CHAPTER 16: CHAPTER 16: SHE LED THE VILLAIN ASTRAY

Waving to the little girl, Lin Qiao then caught up with Song Tingfan. After they walked a bit further, she cleared her throat and said, "Little Uncle, why aren’t you playing?"

The little girl earlier was quite pretty, with big eyes and an endearing round face.

Without thinking, Song Tingfan shook his head and said in a low voice, "I don’t like playing with them."

"Why?" Lin Qiao asked again.

Song Tingfan kept his head down and didn’t respond, but Lin Qiao had a good guess that he had been bullied.

She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him and patted his shoulder, "Little Uncle, I’ll play with you from now on."

Song Tingfan was momentarily stunned, then quickly looked up, his bright black eyes filled with delight, "Okay."

Maybe it was because he had been spending time with Lin Qiao these past few days that his previous "guard" had lessened considerably. He continued, "Sister-in-law, there’s a bamboo grove further back; I’ll check out the hunting hole the day after tomorrow and take a look while I’m at it."

"Sister-in-law, do you like eating bamboo shoots?"

"They’re okay." Lin Qiao looked at the young and handsome face and felt even more fondness.

At this time, it was hard not to like the antagonist; he was sensible, self-sufficient, and deeply affectionate.

Song Tingfan seemed to have a plan. He nodded and suddenly noticed some wild chrysanthemums not far away. He strode over and picked a few stems.

Returning rather awkwardly, he handed them to his sister-in-law. Perhaps afraid she would refuse, he seemed a bit anxious, "Sister-in-law, do you want them?"

Naturally, Lin Qiao wouldn’t do anything to disappoint the antagonist; she reached out and accepted the wild chrysanthemums, generously praising, "Little Uncle picked more than I ever could. You’re so capable."

Praised as "capable," Song Tingfan’s eyes curved with a smile, "Sister-in-law is more capable than I am."

When they got home, Lin Qiao went into the kitchen to cook, and Song Tingfan was in the courtyard gathering sun-dried medicinal herbs. Afterward, he gave today’s herbs a simple wash and then placed them in a winnow to dry.

At this moment, a voice came from the kitchen, "Little Uncle, bring some firewood in for me; we’re out."

"Okay."

Song Tingfan immediately put down what he was doing and went to the shed at the edge of the yard to carry some firewood inside. After placing it down, he glanced at his sister-in-law rinsing rice.

Then he sat by the stove door to light a fire.

The soy stubble crackled, occasionally sending out small sparks.

For a moment, the kitchen was rather quiet.

Suddenly, a man’s teasing voice came from outside the courtyard, "Hey there, Lin Widow, are you home? We’ve come to visit you."

Such things happened frequently in the past.

Lin Qiao heard it but ignored them, while Song Tingfan squeezed the fire tongs tightly.

The men outside the courtyard continued to shout, "Lin Widow, what’s up, not saying anything? What are you and Little Uncle doing?"

"Why don’t you come out and have some fun with me?"

After saying this, several laughs ensued, clearly suggesting he wasn’t alone.

Song Tingfan was so angry that his face turned red, and he snapped, "You get lost, stay away from us."

"Hahaha, Tingfan, let us take care of your sister-in-law," the men outside the courtyard were not afraid of him at all.

These few men were notoriously unruly in the village, often shouting at the doors of the village widows’ houses, and sometimes even at the homes of married women.

But since they never did anything, the village chief could only scold them.

Lin Qiao came out with a kitchen knife, patting Song Tingfan’s shoulder, "Little Uncle, don’t be afraid."

Then she opened the door with a tilted smile, "Come on in."

"But it’s hard to leave through this door; you’d have to lie down if you want out."

It wasn’t completely dark yet, and the men could all see the kitchen knife in her hand, suddenly going silent for a moment.

In the past, even Song Widow wouldn’t dare make a sound.

The tallest Niu Er sneered, "Oh, I’m not afraid to die. What’s the saying... ’Even as a ghost, one should live with style.’"

He grinned mischievously and added, "Maybe Song Widow would let me do it once and even beg me for more."

As soon as he finished speaking, the others all burst into "hahaha" laughter.

