They’re clean.” Qin Hui Yin kept her voice mild, as if she were speaking to skittish wildlife. Yi Xiao’s glare burned into her cheek, hot and accusing. “Your clothes got swept away. Change first, Sister. If you catch a chill, you’ll suffer—and we’ll still have to spend silver to hire a physician. With the family like this, we can’t scrape together even a single coin.”

“Sister, hurry and change,” Yi Xiao urged. “Anyway, Father bought her clothes with silver. She should be giving them to you.”

“Don’t talk about Yin Yin like that,” Lu Wu said quickly, as if afraid Yi Xiao’s anger might bite again. “If it weren’t for Yin Yin, I wouldn’t be alive.”

Yi Xiao huffed, lips pulling tight. “Good that you’re fine. Otherwise I wouldn’t let them off.”

Qin Hui Yin steadied her temper. She understood his grief; she understood his hate. But catering to him wouldn’t change what she was in his eyes.

Seeing the tightness in Qin Hui Yin’s face, Lu Wu reached out and tugged her sleeve with trembling fingers. “Yin Yin… can you help me? I don’t have much strength.”

“All right,” Qin Hui Yin said, softer. “Come inside.”

She and Lu Wu shared a room—one narrow bed, one narrow chest, the air always smelling faintly of damp cloth and old wood. Qin Hui Yin was a year younger but taller, with more flesh on her bones. When Lu Wu pulled on the borrowed clothes, the fabric hung loose on her frame. Even cinched tight, the belt looked wrong, as if she’d stepped into someone else’s life.

As soon as she was dressed, Lu Wu went straight to the kitchen to make lunch like nothing had happened.

She lifted the lid of the rice jar. A thin layer of cornmeal clung to the bottom like dust. She scooped two careful handfuls into a bowl, then reached for the basket of wild greens.

Yi Xiao came in behind her, washed vegetables with quick, angry motions, and didn’t complain. What was the point? His sister had nearly died, and she wasn’t crying or making trouble—she was just doing what needed doing. If he kept clawing at the moment, wouldn’t that only give Li Tao Hua more reason to pick at Lu Wu?

Elder Brother had said it before: they were still small. They couldn’t break free yet. They could only endure.

When their wings were strong enough, they would leave this hellhole behind and never look back.

Qin Hui Yin didn’t sit idle either. She picked out two outfits from her own things and began altering them down a size with needle and thread, hands steady. She meant to give them to Lu Wu later.

The original Qin Hui Yin had plenty of clothes—pretty styles, clean fabric, not a patch in sight. In the whole village, she had been the most pampered young miss, the lightest burden.

And the soul now sitting in that body had once made a living doing everything from cooking to sewing to cosmetics for an audience of millions. If people liked watching her try it, she’d tried it. That was how she’d survived then.

She would survive now, too.

“Hui Yin’s mother…” A woman’s voice drifted from the doorway.

Madam Qian—the village busybody with a sharp tongue and an eye always angled toward profit—stood there holding a bunch of scallions like a prop.

Li Tao Hua slipped out, smoothing her hair as if she were about to meet a patron instead of a gossip. She stopped by the gate and lowered her voice. Madam Qian leaned in, murmuring.

Qin Hui Yin kept her stitching slow and steady, but her ears caught everything.

“It’s a bit too young…” Li Tao Hua said, hesitant but not disgusted.

“They’re offering this amount,” Madam Qian pressed. “If you had it, wouldn’t your days be easier?”

“We already owe 50 taels of silver.” Li Tao Hua’s complaint was a soft whine. “Even with that amount, it won’t solve the big problem.”

“If it were your Hui Yin…” Madam Qian probed, greedy as a hook. “It definitely wouldn’t be just this amount.”

Li Tao Hua’s expression sharpened. The softness drained out of her face, replaced by ice. She planted a hand on her hip and spat, “You dare set your sights on my daughter? Who does he think he is, the Son of Heaven?”

Madam Qian laughed, unbothered. “Hui Yin’s mother, just look around—what other family’s daughter in the village is like yours? People who don’t know better would think she’s some noble young miss. With things so hard in your home, marry off the two daughters and trade them for a good bride price. Wouldn’t that get you through?”

She lowered her voice, savoring the numbers. “I heard Squire Jiang say it himself—if Hui Yin is willing to marry over, he’ll give 30 taels. As for that girl Lu Wu, the Zheng family will offer five taels. Squire Jiang really likes your Hui Yin. If you’re willing, I can talk him into adding more. If he’s happy, 50 taels might not even be a problem.”

“Pah.” Li Tao Hua’s laugh was pure scorn. “A toad trying to eat swan meat—dream on. Listen carefully. Even if I sell myself, I will never sell my daughter.”

“All right, all right.” Madam Qian lifted both hands as if soothing a child. “If you won’t sell her, you won’t. Then the Zheng family wants that girl Lu Wu—this is fine, right? You’ve got so many mouths to feed. Marry one daughter out, gain another set of in-laws. Later you can help each other.”

Li Tao Hua’s gaze slid toward the kitchen, where Lu Wu moved around the stove like a shadow.

Her eyes—smooth, worldly—glimmered with calculation.

Qin Hui Yin set down her needle and stepped out, heart pounding. “Mother…”

Li Tao Hua startled like a thief caught mid-reach. “Ah. Coming.” She turned back to Madam Qian, smoothing her tone again. “I’ll think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?” Madam Qian snapped, impatience breaking through. “Five taels! How many girls in this village get a bride price like that?”

“10 taels,” Li Tao Hua said, calm as if naming the price of cabbage. “Five is too little. If it’s 10, I’ll tell her father right away.”

Qin Hui Yin’s stomach turned.

Madam Qian stared, stunned for a breath, then clicked her tongue and stalked off. As she went, she spat toward the gate and muttered loud enough for the air to carry.

“What a piece of work. All day long she sways around like a little seductress, wishing she could suck the life out of every man in the village. And those filthy men too—they know she’s unlucky, but they still can’t walk away. Like that old opera line—die under Mu Dan’s flowers, and even as a ghost you’re romantic. And her daughter… the same little fox spirit, already, so young.”

Her words faded with her footsteps, but her greed didn’t. Qin Hui Yin could almost see her mind racing ahead to the Zheng family, to bargaining, to matchmaker’s gifts.

Qin Hui Yin waited until Madam Qian was gone, then turned on Li Tao Hua.

“Mother, what did Auntie Qian want?”

“Nothing.” Li Tao Hua tied off a knot in the thread as if the matter were as small as a loose stitch. Then she glanced at the altered outfits and frowned. “Doesn’t this one fit you? Why are you still changing it?”

“I’m altering it for Sister Lu Wu.”

Li Tao Hua’s mouth tightened. “You’re giving her your clothes to wear?”

“Just a couple,” Qin Hui Yin said carefully.

“These clothes are yours.” Li Tao Hua’s displeasure sharpened. “Why give them to her? If she has no clothes, she has a father. I can alter two outfits from his old things.”