A few timid elders had already taken shelter inside the ancestral hall. When Dorothy and I entered, they merely flinched, saying nothing.

Thick planks boarded up the doors and windows, leaving only a few narrow peepholes. I moved to one and peered cautiously outside. The village lay deserted, every door tightly shut. A deathly silence hung in the air—so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

Suddenly, a massive explosion boomed from the village entrance, shaking the entire hall.

***BOOM!***

Explosives. They were blowing the gate!

A collective gasp rose from the elders. Dorothy’s face instantly drained of color. “Joan, the stone gate… they’re going to blow it open!” Her voice trembled.

I gripped her hand tightly, keeping my own voice low. “Don’t be afraid.” But my palms were slick with cold sweat.

I knew the plot. I knew the bandits would break in. Yet when it actually happened, that soul-deep terror was impossible to suppress.

Explosions came one after another, growing more frequent. Each blast hammered against my chest.

Finally, after an ear-splitting detonation, triumphant jeers echoed from the village entrance.

The gate was breached.

“Joan, I… I have to find my brother!” Dorothy shot to her feet, determination etched on her face.

“Are you insane?” I yanked her back. “Going out there is suicide!”

“But if I don’t go now, it’ll be too late!” Tears streamed down her frantic face. “My brother and the others don’t know what’s happening! I have to warn them! I’m fast—I’ll go out the back. They won’t catch me!”

Looking into her stubborn eyes, my heart ached. In my past life, Dorothy had been slashed across the arm protecting the village doctor, nearly crippled for life. This foolish girl was nothing like her clueless brother.

“No!” I held onto her fiercely. “You can’t go!”

“Joan, let me go!” She struggled against my grip. “I can’t just watch everyone die!”

“Dorothy!” I snapped. “You going won’t change anything! Your brother, he—”

Before I could finish, the back door of the hall crashed open.

Several bandits swaggered in, machetes in hand, cruel grins on their faces. The elders screamed. Dorothy and I froze.

How? The back door had been barred from the inside.

*Run!*

The word screamed in my mind. I grabbed Dorothy and bolted for the front door.

But it was too late.

A bandit caught up in a few strides and seized Dorothy by her braid. “Hey, little miss. Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“Let me go!” Dorothy thrashed wildly.

“Dorothy!”

Blind rage tore through me. Without thinking, I snatched a heavy bronze incense burner from the nearby altar and, with all my strength, smashed it against the bandit’s head.

***THUD!***

The man grunted, released his grip, and crumpled to the floor. I grabbed Dorothy and ran, not looking back.

“Get them!” The furious shouts of the bandits chased us.

The village was chaos. Flames lit the sky. Cries, screams, and the crack of gunfire mingled into a living hell.

Dragging Dorothy through the chaotic alleyways, one thought consumed me: *Escape. Get to the Town Police Station and raise the alarm.* It was our only hope.

But just as we reached the mouth of an alley on the west side, several bandits blocked our path. Their leader was a one-eyed man. He licked his lips, his gaze crawling over us with brazen hunger.

“Two little beauties. Lucky find.”

Dorothy and I stumbled back in terror, our backs hitting a cold, unyielding wall. No escape. Despair washed over me. Was I really going to die here again, even in this second life?

Just then, a furious roar erupted from the alley entrance.

“Stop right there!”

My head snapped up. A familiar figure stood there—Bradley, the militia captain from neighboring Hillside Village. Behind him were seven or eight militiamen armed with hoes and clubs.

“Captain Bradley!” I cried, clutching at this lifeline. “Quick! Go get the police! The bandits are Joshua’s gang!” Joshua was the most vicious bandit leader in the area, a man with multiple murders to his name.

But Bradley frowned, looking at me with deep suspicion, not moving forward. “Joan? What are you doing here? Where’s Roger?”

“He—” I started to explain, but the one-eyed bandit suddenly burst into loud laughter.

“Well, well! The militia captain’s little wife! Saves us the trouble of looking for her!” He shouted at Bradley, “Bradley! Our boss says today’s business has nothing to do with Hillside Village. If you’re smart, you’ll clear out! Now! Unless you want trouble!”

Bradley’s face instantly darkened. He tightened his grip on his hoe and demanded harshly, “Joan, what the hell is going on? Did Roger send you to lead the bandits here?”

I froze.

What did he just say?

He thought I was working with the bandits?

Bradley’s words drenched me like a bucket of ice water, chilling me to the bone.

Now I understood why the latch on the ancestral hall’s back door had been open.

