A chilly autumn wind swept through the air, carrying a few stubborn yellow leaves that clung to the branches, refusing to fall. The scent of a bountiful harvest hung thick in the atmosphere—a rich, earthy aroma that spoke of good yields this year. An unspoken sense of celebration permeated every corner, everywhere except…
A dark-skinned man in his thirties led a creaking ox cart along the dirt road in silence, his lips parched and pale as he stared straight ahead without a word.
Seated on the cart was a young woman dressed in a simple coarse cloth skirt and jacket. A few stray strands of hair framed her face, but they could not hide her striking beauty. Her fair skin made her look nothing like the man driving the cart ahead of her. Her eyes were vacant, filled with confusion, and she clutched a half-full burlap sack to her chest—likely filled with grain.
On the other side of the cart lay a few threadbare quilts and a single bundle, comprising all her worldly possessions.
The girl tightened her grip on the grain sack, the faint rustle of its contents giving her a sliver of courage. Her lips trembled as she called out, “Brother-in-law…”
The cart did not stop. The man driving it did not turn around. He merely grunted in response, “Mm.”
Another long silence stretched between them before the woman spoke again. “In the future…” The words caught in her throat, and when she continued, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Will I still be able to come home for holidays?”
The man sighed, still not looking back. “Embroider Maiden, you know your eldest sister’s temper. Ever since Father passed, she’s been in charge of everything. And she did bear the Liu family a son, after all. Once the family’s divided, we’re no longer one household.” He added in a low, consoling tone, “You’ve got skills. Work hard, and you won’t starve.”
The woman called Embroider Maiden fell silent, tugging at the corner of her mouth in a futile attempt to smile.
She was the third daughter of the Liu family. Among the three sisters, only the eldest had a proper name. She and her second sister had none.
Before coming of age, family and neighbors alike called her Third Sister. That year, on her coming-of-age day, Embroider Maiden had embroidered a delicate floral pattern on the hem of her skirt as a celebration. Her exquisite needlework drew gasps of admiration, and from then on, everyone called her Embroider Maiden.
Embroider Maiden’s parents had been simple, honest farmers, often bullied for having no sons. The household inside and out had relied on her eldest sister to hold it together. When she reached marriageable age, the eldest sister took matters into her own hands and wed a down-on-his-luck man as a live-in son-in-law. Soon after, she bore a son to carry on the Liu name, and from that point on, family decisions all went through her.
Just a month ago, Embroider Maiden had still been part of a family. Her eldest sister might not have liked her, but she hadn’t cast her out—until Embroider Maiden’s fiancé fell ill and died on the eve of their wedding. Mere days later, her father followed him to the grave. Everything changed.
Embroider Maiden became known far and wide as the Broom Star, the Doom Bringer. No one hired her for sewing anymore. Her embroidery gathered dust, unsold. She could no longer contribute to the household.
The deaths of two men had been pinned on a nineteen-year-old girl, even though she herself had no idea what she had done wrong.
With Father gone, Eldest Sister called the shots.
Her mother had never had an opinion her whole life, knowing only how to work. Her second sister had long since married out. When Eldest Sister proposed dividing the family—even though sending a daughter out on her own was unheard of—no one spoke up for Embroider Maiden.
The Liu family owned an old house on the outskirts of town, abandoned for years and bordering the charity mortuary, which made it unsellable. It was just right for Embroider Maiden.
“We’re here. I’ll help you move the bedding inside.” Embroider Maiden snapped back to reality and stared at the decrepit courtyard before her, drawing in a sharp breath.
The deep autumn chill seeped into her chest, sending tendrils of cold through her organs.
The courtyard had long fallen into ruin. Half the enclosing wall had collapsed, weeds grew waist-high inside, and the house itself was dilapidated, drafty from every direction. To the west, she could just make out a sinister building hung with white lanterns—the charity mortuary, where they stored unclaimed or unidentified corpses.
Embroider Maiden shivered and clutched her half-sack of coarse grain tighter as she hopped off the cart. She hurried past the man carrying the bedding and entered the house first.
Embroider Maiden’s brother-in-law watched her retreating figure, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Her brisk efficiency was beyond his expectations. The tactics he and his wife had plotted to deal with her “throwing a tantrum” went entirely unused.
The man tossed Embroider Maiden’s bedding onto the dust-covered kang, then fetched the shabby bundled cloth and dropped it beside the quilts. It took him just two trips to finish.
He brushed the dust from his hands. “I’m heading back.”
