On the dining table, thick ham carried a smoked salty aroma, with a tempting honey glaze visible; the golden corn bread was very soft, steaming; the large bowl of creamy mashed potatoes on the side was especially fragrant.
On the long dining table, there was also roasted chicken legs, pickled cucumbers, apple pie, and pumpkin porridge, each looking incredibly delicious—delicacies Abigail could hardly taste even when at home.
The little girl had her face and hands washed clean, and timidly sat by the table, salivating but didn't dare reach out to touch any of it.
During her time at the farm, she realized that any "improper" or "lazy" behavior would summon a whipping.
Old John from the farm, a burly man with a ruddy complexion, sat in the main seat, encouraging her with the gentlest smile possible:
"Eat, child, don't be shy—it's compensation for you. Scared today, right? Eat up, regain your strength."
His wife, Madam Maya, nodded with a smile, proactively placed a slice of ham on Abigail's plate, gently said: "Don't be afraid, Serra, eat the meal."
Their son, Adams, sat on the other side, giving her sneaky looks that were meant to be discreet but were very obvious.
Starved, Abigail was finally moved by the warm invitation and smiles, cautiously took a bite of ham, then looked up.
No whips or shouting.
Everyone looked at her with smiling faces, as if she were a child in this family.
Unprecedented deliciousness easily captured hungry Abigail, she gradually let loose, started eating in big bites, her cheeks bulging, her heart filled with a warm feeling.
After dinner, Madam Maya took her to a tidy little bedroom, as she lay on the soft bed, quietly bidding farewell to Madam Maya, it still felt like a dream.
It was the best bedroom she had slept in, unlike the cluttered home nor the crowded, stinky dormitory for child laborers at the farm—it was clean and warm, the blanket exuded the scent of sunlight.
But Abigail tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Not only because her stomach was full with food, but also because of a vague unease that made her unable to enjoy all this.
Suddenly, footsteps came from outside, approaching from afar.
Startled, Abigail shut her eyes, slowed her breathing, pretending to be asleep.
The door gently opened, Madam Maya's fragrance floated over.
She carried a dim lantern, walked to the window, leaned to check Abigail, also tucked the blanket for her, then turned to leave after a while.
Upon hearing the door close, Abigail opened her eyes, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then silently jumped out of bed.
Barefoot, she cautiously moved to the door, put her ear against the wooden door to listen, then slowly cracked open the door slightly.
No one was outside.
Abigail tiptoed out, carefully walked towards the living room outside, saw the firelight from the fireplace cast through the gap beneath the door. She stood by the door, not daring to enter.
She didn't know why she chased out, perhaps subconsciously she hoped for a whipping instead of a sumptuous dinner—such favor made her more frightened.
Faint conversations came from the other side of the door.
Old John took a sip of wine and asked: "Asleep?"
Madam Maya put down the lantern, adjusted her shawl, sat down, said: "Of course, sleeping heavily. That incident today really exhausted her, apparently."
Adams excitedly said: "So, is the rumor true, Dad? Did that girl really teleport a few hundred meters in front of you guys this afternoon? Is she a superpower user? Like The Flash?"
"Hundreds of meters my foot, I saw clear and it wasn't more than twenty meters at most!"
Old John retorted first, then said: "I haven't touched wine for three days now, I can't be seeing things. And it's not just me, over a dozen people on the farm saw it... she just whooshed and vanished from under the blade."
Adams' eyes brightened: "Can we keep her here? As our family secret! She's our secret weapon! Who would dare mess with us then? Or maybe we could gain superhuman abilities too..."
"Nonsense!"
Old John unapologetically interrupted his son, his face darkened.
"Use your head, Adams! We're ordinary people, raising a child like this is like keeping a little lion in our own barn!"
"Do you think once the lion grows up, it won't see us as dinner because you fed it some meat? Let alone we gave her whips instead of meat before! Dare you bet she won't revenge when she grows strong?"
Madam Maya originally knitting a sweater at this moment stopped her needlework, looked up at her husband, worriedly said: "Then what should we do? Keep pampering her like today?"
Old John cautiously said: "Let's do that for now, I'll make a call first thing tomorrow morning. I once heard someone say..."
He involuntarily lowered his voice, said: "Some people seem to specifically search for such special kids, and they offer high prices."
Then he straightened up, stroked the stubble on his chin, said with shrewd eyes: "I'll contact them and see if we can get a lot of money!"
"But, Dad—" Adams hurriedly wanted to object.
Old John impatiently waved his hand: "Stop dreaming, I can't let you keep a man-eating beast at home! If you're free, go check on the barn! Anne Monie is about to give birth, someone needs to watch tonight!"
Adams didn't want to go out: "Let the workers go!"
Old John shouted louder: "Those lazy guys can't be trusted! You go personally, quick! If something happens to Anne Monie while you're lazing around, I'll give you a whipping too!"
...
Behind the crack in the door, Abigail dazedly listened, feeling like the sweet food in her stomach turned into heavy stones, making her so uncomfortable she wanted to throw up.
She quietly returned to that small bedroom, climbed onto the bed, tightly wrapped herself with the blanket, yet could no longer fall asleep.
Her parents sold her, and the seemingly warm-hearted farm owners were going to sell her too.
Perhaps from birth, her fate was to be treated as merchandise measured by money.
The young Abigail widened her eyes, staring at the pitch-black ceiling, waiting for an unknown fate.
Old John made the call the next morning, the buyer quickly came—much faster than the family anticipated—when he knocked on the door, the John family hadn't even started lunch.
"I've come to take the child." The person outside took out a check, smiled, said: "I heard it's a girl?"