It was Roger.

He must have tipped Bradley off in advance—told him to keep an eye on me.

Afraid I’d ruin his plans, afraid I’d go looking for him, he had Bradley and his men block the mountain pass.

But for all his scheming, he never expected the bandits to strike early. He certainly never imagined they’d sneak into the village from the back hills.

By the time Bradley and the others saw the fire and rushed back, it was already too late.

And me, fresh from escaping the bandits’ den? In his eyes, I was the perfect scapegoat—the traitor who’d conspired with them.

“Bradley! How dare you talk nonsense!”

Dorothy was trembling with rage, her finger shaking as she pointed at him.

“My brother left to escort that vixen Nicole to some cultural show! He abandoned the village for her! What does that have to do with my sister-in-law? She’s the one who saved me!”

Bradley clearly didn’t believe her. He stared at me, eyes filled with contempt and fury.

“Roger told me himself before he left. He said you’d been getting too close to one of the educated youths, acting improperly, and that I should keep a close watch. No matter what happened in the village today, I wasn’t to trust a word you said!”

The educated youth?

My mind went blank, ringing with a sudden, deafening hum.

That young man had only asked me for directions a few times. Nicole saw it, twisted the story, and fed it to Roger.

In my past life, that was one of the reasons Roger stopped trusting me—one of the justifications he used before he finally killed me.

He’d rather believe an outsider’s slander than trust the wife who shared his bed.

How absurd. How laughable.

“Hah… hahaha…”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing, laughing until tears streamed down my face.

An invisible fist closed around my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs.

A sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen, followed by a warm rush of wetness down my thighs.

I looked down. Stark, glaring red stained my skirt.

My baby…

My baby…

This time, I’d been so careful. Why was this still happening?

“Grab her!”

Seeing my strange expression, Bradley thought I was about to run. He shouted and lunged forward.

My legs gave out. The world went black.

…

When I woke again, I was in the town clinic.

The sharp, sterile smell of disinfectant filled my nose.

Lying on a cold hospital bed, I felt an emptiness below.

The baby was gone.

The child I’d fought so desperately to keep in my past life, the one I hadn’t even realized existed this time—gone. Again.

I stared blankly at the yellowed ceiling, silent tears tracing paths down my temples.

Why?

Why, after being given a second chance, did I still have to endure this?

Heaven, did you bring me back just to make me relive the same despair?

The ward door creaked open. Dorothy walked in, eyes red-rimmed.

“Sister-in-law, you’re awake.”

Her voice was hoarse.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

Dorothy sat on the edge of my bed, taking my cold hand in hers. Her voice hitched.

“Sister-in-law, I’m so sorry… This is all my fault…”

Slowly, I turned my head to look at her.

“The village… how is it?”

Dorothy’s tears overflowed.

“They’re dead… all dead… The Village Chief, Uncle Mark, so many of the men… gone.”

“More than twenty women were taken.”

“By the time Bradley and the others got there, the fire was already raging. The bandits grabbed what they could and ran…”

Each word was a knife, twisting in my heart.

Even though I’d expected it, hearing the outcome firsthand still stole my breath.

All those vibrant lives, those familiar, smiling faces—gone in a single night.

“And your brother?”

I heard my own voice ask, eerily calm.

At the mention of Roger, a complicated expression flickered across Dorothy’s face.

“He’s back. Him and Nicole… they both came back with Bradley.”

“When my brother saw the village… he just stood there, stunned.”

“He asked me how you were. I told him Bradley had hurt you, that you’d lost the baby…” She swallowed. “He knocked Bradley to the ground with one punch.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, empty of any smile.

So now he feels regret? Now he cares?

Too late.

All of it, far too late.

Just then, the ward door swung open again.

Roger burst in.

His eyes were bloodshot, his face covered in stubble. His clothes were rumpled and dusty, a picture of utter dishevelment.

He rushed straight to my bedside, grabbing my shoulders, his voice a ragged rasp.

“Joan! Why? Why didn’t you come find me! If you’d come sooner, none of this would have happened! Nicole wouldn’t have been so terrified!”

I looked at him quietly, this man I’d loved for ten years and hated for two lifetimes.

His face was a mask of anguish, fury, and… righteous indignation.

He was still blaming me.

Still worried about whether his precious Nicole had been frightened.

The last remaining ember of warmth in my heart guttered and died.

Mustering every ounce of strength I had left, I raised my hand and slapped him across the face with all my might.

“Roger,” I said, staring into his shocked expression, each word clear and cold, “I want a divorce.”

