Chapter 2: Facing Reality

Zhang Xiuying only sighed in relief after confirming that her daughter-in-law was still breathing. She comforted her granddaughter with a pained heart and blamed her husband for being so busy.

“Old Zhang, come quickly and take a look.” Old Zhong pulled Old Zhang in, panting heavily.

Old Zhang glanced at the conspicuous bump on He Jingshu’s forehead and immediately had a rough idea of what had happened. He took her pulse and finally spoke:

“She was hit by something. She’ll be fine after a few days of rest.”

“She just woke up and fainted again,” Zhang Xiuying said worriedly.

“It’s nothing, she’ll wake up in a while.” Old Zhang looked at the elderly couple so concerned about their daughter-in-law and couldn’t help sighing at how ungrateful He Jingshu was for having such good in-laws.

“Let’s go back. If Jingshu sees us here, she’ll get angry again.” Old Zhong urged his wife to leave now that the young woman was out of danger, lest they disturb her peace again.

Zhang Xiuying nodded and told her granddaughter to keep an eye on her mother before leaving with concern.

Watching her grandparents leave, little Zhong Ling sat obediently at the door, counting ants and glancing back at her mother from time to time.

He Jingshu lay quietly in bed. She regained consciousness shortly after fainting.

The scenes in her mind were vivid and clear. Forcing herself to stay calm, He Jingshu slowly accepted the memories flooding her mind.

The original He Jingshu was a girl picked up by Zhang Fugui from Zhangjia Village during wartime. Seeing she was young and pretty, he raised her, hoping to sell her for a good price one day. She worked like a servant in the Zhang family until the Zhong family’s son returned from the army. The Zhangs coveted Zhong Youliang’s military allowance and schemed to marry off their foster daughter to him.

Shortly after the marriage, Zhong Youliang returned to the army. Even when He Jingshu gave birth to Zhong Ling, he never came back once. Her foster mother from the Zhang family constantly manipulated her emotionally, leading to postpartum depression. She became erratic toward her daughter.

As for the reason she fainted—it was because she saw her nephew Tiedan bullying someone yesterday and tried to intervene. Tiedan hit her on the head with a rock. She felt groggy afterward and eventually passed out. That’s when the modern He Jingshu took over.

As she digested this information, He Jingshu realized she had been reborn in the 1960s. The only comfort was that it was 1964, after the great famine. She accepted her new reality—since she had died in the modern world, she might as well live well here. Her stomach growled nonstop, so she had no choice but to get up and cook.

Little Zhong Ling looked nervously at her mother, afraid of being scolded for calling her grandparents. He Jingshu looked at the messy-haired, dirty little girl and felt a pang of sorrow. The sins of adults always fell on innocent children.

“Lingling, come here to mama.” She called gently.

Zhong Ling hesitated, unsure if her mother was being nice again. Sometimes her mother was kind, but when she changed, she would hit her. But looking into He Jingshu’s sincere eyes, she slowly walked over.

He Jingshu took her dirty little hand and went to the kitchen. She saw only a bit of cornmeal was left—likely taken by her foster mother. Ever since her marriage, her foster mother would come by with her nephew to scrounge supplies. The timid original Jingshu never resisted, except for not giving money. Still, her foster mother would scold her for being ungrateful.

“Lingling, how about I make dumpling soup for you?” He Jingshu asked.

“Okay.” Zhong Ling looked dazed—her mother had never asked what she wanted to eat. She usually ate her mother’s leftovers.

He Jingshu washed her hands and started cooking skillfully. Zhong Ling quietly helped stoke the fire. Seeing her sweating profusely, He Jingshu hesitated but didn’t tell her to stop. Children with no sense of security often felt more anxious when they weren’t allowed to help.

She found one egg in the cupboard and fried it.

“Time to eat! Mama will help you wash your hands.” She took Zhong Ling to the well.

Zhong Ling followed blankly. As He Jingshu gently scrubbed her hands, she suddenly burst into tears.

“What’s wrong, Lingling?” He Jingshu panicked.

“Mama, please don’t turn bad again, okay? I’ll be really good.” Zhong Ling sobbed and threw herself into her mother’s arms.

So that’s what it was. Clearly, the original personality swings had traumatized the child. He Jingshu knelt to meet her eyes.

“I won’t anymore. You’re so adorable, how could mama turn bad? You’ll help keep me in line, okay?”

“Okay.” The little one, just three years old, blushed from crying so hard.

He Jingshu wiped her face, carried her back inside, and said, “Eat up.”

She placed the fried egg in Zhong Ling’s bowl, her heart aching for the frail little child.

“Mama should eat too.” Zhong Ling saw her mother’s bowl empty and carefully placed the egg back in it.

“You eat. Mama will go buy more later, and we’ll eat together.” He Jingshu remembered the monthly stipend Zhong Youliang sent home. The original must have had savings. She’d search after eating—she was starving. She dug into her bowl ravenously.

Zhong Ling happily munched on her egg. It had been so long since she had one. It was delicious.