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She bowed her head, continuing to thread the wooden board in her hands; she could already fully feel the force required for each needle insertion.

The newly erected house had a distinct smell of raw wood. However, it wasn’t unpleasant; rather, the scent of the wood brought her closer to nature. Although it wasn’t as restorative as being surrounded by the aroma of various herbs initially, it was still not bad.

“Learn well,” Chen Zhong said with a beaming smile, showing no signs of discomfort despite losing so many things. In fact, he seemed to feel a sense of relief.

Yes, maybe it was a kind of relief. It was better without the herbal books, better without the herbs. He could forget about his past, his identity, his life before, and just focus on mentoring his little apprentice.

“You promised to repay the money you owe me by gathering herbs.”

Tang Yuxin suppressed her emotions, feeling her heart well up with tears.

She felt as if she had sold herself for a paltry two hundred yuan. How could she be so cheap?

On tiptoe, she put the wooden board on the shelf, planning to come back tomorrow to continue practicing. Then she straightened her clothes, ready to go home for dinner.

She had to walk the path from her house to Chen Zhong’s every day, sometimes several times a day. Now, even if she closed her eyes, she could find her way back.

She picked a foxtail flower from the side of the road and put it to her mouth, blowing softly. The flood had washed away everything here, only the weeds remained, thriving amidst adversity. They were proof that life could persist through any hardship.

And she, she needed to be as resilient as the weeds, never giving up, no matter how difficult life became.

“Yuxin…” Suddenly, someone called her name.

The voice was eerily familiar, but where had she heard it before?

It must be a memory from her past, one of those painful memories…

“Yuxin, granny has missed you so much!” In a swift movement, a hand large as a pat stretched out and picked her up. Tang Yuxin, not liking the feeling of her feet leaving the ground, was peeved.

She looked up at the woman holding her; swollen eyes, prominent cheekbones, features etched with scorn and malicious intent. From Yuxin’s memories of her past life, the pain that cut the deepest was linked to this middle-aged woman, who claimed to miss her but actually wanted her dead.

“Yuxin, my poor little Yuxin,” the woman, Sang’s mother, wailed ostentatiously. She scrunched up her face, as though trying to squeeze tears out of her dry eyes but failing. She just screamed louder, as if afraid others wouldn’t hear her.

After several more of these dry wails without receiving any response from Tang Yuxin, Sang’s mother lowered her gaze, only to meet Yuxin’s icy cold eyes; they were not the eyes of a child, but penetrating, icy, and ominous.

And it almost scared her into dropping the child on the ground.

“Yuxin,” she laughed nervously.

“Did your father make a lot of money selling coriander? Granny missed you. Would you like to come with me? Your mother is back at home. She can buy you some meat to eat.”

Sang’s mother coaxed Tang Yuxin. Her beady eyes gleamed with shrewdness, yet her calculations were clear. She had heard that Tang Zhinian had made a fortune growing coriander. Last year, the price of coriander had been unusually high, over one yuan per jin. Rumor had it he had grown it in more than a dozen greenhouses, making tens of thousands of yuan. Oh, how wonderful it would be if Zhilan and Tang Zhinian divorced later! A good-natured man like Tang Zhinian would surely give the money to her. With these tens of thousands yuan, she could build a new house and even buy a television. She loved watching TV.