Chapter 3: She Could Skip a Meal

Chu Lingyue fell silent for a moment before speaking in an ambiguous tone. “A-Jin, don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself.”

As she said this, her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression a mix of grievance and something oddly peculiar.

Tang Jin pondered for a bit, finally dredging up the reason from the original host’s memories. She now understood why Chu Lingyue was acting this way.

After marrying Chu Lingyue, the original host had separated from Old Madam Tang to live on her own. But neither wife was one for manual labor—they simply ate through their savings until nothing was left, selling off every possession they could.

Come autumn, the food had run out. Because the original host feared her grandmother, she never let on anything in front of Old Madam Tang.

But people had to eat. And guess what the original host did?

She abandoned Chu Lingyue entirely, relying on her somewhat passable looks to find someone outside who would dote on her and mooch meals.

Tang Jin was utterly dumbfounded. How could someone have no bottom line at all? She felt utterly ashamed on her behalf…

As for how Chu Lingyue had managed to hold on, Tang Jin was deeply curious. Don’t even mention foraging for wild vegetables—she wasn’t some self-important fool like the original host.

With the rewards from the Lie Detection System dangling in front of her, Tang Jin had good reason to suspect that this woman had been hiding from the original host every day, secretly enjoying good food on her own outside.

These two wives were something else—both utterly self-centered, with no care for each other’s life or death.

“A-Jin, what’s wrong?” Chu Lingyue asked uneasily, noticing Tang Jin staring at her.

This person wasn’t acting right. Normally at this hour, she wouldn’t even be home, off somewhere mooching another meal…

Tang Jin thought for a moment before asking, “Wife, do we have any money left at home?”

Chu Lingyue lowered her gaze and murmured softly, “There’s not a single coin left in the house.”

【Ding! Reward: one Beggar’s Chicken】

Tang Jin gazed at Chu Lingyue with a complicated expression, thrilled at the prospect of meat even as she marveled speechlessly at the woman’s lack of a single truthful word.

After all, when the original host had first started selling off their household goods, she would return each time with a bit of silver or some rice and flour to share with Chu Lingyue.

Only later, after squandering every last bit, did Chu Lingyue’s days of foraging for wild vegetables begin.

Their home had ended up utterly destitute.

For a fleeting moment, Tang Jin even wondered if Chu Lingyue had foreseen this day all along, stashing away food and money in advance.

On the surface, she’d endured the feast-or-famine life alongside the original host. In reality, she’d been sneaking off to eat well on her own.

Of course, Chu Lingyue probably hadn’t hidden much, which explained why the woman had grown so gaunt and malnourished.

It was a good thing Old Madam Tang had no idea how the original host had ruined their lives—otherwise, she’d have grabbed a kitchen knife and stormed over to teach her unlucky granddaughter a lesson.

Tang Jin glanced at the Beggar’s Chicken on the goods shelf. Looking at Chu Lingyue, who was skinny enough that a stiff breeze might carry her off, she felt a momentary pang of softness and asked, “Wife, have you eaten dinner yet?”

She decided to show a bit of mercy. If this woman told the truth, they’d share the meal. If she lied again, Tang Jin wouldn’t hold back.

Chu Lingyue slowly exhaled two words. “Not yet.”

Tang Jin waited quietly for a moment before turning to head outside. “Then wait here. I’ll go find something to eat and bring it back.”

No reaction from the system—that meant it was the truth.

This woman probably only ate one meal a day. She was rather pitiful.

Sigh. Tang Jin would show some compassion this once. After all, she was her wife in name, if nothing else.

Before long, Tang Jin returned cradling the Beggar’s Chicken.

“A-Jin, what’s this?” Chu Lingyue stared at the large lump in her hands that looked like a hunk of charred black dirt, her eyes filled with confusion.

Tang Jin strode straight inside. “Come on in. We’ll eat together.”

With the mud shell still warm, they needed to crack it open and eat while hot.

Chu Lingyue followed her into the room. Seeing that Tang Jin wasn’t joking, her expression stiffened slightly. “A-Jin, this is dirt…”

She could skip a meal—she wasn’t desperate enough to eat dirt.

Even baked, it would be impossible to swallow.

Tang Jin smiled mysteriously. “Just watch.”

She wasn’t eating dirt, after all.

She was going to eat meat—fragrant, succulent chicken.

Tang Jin casually grabbed an empty bowl from the table and smashed its bottom against the mud shell.

The black mud shell shattered easily, revealing oil-soaked lotus leaves beneath.

A rich, intoxicating aroma burst forth at once, wafting straight into their noses and stirring their appetites.

As Tang Jin peeled back the lotus leaves, the Beggar’s Chicken revealed its true form.

A perfect young chicken lay there, golden-hued and unbroken, its sight alone enough to make one’s mouth water.

Tang Jin swallowed hard, wasted no words, and dug right in—ripping off a drumstick and biting down.

Chu Lingyue watched quietly. Seeing that Tang Jin had no intention of offering her the first bite, she pressed her lips together faintly, lowered her head, and reached for the other drumstick.

For once, the two shared a moment of perfect tacit understanding. Neither spoke a word until nothing remained on the table but a pile of chicken bones.

They exchanged a glance. Chu Lingyue rose first, wordlessly clearing the table without asking a single question—an unusually considerate gesture.

Tang Jin watched her slow, deliberate movements. She was merely wiping the table, yet it seemed as graceful as playing a lute, elegant and poised.

What exactly was this woman’s background?

She didn’t seem like the daughter of an ordinary family at all. The original host’s luck was something else.

The reason Tang Jin said this was that Chu Lingyue hadn’t been brought home through proper marriage rites by the original host.

Rather, the original host had picked her up from the roadside.

Upon waking, Chu Lingyue claimed to remember nothing, showing deep gratitude only to the original host, her savior.

At the time, the original host had just established her own household as a woman, only to be rejected by Eldest Miss Chu from next door. In a fit of impulse, she’d proposed marriage.

Chu Lingyue, with no memories and no one to turn to, had agreed.

Even Chu Lingyue’s name had been chosen by the original host, modeled after Eldest Miss Chu next door—a classic case of pining for an unattainable white moonlight and settling for a stand-in romance instead.

It was hard to say what to make of it.

The two had thus scraped by together for a year, until their lives had fallen into this miserable state.

The original host had dropped dead, while Chu Lingyue transformed from a plump beauty into a malnourished waif.

“Wife, have you remembered anything from your past?” The question slipped out as Tang Jin thought it over. She held no feelings for Chu Lingyue, but having taken over the original host’s body, she could only make do for now.

Yet she couldn’t be responsible for Chu Lingyue forever just because of that. And this woman, who laced two lies into every three sentences, clearly held no love for the original host either.

The best outcome would be to help Chu Lingyue find her family. Then Tang Jin could look after herself—oh, and add Old Madam Tang to that list. The old lady had it rough enough.

“No,” Chu Lingyue replied indifferently.

The woman before her was dressed like an ordinary farmwife, doing routine cleaning. Yet in her every gesture lingered an otherworldly air.

Her face was like frost-kissed snow, her simple cloth garb and dark hair evoking a celestial immortal lost in the mortal dust.

Tang Jin studied her for a moment and thought that the original host’s “impulse” probably hadn’t been so pure after all. Faced with such a stunning beauty, even she’d feel a bit impulsive.

Ahem, off topic. Impulse was the devil—she was a proper person.