Embroider Maiden turned, clasping her hands at her side and bowing to him. In a low voice, she said, “Thank you, Brother-in-law.”
The man nodded and left without looking back. The rumble of the ox cart faded outside until no sound remained. Only then did Embroider Maiden slump against the cold earthen wall, biting her lip as tears finally came.
After a moment of weeping, Embroider Maiden jerked her head up, scrubbing her face roughly with her sleeve. She sniffed hard and stood again. First, she rolled up her sleeves and stepped outside, yanking up some of the waist-high weeds from the courtyard. Her nimble fingers worked quickly, fashioning a simple broom.
Embroider Maiden shook out the bundled cloth and spread it in the yard, placing the bedding and clothes atop it. Then she began sweeping the dust from the house…
Before the sky turned fully dark, Embroider Maiden finished the basic cleanup. She washed up with well water and clambered onto the kang, wrapping herself tightly in the quilts.
Nights in deep autumn were bitterly cold. Even bundled up, Embroider Maiden felt no warmth—only a heavy chill that gnawed at her relentlessly.
The old house’s kang had a blocked flue. Embroider Maiden had tried lighting a fire, but no heat reached the bed, only smoke belching from the chimney. She slipped a hand into her bosom, where her clothes hid a string of cash coins—secretly given to her by her mother.
The thought made her eyes well up again…
Suddenly!
Embroider Maiden heard a faint rustle, as if something had entered the courtyard. Then came a series of footsteps, starkly clear in the desolate night outside town. Every hair on her body stood on end. Holding her breath, she flung off the quilt, grabbed the door-barring stick leaning in the corner, and rose in the darkness.
Wu Wei couldn’t accept it. She’d only wanted to check the stone slab atop the Chastity Archway. But when she jumped down, there was no water—just her kayak vanishing when she resurfaced, and the safety rope around her waist neatly severed.
At first, Wu Wei refused to believe it. It took over a month of investigation before she accepted the reality of crossing worlds. Fortunately, she had ample wilderness survival experience. In this era of abundant natural resources, food was no issue. But as the weather turned colder—this world’s climate far chillier than modern times—she had moved into the nearly abandoned charity mortuary to brace for the coming winter.
Wu Wei had long noticed the Liu family’s old house. But after careful comparison, it was far inferior to the mortuary: drafty walls that could collapse anytime versus solid, windproof buildings with no corpses.
Dressed in a scavenged coarse cloth jacket, her hair piled into a local bun atop her head, Wu Wei had returned empty-handed from foraging up the mountain today. Her stomach growled flatly. Upon arrival, she noticed the old house had visitors: the courtyard weeds were gone. Wu Wei figured she’d try her luck—maybe beg a bite to eat.
Thud! A muffled impact sent pain exploding through Wu Wei’s skull. She rolled her eyes, gritted her teeth, and stumbled forward two steps. Her hand darted to her bosom, where a dagger that had crossed worlds with her lay hidden.
Embroider Maiden staggered back two steps, trembling uncontrollably. Her knuckles whitened around the door-barring stick as she shouted fiercely, “Who goes there?!”
Hearing a woman’s voice from behind, Wu Wei relaxed. She slid the half-drawn dagger back into hiding and clutched the back of her head, complaining, “Why’d you hit me without even asking who I was?”
“This is my home. What are you doing sneaking in here in the dead of night?”
Wu Wei strained to peer at Embroider Maiden, discerning only a vague silhouette. The voice sounded young.
“I live nearby. I passed by and saw the weeds cleared from your courtyard, so I came to take a look… to say hello. No ill intent.”
Wu Wei licked her lips and stepped toward Embroider Maiden, about to ask for food. But the other woman backed away repeatedly until she had nowhere left to go…
“Don’t come any closer! Men and women shouldn’t touch casually!”
Wu Wei paused, then broke into a silent grin. “I’m a woman.”
Now it was Embroider Maiden’s turn to freeze. It was too dark to make out details, but that voice… it lacked a woman’s softness, yet wasn’t as rough or deep as a man’s.
After a few breaths, Embroider Maiden felt the stranger gently grasp her wrist. Such warm hands, such delicate fingertips—she forgot to pull away.
Wu Wei guided Embroider Maiden’s hand to her own chest. “Believe me now? These clothes… well, they’re just for convenience.”
Realizing what she’d touched, Embroider Maiden yanked her hand back as if stung by a bee, her cheeks burning hot. She was at a loss.
“Could you put down that… stick? It really hurts when you hit someone.”
