Chapter Twenty: Fallen into the Pit

Little Lucky lay idly on her small bed, staring up with wide-open eyes as she kicked her tiny legs. At the moment, Grandma Lin and her daughter-in-law were busy in the fields, so they had entrusted Little Lucky to her two young grandsons, Little Wolf and Little Canghai. But children are forgetful by nature; soon enough, the boys completely forgot they were supposed to be watching over their little sister and snuck off to play in the river with a group of other village children.

Little Lucky’s round eyes darted about curiously when suddenly, a dark shadow loomed before her. “Eek—what an ugly monster!” she thought with surprise, her eyes widening as she looked at the newcomer.

It was none other than Ma Cuicui, the woman who had been hauled home by the village chief after attempting to harass a villager! Ma Cuicui stared at the baby lying in the little bed. Something seemed to cross her mind, and her gaze turned sinister as she glanced around—no one was in sight.

“Where is she going?” Little Lucky wondered.

Ma Cuicui scooped up Little Lucky and dashed away. To avoid being seen, she hugged the baby tightly and hurried along a hidden path toward the foothills of Little Bie Mountain.

By chance, this scene was witnessed by Li Qiaoyun, the wife of the fourth son of the Tian family. Li Qiaoyun had just rushed back from her own family’s home; her mother-in-law had made a scene at the village chief’s house yesterday and returned, having been beaten up and carried home. “Why can’t you ever just behave?” Li Qiaoyun thought with disdain for her mother-in-law, who was both malicious and spoiling. “If you’d just quietly offered the chief some gifts and kind words, not only would you have gotten the slot, you could have forced him to squeeze in another person for you.” She had no patience for her mother-in-law’s antics.

As for whatever Ma Cuicui was up to, Li Qiaoyun had no intention of getting involved. She had been living peacefully at her family’s home; if not for the Lin family, she wouldn’t have had to return to care for anyone. “Meng Yun, if anything happens to your daughter, don’t blame me,” Li Qiaoyun thought with a cold smile, turning and leaving.

Meanwhile, the wild little ginseng sprite was also desperately fleeing for its life. What bad luck—to run into that mob! It raced ahead, chased by two or three determined hunters. For a spirit like it, encountering hunters was like a mouse meeting a cat—utter disaster. “How could I be so unlucky?” it thought bitterly.

Elsewhere, Ma Cuicui was carrying the babbling Little Lucky, hurrying along the paths of Little Bie Mountain. The more she looked at the chubby, sturdy little girl in her arms, the more she disliked her—a girl child, yet so plump and healthy. The very sight made her angry.

The thought that this child was born of that wretched Meng Yun only stoked her fury. If Meng Yun hadn’t seduced Sanlang, Ma Cuicui and Sanlang would have long since been married. There would have been no Meng Yun, and certainly no Little Lucky.

Sanlang, were he present, would only have sneered in disgust.

The more she thought about it, the angrier Ma Cuicui became. She decided, in a fit of rage, that she might as well finish things once and for all and rid herself of the little girl. That way, she could sow discord between Meng Yun and Sanlang and perhaps win herself another chance with Sanlang.

Sanlang, if he had known, would have been sickened by the thought.

With these evil intentions, Ma Cuicui reached out for Little Lucky’s neck—but just then, a piercing, pig-like scream rang out. Ma Cuicui abruptly vanished.

Little Lucky found herself lying in a thick clump of grass. “What happened? How did I end up here?” she wondered in confusion.

At that moment, a few little boys ran over, having noticed that their homemade trap seemed to have caught something. When they arrived, they found only a baby lying in the grass.

“Huh? Why is there a baby here? And why does she look so familiar?” The eldest boy, about six or seven years old, peered at the chubby child, sure he had seen her somewhere before. But where?

Just then, another boy who had gone to inspect the trap came running up, pouting. “Er Niu, there’s nothing in the trap. We didn’t catch anything today!”

“That’s not possible. Let me see,” Er Niu replied.

This trap had taken them ages to set up; surely the trampled grass at the edge meant something had fallen in. As he brushed aside the grass, a dark, grimy head suddenly popped out, reaching for him with a hand.

“A monster!” Er Niu shrieked, stumbling back and hitting the unknown creature with a basket.

It was Ma Cuicui.

Poor Ma Cuicui, who had only just regained consciousness, was knocked out cold by the blow. In her last moments before fainting, she understood one thing: always watch where you’re going.

“Er Niu, it looks like that thing passed out. What should we do?” one of the smaller boys asked nervously, swallowing hard.

Er Niu glanced at the unconscious Ma Cuicui in the pit, steeling himself. “Cover it with grass, close up the trap, and remember—we didn’t see anything, nothing at all.”

With that, he snatched Little Lucky from the hands of a nearby boy and quickly walked away.

Little Lucky blinked in confusion.

The group of boys fell silent.

And so, poor Ma Cuicui spent the entire night lying in the pit among the grass—seething with hatred.