Xiao Yan had intended to ignore Lin Xiaoxiao and walk right past her, but Lin Xiaoxiao wasn't having it. She stepped forward and called out firmly, "Xiao Yan, wait."

Caught off guard, Xiao Yan halted and turned. Her face remained stiff, the fresh scratch from Zhang Yimei still visible. Seeing Lin Xiaoxiao, a flicker of guilt passed through her eyes.

Keeping a safe distance, Lin Xiaoxiao studied her and sighed softly. "That looks like a nasty cut on your face. You should put some ointment on it—you really don't want a scar."

Xiao Yan knew Lin Xiaoxiao wasn't genuinely concerned. She stayed silent, bracing herself.

Lin Xiaoxiao narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Let's be honest—even with a pretty face, Zhou Huainan was never interested. If you end up disfigured, he'll like you even less. Oh, and that little essay of yours... not bad, really. A bit dated in style, though. We're in a new era now—maybe ease up on the language from those old big-character posters."

Xiao Yan paled. She knew Lin Xiaoxiao was mocking her for helping Zhang Yimei write the accusation letter, but she refused to admit it. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied coldly.

Lin Xiaoxiao waved a hand dismissively. "Sure, whatever. Get back to work. And watch your step—the roads can get pretty dark at night."

With a faint smile, she turned and walked away.

Xiao Yan stood rooted, clutching her medical bag until her knuckles turned white. Anger burned inside her—she wanted nothing more than to slap that smug look off Lin Xiaoxiao's face. But she held back. Lin Xiaoxiao was pregnant and fragile. One wrong move could cause a miscarriage, and Xiao Yan wasn't willing to throw her future away over a moment of rage.

If she couldn't take the college entrance exam, she'd be stuck in this backwater town forever. Without Zhou Huaian, this place meant nothing to her. Her only way out was university—to make something of herself and someday make Lin Xiaoxiao regret everything.

Lin Xiaoxiao, for her part, wasn't worried. Pregnant or not, she knew she could handle Xiao Yan—whether the girl dared to try anything or not.

Feeling lighthearted, she headed home, already looking forward to the day the national exams resumed. That was when she'd finally settle things with Xiao Yan.

The more she thought about it, the more pleased she felt. If everyone's path was bound to have obstacles, she might as well be the one setting them. Sometimes, playing the villain was the only way to get by. She chuckled to herself—maybe this was her way of "saving the people."

She was still smiling when she reached her door—and there was Zhang Yimei, stepping out with little Shanzi. The woman looked ghostly pale, thinner than before, clearly not yet recovered from the miscarriage.

As soon as Zhang Yimei saw Lin Xiaoxiao, she rushed over and suddenly dropped to her knees.

Lin Xiaoxiao's heart sank. She sidestepped immediately. "Get up," she said coolly. "Kneeling won't change anything. Even if you kneel till you collapse, I won't forgive you."

She was furious. After everything—risking her own baby to save Zhang Yimei's mother-in-law, only to be falsely accused—did this woman really think a kneel would make it better?

Tears streamed down Zhang Yimei's cheeks as she pleaded, "Sister-in-law, I was wrong—I was blind. Please, talk to Wenju for me. I don't want a divorce."

Lin Xiaoxiao almost laughed. "You came to me about your divorce? I'm not the Women's Federation. I don't have that kind of authority."

"He'll listen to you!" Zhang Yimei begged, her voice breaking. "If we divorce, how will I live? I know I messed up, but I can change!"

Lin Xiaoxiao sighed deeply. "A leopard doesn't change its spots. I saved your son once, and you never even thanked me. Instead, you made more trouble. You know I have a temper—if you keep this up, I'll tell Wang Wenju to finalize the divorce today."

She added coldly, "Marrying a jinx like you was his first piece of bad luck. Don't make it worse." She turned to go inside.

Terrified, Zhang Yimei scrambled to her feet and stumbled back toward her own home, crying,

"Sister-in-law, I can't get divorced! How will I raise my child alone?"

Lin Xiaoxiao didn't look back. "That's your problem," she said flatly before closing the door behind her.

She didn't feel an ounce of pity. Some people brought trouble on themselves.

Zhang Yimei wiped her tears, picked up her son, and trudged home. Not a single neighbor had come to check on her since the miscarriage—not even Wang Wenju. She'd gone to the clinic alone and returned alone, child in hand.

She remembered how, in the village, whenever someone was ill or had a baby—or even a miscarriage—people would bring eggs or brown sugar. When Lin Xiaoxiao was pregnant, even usually distant relatives had visited with gifts.

But no one came for her. Not even Sun Yufeng, who used to stop by often. The whole compound had turned its back on her.

Unbeknownst to her, everyone had seen through her actions. They knew Lin Xiaoxiao had risked her pregnancy to save Zhang Yimei's mother-in-law—and that Zhang Yimei had repaid her with betrayal. No one wanted to be next.

By late August, Wang Wenju and Zhang Yimei were officially divorced. The unit didn't interfere—after the letter incident, no one had much sympathy for her. Most people thought the compound would be quieter without her, and that Wang Wenju was better off.

His career wasn't greatly affected; the blame hadn't fallen on him.

Unwilling to truly leave, Zhang Yimei made a desperate choice—she took her son and slipped away before sunrise one morning. She thought that as long as she had the boy, she could always come back... and maybe, one day, win Wang Wenju back.

Lin Xiaoxiao was woken early by the sound of a child crying. Zhou Xiaoling sat up in bed, her hair a mess, grumbling, "Whose kid is that? Can't someone make him stop?"

It was just dawn, the room still dim.

Lin Xiaoxiao didn't yet know Zhang Yimei had already left. She sighed. "Probably Shanzi. She's probably upset and taking it out on him."

Zhou Xiaoling got out of bed irritably. "I knew it."

She went outside to look. There stood little Shanzi, barefoot and wearing nothing but a thin vest, crying his heart out in the cold morning air.

It was only early August, but the chill was enough for a coat. Zhou Xiaoling's heart softened a little. "Where are your parents?" she asked.

Shanzi, barely three, could hardly speak clearly. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "Mommy's gone... Daddy's gone... I want Mommy..."

He cried even harder, and Zhou Xiaoling could only sigh.