Chapter 1: Reborn as a Farmer’s Wife

Autumn thickets around the house like those of the Tao family, with the sun setting slowly around the hedge.

Su Zhi stared blankly at the yellow chrysanthemums outside the window. It had been three days since she woke up and found herself in a strange, dilapidated house, transitioning from the initial shock to a sense of calm. She had come to accept that she had indeed traveled through time, much like the heroines in the online novels she read when bored. However, she didn’t find herself reborn as a member of the royal family or a wealthy household, but rather as a farmer’s wife.

The original owner of this body was named Zhao Xiaomei, a newlywed who had married a farmer named Shen Zi’an.

To Su Zhi, being reborn was a good thing, but this silver lining was tinged with a hint of regret: the body she inhabited was sick.

When Su Zhi first arrived, she was tied up and initially thought she had been kidnapped. However, when she began to feel an itching and pain all over her body, she realized it wasn’t what she had thought. The bindings were there to prevent her from scratching the itchy spots. The patches on her skin would break open when scratched, causing the condition to spread further.

 Su Zhi couldn’t help but lament her bad luck. She consoled herself with the thought that before heaven entrusts a great task to someone, it first tests their resilience. She refused to believe that she was reborn only to die again, nor did she believe that her illness was incurable.

“Ah! Fourth younger brother, how could you scoop up so much water all at once?! After a hard day’s work, everyone looks forward to a sip of hot water and a chance to wash their hands with it. There’s only one pot of water, and you’ve taken so much of it. Should we drink cold water or wash our hands with it?!”

A shrill female voice suddenly erupted from outside, followed by a bout of crying and wailing.

“Oh my heavens! How miserable is my life! After toiling in the fields all day, I come home to find nothing but a single lazy sick ghost enjoying the fruits of our labor! It’s bad enough she eats and drinks without working, but she also needs medicine which costs money. That’s tolerable, but now she’s even competing with us for water—where is the justice in that? Everyone, please judge for yourself, this is unbearable—”

The last cry was particularly drawn out, as if it were part of an opera performance.

Su Zhi would have laughed if she hadn’t heard such cries several times over the past three days. She knew that the woman with the shrill voice was Sun Shi, the third daughter-in-law of this household, and the “lazy sick ghost” she was referring to was Su Zhi herself. The “fourth younger brother” mentioned by Sun Shi was none other than Shen Zi’an, Su Zhi’s husband in this body.

“Alright, enough, third daughter-in-law, stop making a fuss. Zi’an is just worried about his wife. Get up, if necessary we can just boil another pot of water. Let Zi’an go chop some firewood, and that should settle it, shouldn’t it?”

A kindly-sounding elderly woman’s voice arose. This was the mother-in-law of the household, Shen Zhang Shi. Su Zhi recognized her voice because she always emerged to mediate whenever Sun Shi caused an uproar, seemingly an old lady who wished for peace and fairness in the family. The reason Su Zhi thought “seemingly” was because she felt Shen Zhang Shi was not fair at all. She thought this because Shen Zi’an always ended up at a disadvantage whenever Shen Zhang Shi intervened to keep the peace, like now, being assigned to chop firewood.

Su Zhi found it quite strange. Typically, a mother-in-law would side with her son in any conflict between him and his wife. Even if she appeared to support the daughter-in-law on the surface, she wouldn’t actually punish her son. In fact, the situation would often be manipulated so that the daughter-in-law ended up at a disadvantage. So why did things seem so off with Shen Zhang Shi?

Could it be that she had encountered a kind mother-in-law? That would be rarer than winning a five-million lottery, especially in the novels about time-traveling to ancient peasant families, where the heroines would invariably encounter a terrible mother-in-law. Could it be that Su Zhi’s luck had changed?

The noise from outside didn’t subside with Shen Zhang Shi’s mediation; Sun Shi was still going on.

“Marrying, marrying, and what do we get? A sick ghost! Who even knows if she’ll infect others? All day long, she does nothing but eat and take medicine. What’s the use of marrying such a woman?! Wasn’t it predicted by a fortune-teller when she was little that her fate was poor and she should be raised in a nunnery? I think all these filthy diseases on her are because she strayed from Buddha’s protection! Better to send her back, so she won’t end up harming our whole family! The Zhao family really did us dirty, knowing their daughter was sick and still sending her over; isn’t that just setting us up?”

“Enough! Hold your tongue. Our two families had arranged this marriage since we were children. Now that it’s done, there’s no going back. Zi’an hasn’t complained, so what are you making a fuss about? Even if she eats and takes medicine, Zi’an is bearing the responsibility alone. He hasn’t complained and is not using the family’s resources. Zi’an, isn’t that right?”

Shen Zhang Shi’s words carried a weight of reasonableness, making her seem fair-minded to anyone listening. However, to Su Zhi’s ears, something felt off. In what world would a mother willingly want her son to marry a sick person, and even publicly have her son commit to shouldering the financial burden himself? Wouldn’t a typical mother oppose this? Every mother cherishes her son. But maybe Su Zhi was overthinking it, perhaps Shen Zhang Shi would support her son in private.

As Su Zhi pondered these things, the door creaked open, and a young man entered. It was Shen Zi’an, Su Zhi’s husband in this life.

Shen Zi’an was quite handsome, with a lean face, wheat-colored skin, and a decidedly handsome appearance. He was tall, around one meter eighty, dressed in a blue cloth garment, and cradling a clay jar in his hands.

