Sickly Peasant Girl: General, I'm In Charge!

Translator: Dragon Boat Translation Editor: Dragon Boat Translation

Chen Xiaosang’s scalp seared with pain, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Erzhu was so enraged that he persistently kicked at Mrs. Qian’s legs, yelling, “Release my Aunt! You’re evil!”

Annoyed, Mrs. Qian shoved Erzhu away. Unable to resist, he hit his head on the stove again, his white bandage quickly turning red with blood.

Sanzhu, being younger, was petrified by the unfolding scene.

He started to cry loudly.

Watching Erzhu crumpled on the floor, Chen Xiaosang couldn’t hold back her tears. “The money is in my mother’s room. I’ll take you there,” she declared forcefully.

Mrs. Qian shoved Chen Xiaosang, causing her to sprawl on the ground, her palms burning with pain.

“You useless girl, not getting up yet? Do you want a taste of my hand?” Mrs. Qian barked, seething with anger.

Her voice echoed loudly, making her face throb with pain from her recent wounds.

She covered her face, glaring hatefully at Chen Xiaosang.

Last night, this miserable girl had incited the villagers to surround and berate her. Worse still, she had managed to pilfer eight hundred coins.

Eight hundred coins!

Almost a tael of silver!

The thought was like a knife to her heart.

She had fought with Chen Qingshan the entire night, and he hadn’t held back, leaving her in too much pain to eat her breakfast.

Enduring her own pain, Chen Xiaosang picked herself up. Her tiny knees throbbed fiercely.

She wiped away her tears with her sleeve and began her slow journey from the kitchen towards the house.

Mrs. Qian, with a half-finished bowl of soup in hand, followed. While sipping from the bowl, she curled her fingers and knocked on Chen Xiaosang’s head with the knuckles of her index and middle fingers.

“You little menace, you brought this on me!”

Chen Xiaosang’s head throbbed with each hit. She bit her lip, swallowing her cries as she walked into her parents’ room. Pointing at a large earthen jar in the corner, she said, “My mother always kept her silver in there.”

Silver!

The wretched girl was talking about silver. How much could be inside?

Mrs. Qian’s eyes lit up with greed. She shoved Chen Xiaosang aside, placed her bowl on the ground, and began to move the stone slab atop the jar.

Chen Xiaosang wiped away her tears and silently left the room. She carefully closed the door, wedging a broom handle into the doorknob to keep it shut, and jammed it against the door frame.

The room was still filled with the clanging noise. Chen Xiaosang discreetly slipped out, closed the window, and returned to the kitchen. Seeing Erzhu’s still-bleeding head, her tears began to fall.

She knelt down and, with considerable effort, hoisted Erzhu onto her back. Leading Sanzhu by the hand, she walked out.

As they reached the courtyard, Mrs. Qian’s curses echoed behind them. Chen Xiaosang hastened her pace, pulling Sanzhu as they fled from their own home.

Luckily, Sanzhu remembered that Wushu mentioned picking hemp in the morning, so he guided Chen Xiaosang towards the hemp field.

As she approached the fields, she could see her father from a distance, busily working while bent over under his bamboo hat. She couldn’t bear her hurt feelings any longer and burst into tears.

Seeing his little aunt weep, Sanzhu promptly started crying too, the whole ordeal terrifying him.

Upon hearing the crying, Chen Wushu turned around to see Chen Xiaosang, carrying Erzhu on her back, running towards their hemp field, her tears flowing freely. Sanzhu was trailing behind like a little tail, crying with an open mouth and a look of utter distress.

Chen Wushu dropped his sickle and yelled out to his father, who was near Chen Xiaosang, “Father, Xiaosang and Sanzhu are crying.”

Old Chen wiped away his sweat, nonchalantly responding, “Who would dare to bully Xiaosang?”

He had five sons. Everyone in the village had to give in to him. Would anyone bully his daughter?

He was a man with five sons, earning him respect and deference in the village. It was unthinkable that anyone would dare to bully his daughter.

