Transmigration: The Little Chef Calls The Shots

Lin Yuan's blood was boiling. Having traveled through time for half a day, she finally saw a kitchen knife again. She casually threw aside the wooden stick and grabbed the knife, weighing it in her hand. Although the blade was dull and rusty, not comparable to any she had used in her previous life, it felt incredibly fitting in her hand.

"It's a bit dull, I wonder if it can still chop someone." Lin Yuan touched the blade and squinted her eyes with a smile, "Da Ya, did your wrist get hurt when Uncle Three pulled it?"

Frozen in place, Lin Jiaxiao's feet were stuck to the ground, and the hand he held high suddenly felt a cold breeze, inexplicably causing a pain to emerge at his wrist.

"You, you Little Disaster Star, what are you trying to do? Put that down. Put the knife down now." Lin Jiaxiao, clutching his wrist, spoke breathlessly.

Upon hearing this, Lin Yuan immediately laughed. It turned out that this uncle was just a straw man, seemingly formidable on the outside, but actually a pushover. She had initially thought the uncle was only afraid of his wife because he loved her, but it seemed he was genuinely fearful.

The crowd gathered at the door to watch the commotion didn't dare to laugh anymore. Everyone was staring with wide eyes at the knife in Lin Yuan's hand. Although it was common for villagers to fight and swear, those were usually minor scuffles, at most wielding a wooden stick, but no one dared to wield a knife, especially given the blood on Lin Yuan's face—who knew where that blood came from. Even those who were uneducated knew the concept of a life for a life, and if someone carelessly caused a death, that meant beheading. The thought itself sent a shiver down everyone's necks, cooling the extended heads instantly.

"Yuanyuan, Yuanyuan, put it down quickly, please put it down." Lady Liu was terrified, already heartbroken by the sight of blood on her daughter's face, and now her daughter was wielding a knife. What to do?

"Da Ya, that's your Uncle Three. Put down the knife, be obedient." Unknown when, Lin Jiaxin, who had been lying in the house, appeared at the entrance holding onto a crutch. Seeing his sweat-soaked, gaunt face, Lin Yuan's heart ached. She knew that even shifting his foot caused him unbearable pain, yet he still cared deeply for his wife and daughters; how could he bear the thought of someone selling his beloved girl?

"Father, Mother, I can't put down this knife," Lin Yuan said seriously, looking back at Lady Liu's pale face. Although she knew her mother was unwell, she had to speak up for the Lin Yuan who had already died, to fight for the hard-earned chance to save Da Ya, and for their little sister who was malnourished. Today, she needed to make things clear and let them know all the terrible things their Uncle Three and Auntie Three had done.

"Uncle Three, do you dare to say in front of my father and all the villagers where you took me?"

Lin Jiaxiao, intending to sneak away quietly, was taken aback by Lin Yuan's question, his heart skipped a beat, and he stammered, unable to speak, as cold sweat trickled down incessantly.

"What's the matter, too embarrassed to say it? Then let your niece spell it out, shall we?" Lin Yuan sneered and turned to shout loudly to the villagers who were watching, "This Uncle Three of mine, claiming to have my parents' best interests at heart, said he was taking me to be a Helper. But he deceived me and took me twenty li away to a remote village; there was a family there, their son was gravely ill, about to die. And my dear Uncle Three and Auntie Three sold me off to that family as a joy-bringer bride!"

Hearing about such joy-bringer marriages was common in the village, but typically only the desperately poor families would painfully sell their daughters like this. Although there were wedding gifts involved, once the girls entered the buyer's household, they were practically no better than slaves, expected to work and endure whatever ill-treatment came their way. Moreover, if lucky, they might share life with a man, but if they married someone with a short life span, they could be widowed in a few years, potentially facing a lifetime of widowhood. Such a life was even more miserable than being sold to a wealthy family as a servant because, as a servant, there was at least a chance to redeem oneself from servitude. In contrast, for girls sold as joy-bringer brides, who then outlived their husbands, they were considered husband-killers, doomed to never have a chance to turn their fortunes around in this life.