"My mother’s parcel is gone, too?"

Julian’s silence was his only answer.

The veins in Caleb’s neck began to throb, his face flushing a dark, angry red. "How? How is that even possible?"

Julian recounted the disaster with a weary precision. "Serafina fell for an old trick—the 'luring the tiger from the mountain' play. Someone started throwing wedding candy, and while she was busy scrambling for sweets, they cleared us out. There had to be at least two or three of them to move that much weight so fast."

Dominic, looking as though the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders, let out a long, ragged sigh. "Let’s just cook. We’ll talk after we eat."

Caleb’s hands curled into trembling fists. Back in the city, losing things had been an inconvenience. When their bicycles were stolen, his mother had cursed for an afternoon, and he had simply figured they’d buy new ones. He’d known money was important, but he had never truly understood the cost of things.

Now, having bled and sweated for every cent in this backwater village, he understood. Every stolen thread represented a piece of his own life he would never get back.

Julian and Caleb were useless in a kitchen, but Dominic had been in the countryside long enough to pick up the basics. He set to work on a pot of sauerkraut and pork bones, alongside a stew of radishes and fatty meat. He even steamed a pot of pure white rice—a luxury they rarely saw. Despite the heaviness in their chests, the smell alone made their mouths water with primal hunger.

But as they sat down to eat, the loss of the parcels sat at the table with them, turning the rich food to ash in their mouths.

On the other side of the village, Evelyn was hauling her own cart of firewood back to the brigade.

"Evelyn! Let me help you with that!" It was Buck, the eldest brother of her friend Meta. With Buck pushing from behind, the heavy cart felt light as a feather, and they practically jogged the rest of the way.

"Thanks, Buck! I owe you one!" Evelyn called out as he turned to leave the yard.

Buck’s face turned a deep crimson. Evelyn was always so polite. She called him "Brother Buck"—the only girl from the city who treated him with that kind of respect. Even Hazel, the girl he actually fancied, just called him by his name.

Once inside, Evelyn bolted the door and latched the windows. She stripped off her sweat-soaked coat, her inner layers clinging to her skin. After a long draught of spirit-spring water, the exhaustion began to recede. It was a hard life, but she didn't fear this kind of fatigue. She feared the hopelessness of her past life—the endless, bottomless exhaustion of a soul with no future.

She pulled a large bowl of braised pork over white rice from her spatial storage. She often used Adrian as an excuse to cook meat, making massive batches at a time to hide away. It was a perfect system: no one saw the smoke, and when she was too tired to cook, she had a steaming hot meal ready in seconds.

Refreshed by the meal, she manifested the stolen parcels from her storage. Julian’s was the largest. She tore it open first.

Inside were two thick, brand-new cotton quilts—six pounds of premium batting each. There were two sets of black padded jackets and trousers, heavy and warm. Along with them were two pairs of winter boots and four bolts of high-quality fabric. It was a small fortune in supplies.

Mine now, she thought, stowing them away.

Next was the Ward family’s parcel. It contained similar winter gear, though the cotton was thinner and the quality was a grade lower than Julian’s. Still, by village standards, it was luxury.

Finally, she reached the last one. Serafina’s?

As she looked at the address, Evelyn felt a familiar grinding in her teeth. Those two bastards. What right did they have to claim her mail?

The sender wasn't listed by name, only the city of origin: Jiangcheng. But Evelyn knew. The Wards wouldn't send her a toothpick. The only person who cared was Aunt Sophia.

She opened it to find a thick set of padded clothes, a quilt, a new military-style uniform, and fresh bedsheets. Tucked into the pocket of the jacket was a note:

Evelyn, I don’t know how you’re faring out there. Regarding your brother... I don’t know why you did what you did, but I know you aren't a bad child. You must have your reasons.

Your parents are furious, but there is no grudge between parent and child that lasts forever. In time, they will forgive you. Your brother and cousin are with you; you are family. Don't be so stubborn. Soften your heart when you need to. They are your brothers—if you are tired or in trouble, go to them. Don't carry it all alone. Keep the quilt for yourself. Don't tell anyone.

Evelyn finished the letter, her heart a tangled mess of emotions.

The next morning, the village was buzzing. Tess arrived early with the gossip: the city kids had been robbed blind at the commune. Julian was devastated, and Serafina had supposedly suffered a heart attack from the shock and was back in the hospital.

"How is it always them?" Tess wondered aloud. "It’s either insurance fraud like you said, or they’ve just done so much wicked work that the heavens are finally paying them back!"

Evelyn smiled thinly. The heavens didn't do this, she thought. I am their retribution.

As Evelyn prepared to head out for more wood, she found Tess sealing the window gaps with old newspaper and paste to keep out the winter drafts. It was a tedious job, but necessary for survival. Evelyn reached into her pocket and pressed a handful of assorted candies into Tess’s hand.

Tess thought it was dried sweet potatoes at first, but when her fingers brushed the wrappers of expensive store-bought sweets, she nearly jumped for joy. "I knew you were the best, Evelyn!"

Evelyn headed out of the village, only to run straight into Julian. He looked haggard, his eyes scanning her as she pulled her cart.

He frowned. "Evelyn? Why are you still cutting wood? Didn't my cousin give you money?"

In the past, they’d had to work because their funds hadn't arrived. Now that Julian had cash, he’d stopped manual labor, paying villagers to do the heavy lifting instead. He assumed Evelyn was doing the same.

Evelyn’s expression turned to ice. She didn't care to analyze his motives; she simply defaulted to malice. "I heard you went to the township to collect parcels yesterday."

Julian’s face darkened. "We did."

Evelyn’s gaze was sharp, cutting through his pride. "I was expecting a parcel of my own around this time. When you were at the post office... did you happen to see one with my name on it?"