The cabin fell silent again, and Qian Yixiu, extremely weary, felt no trace of sleepiness.
She lay on the bed, recalling the harrowing events of the past two days, events that had almost all gone awry despite careful planning. Fortunately, it was a close shave, and she had managed to bring back a life spared. Had she been sacrificed, her young mother would have cried herself to death, Grandfather Sangui would have died of rage, and this family would have been finished.
It would have also implicated two innocent outsiders. As Old Uncle Zhang had instructed, it might have even led to a miscarriage of justice. Poor Wan Dazhong might have been sentenced, if not to be executed after the autumn harvest, possibly to banishment thousands of miles away.
