Volume One Chapter One Where Is This Place

Year three of the Great Celebration, Dashishi Village.

"You little wretch, how dare you steal!"

A sharp-faced woman brandished a thick stick, pointing it at the three-year-old girl cowering in the corner of the woodshed.

Chacha remained silent despite the beating, pressing her lips tightly together and raising her head to look at Liu Cuihua. "I didn't steal anything. Jinbao took the preserves himself."

How dare this worthless girl accuse Jinbao—her precious child!

Liu Cuihua's anger exploded.

She brought the stick down hard on Chacha's head.

"When we found you, we should have thrown you into the river to drown, you damned little parasite!"

With those words, she spat on the ground and walked out of the woodshed in disgust, paying no mind to the small child lying motionless on the ground, blood streaming from her head.

Chacha, her head bloodied, opened her eyes weakly and watched from the floor as her aunt spoke with her uncle and Jinbao at the door.

"You beat her to death? Who's going to do the chores at home?" Wang Dazhu frowned, craning his neck to peer into the woodshed.

Liu Cuihua waved her hand dismissively. "Dead is dead. These are famine years anyway—one less mouth to feed. Besides, the little wretch survived even in the freezing cold; she won't die that easily."

Wang Dazhu thought the logic sound.

Liu Cuihua turned to her plump son Jinbao, her sharp features softening into a doting smile as she pulled out a snack she had traded for from someone else and handed it to him.

"Don't worry, Jinbao. No matter who goes hungry, your mother won't let you starve."

Jinbao munched on the treat his mother had given him, casting a smug glance back at the little girl.

So what if he took the preserves? His mother would never blame him.

How dare she tattle on him? His mother had said this worthless girl was his future wife—he could bully her however he liked.

Just wait. Next time, he'd make her suffer!

Chacha hugged herself tightly as she watched the family walk away.

She missed her grandmother.

Ever since her grandmother died, her uncle and aunt had beaten her, withheld food, and forced her to do endless chores.

Her stomach grumbled.

Moving slowly, Chacha crawled to her feet and headed up the mountain.

She was starving. In these years of famine, nothing was left on the mountain; only wild grass could fill her belly.

But the drought had scorched the land barren.

After a long search, Chacha finally found a single withered blade of grass.

She mustered all her strength to pull it up, then immediately collapsed to the ground.

The wound on her head continued to bleed, and her mind grew hazy.

Just as she was about to eat the grass, a piercing sound rang out behind her.

"Toot—"

Startled, Chacha shrank back, looking around in confusion.

Where was she?

A large black iron box suddenly charged toward her.

She was flung through the air and crashed heavily to the ground, losing sight of the wild grass she’d clutched.

The little girl lay on the ground, her eyes brimming with tears, gazing in distress at the pale-faced man who had rushed out of the iron box.

It hurt so much...

Grandma, Chacha thinks she’s about to die...

At the hospital funded by the Gu family.

A whole day had passed, and the child had still not awakened.

Gu Muyan had been terrified when he saw the little one covered in blood as he got out of the car. Fortunately, this hospital boasted the most advanced medical technology and managed to save her.

Otherwise, the little girl might not have survived.

Aside from numerous wounds of varying severity, the doctors said she also suffered from severe malnutrition, far smaller than the average three-year-old.

When he had picked her up, she had felt like nothing more than skin and bones—a feeling he could not quite articulate.

Whatever she had been through, her closed eyes at that moment had looked unbearably aggrieved.

Gu Muyan wearily rubbed his brow.

His grandfather’s health had been poor lately, and he’d been shuttling between the old residence and home, sometimes losing focus while driving.

That road was usually deserted, so he hadn’t been paying attention.

By the time he saw a child standing in the road, it was already too late to brake.

Gu Muyan looked at the child on the bed, only to discover she had woken up at some point.

Those wide, black-and-white eyes stared at him in a daze.

He poured a cup of water and gently helped her drink.

Afterward, he sat by the bed and asked softly, "Little one, what's your name? Where is your home?"

The little girl looked timidly at the young man before her. "My name is Chacha. I live in Dashishi Village."

Where was she?

Had she died?

But her whole body still hurt—could the dead still feel pain?

This big brother was so gentle, more handsome than anyone she’d ever seen.

Her voice was as soft as a newborn kitten’s—had Gu Muyan not listened closely, he might not have caught a word.

He took out his phone, sent her information and photo to his people, and instructed them to post notices nearby in case anyone was missing a three-year-old girl.

He looked up to find the little one gazing at him, wide-eyed and dazed.

Seeing such innocence, Gu Muyan felt an unexpected pang of sympathy.

"Chacha, tell me—why were you on the road? Where are your family?"

Chacha looked at the young man. Apart from her grandmother, no one had ever spoken to her so gently.

Only her grandmother called her Chacha; her uncle and aunt called her worthless, a burden.

Chacha’s lips quivered, her round eyes welling with tears. "I have no family. My aunt said I’m a burden, so no one in the family liked me and they abandoned me."

She added, aggrieved, "I don’t even know how I came to be here. I was just so hungry. I found a blade of grass on the mountain, and then, when I looked up again, I was here."

The villagers had always laughed at her for not having parents. But where were her parents?

Why hadn’t they come for her? Was it because she wasn’t good enough? If she ate less grain and more wild grass, would they want her then?

Her stomach rumbled again.

She spoke softly, "Brother, did you see my little blade of grass? I’m hungry."

Gu Muyan stared at her, a deep ache in his heart.

She had no relatives?

Who had beaten her so badly? Who had left her on the road?

Looking into her innocent eyes, he managed to force a strained smile. "Chacha, people can’t eat grass. But I’ve ordered you some congee with preserved egg and lean meat—it’s delicious."

He turned to fetch the congee, propped her up, opened the tray, and blew on each spoonful before feeding her.

As the large bowl gradually emptied, warmth spread through Chacha’s body, and her head didn’t hurt as much.

Neither of them noticed the faint white mist gently encircling her.

Seeing Chacha obediently finish her food, Gu Muyan smiled. But as his gaze fell on the bandages around her head and remembered her injuries, his expression darkened.

To have hurt a child so severely—should he find the culprit, he would make them pay dearly.

He was about to ask something when his phone suddenly rang.

The shrill sound echoed in the room.

He answered on speaker. An anxious voice burst from the other end: "Young Master, the old man’s condition is critical! He’s already been taken to the emergency room on the fourth floor!"

Gu Muyan’s eyes widened in shock. "What? I’m on my way!"

"Chacha, hold your bowl and eat carefully. Stay in this room and don’t go out."

With hurried instructions, he rushed upstairs.

Chacha stared blankly at the departing figure. She heard someone say that the big brother’s grandfather was dying.