“Hah… damn right. I finally made it back.”

Ethan Blackwell stood on the gravel road leading to the mouth of Qianhuai Village and let out a long, bitter breath. His clothes were torn to rags, his hair hung in filthy knots, and a thick tree branch in his hand served as a crutch more than a walking stick.

His hands were split. His face was split. Even his feet were cracked open by the cold. Every little move tugged at the wounds. Even the slightest change in expression made pain shoot through him so hard his mouth twisted.

Ethan had always been just a young farmer from Qianhuai Village.

Three years ago, after the old man who had raised him passed away, he had been left with nobody but his dog, Zephyr. Man and dog, depending on each other, getting through one day at a time.

Qianhuai Village was a remote mountain village, shut in from the world and poor as old dust. Most of the grown men in the village spent the year away, working odd jobs or trying to scrape out some business elsewhere.

A young, strong fellow like Ethan, still staying behind to till fields and plant crops, was a rare sight. The only one, really.

Because of that, the villagers often laughed at him behind his back, and sometimes right to his face.

“No drive.”

“No ambition.”

“Just a lazy bum waiting to rot.”

Ethan had heard it all.

Still, he lived off the mu of farmland and the seven fen of earth his grandfather had left him. He rose with the sun, worked when it was light, slept when it was dark. A plain life. Hard, but steady.

When he had spare time, he would take Zephyr wandering around the village, fish by the water, tease silly Daisy next door, and joke around with the lonely young wives left behind in the village.

He was not rich. Not even close.

But one man and one dog, feeding themselves, minding their own business—that had counted as freedom to him. He had lived loose and easy enough.

The only thorn in his heart was money.

More exactly, the lack of it.

Without money, he could not get a wife.

Without real money, he sure as hell could not get a pretty wife.

Then, a little over a month ago, the life of that carefree bachelor was smashed apart by one bit of news from Derek Whitmore, a man from the same village.

Derek had told him, “I’ve got relatives in the provincial capital. There’s a real good job there. Food and lodging covered. Five thousand a month. If you want in, go now.”

Five thousand a month.

Those words had hit Ethan right in the chest.

To earn money. To marry a pretty wife. To stop being looked down on.

In the end, he entrusted his beloved Zephyr to Daisy, gathered up every coin he had to his name, and set out on the road to work away from home.

What he never saw coming was this—

Derek Whitmore had played him for a fool.

The so-called job was nothing but an illegal fraud den.

The moment Ethan got there, the few thousand yuan he carried was taken clean off him. On the very first day, they beat him so hard he nearly spat blood.

But Ethan had one strange bit of luck.

Back when he was in school, he had been the sort who got sleepy the moment a teacher opened his mouth. The minute somebody started lecturing, his eyelids would droop. So when those people in the den tried their brainwashing tricks on him day after day, it barely sank in at all. Their words slid off him like water off a rock.

On a night thick with driving snow, while everyone else slept like the dead, Ethan seized his chance and ran.

Ran for his life.

He had no money on him. Not a single copper.

So he begged all the way back, one village after another, one frozen road after another. It took him more than half a month, but he had finally made it home.

And on that road back, beneath the killing cold and bitter wind, Ethan had suffered like a dog.

If it hadn’t been for Zephyr, if it hadn’t been for the hatred he was holding down for Derek Whitmore, if it hadn’t been for that stubborn dream of one day marrying a pretty wife, Ethan Blackwell might really have dropped dead on the road.

The first thing he meant to do after getting home was settle the score with that bastard Derek Whitmore.

It was already the end of the twelfth month. The men of the village had all come back for the New Year. Derek, who worked in town as a foreman under Bruno Mercer, the village tyrant, had to be back too.

Leaning on a tree branch, Ethan limped along the gravel path toward the entrance of Qianhuai Village.

When he passed a patch of fir woods, his gut suddenly started churning and growling. He hurried in at once to relieve himself.

He was still squatting there when a man and a woman slipped into the woods hand in hand, sticking close like they had honey on them.

The trees were thick, packed tight, and neither of them noticed Ethan crouched nearby.

Constance Mercer? Derek Whitmore?!

Those two actually...

The moment Ethan saw their faces, his eyes went wide.

Then he saw Derek clearly, and the fire in his chest shot up at once. His jaw clenched so hard it almost cracked. He wanted nothing more than to rush out and tear into him.

But not now.

He could not show himself here.

If Constance found him, Ethan knew damn well nothing good would come of it.

Constance was Bruno Mercer’s wife. In Qianhuai Village, she was a famous she-devil. With her man rich and powerful, she strutted around like she owned the dirt under everyone’s feet. Nobody dared provoke her.

