Meng Wu's family was poor, and just as her mother fell gravely ill, her grandmother took the opportunity to accept money from the Wang family in the village to sell Meng Wu off as a bride.
The Wangs' son was named Wang Xishun, a man in his twenties who was still a bachelor.
Not only was he ugly, but his character was also despicable—the village girls would take a detour just to avoid him, let alone agree to marry him.
This time, Meng Wu's mother, née Xia, was bedridden and could barely take care of herself, while her grandmother, née He, had long been eager to marry Meng Wu off.
A girl who had reached marriageable age—why would she still be hanging around the house? Wasn't that just wasting food? After all the hardship of raising her, they should just send her off to another family to earn some bride price money.
And since the Wangs offered more money than anyone else, Née He didn't care what kind of person Wang Xishun was. There wouldn't even be a simple wedding ceremony—it was agreed beforehand that the Meng family wouldn't provide a dowry. Wang Xishun would just come to pick up Meng Wu, take her home to sleep with her, and that would be that.
That day, Wang Xishun came eagerly, drooling with anticipation, to collect his prize.
But who would have guessed—Née He wasn't watchful enough, and Meng Wu climbed out the window and escaped.
Wang Xishun immediately tracked her trail and gave chase.
It was already noon, the sun was blazing, and the villagers who had been working in the fields had all gone home for lunch, so there was hardly anyone out on the road.
As soon as Wang Xishun chased after her, he spotted Meng Wu running desperately down the country path, so he charged forward in a burst of effort to chase after her.
Before Meng Wu could even scream, Wang Xishun caught up from behind, covering her mouth with one hand and grabbing her waist with the other, violently dragging her into the nearby sorghum field.
Meng Wu struggled with all her might, but she was no match for him at all.
Wang Xishun had a lewd smile on his face, his face covered in disgusting pimples and pockmarks, and his breath reeked as he spoke： "Your grandmother already sold you to me, where do you think you can run？"
At this point, Wang Xishun had no patience left to take her home to do the deed; he'd rather get it over with by taking her body in the sorghum field first.
Once she's his woman, even if she's unwilling, she'll have to live with him from now on！
At this season, the sorghum in the field was growing vigorously, a vast expanse of lush green, thick and dense.
As soon as Wang Xishun dragged Meng Biao in, the green leaves trembled lightly, and the full ears on the sorghum stalks swayed as if rustled by a gust of wind, quickly disappearing from sight.
Deep in the sorghum field, the dry farmland plots were connected one after another; even if Meng Biao screamed her throat out, no one would hear or see her.
Wang Xishun viciously grabbed Meng Biao by the hair, dragging her deep into the sorghum field. When he saw the bloody scratches she'd left on his arm, he flew into a rage, shoved her to the ground, and pounced on top of her.
Meng Biao's clothes were torn and scattered. In her despair, she grabbed a clump of hardened dirt from the ground and, with all her strength, smashed it against Wang Xishun's forehead.
Wang Xishun's face was covered in dirt, and there was something sticky on his forehead. When he saw Meng Biao trying to get up and run, he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back.
One hand squeezing her neck tightly, the other tugging at her pants, Wang Xishun said fiercely, like a demon： "You don't know what's good for you. Let's see how you beg for mercy in a bit！"
Meng Wu's face was flushed red, she felt suffocated. Later, her pupils gradually dilated, losing their light and vitality.
But Wang Xishun was solely focused on tearing off her clothes and didn't notice this at all.
Wang Xishun had a drooling look in his eyes again, just about to rip off her last piece of covering, when suddenly a cold, hard clod of earth shot out from behind the layers of green sorghum leaves, hitting Wang Xishun's hand squarely and precisely.
Wang Xishun yelped in pain, retracted his hand, and looked around warily, shouting, "Who's there？！"
The sorghum field was so quiet only the sound of the wind remained; no one answered.
After waiting a while and seeing nothing unusual, he lost all patience and began to undo his own pants.
But then, suddenly, his wrist tightened.
His other hand was still forcefully gripping Meng Wu's neck. Before he could react, he only had time to see, as if in a blur, Meng Wu suddenly raise her hand to grab his wrist, followed by the crisp cracking sound of a bone.
Overwhelming pain shot through him; Wang Xishun couldn't bear it and let out a pig-slaughter screech while clutching his hand.
At this moment, Meng Wu's eyes were open, and the light had returned to them, but deep in those eyes were nothing but lucidity, calmness, and murderous intent.
She was a completely different person from the hopeless, helpless Meng Wu of before.