A Farm Girl: Three Acres of Fertile Land Can Be Exchanged for a Country

Chapter 6 Beggar

The boy was too weak to resist, and he curled up pitifully on the ground, crying incessantly, "I didn't... I really didn't..."

How is this going?

Seeing that things were going badly, Wutong didn't even bother to brush the dust off her backside. She rushed forward to block his way and shouted at the two of them, "What are you doing?"

A soldier's face hardened with rage: "Heh, another bean sprout. Are you one of his cronies?"

Wutong said, "I am a soldier!"

"Someone like you, who looks like a bean sprout, wants to be a soldier? Don't make people laugh their heads off."

Wutong was so angry that the veins in her temples throbbed, but there was nothing she could do.

She was just a guard with no military rank, and her only weapon, a short sword, was a gift from Abdo, not the kind issued by the army.

At this moment, the only thing on her body that could prove her identity was her coarse military uniform.

But in this world, there are so many homeless people and so many dead on the battlefield. There are plenty of people who can just take a set of clothes from a dead person and wear them. Military uniforms are not convincing.

If only Abdo were here... or even Lieutenant Li would be fine...

She took a deep breath, bolstering her courage, and asked them, "How can you beat up a child in public? Don't you have any shame?"

The soldier grew impatient: "Are you one of his men? If not, get out of the way and don't get in our way!"

After he finished speaking, he pushed aside the sycamore tree and was about to kick the boy again. The boy was so frightened that he trembled all over like a leaf, and his dirty, dark face turned a few shades white.

"Don't...don't..."

He buried his head in his sleeves and pleaded softly, like a wounded beast avoiding the hunter's final attack.

Unable to stand it any longer, Wutong stepped forward again, stopping the man: "Why are you hitting him? I won't let you continue until you explain yourself!"

The man glared angrily and said, "Who do you think you are?"

The sycamore tree neither answered nor moved aside, standing there with its neck stiff.

The other person stared at her speechlessly, probably thinking she was mentally ill, and finally said helplessly, "I'm scared of you, okay? That kid stole our money, isn't it only right that we make him pay it back?"

Stealing money...

Wutong turned to look at the child and asked, "Did you steal it?"

The child didn't speak, probably because he was afraid of being beaten.

Wutong emphasized, squatted down and said seriously, "You stole it or you didn't. No one can wrong you. Tell us what happened."

The child stirred and managed a barely audible hum: "I didn't steal... I really didn't steal..."

Wutong stood up and said to the soldier, "You've got the wrong person. He didn't steal any money."

The other person said with a laugh, "You're really funny. Can a thief admit he's a thief?"

Wutong said, "Then what do you want in order for you to believe me?"

“We won’t believe it. This kid is a thief. Everyone in Dagua Town knows it. He wanders the streets all day long. He has no parents. How can he survive without stealing?”

As soon as he said this, those around him echoed his sentiments.

Even though the boy kept insisting that he hadn't stolen anything, the townspeople stubbornly believed he was a thief.

Wutong recalled how she and Ruolan had been treated with the same cold indifference in Zhoujia Village, and a surge of anger rose within her.

Why?

Life is hard enough. We are all human beings with flesh and blood. Why should we put up with this kind of humiliation?

With a livid face, she said, "I'll make up for whatever silver you lost."

The two men exchanged a surprised glance, then one of them slowly extended his hand, held up five, and arrogantly said, "Five hundred taels."

"You're talking nonsense!" Wutong immediately cursed.

He took five hundred taels of silver to the market; did he think he'd eaten spinach? He must have had superhuman strength!

The soldier sneered, "If you can't afford to pay, then get out of here."

"You're just making this up out of thin air, how could I possibly compensate you?"

"Did you see our silver? How do you know it's not five hundred taels if you didn't see it?" One of them glanced at her thin arm and said, "If you don't want to pay, that's fine too. Come here and have a good spar with us. After we've vented our anger, we might let you and that beggar off."

Two against one.

A tall, strong man is paired with a mung bean sprout.

Can that be called a friendly spar? It's more like a brutal massacre!

As Wutong stood there, her lips pressed tightly together, hesitating, she felt her trouser leg being tugged.

Looking down, I saw it was a boy.

The boy looked weak and shook his head almost imperceptibly at her.

Wutong felt a lump in her throat, shook off his hand, drew her short sword, stepped forward, and shouted to the two of them, "Come on, come on!"

The two men paused for a moment, then smiled maliciously and walked towards her.

The onlookers spontaneously made way for them, and only the four of them were inside the circle.

The battle began amidst the sweet aroma of cantaloupe.

Wutong held her sword in defense. The two of them first walked towards her together, but when they got close, they suddenly changed their strategy.

One person went straight to the sycamore tree, preventing her from getting distracted, while the other person went around behind her, kicked the boy, grabbed her shoulders, and controlled her hands, making her unable to move.

By the time Wutong realized something was wrong, it was too late.

She struggled and shouted, "This is not fair!"

"Who the hell is talking to you about fairness?" The person standing in front of her sneered, clenched his fist, and threw a hard punch at Wutong's chest.

"Cough...cough..."

Wutong's heart skipped a beat from the pain, stars flashed before her eyes, a sweet, metallic taste rose in her throat, and she couldn't help but spit out a mouthful of blood.

"What? Are you still going to defend him?" the man asked, raising his fist.

Wutong bit her lip until it turned white, then weakly raised her head: "He...he's not a thief..."

She and Ruolan were not infertile, nor were they jinxes or plagues.

The problem lies with those villagers, not them.

"Heh, you really are stubbornly persistent..."

Before he could finish speaking, another heavy punch landed.

The pain intensified, and in her dazed state, Wutong was even able to find the mood to laugh at herself.

Luckily, her breasts aren't very big now, otherwise two punches would probably have smashed them.

"Speak! He's a thief!"

At this point, the soldiers were no longer concerned about money, but about saving face.

The sycamore tree made them lose face, and we have to get it back no matter what.

But this clueless one seemed to be possessed, refusing to budge no matter what.

"He's not him, you're framing him!"

boom!

Punch after punch.

The boy couldn't bear to watch any longer. He got up from the ground, stood in front of her, knelt down, hugged the man's leg, and cried, "I'm a thief! I stole your money! Please stop hitting me..."

The man looked at the sycamore tree with a smug expression, as if to say—all she was protecting was this thing.

Wutong scolded him with exasperation, "Get up! Don't beg them! Go report to the authorities! Go find General Abdo!"

The boy looked at her with tears streaming down his face, at a loss for what to do.

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End of this chapter