Outside the door, Lady Zhao's voice finally returned, but her cries, tinged with a sobbing tone, and her trembling accusations, caused the whole courtyard to shudder.
Tears still marked her face, her eyes wide, her fingers quivering as she pointed at Xie Xinghua, each word uttered as though it drained all her strength, the confluence of fear and rage in her emotions solidifying into an undeniable force in the air.
The villagers stirred at the sound, rumors spreading quickly, those who had witnessed the incident at the sidelines recalled the flash of the knife in Xie Xinghua's hand, all filled with lingering fear.
They hurried to spread the word, and soon, the search for the village chief became frantic, his silhouette weaving through the beginning and end of the village, urgency and anticipation written on every face.
Inside the kitchen, Xie Xinghua's movements ceased abruptly at Su Yu's reminder, the dough suspended mid-air, her hands frozen above the steaming heat.