“What did you say?”

Roger’s hand fell from his face as he stared at me, disbelief etched across his features as if I’d just spun some preposterous tale.

“I said we’re getting a divorce.” My voice was low, but unshakable.

Shock in his eyes twisted instantly into rage.

“Joan! Haven’t you had enough of this drama? The village is in crisis, and you choose now to divorce me? Have you no conscience!”

“Conscience?”

It sounded like the biggest joke I’d ever heard. “Roger, how dare you talk to me about conscience?

“You took the entire village security force to the county town to watch a variety show with another woman while bandits surrounded us. Is that your conscience?

“After the slaughter, with people dead and wounded, your first concern wasn’t for the villagers, or even your own wife—it was whether *she* was frightened. Is that your conscience?

“I was chased by bandits trying to save your precious sister, then beaten by your own men until I lost our child. Lying here, you walk in and don’t ask if I’m alive or dead—you accuse me of not looking for you. Is *that* your conscience too?”

Each question struck like a blow, my voice climbing, heat churning inside me.

Roger fell silent. He paled, then flushed crimson with fury and shame.

“I… that’s not what I meant,” he mumbled. “Wanqing… she’s timid, from the city, I only—”

“Enough!” I cut him off sharply. “I never want to hear that woman’s name again! Save your sickening excuses, Roger. Just answer me: will you agree to the divorce or not?”

His expression darkened completely. He stared at me, hard, as if searching my face for something hidden.

“Joan, is this because of that schoolteacher? Is that why you’re so set on this?”

That schoolteacher. Again. Even now, he still suspected me.

My heart turned utterly cold. Utterly dead.

I closed my eyes and spoke wearily. “Think what you want. I’ll prepare the divorce papers as soon as I can. You just need to sign.”

“Over my dead body!”

Roger roared, seizing my wrist violently. “Let me make this clear, Joan. As long as I, Roger, draw breath, you will never leave this family! Your soul belongs to the Joan family, now and forever!”

He flung my hand away and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Dorothy stood there, frightened and uncertain, looking at me timidly.

“Sister-in-law…”

“Help me up,” I told her, my face blank.

“Where are you going?”

“To the county town. To file a complaint.”

So Roger refused to divorce me?

Fine. Then I’d ruin his reputation. I’d make him an object of scorn, strip him of every right and dignity to hold me captive!

I’d report him for dereliction of duty—for treating human lives as worthless.

I’d make everyone see what a fraud their *esteemed* young security head really was.

But before I could even begin, a shocking reversal arrived.

Two days later, officers from the county Public Security Bureau came to the clinic to take my statement.

Their leader was a stern-faced middle-aged man, Deputy Director Deputy Director Mark.

They had captured the bandit leader, Joshua, and from the rescued women, obtained staggering news.

Nicole—that delicate, kind-hearted, vulnerable “white moonlight” in Roger’s eyes—hadn’t been abducted by the bandits at all.

She had gone with them willingly.

Because she was Joshua’s kept mistress.

The bandit attack on Qingshi Village was entirely her scheme.

Using her position as head of the women’s brigade, she had mapped the village’s defenses and tunnels. Then, exploiting Roger’s infatuation, she lured him and the entire security force to the county town.

All to create the perfect window for Joshua’s operation.

Deputy Director Deputy Director Mark said the rescued women all testified to seeing Nicole and Joshua acting intimately in the bandit lair, carrying herself like the lady of the house.

They even said she had urged Joshua to kill the disobedient women.

One sister-in-law had her face slashed with a hairpin by Nicole herself for resisting.

If the PSB hadn’t arrived in time, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Hearing this, my mind went blank.

I’d imagined countless possibilities, but never this one.

In my past life, Nicole had died, taking the truth to her grave.

Everyone believed she was an innocent victim, a chaste martyr who died for Roger.

Roger had sanctified her memory as his perfect, lost love—his one great tragedy—hating me for it his whole life, finally killing me with his own hands to “avenge” her.

The irony!

The woman he cradled in his heart, the one he’d sacrifice the whole village to protect, was actually a viper in our nest.

And I, the wife he despised, resented, and murdered—I was the one who had always tried to protect him, to protect this village.

Overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity and grief-fueled rage, I burst into loud, bitter laughter.

The laughter turned to sobs, tears streaming down my face once more.

Roger, can you hear this?

This is the woman you loved your whole life!

For her, you killed me. You killed our child. You killed so many innocent people in this village.

Your love was worthless. A joke.