In the darkness beyond the small courtyard, a burly figure pressed close against a dead tree trunk, like a stone melted into the shadows.
San Zhuang stared fixedly at the battered wooden door of Fang Yuan's home until he saw Fang Yuan's figure slip inside.
Only when the faint sound of the bolt dropping reached him did he slowly let out the breath he had been holding for so long, his body finally relaxing.
He had crept over after hearing the commotion at the Chen Family's place, his heart feeling as though cats were clawing at it—panicked and restless.
He feared those killers had also made their way here. He feared that Liu Wanwan, always lowering her eyes with such gentle softness, had met with disaster.
But when he saw Fang Yuan return unscathed, that trace of worry in his heart was immediately replaced by another, more scorching emotion.
He cursed inwardly: That damned Fang Yuan. Things are such a mess outside, and instead of staying home to guard his woman, what the hell is he running around for? What if...
At the thought of the fright Liu Wanwan might have suffered, flames rose in his chest.
Then, the memory of that snowy night surged up uncontrollably.
That day, he had actually spotted Fang Yuan from far away, collapsed in the snow and nearly buried beneath it.
He had been startled at first, but then a vicious thought sprang up. He deliberately led his companions on a detour.
He had thought, Let this sickly bastard freeze to death, starve to death, or better yet, get dragged off by wolves drawn by the smell!
But who would have thought Fang Yuan's life would be as hard as stone? He had not died!
Later, when they ran into other villagers, San Zhuang