Evelyn came to a halt and turned back toward Seraphina, her expression unreadable. "What exactly am I supposed to know, Seraphina? And what exactly am I asking for?"

Seraphina offered a thin, knowing smile. "Oh, we understand. You heard that Julian’s family sent him winter quilts, so you came to see if he had one to spare, didn't you?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with unfiltered contempt. "Next time you decide to speak, try draining the swamp in your head first. When did I ever keep track of his family’s business? And when, in all the time I’ve been here, have I asked him for a single thing?"

Julian’s jaw tightened. He hated how cleanly Evelyn was cutting him out of her life. "Seraphina was only guessing. You don't have to be so venomous about it." He then turned to Seraphina, his voice softer. "She didn't ask me for anything."

Seraphina’s face crumpled into a mask of feigned regret. "I must have misunderstood. Evelyn, I’m so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Julian cut in before Evelyn could speak. "It’s a trivial matter. She won't hold it against you."

Evelyn watched them both with a cold, clinical detachment. The harvest was over, and she had intended to give them a brief reprieve—mostly to ensure she didn't accidentally play them to death too soon. But if they insisted on crawling back for more, who was she to deny them?

Without a word, she turned to walk away.

"Evelyn! Come to town with me tomorrow!" Julian called out.

The words registered in her mind like a distant, annoying bark.

"Evelyn, I’m talking to you! My mother sent two sets of winter supplies. I’m giving one to you." Julian lunged forward, grabbing the corner of the heavy sack she was hauling.

Evelyn yanked the bag back with a sudden, violent force. "I want you and your little entourage to stay as far away from me as possible. Let me be clear: I have what I need. But even if I were freezing to death, I wouldn't touch a single thread of yours."

With that, she disappeared into the dusk. Julian stood frozen, his face darkening as he stared at the spot where she had been. He couldn't believe the girl he once owned was now speaking to him with such utter defiance.

Seraphina felt a surge of secret triumph. "Julian, it seems she really doesn't need our help. When are you going for the packages? I’ll go with you and help carry them."

"Tomorrow," Julian muttered.

Evelyn’s footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. Tomorrow, then? she thought. We’ll see about that.

The Ward Household, Jiangcheng

In the Ward home, the atmosphere was thick with a hollow sort of pride. Of the four Ward children, three were now performing manual labor at the farms.

This was a rarity in the city, and the local government had even arrived to present them with a "Model Family" banner, along with a towel, a bar of soap, and an enamel mug. The officials praised the Ward children as paragons of modern youth—the gold standard of ideological progress.

Inside, Mrs. Ward and her husband were cursing the heavens, but they accepted the accolades with forced smiles. If the children were going to be stuck in the mud, they might as well squeeze some social capital out of the ordeal.

Dominic had been in the countryside for years, and Mrs. Ward knew the terrain well. She knew the winters were long, dark, and lethal. Since Caleb’s departure, she had been pestering her brother, Sloan, for cotton coupons. She had only recently managed to scrape together enough for thirteen pounds of quilts and padded coats to send to her favorite son.

Mr. Ward knew the dangers too—temperatures that dropped so low the air itself felt like glass. "What about Evelyn?" he asked tentatively. "We can’t just leave her with nothing for the winter, can we?"

Mrs. Ward didn't refuse outright; she simply laid the burden at his feet. "If you want to send her something, you find the coupons yourself."

Mr. Ward went quiet. He knew how rare cotton was, and he didn't have Sloan’s connections. "If she has nothing, won't she just go to Caleb and beg for his?"

Mrs. Ward’s eyes flared with a predatory light. "She wouldn't dare! If she touches a single thread belonging to Caleb, I’ll have her skin! It’s because of that little monster that Caleb is even out there. Did you hear him on the phone? He was sobbing—exhausted, starving, saying he couldn't go on!" Her eyes brimmed with angry tears.

"Dominic went to the country in her place years ago! Now she’s dragged Caleb down with her, and even Seraphina is trapped there. You know Seraphina’s condition—how is she supposed to survive that wasteland?" Her face twisted into a grotesque mask of hatred. "If Evelyn were standing in front of me right now, I’d kill her with my own hands."

In her mind, the list of Evelyn's sins was endless: she had extorted two thousand dollars from her own family, blackmailed Julian’s parents, and ruthlessly orchestrated Caleb’s exile. To Mrs. Ward, Evelyn was a rabid dog that needed to be put down.

Mr. Ward dropped the subject. He hadn't forgotten the way the girl had looked at him—the way she’d dismissed him as a mere shop foreman, a man who couldn't even secure a promotion, let alone protect her. He wanted her to suffer a little. Let her see what life was like without the "worthless" father she so despised.

But Mrs. Ward was still unsettled. What if Evelyn really did have the gall to pressure Caleb or Dominic? They were soft-hearted boys; they might actually give in. She hadn't spent months scrounging for supplies just to provide for that "animal."

And then there was Seraphina. Mrs. Ward decided she needed to pay a visit to Sophia—that "old hag"—to ensure Seraphina’s winter gear had been sent.

When she arrived, Sophia was home on sick leave, looking frail and translucent.

"What’s wrong with you now?" Mrs. Ward asked, her concern sounding like a practiced chore.

"Just a cold," Sophia whispered, offering her a glass of water. "I’ve taken some medicine. I’ll be fine."

Mrs. Ward ignored the pleasantries. "Have you sent Seraphina’s things yet?"

Sophia hesitated. "No... not yet."

"What is wrong with you?" Mrs. Ward snapped. "I told you how cold it gets out there. Do you want your daughter to freeze to death? Are you even her mother?"

Sophia’s lips were pale, a bitter smile touching them. "After everything she’s done..."

"What has she done?" Mrs. Ward exploded. "Gossip is one thing, but you’re her mother! If you don't believe in her, who will? Evelyn is my own daughter, and I know exactly what she is. She’s a thief and a blackmailer. I’m ashamed to even step out of the house because of her! Do you really believe the lies of a girl like that over your own flesh and blood?"

Sophia had watched Evelyn grow up. Deep down, she felt the truth was more complicated than Mrs. Ward allowed. "The incident at the wedding... Seraphina shouldn't have been there. She should have avoided the appearance of impropriety with Julian."

Mrs. Ward’s expression shifted, a sharp, biting guilt gnawing at her insides.

Impropriety? When she and Mr. Ward had first started their secret affair, she hadn't given a damn about appearances. The irony was a bitter pill she had no intention of swallowing.