“Snff, snff... what the hell stinks so bad?” Derek suddenly asked, twitching his nose.

“Mm, that’s true,” Constance said, wrinkling her face. “It really does stink. Smells like shit.”

The two of them started sniffing around, craning their necks and looking everywhere along the smell.

Damn, this is bad.

Ethan’s heart jumped. He quickly grabbed two handfuls of dirt from the ground and covered the pile.

Pfft—

But the more nervous he got, the less his body listened. His rear end betrayed him on the spot with one loud fart.

“Ah!”

Ethan Blackwell was so scared he didn’t even bother wiping himself. He yanked up his trousers and bolted. The sudden move made Derek Whitmore and Constance Mercer both cry out in shock.

Lucky for him, neither of them came chasing after him.

Ethan gritted his teeth against the pain in his foot and ran straight for the village without daring to look back.

I’m in such a sorry state now... they probably didn’t recognize me, right?

As he ran, he kept praying in his heart.

He didn’t stop until he reached the entrance of Qianhuai Village. There, he saw a girl in a pink padded coat riding out from the village on a fine electric bike.

Adelaide Mercer?

Damn it. He looked no better than a beggar now. If she saw him like this, that was shameful as hell.

The moment he recognized her, bitterness rose in Ethan’s chest.

Adelaide Mercer was one of the two village beauties.

Compared to the other one, Clarissa Henley, Adelaide had something fiercer in her. A wild, spicy streak. She was sharp-eyed, hot-blooded, and hard to ignore.

And her figure was downright dangerous—curves where they ought to be, fire in every step. Every time Ethan saw her, his heart would start thudding like a drum.

Whether it was Adelaide Mercer or Clarissa Henley, both were the kind of pretty wives Ethan dreamed about day and night.

Too bad, in their eyes, Ethan Blackwell was just a useless nobody, a second-rate bum with no future. On ordinary days, they would not even spare him a proper glance.

“Huh? Isn’t that Ethan Blackwell?”

Adelaide recognized that ragged figure by the roadside was actually him. She stopped the electric bike and stared, surprise plain on her face.

“Uh... Adelaide Mercer, heading out?” Ethan asked, lowering his head in embarrassment.

“Tsk, tsk.” Adelaide clicked her tongue and looked him up and down, her face full of scorn. “Other people go out to work and make money. You? You go out begging? That’s plain disgraceful. You’ve about thrown away all the face the men of Qianhuai Village have.”

“Who says I went out begging?” Ethan’s mouth twitched. He forced out an explanation. “I... I was tricked by that bastard Derek Whitmore!”

“Cut it out. Still trying to save face?” Adelaide rolled her eyes hard. “You’re the village’s famous good-for-nothing. A real waste.”

“You’re the trash one! I’m only down on luck. Once my luck turns, I could be raking in money every day. Becoming the richest man in Qianhuai Village ain’t impossible!”

Ethan Blackwell was already burning inside. Getting looked down on to his face by the village beauty stung worse than a slap.

“Ahahaha! No need to wait for luck to turn. Right now you already are the richest in the village—richest in debt, maybe!”

Adelaide Mercer laughed so hard her shoulders shook. Her eyes were full of mockery, sharp as little hooks.

Ethan’s jaw tightened.

“Hmph. Adelaide Mercer, if one day I really become the richest man in this village, then you marry me and be my wife. You dare bet on that or not?” he said, voice hard, carrying a deliberate bite.

The words came out hot. He’d been pushed there by her sneer. Truth be told, his heart was hollow as a drum. But in front of her, he could not show weakness. Not with his mouth. Not now.

“Pah, what’s there not to dare? If you really become the richest man in Qianhuai Village, then so what if I marry you?” Adelaide cut him a sideways look, her lips curling. “But from what I see, you won’t get that chance even in your next life. Heh, heh, heh.”

With that, she turned and walked off, light on her feet, laughter still trailing behind her like a needle scraping his pride.

But before she got more than a dozen meters away, she stopped.

Then she came back.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “What, having second thoughts? Don’t dare bet anymore?”

“Who’s backing out?” Adelaide shot back at once. She tugged at the corner of her mouth and looked him over. “Ethan Blackwell, you like Clarissa Henley quite a lot, don’t you?”

“Who said that? I like you more!”

The answer came too fast. Half stubbornness, half heat.

Adelaide clicked her tongue. “I’m talking serious here. If she could stay by your side every day, keep you company day in and day out, would you want that?”

Ethan blinked, thrown off. “What are you getting at?”

Adelaide’s face turned strangely solemn. She stared straight at him and said, word by word,

“I can make Clarissa Henley marry you.”