Morning light spilled across the valley, painting the misty slopes gold. Xu Ming rose early, rolling up his sleeves as he swept the yard. His body had grown stronger these past weeks—calluses forming on his palms, his back less sore after hours of bending. Survival was no longer just a matter of instinct; it was becoming routine.
Yet routine was fragile. The storm always arrived when one least expected it.
The Market Day
That week, Xu Ming accompanied Shen Li to the market. They needed oil and salt, and Xu Ming had gathered bundles of wild greens and woven a few baskets to barter.
The market was lively, filled with the clamor of bargaining voices and the smell of roasted chestnuts. Xu Ming felt almost at ease, until the whispers began again.
"There he is, the ger who abandoned his family."
"I heard he seduced Shen Li for grain."
"Ungrateful, shameless…"
Xu Ming's shoulders stiffened. He kept walking, head high, though every word stabbed sharp as a needle. He could see Madam Wang at the far end of the market, smiling sweetly as she spoke to a cluster of women. Their disapproving glances all turned toward him.
He set his basket on a vendor's table with more force than necessary. "Two measures of oil for these," he said briskly.
The vendor hesitated, eyeing him. "Your family… your mother said you're unfilial. She said you cursed her in public."
Xu Ming's jaw clenched. He forced a thin smile. "My stepmother. And I said no such thing. Believe what you like, but gossip doesn't fill stomachs. Do you want the baskets or not?"
Shen Li stood silently at his side, his presence a looming shadow that made the vendor swallow nervously. The deal was completed without further protest.
As they walked away, Xu Ming muttered under his breath, "That woman won't stop until she ruins me."
Shen Li glanced down at him, calm and steady. "Then let her speak. Words cannot break stone."
Xu Ming gave a bitter laugh. "Maybe not stone. But reputation? That can be destroyed in a day. And once people decide you're worthless, they'll treat you like dirt no matter what you do."
Shen Li didn't answer, but Xu Ming felt a calloused hand briefly brush his shoulder—just a fleeting touch, grounding and firm.
Madam Wang's Next Move
The following week, Madam Wang's malice took a sharper turn. She approached the village elders during a communal gathering, crocodile tears shining in her eyes.
"My poor stepson has grown cruel since marrying Shen Li," she lamented. "He refuses to give me a single grain, though I raised him for years. Truly heartless."
An elder stroked his beard, frowning. "Filial duty is the root of virtue. If what you say is true, then it reflects poorly on Ziyu indeed."
Xu Ming, who had been delivering vegetables nearby, overheard every word. His blood boiled. He stepped forward before he could stop himself.
"Enough, Madam Wang. Stop pretending. You never raised me—you exploited me. Every day I fetched water, scrubbed floors, while you fed your own son meat and left me scraps. Don't stand here and act like some grieving mother."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The elder looked taken aback, unused to such blunt words.
Madam Wang, however, only widened her eyes, playing the victim perfectly. "You see? He speaks so cruelly. My heart aches—how can a ger talk so to his own mother?"
Xu Ming wanted to shout that she wasn't his mother at all, but he knew twisting words wouldn't help. She thrived on turning his anger against him.
Then Shen Li stepped forward. His voice was deep, steady, carrying across the square.
"Xu Ziyu owes you nothing. You forced him to marry me for coin, discarding him like an object. Do not speak of virtue when you abandoned it first."
The square fell silent. Shen Li rarely spoke, but when he did, his words carried the weight of stone.
Madam Wang's face reddened, her act faltering. She sputtered, "You—you hunter, what do you know?!"
Shen Li's dark eyes fixed on her. "Enough."
His single word struck sharper than a blade. Madam Wang faltered, gathering her skirts as she fled the square.
Xu Ming stood stunned. He had defended himself countless times before, but no one had ever spoken so firmly for him.
In the Quiet After
That night, Xu Ming sat by the fire, staring into the flames. The confrontation replayed in his mind—the laughter of the crowd, the sting of Madam Wang's lies, and then Shen Li's voice cutting through it all.
He didn't realize Shen Li had entered until a bowl of hot broth was placed before him.
"You didn't eat," Shen Li said simply.
Xu Ming blinked, taking the bowl. "Thank you." He hesitated, then added softly, "For earlier, too. I… I'm not used to anyone standing up for me."
Shen Li sat across from him, gaze steady. "You are my spouse. Protecting you is natural."
The words made Xu Ming's chest tighten strangely. He dropped his eyes to the broth, cheeks warming. "Still… it meant a lot."
For a moment, silence stretched. The fire crackled softly. Then Xu Ming dared to look up. Shen Li was watching him—not with the cold indifference he often wore, but with something quieter, almost thoughtful.
Xu Ming's heart skipped, and he quickly took a sip of broth to hide his fluster.
Rumors Turn to Threats
Days passed, but Madam Wang was not defeated. If anything, Shen Li's public rebuke fueled her spite.
She began whispering new lies: that Xu Ming had bewitched Shen Li with fox-spells, that he was cursed, that bad fortune followed wherever he went.
Some villagers, superstitious and wary, began avoiding their household. Children who once waved now darted away. Vendors at the market grew reluctant to bargain.
Xu Ming bore it with a brittle smile, but inside, his resolve strained.
One evening, returning from gathering herbs, he found their yard vandalized—stones thrown against the wall, the compost pit overturned. A crude symbol, painted in ash, marked the gate.
His hands shook as he cleaned the mess. "They're treating me like a monster now," he whispered.
Shen Li helped silently, gathering the stones and resetting the gate. At last, he said, "They fear what they do not understand. But fear fades when faced with truth."
Xu Ming bit his lip. "And if it doesn't?"
Shen Li straightened, dark eyes meeting his. "Then let them fear. You are not alone."
The quiet conviction in his voice made Xu Ming's throat tighten. He blinked quickly, turning away before emotions spilled over.
A Small Comfort
That night, Xu Ming couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, the whispers and accusations clawing at his mind. At last, he gave up, stepping into the courtyard to breathe under the moonlight.
To his surprise, Shen Li was there too, sitting by the fence, sharpening a blade in the silver glow.
"You can't sleep either?" Xu Ming asked softly.
Shen Li shook his head.
For a while, Xu Ming simply stood beside him, watching the steady movements of the whetstone against steel. The rhythm was calming, anchoring.
Without thinking, Xu Ming sat down beside him. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine.
"Do you ever…" Xu Ming hesitated, then continued, voice low. "Do you ever regret it? This marriage?"
Shen Li paused, the blade catching moonlight. He turned his gaze toward Xu Ming.
"No."
Just one word, but it landed with the weight of truth.
Xu Ming's heart stumbled. He looked away quickly, cheeks heating. "You're… impossible, you know that?"
Shen Li didn't reply, but a faint, almost invisible smile touched his lips.
They sat there in companionable silence until dawn lightened the horizon.
For Xu Ming, the weight of rumors didn't vanish. But with Shen Li at his side, the burden felt a little less crushing.
And so, even as Madam Wang plotted her next scheme and villagers whispered of curses and fox-spells, something unshakable was quietly taking root—trust, solidarity, and perhaps, the earliest stirrings of something more.