“You’re awake. Thirsty, aren’t you? I’ll pour you some water.”

Shen Zi’an came over, poured water from the clay jar into a bowl on the table, then brought it over to Su Zhi, helping her lean against him as he brought the bowl to her lips.

After drinking, Su Zhi spoke to him, “You can let me go. I won’t scratch. I need to use the restroom.”

Shen Zi’an’s wheat-colored face turned a bit red, even though this wasn’t the first or second day they had been together, he still felt shy. Su Zhi remembered a phrase from a book she had read, which said that shy people are usually pure-hearted. Considering this man still blushed at his wife’s mention of needing to use the restroom after all this time, he must be a truly pure-hearted person.

Suddenly, Su Zhi thought of her husband from her previous life. After her parents divorced, she was alone and longed for a happy family. When she married her husband, he wanted her to be a stay-at-home wife, so she quit her well-paying job and transformed from a career woman to an excellent homemaker. Three years of marriage taught her all she thought a woman should know, but just when she wanted to start a family, she fell ill. After spending a lot of money, the man chose to divorce her. Since then, she had stopped believing in love.

Shen Zi’an was caring for Su Zhi, yet she couldn’t help but wonder when he would abandon her. Although he shared a bed with her, allowed her to lean on him, and didn’t seem to mind her illness—which Sun Shi had labeled contagious—the Shen family must have had similar thoughts, otherwise why would they never visit her? And why let her stay in a room so far from theirs? It was clear from the state of the room that it was never meant for living; it more closely resembled a storage space for firewood.

The room had only a bed and a table, not even a chair. The earthy tones dominated the space, and in places where the wall was broken, one could see it was made of bamboo or wood, covered with a layer of mud. The roof beams were so thin they could only be called sticks, covered with bamboo and thatched with straw. There was only one small window, which was blocked by a wooden plank, leaving only a hole through which a patch of tender yellow from the chrysanthemums could be seen.

Su Zhi’s place to relieve herself was beside the patch of chrysanthemums, with the rest of the area consisting of empty vegetable beds, bordered by a hedge to form a small courtyard.

“It doesn’t itch right now, does it?”

Shen Zi’an asked, his voice steady and imbued with a reassuring strength.

Su Zhi replied, “It’s a bit itchy, but I’ll resist scratching. Just keep me company with some conversation, and I’ll forget about the itch.”

Shen Zi’an nodded and said, “What should we talk about? How about I tell you about my hunting trips in the mountains? I caught quite a few pheasants and rabbits this summer. Once you’re better, I could take you with me. Of course, if you’d rather not go, you can just stay at home.”

“I would like to go.”

Su Zhi’s eyes lit up at the thought. The idea of living in ancient times seemed appealing—she could hunt, which meant access to meat without cost, and she could potentially sell her catch for money. Plus, where there were mountains, there was treasure to be found. Not only were there animals, but also fruits and medicinal herbs. After her divorce and growing tired of city life, compounded by her illness, she had moved to the countryside to recuperate. There, she learned a great deal about rural living, including about plants.

Shen Zi’an looked at Su Zhi, noting she seemed different from when she first arrived. Initially, she had a listless air about her, exuding a kind of lifelessness, and sometimes she had a bad temper. But since waking up from a high fever three days ago, she seemed like a different person, gradually becoming more talkative, with a voice that was surprisingly pleasant to hear, reminiscent of the sound of a river flowing.

Su Zhi nudged Shen Zi’an as she caught him staring at her and asked, “Why do you keep staring at me? My face is all swollen; does it look nice to you?”

“You are now my wife. It doesn’t matter if you look bad.”

Hearing Shen Zi’an calmly utter these words, Su Zhi suddenly felt a sour sensation in her heart. Her husband from her past life had spoken words a hundred times sweeter, but in the end, he had still left her because of her illness.

“Don’t be sad. I will work hard to earn money for your treatment. We will find a cure.”

Shen Zi’an comforted Su Zhi, seeing the sadness in her eyes. She had become his responsibility, and he had married her out of filial duty. Since she became his wife, he resolved to treat her well. Over the past few days of living together, he had observed that his wife had clear eyes and a gentle tone. Even in pain, she stubbornly endured. Her combination of tenderness and resilience gradually endeared her to him.

Su Zhi’s question, “What if it can’t be cured?” was met with Shen Zi’an’s straightforward and committed response, “Then I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives. We are husband and wife now.”

Her concern about being a burden due to her illness was also addressed simply but firmly: “What burden? You are my wife.”

In just these few words, Su Zhi realized she had received the greatest comfort possible. Perhaps in the heart of this man from ancient times, marriage truly meant a lifetime commitment, regardless of whether his wife was ill or not aesthetically pleasing.

“Really? Well, if you ever fall for a pretty woman, I will bite you to death,” Su Zhi said half-jokingly, yet with a tinge of seriousness, reflective of her pride. She knew that with her temperament, she would likely let him go if he wished to leave, much like she did with her former husband—detached in the face of indifference.

Shen Zi’an’s laughter upon hearing her words was charming and lighthearted, a reflection of his good nature.

As Su Zhi listened to Shen Zi’an recounting his hunting adventures, her mood began to lift. Perhaps coming to this place and meeting this man, becoming a farmer’s wife, might not be such a bad life after all.

***New book uploaded, seeking support.

^[1]In ancient China, it was not customary for a woman to change her surname to that of her husband’s family after marriage. The practice of women keeping their birth surnames throughout their … Continue reading