Feibai threw down the ring box. "Enough!"
He glared at her, trembling with fury and shame. "You're crazy, Mianmian. This is why I left. You've always had this bitter streak, always playing victim!"
"And you..." she said softly, "have always been a coward."
The hall froze again.
Then, slowly, Mianmian turned.
She walked to the table where the wedding contract sat. Dipped the calligraphy brush in ink. Crossed her name out in a clean, elegant stroke.
Everyone watched in silence as she set the brush down.
"I hope you're very happy together," she said, voice cool. "Just don't use my money to do it."
Then she picked up her scarf.
And walked out.
The cold air greeted her like an old friend. Outside, snow had started falling in soft, quiet flakes.
But Mianmian didn't look back.
Later that day, in the cramped space of her tiny room, Gu Mianmian pulled out her mother's jewelry box.
Inside were a few last pieces: a pair of silver bangles, some aged gold beads, and the ivory comb her grandmother used.
Enough.
She would sell it all, except the gold necklace, this was her grand father's gift to her.
That one she kept. Pressed it against her heart and whispered, "Thank you, Ma."
Then she packed her things.
One small suitcase and her recipe book, along with her red scarf.
The next time they saw her, it wouldn't be in red cloth begging for scraps.
It would be silk. Gold and Power.
And the taste of revenge in every dish.
The sun was still hanging low when Bai Shi came storming into the courtyard, face flushed and eyes wide with disbelief.
"Mianmian!" she hissed. "You've caused enough disgrace for one day! Do you want to ruin your father's name?!"
Gu Mianmian sat calmly at the stone table by the well, slicing scallions into thin, perfect ribbons.
Without looking up, she said, "If you're not here to bring my dowry, you can leave."
"You—! How dare you speak like that to your elder—!"
"I've dared worse.." she cut in softly. "And I'll keep daring."
Xuelan was right behind Bai Shi, lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer. "Jie, what's the use of taking it all? It's not like you'll be getting married anytime soon."
Gu Mianmian looked up slowly.
"That's not your concern.." she said.
Xuelan leaned on the post, arms folded. "You think money will buy you a husband? You'll be thirty before anyone even looks your way."
"I'd rather be thirty and alone than twenty-two and sold like a cabbage," Mianmian said calmly. "But you wouldn't understand that."
Bai Shi's face turned red. "Enough! You think anyone wants your dusty trinkets? Take them if you must. Take it all—greedy girl!"
She turned, furious. "Bring it!"
Moments later, two servants stumbled in carrying the wooden dowry chest. They dropped it at Mianmian's feet, nearly knocking the lid off.
She stood, dusted her palms, and flipped the lid open.
The room went still.
Inside was everything her grandfather had saved over the years, bolts of fabric, tea sets, the little jade pendant from her mother's side, the silver coin box.
Still intact.
Still hers.
Gu Mianmian smiled. "Thank you."
Then she turned—and was met with Xuelan's syrupy voice again.
"Jie…" she cooed, linking arms with her suddenly like they were childhood friends. "About those recipes—don't be stingy, alright?"
Mianmian blinked. "Excuse me?"
Xuelan giggled, unfazed. "The old ones were, um… misplaced. I cried for weeks. Really! I couldn't even sleep. But now that you're free, surely you've got time to write a few more?"
She patted Mianmian's hand like a nurse to a patient. "Just the highlights. Maybe the cold sesame noodles? And those five-spice pork rolls?"
Mianmian looked at her hand.
Then at her face.
She smiled.
Xuelan smiled back, too smug to see it coming.
"Do you want it handwritten again?" Mianmian asked gently. "In ink this time?"
Xuelan nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! Just like last time!"
A pause.
Then:
"I remember how easily you stole it."
Xuelan's smile cracked. "W-What?"
"That book you said you lost," Mianmian said, voice low and sweet, "was in your luggage when you left. You bragged about it to your little friends at the train station. Said you were going to be a 'star chef'."
Xuelan paled.
"And now you're back.." Mianmian added, "because your stolen gold turned to rust."
"Don't talk like that—"
"Let go of me," Mianmian snapped, stepping away. "Next time you want something from me, Xuelan… bring a checkbook."
Bai Shi was already yelling behind them, calling Mianmian ungrateful, shameless, heartless—
But her voice was nothing but wind.
Gu Mianmian wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck, placed her dowry chest on the small cart she borrowed from Old Zhang next door, and started walking.
Out of the Gu courtyard.
Out of her old life.
The snow had stopped falling. The world was sharp and cold.
But she walked like a flame cutting through winter.
And behind her, the Gu household stood silent, burned by the girl they thought would always bow.
By mid-afternoon, she reached the old pawnshop on East Alley.
The clerk inside, a man with white-streaked hair and a face like weathered bark, barely looked up when she entered.
"Selling?"
Mianmian set the dowry chest on the counter and opened the lid.
Silver glinted beneath the lantern light. Teacups, silk bolts, a set of hairpins shaped like plum blossoms. She had decided not to sell her mother's jewelries.
She lifted the gold beads one by one and set them down gently, like they were fragile memories instead of metal.
"All except this," she said, pulling out the thin gold necklace with the dragonfly charm.
The man nodded. "Sentimental?"
"A promise.." she replied.
He counted silently, brows furrowed in thought, then jotted something on his receipt pad.
"Three hundred and eighty yuan."
She didn't haggle.
A few minutes later, she walked out with a cloth pouch of cash tucked into her inner pocket, her scarf tugged firm against the wind.