"Don't try to stop it! The more you try to persuade her, the more that scoundrel will beat the fisherwoman!"
The old woman sighed, while Tang Qiyue's face darkened with disapproval.
Domestic violence was a repeat offense. If it wasn't stopped in time, who knew what the consequences would be? The fisherwoman could be seriously hurt—or worse, driven insane.
Tang Qiyue wasn't from the fishing village, but she respected the fisherwoman immensely. To be a woman of the village, brave enough to dive into the sea to support her family, was already admirable. Yet her own husband abused her.
The more Tang Qiyue thought about it, the angrier she became. She no longer cared about the consequences; if the man continued to strike his wife in front of her, he would face the results.
Xiao Yang and the old woman tried to stop Tang Qiyue, but seeing her determination—and knowing she might have more influence than they did—they hesitated.
As Tang Qiyue entered the fisherwoman's courtyard, curious villagers gathered, pulling the old woman aside to ask what was happening. Unable to explain clearly, the old woman simply led them to the fisherwoman's house.
The courtyard was made of stone, about a meter high—enough to keep out wild animals, not people. The gate was open. Tang Qiyue stepped right in.
The fisherwoman was on the ground, curled up and covering her head, while her drunken husband pulled her hair and kicked her. He cursed and raged with complete recklessness.
Tang Qiyue could tell the fisherwoman wasn't resisting because she didn't want to—resistance was futile. In this village, men beating their wives was almost normalized, and any individual defiance was meaningless.
When the man went to kick again, he found himself suspended midair.
Before he could comprehend it, his body arced through the air and crashed to the ground.
The villagers perched on the courtyard walls gasped. No one could understand what they were witnessing.
"Who is it? You'll pay for this!"
The fisherwoman's husband struggled to his feet, eyes searching for the culprit. When he saw Tang Qiyue, he raised a fist to strike.
But his drunken body was no match. Tang Qiyue barely exerted herself; one precise kick sent him sprawling to the ground.
The women and children of the fishing village, likely never having seen a woman hit a man before, were initially stunned, then thrilled.
This isolated village, still influenced by years of feudalistic thought, viewed women as subservient and subject to abuse. Most wives endured beatings silently, never daring to fight back. Today, witnessing Tang Qiyue effortlessly subdue the man, they realized men were not invincible.
The fisherwoman struggled to her feet. Seeing Tang Qiyue, her face was a mixture of relief, shame, and disbelief. Her swollen face prevented her from looking directly at Tang Qiyue.
"Are you alright?" Tang Qiyue asked gently, noticing her discomfort.
The fisherwoman shook her head. "Thank you…"
She knew that if Tang Qiyue hadn't appeared, she would have been bedridden for days. Yet even with help, being seen in this state was humiliating.
Tang Qiyue waved her hand. "No need to thank me. It was nothing. I actually wanted to ask if you have time to take me to the beach."
She didn't dwell on the violence, instead bringing up beachcombing while glancing at the villagers.
The fisherwoman nodded. "I have time!"
She wanted to leave quickly—both to avoid gossip and to prevent another beating. She tidied her hair, grabbed her wooden bucket, and beckoned Tang Qiyue to follow.
Meanwhile, the fisherwoman's husband, partially sober after being kicked twice, stared at Tang Qiyue in disbelief.
"Stop… who are you?"
He saw a stunning woman standing before him. Her face was cold, yet her beauty was unmatched. Confused, he tried to approach her.
Tang Qiyue pulled the fisherwoman back. When he came closer, Tang Qiyue delivered another kick—this time harder. The man vomited and collapsed, unable to rise.
No one helped him. They were too focused on Tang Qiyue, curious about who this formidable woman was.
"You better remember this. She is my friend. If I ever see you hit her again, I won't hesitate to stop you myself!" Tang Qiyue warned coldly, dragging the fisherwoman outside.
The villagers knew the other side of the island was inhabited by soldiers. The village chief had repeatedly warned them not to provoke them—they were armed, trained, and ruthless. Gunshots from their training rang across the island.
The fisherwoman didn't turn back, standing quietly. She knew her husband's nature: a madman when drunk, repentant when sober. But the damage was done. Repentance couldn't erase it.
Divorce wasn't allowed here; otherwise, she would have left long ago.
With her husband lying pale and afraid on the ground, Tang Qiyue and the fisherwoman stepped outside the village, where the aunt and Xiao Yang waited.
The aunt brushed aside the fisherwoman's hair, noticing her bruises. She muttered "what a tragedy" repeatedly, powerless to help.
The fisherwoman smiled faintly. "I'm going to beachcombing now, Auntie. You should go back and work."
Her expression showed neither emotion nor gratitude, only a calm insistence on leaving. Tang Qiyue followed her toward the sea.
Once outside the village, the fisherwoman's carefully maintained composure broke slightly—but she didn't cry. She simply reminded Tang Qiyue about beachcombing.
The tide hadn't yet gone out. Tang Qiyue led the fisherwoman to a dry spot to sit.
"Can I ask you something?" Tang Qiyue asked softly, looking at the sea.
The fisherwoman hummed, ready to answer.
"If you had a child… would you still endure being beaten like this?"