Chapter 100: The Old Witch and the Despicable Man

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“I figured the Wu family wouldn’t inform you. I’m not sure if this is useful to you, but I wanted to let you know so you can be prepared.”

“I understand. Thank you, Aunt Guo,” Lin Jingyue replied, surprised at how reliable Mrs. Guo was—she was truly keeping an eye on the Wu family and Song Qinglan.

Returning the favor, she added, “If Yutong runs out of medicine, just let me know and I’ll send more. Actually, Yutong’s condition isn’t too serious; she just hasn’t had the right treatment. I happen to have your prescription here. With consistent care, two years should be enough.”

Two years was the timeline she had set for herself.

Mrs. Guo was delighted by this. “Don’t worry, Lin, I’ll keep an eye out for you. If you need any help, just ask. I’ll do everything I can.”

Lin Jingyue smiled, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then hung up the phone.

On her way back to the educated youth’s camp, her mind kept turning things over.

Old Mrs. Wu had suddenly died of illness, and Song Qinglan had just returned from here.

Could it really be such a coincidence?

But if Song Qinglan truly was responsible, acting at such a crucial moment was as good as announcing her guilt to everyone. Why would she do that?

Lin Jingyue felt that the root of everything traced back to the Xu family.

Her mother had never once mentioned Song Qinglan. Song Qinglan had been blackmailed by the Wu family. The great fire at the Xu household…

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Lin Jingyue. What if—what if Song Qinglan had set that fire, and the deaths of the Xu family were all at her hands, and Wu Huixian just happened to discover it?

That would explain everything.

Her mother never mentioned Song Qinglan because she had witnessed her set the fire and kill an entire family—but as her twin sister, she couldn’t report Song Qinglan. Knowing her sister carried blood on her hands, she could never face her again.

So she never spoke of Song Qinglan.

She probably thought that after Song Qinglan returned to the capital, they would never cross paths again.

After all, she had never wanted to go back to the capital.

But who would have thought that Song Qinglan would return for her wedding, even bringing her dowry?

Her mother likely died never knowing how precariously Song Qinglan lived in the capital.

And her mother’s death was inevitably connected to those in the capital.

Lin Jingyue closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were calm and clear.

She suddenly understood Song Qinglan’s feelings toward her.

Why was there such deep guilt and self-reproach? Half of it stemmed from her mother’s early death and Song Qinglan’s failure to help.

The other half… perhaps, her mother’s feelings had transferred to her.

Song Qinglan…

A sea of vengeance and blood was buried in her heart!

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It was once her mother’s and her own grudge; now, there was also Wu Huixian—two lives lost.

She would not rest.

So Lin Jingyue also realized why Song Qinglan was worried about her being married off by the Wu family. Partly, she feared Jingyue would live a life worse than death, but also, she was afraid of losing a future ally.

After all, she and Jiang Xun were sweethearts.

In short, Song Qinglan was a complicated person; her feelings for Lin Jingyue were genuine, her kindness sincere, but her need for benefit was equally real.

After all, she was set on revenge, and two fists alone could not beat four hands.

Otherwise, she would have taken down that old witch years ago.

But more importantly, it all came down to Old Master Song. He was probably the true stumbling block.

Having figured it all out, Lin Jingyue let out a long sigh.

As she watched the snowflakes dance and drift from the sky, she felt a chill in her heart—not for herself, but for Song Qinglan.

Her own father had indirectly driven her mother to death and sided with another woman.

They’d been forced by that woman to live lives neither human nor ghost. If the entire Xu family had indeed died by Song Qinglan’s hand, then whatever the Xu family did to her back then… must have succeeded.

What confirmed Lin Jingyue’s suspicions was also the Wu family’s threat against Song Qinglan.

If they’d only known about Song Qinglan killing Xu the eldest, then with nothing left after the fire, she could have denied everything—there would be no evidence.

Yet as soon as she arrived in Anshi, she was threatened; now Old Mrs. Wu was dead.

Lin Jingyue let out a heavy breath. This mess… was just too damn interesting. If it was true, for those scumbags and wretches, she would never forgive them without at least giving them a hard lesson.

Truly infuriating.

She kicked a pile of snow hard.

The next moment, she grimaced in pain, checked to make sure no one was around, then hopped on one foot, clutching her injured one.

So unlucky—she’d hit a rock.

Old witch, old bastard, let them feel this pain when they returned to the capital—let it be unforgettable.

Lin Jingyue hopped back to the educated youth’s camp.

The snow fell thick and heavy for two days, blanketing everything in white.

The world was silent.

Fortunately, there was plenty of firewood, and Lin Jingyue kept the fire roaring, so it wasn’t cold.

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However, she heard that two families in the village had their roofs collapse under the snow during the night, and the brigade leader was organizing people to clear the snow.

The educated youths from the camp went to help as well.

Relations between the educated youths and the village were tense—after all, their livelihoods depended on this place. Though resentful, no one dared to complain.

Sun Liangdong was still bedridden, so it was Chen Chunlan who went.

“You came to shovel snow too?” she asked Lin Jingyue, her expression odd.

It was as if she’d already forgotten about borrowing money from Lin Jingyue and being refused—a true eccentric.

Lin Jingyue was used to it. “The village’s problems are our problems. We came here to support rural development—shoveling snow is nothing.”

The brigade leader and the Party secretary, not far away, heard her righteous words. If they hadn’t known her well, they might have believed her.

“We’re like bricks—move us wherever we’re needed. Hurry up, don’t slack off, don’t be parasites of socialism!”

Chen Chunlan was so exasperated her eyes nearly popped out. “Shut up, you’re the parasite of socialism.”

Despite her words, she shoveled even faster.

The other educated youths, wanting a break, could only grit their teeth and work harder.

Lin Jingyue hummed a revolutionary song, striding boldly, full of energy.

If nothing else, her attitude alone eased the villagers’ moods considerably.

Li Cuihua rolled her eyes at Lin Jingyue’s back—only someone this shameless could manage such things.

“Brigade leader, Zhao’s eldest daughter-in-law fainted again,” suddenly shouted the eldest son from Uncle Shuisheng’s family, running over out of breath.

“The situation at Yu’s house isn’t good either.”

The main surnames in Qingshan Brigade were Li and Sun, but there were others as well.

The collapsed houses belonged to the Yu and Zhao families.

Because it happened at night, some people were injured, though others were fine. Zhao’s eldest daughter-in-law and Yu’s eldest daughter were seriously hurt.

One had a broken arm, the other a broken leg.

“What do we do? The snow’s blocked the roads; there’s no way to get to the clinic.” The accountant looked grim.

“What else can we do? Clear the road as fast as possible,” the brigade leader said, taking a deep breath.

But clearing the road would take too long.

Lin Jingyue listened for a while, but didn’t offer to help.