The morning mist clung to the mountains, pale silver drifting through the trees.
Xu Ming stepped out into the yard, clutching a small woven basket. His crimson wedding robes had been replaced by plain clothing he'd found in a chest—loose tunic, patched but clean. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of pine and soil.
It was nothing like the smog-filled streets of the city, nothing like rushing to classes or standing behind the counter of a convenience store. Here, there was only the crisp bite of mountain air and the promise of another long day.
He tilted his head toward the hills. Somewhere, Shen Li was already hunting. The man left before dawn, soundless as a shadow. Xu Ming had heard him rise, the faint creak of the bow being lifted from the wall, the quiet tread of boots.
He really is a man of few words. Xu Ming smirked to himself. Fine. I'll talk enough for the both of us.
The kitchen was sparse, but Xu Ming was resourceful. He boiled water for porridge, slicing the last of the dried vegetables, and set the pot to simmer. While it cooked, he stepped outside and studied the patch of earth near the fence.
The soil was rough but not hopeless. A little effort, and it could grow more than the few withered stalks struggling there now. With modern knowledge, even scraps of vegetables could be coaxed into sprouting.
Xu Ming squatted, tracing lines in the dirt with a stick. "If I divide it here… maybe sweet potatoes on that side, beans on this one. A compost pit in the corner…"
He paused, then chuckled. Listen to me. It hasn't even been a full day, and I'm already planning crop rotation. Guess transmigration makes you ambitious.
When Shen Li returned near noon, he carried a wild pheasant in one hand and a bundle of herbs in the other. His eyes flickered briefly to the neat rows Xu Ming had scratched into the dirt.
"You're planting?"
Xu Ming shrugged. "What else should I do, sit around and look pretty? If you think I'll waste food like your lazy relatives probably do, you're wrong. I plan to eat well here."
Shen Li raised a brow at the blunt tone but said nothing. He set down the pheasant, cleaned his hands, and sat for lunch.
Again, Xu Ming noticed it—that fleeting pause, the tiny spark of surprise. The hunter wasn't used to this kind of talk. The original Liu Ziyu must have been meek, submissive, never daring to speak back.
Well, too bad. He's dead. I'm here now.
They had just begun eating when loud voices echoed outside the gate.
"Ziyu! Ziyu, come out quickly! We're here to see you!"
Xu Ming froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. The voices were sharp, familiar—the stepmother, Madam Wang.
Sure enough, the gate creaked open without permission.
In swept Madam Wang, face painted with false concern. Behind her trailed Liu Hong and Liu Fanghua, her precious children.
"Oh my, look at our Ziyu, already looking so radiant after marriage!" Madam Wang exclaimed, clasping her hands dramatically. "You've only just wed, and already your cheeks have color. Your husband must be treating you so well."
Her eyes, however, were not on Xu Ming but on the table. The steaming porridge, the small dish of pickled vegetables, the roasted pheasant waiting to be cooked. Greed lit her gaze.
Xu Ming's lips curled. So that's why she came. Not to see me, but to see what she could take.
Madam Wang sighed heavily. "Ziyu, you know your younger siblings have been so hungry lately. Our family has struggled ever since you left. Surely, as a filial son, you wouldn't let us suffer while you eat so well here?"
Liu Fanghua piped up sweetly, "That's right, brother. Look at that pheasant! Wouldn't it be nice if you let us share it? After all, we're family."
Xu Ming set down his spoon with deliberate care. He leaned back, folding his arms.
"Family? Funny. When I was half-starved at home, where was this so-called family? When I was beaten for dropping a bowl, where was this family? Now that I'm married off, suddenly you remember I exist."
Madam Wang's smile stiffened. "Ziyu, how can you talk like that? I raised you for so many years—"
"You raised me?" Xu Ming's voice cut sharp as a blade. His eyes glinted, calm but cold. "You raised your own children with meat and rice. I was lucky if I got a steamed bun. If that's your idea of raising, then forgive me, I'd rather not repay it."
The courtyard fell silent.
Madam Wang's face darkened. "You ungrateful—!"
Before she could finish, Xu Ming leaned forward, his tone deceptively light. "Also, this pheasant belongs to my husband. If you want it, why don't you ask him yourself?"
All eyes turned to Shen Li.
The hunter had been silent the entire time, eating slowly as though none of this concerned him. But now, he lifted his gaze, dark eyes steady.
"My house. My game. Outsiders have no share."
His voice was flat, final.
Madam Wang blanched. Liu Hong scowled but didn't dare speak. Even Fanghua's fake smile slipped.
Xu Ming chuckled softly. "You heard him. So please, take your concern and leave. If you're hungry, perhaps you should hunt or farm instead of stealing from others."
The words struck like arrows. Madam Wang sputtered, but Shen Li had already stood, walking to the gate. He opened it wide, expression colder than the mountain wind.
"Go."
Reluctant, humiliated, Madam Wang gathered her children and swept out, muttering curses under her breath.
The gate slammed shut behind them.
Xu Ming exhaled slowly, turning back to the table. His heart beat faster than he let on, but his face remained calm.
"Well," he said, picking up his spoon again, "that was a nice interruption. Let's eat before it gets cold."
Shen Li sat down silently. But as he ate, his gaze lingered on Xu Ming a fraction longer than usual.
This ger was not the pitiful, silent figure he had expected. He was sharp, unafraid, even bold enough to stand against his greedy relatives without hesitation.
Interesting.
That night, the house was quiet again. Xu Ming lay in bed, staring at the beams overhead. He felt strangely light, as if a burden had lifted.
In his past life, he had swallowed countless injustices—working under rude bosses, bowing to professors, biting back anger because survival demanded silence. But here, for the first time, he had spoken freely.
And it felt good.
I won't be weak, he thought firmly. I've been given this life, and I'll live it on my terms. No more kneeling, no more begging. If the world wants me to bow, I'll make it bow first.
Outside, the moon cast silver across the courtyard. On the floor mat, Shen Li lay with eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
The words replayed in his mind: I won't be bullied. I'll live well here.