Chapter 30: Arranging a Childhood Promise

After breakfast, the whole family headed out to the fields.

Xiao Tangbao had already picked up from her family’s chatter just how bad things had been in Da Liu Tree Village a few years back—when locusts swarmed through.

But it wasn’t the kind of full-scale devastation where nothing was left standing. No, this was more like scattered outbreaks—just enough to give people time to panic, run around waving sticks, and try to scare the pests away.

And yet… somehow, the locusts always seemed to know exactly where to go.

They’d fly straight to Old Su’s land.

While everyone else managed to save some seedlings, some grain, Old Su’s field got wiped clean—every single stalk devoured, not even a blade of grass left.

You could say the Su family had been cursed with bad luck for years. That’s why life had gotten so hard.

Now? Everything was different.

The crops in the field were lush and green, thriving like they’d been blessed by the gods themselves.

Especially Old Su’s plot—there was no comparison. It stood head and shoulders above everyone else’s, like it had grown overnight into something magical.

“Old Su,” someone called out, eyes wide with envy, “how in the world are you growing your crops so well? Look at those rice stalks—they’re practically bending under their own weight!”

“Yeah, yeah!” another chimed in. “Tell us the secret! Next year, we’ll get double the yield on our own land.”

“Come on, Old Su,” said a third, grinning. “We’re all neighbors. Don’t be stingy now.”

“Tell us, tell us!” came the chorus.

Farmers working nearby gathered around, eager for answers.

Old Su grinned from ear to ear, puffing out his chest like he’d just won a prize.

“Hah… honestly, we don’t do much. Just let ‘em grow wild.”

Everyone stared.

…Why did they suddenly feel like punching that smug old man?

Xiao Tangbao’s lips twitched.

Her dad was getting *way* too full of himself.

Last night, her mom had warned him: “Keep it low-key from now on. We’ve got good fortune—we don’t need to show off.”

And sure enough, Su Lao Tai looked daggers at her husband.

“People work hard, tend to their fields carefully, and naturally, the crops grow better,” she said firmly.

Silence.

…Right. Sure. *That’s* what happened when you worked harder than anyone else and still lost everything.

The farmers exchanged glances, their thoughts sharp and unspoken.

Then their eyes drifted—naturally—to Xiao Tangbao.

Today, she wore a bright red little jacket, its edges and sleeves embroidered with tiny yellow flowers. The collar was stitched with delicate迎春 flowers—spring blossoms—making her face look even paler, softer, like flawless porcelain. Her big, dewy eyes sparkled, her nose was dainty, her lips a soft, rosy pink. She looked like a doll from a storybook—not a country girl at all.

“She’s getting prettier every day,” someone sighed wistfully.

Jealousy simmered beneath the compliment.
His own daughters weren’t half as striking.
Even if she hadn’t brought any luck to the Su household, just *looking* like that? She could change lives.

Su Lao Tou and Su Lao Tai saw the way people kept staring at their daughter—and felt both pride and dread.

“My girl takes after her mother,” Old Su blurted out proudly.

Su Lao Tai flushed, shot him a glare.

In front of everyone? Was he serious?

No one would ever let them live it down!

The crowd’s eyes lit up with mischief—but since Su Lao Tai was right there, and kids were listening, no one dared tease him outright.

Still, deep down, they made a silent vow:
Next time they picked a wife for their sons or grandsons?
It had to be beautiful.
This kind of looks could ruin the next generation.

A few clever ones smiled warmly at Old Su, playing nice.

“Hey now,” one chuckled, “your little girl’s about the same age as my Second Bull. Why don’t we make it official—tie the two families together? A match made in heaven!”