My dad looked pleadingly at my uncle, but my uncle just snorted coldly and slammed the door as he left.

He could only come over with a grievance, holding onto my feet and acting cute: "Mom, I've been good and didn't provoke you..."

Didn't provoke?

Hmph.

I squatted down, gently patting his cheek: "Brothers should stick together. I hit your older brother, and you just watch. Shouldn't you be punished?"

He refused, so I aimed a kick at his butt: "Are you going or not?"

My dad knelt at the door, holding a thin bamboo stick in my hand. If he moved, I swung it at him: "Stand up straight!"

"Mom..." He started to cry out, but before he could finish the word, I hit his butt again: "Did you do something wrong?"

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

I hit him again: "Did you do something wrong?"

"Stop hitting me, I did something wrong, please stop..."

He cried and shouted, but I couldn't hear clearly, so I hit even harder, knowing it wouldn't leave a scar anyway.

I mimicked the tone he used to scold me in a past life: "I'm punishing you for your own good. If I don't punish you, you'll always be like this, never improving."

"Mom, I'm still young, can you let it go this time?"

Auntie was still so soft-hearted, and I sighed inwardly.

I turned and hit my dad who was about to get up: "Did I tell you to get up? Kneel until your older brother comes back!"

I took Auntie back to the inner room, rolled up her pants leg, and gently pressed on her swollen right knee: "Does it hurt?"

She sucked in a breath from the pain but forced a smile: "It's not that bad."

How could it not hurt?

In a past life, Auntie suffered from parasitic arthritis. The family she was a child bride in didn't want to spend money on her medical treatment. Auntie endured it for a few years, and her knee bones all died, turning her into a cripple at a young age.

Her condition couldn't be delayed, but all the money in the house was controlled by Grandpa, so medical expenses were a problem.

I was so annoyed that I wanted to hit my dad. When I turned around, I saw him talking to a young girl standing nearby, about thirteen or fourteen years old, carrying a large basket filled with pig feed.

"I told you, your mom loves your sister more than you."

"That's not true! I'm the youngest son, my mom loves me the most!"

"Then why didn't your mom send her to be a child bride?"

My dad was both anxious and angry: "Once my dad comes back, he'll definitely send her away!"

I sneered, and the young girl ran off as soon as she saw me.

"Who was that?" I nudged my dad with my foot.

Reluctantly, he said, "That's Lin Qiudi. Her family is the richest in our village, and they even raise pigs."

Lin Qiudi, I furrowed my brow and thought for a moment, my expression gradually turning grim.

The former stepmother's name was Lin Qiudi.