As for Sanzhu, he was always at home with Dazhu and Erzhu. Yet, the crying he heard sounded eerily like his daughter. Was that Sanzhu’s voice too?

Confused, Old Chen turned around, only to find his daughter and Sanzhu running towards him, their faces streaked with tears and snot.

Just as he turned around, Chen Wushu had already run over to them. Chen Xiaosang flung herself into Wushu’s arms, and Sanzhu, still sobbing, clung to his uncle, smearing Wushu’s pants with tears and snot.

Chen Wushu cradled Erzhu in his arms. Seeing their pitiful state, he urgently asked, “What happened?”

Still sobbing, Chen Xiaosang pointed towards their home. “Auntie is here… sob… she took our things… and wants our family’s money… sob… and she hit us…”

She felt so wronged!

Since arriving in this world, she had never been hit. Her parents, brothers, and sisters-in-law had always treated her kindly. They had never spoken harshly to her. How could she have been hit by Mrs. Qian?

Frantic, Chen Wushu looked at Old Chen, exclaiming, “Father!”

Upon understanding the situation, Old Chen’s face turned grim. His countenance was so dark it seemed like it could pour rain.

“Where’s Dazhu?” he asked.

“Dazhu stole the flour… Burp… and ran away…Burp… Big sister-in-law Rong… sob, sob… went to catch him,” Chen Xiaosang managed to say between her sobs and burps, narrating the whole incident.

As she spoke, Sanzhu nodded along with his tears, confirming her account.

Without wasting any more time, Old Chen picked up his two sickles, cradled Xiaosang in his arms, and, with Sanzhu who was still crying innocently, headed home.

Chen Wushu quickly followed, carrying Erzhu on his back and holding Sanzhu under his arm.

As Chen Xiaosang gradually calmed down, she narrated everything that had transpired.

The more Old Chen heard, the more his face darkened. His grip on the sickle tightened.

Upon reaching home, they found that Mrs. Qian was still locked in a room, cursing loudly.

Old Chen’s chest heaved in anger. He placed Erzhu down to rest in the main room. Turning to Chen Wushu, he instructed him to go to the village chief’s house and invite him over.

Chen Wushu acknowledged and darted towards the courtyard, anxiously eyeing the window. Spotting only a small stone serving as a barrier, he briskly picked up a larger slab from the yard, replacing the pebble on the windowsill, before swiftly taking off.

The cloth around Erzhu was unwrapped, revealing a wound that was still bleeding profusely. Old Chen felt a surge of anxiety, he had no son to send for a doctor, so he resorted to pressing a clean piece of clothing against the bleeding.

Chen Xiaosang hurried to the kitchen to fetch water. She then squatted down, washing Sanzhu’s hands and face before attending to herself.

Her little hands were scraped and bleeding, with soil sticking to the wounds. Every wash brought a grimace of pain to her face.

Pathetic!

She’d been slashed before, why was she suddenly so sensitive to pain after two years of recovery?

It was just a scrape, hardly painful. Her head had been knocked a few times, why was she crying over that?

Chen Xiaosang chastised herself as she cleaned her hands. She then rolled up her pants to reveal her bruised knees.

Sanzhu, seeing her bruises, burst into tears. Chen Xiaosang, wincing, asked him, “Where does it hurt?”

Sanzhu, pointing at the bruises on Chen Xiaosang’s knees, cried out pitifully, “My leg hurts.”

Old Chen’s attention was drawn by the crying. He looked over, and upon seeing his daughter’s battered hands and feet, he sucked in a breath, “Did your aunt do all of this?”

Chen Xiaosang, who hadn’t felt much pain until now, felt a rush of warmth in her eyes when she heard her father’s question. She extended her hands, struggling to climb up the side of the bed, before wrapping her arms around her father’s neck, sobbing.

Sob, sob, sob. It was her father’s indulgence that was the root of it all. Whenever she saw him, she felt an intense wave of pain throughout her body.

Despite being a survivor of the apocalyptic brutality, someone who could stitch her own wounds when slashed by a knife, why was she so weak now?

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