Without thinking, Song Tingfan stood protectively in front of Lin Qiao, and said fiercely, "You get lost."

Any ordinary girl would have been embarrassed, but not Lin Qiao. She disdainfully said, "Beg you? Beg you for being short and small?"

There was a moment of silence.

The group of vulgar men was stunned. The young and inexperienced Song Tingfan didn’t grasp the meaning for a moment.

Lin Qiao continued, "Or beg you for being weak?"

No one had ever seen a woman so brazenly say such words before, and Niu Er and the rest were even more dumbfounded: "..."

Damn it, what the hell was this woman saying!

Soon, they slunk away with their tails between their legs.

Lin Qiao raised an eyebrow and then patted Song Tingfan’s shoulder, "Little Uncle, close the door." She said as she carried the kitchen knife back into the kitchen.

Standing at the doorway, Song Tingfan only realized what had happened afterward, and his face flushed red.

Later, whenever Lin Qiao thought of this, she wanted to give herself a slap.

She had led the antagonist astray.

A certain someone would always tease her using her own words.

...

The next day, before dawn, Song Tingfan and Lin Qiao set off for the town to sell square cloths and medicinal herbs. Because it was market day, there were many people on the road heading to the market, chatting and laughing as they walked quickly in groups of three or five.

They didn’t reach the town entrance until noon, when the weather was at its hottest.

People in business wouldn’t pay out money in the morning, so the two of them rested in a shed at the town’s entrance. At this point, all the benches were taken, and Lin Qiao, tired from walking, had no choice but to squat.

Song Tingfan stood beside her.

The beautiful and charming widow soon caught the attention of other men in the shed, who kept stealing glances.

"Lin Widow, come sit here," said a man in his thirties or forties, patting his large thigh inappropriately.

The whole shed laughed in response.

Song Tingfan’s expression changed as he clenched his fist; Lin Qiao didn’t bother to look at these people. Seeing Song Tingfan’s clenched hand, she quickly reached out and pulled him aside, "Little Uncle, it’s okay."

Better not let a violent person emerge.

Looking at their clasped hands, Song Tingfan’s anger dissipated, replaced by embarrassment, but he still stood in front of her, blocking the malicious gazes.

Seeing Lin Qiao ignoring them made the men even bolder, "Hey, Lin Widow can’t hold back in public now?"

"Your Little Uncle’s too young, can’t satisfy you, let us try."

Full of vulgarity.

Song Tingfan, both embarrassed and angry, shouted, "Don’t speak nonsense."

Lin Qiao stood up and looked at him, her beautiful eyes slightly raised, "Go home and tell your niece, your niece can satisfy you."

The men didn’t expect her to say such a thing, all of them were thunderstruck.

Inwardly, Lin Qiao scoffed, having never eaten meat but having seen pigs run.

Are you still afraid of these feudal bumpkins?

Suddenly catching Song Tingfan’s pure black eyes in the corner of her vision, she coughed, having forgotten she was still a "mother."

Cough, look what she had taught.

Thinking of this, she covered up with another cough, "Little Uncle, let’s go."

Song Tingfan nodded in a dazed manner.

The two first went to the medicine shop, where they sold the medicinal herbs for twenty-six cents. As they left, the shopkeeper gave them a piece of homemade dough dumplings, warmly inviting them to bring more to sell next time.

However, the fabric shop was quite unethical.

The boss of the fabric shop looked at her square cloths and, using various excuses, paid four cents less.

Lin Qiao held back her temper since it was their only source of income right now. She thanked him, "Thank you, Boss."

The boss at the fabric shop didn’t show any change in expression when he heard her say this, but internally he thought this widow had a pretty good temper, "Next time, embroider well, and it’s possible to sell each piece for fifteen cents."

"Okay, I’ll think about it more when I get back." Lin Qiao said politely, then looked at the men’s cloth shoes on the counter, and then at Song Tingfan’s somewhat old shoes.

Perhaps he had grown a bit over the past two years; the shoes were a bit small, with toes visibly poking out.

She gritted her teeth and turned to him with a gentle voice, "Little Uncle, pick out a pair of shoes."