Chapter 2 – The Female Military Doctor of the 1950s

What kind of appearance would it take for someone to be described as “unsightly”?

Xu Wanchun, who had always been considered a natural beauty, truly couldn’t imagine it.

Curious not only about her looks but also about the era she was now in, she simply tossed the quilt aside, put on her shoes, and got out of bed.

As she folded the blanket, she noticed for the first time how worn-out it was—so much so that in some places, the stuffing of reed flowers inside was faintly visible.

They can’t even afford cotton??

Was this place seriously that poor?

So… where exactly had she transmigrated to?

“Daniu, you’re awake?”

Xu Wanchun turned her head and was immediately met with a pair of warm, black eyes.

The woman looked to be in her early thirties, tall—likely over 175 cm—with thick eyebrows, big eyes, and a high nose bridge. Even though her skin was tanned, she was strikingly attractive.

Xu Wanchun discreetly gave her rescuer a once-over before offering a slightly reserved smile. “Yes… thank you.”

Sensing the little girl’s awkwardness, Xu Hehua didn’t go overboard with friendliness. She simply placed the ceramic bowl in her hands onto the table beside them and said, “If you’re awake, eat a little. The doctor said you were badly malnourished. You’ll need to stick to porridge for a few days to recover.”

“White sugar and rice—now those are rare treats! Hehua-meizi, you’re really generous.”
Xu Lancao, who had followed her in, stared at the skinny girl and the more she looked, the more unpleasant she found her appearance. She couldn’t help muttering under her breath, “Didn’t I say she wasn’t good-looking?”

Xu Wanchun: So… just how ugly am I supposed to be?

“Don’t listen to your Auntie Lancao’s nonsense,” Xu Hehua said quickly. “You’re just too skinny. Once you put on some weight, you’ll be pretty.”
Seeing the girl still hadn’t moved, she simply picked her up and plopped her down onto a stool, handed her a pair of chopsticks, and urged, “Eat!”

Xu Wanchun really was starving. Ignoring the awkwardness of being manhandled, she softly said thanks and then buried her head in the bowl to eat.

Watching her, Xu Lancao clicked her tongue in amazement. “Hey, what a well-mannered little thing—saying ‘thank you’ and everything, like one of those scholarly types. Can you read? You sound so refined.”

“Alright, let the kid eat in peace. I’ll go fetch Dr. Cao to check on her again.”
Xu Hehua had had enough of her cousin’s sharp tongue and turned to push her out the door.

Though Xu Lancao had a foul mouth, her heart was in the right place. She immediately offered, “I’ll go get him. You stay here and watch the child. Poor thing doesn’t even speak—must’ve been scared half to death. Try talking to her nicely, so she knows we’re not bad people.”
And with that, she charged out the door without waiting for a response from anyone inside.

Xu Hehua didn’t have a particularly close relationship with her family and lived alone.

When she picked her plot of land for the house, she had carefully considered who her neighbors would be.

In the end, thanks to help from the village elder, she ended up living right next to the highly respected Dr. Cao—only a few meters apart.

So naturally, he arrived quickly.

But even then, Xu Hehua still felt it wasn’t fast enough—because the little girl had told her she remembered nothing.

“You don’t remember anything?”
Cao Xiu set his medicine box on the table, lifted the hem of his robe, sat down on the bench, and tapped his fingers on the table. “Little girl, give me your hand.”

Short, cropped hair. Round, gold-rimmed glasses. A deep blue traditional changpao. And hanging from the second cloth button was a pocket watch.

He looked just like an intellectual straight out of the Republic of China.

Gentle, yet dignified.

“What are you staring at?”
Cao Xiu frowned and tapped the table again to snap her out of it.

Xu Wanchun immediately extended her wrist. And the moment his long fingers rested on her pulse, her heart completely sank.

So she had really transmigrated to the Republic of China?

Was it the early years… or the end of the era?

Surely she hadn’t landed right before a war broke out?

…Right?

So then—

“Calm your mind,” Cao Xiu spoke again to remind her.

Xu Wanchun pressed her lips together and took two deep breaths, trying to suppress the chaotic flood of thoughts in her mind.

After a little while, Cao Xiu said in a low voice, “Switch hands.”

Xu Wanchun promptly complied.

“What’s going on with Daniu? Why doesn’t she remember anything? She’s not gone stupid, has she?” Xu Lancao, who was the most impatient of them all, immediately blurted out the question the moment she saw the doctor withdraw his hand.

Xu Hehua couldn’t help it anymore—she raised her hand and gave her cousin a solid thump. Seriously, listen to what’s coming out of your mouth.

Knowing she was in the wrong, Xu Lancao grimaced and rubbed the sore spot, no longer daring to speak.

Cao Xiu didn’t pay attention to the two women. After feeling her pulse, he stood up and carefully examined Xu Wanchun’s head. “There’s no sign of internal bleeding or external injury. Most likely, the memory loss is psychological.”

“What do you mean?” Xu Hehua and Xu Lancao asked in unison.

As he packed up his medicine box, Cao Xiu considered how to explain, then chose a simpler way: “She may have suffered some emotional trauma, and her brain is trying to protect itself.”

Xu Hehua still didn’t quite get it and went straight to the point: “Will it affect her health? Does she need medicine?”

“Yeah, what do you mean by trauma? You saying she really went dumb? If she’s dumb, we can’t adopt her,” Xu Lancao added quickly—only to receive another punch for her bluntness.

Cao Xiu said calmly, “All medicine has side effects. Don’t give her any for now—just feed her well. As for her memory, that’s hard to say. She might never recover it, or she might regain it in a few days. For now, she seems fine. If anything unusual happens, just call me.”

Compared to the others’ confusion, Xu Wanchun—being a doctor herself—understood perfectly. In simple terms, it was post-traumatic stress disorder.

Of course, that wasn’t the important part. What mattered was using it to logically explain her memory loss.

Xu Hehua finally breathed a sigh of relief. “As long as it doesn’t affect her health. It’s not like she had anything worth remembering anyway. Better to forget.” She turned to Cao Xiu. “Doctor Cao, how much do I owe you?”

Cao Xiu waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it—I didn’t use any medicine.”

“That won’t do.” As she spoke, she had already stuffed two eggs into his hand.

They would be neighbors for a long time. If you always tried to take advantage of others, no one would help you when you were really in trouble. Xu Hehua had the wisdom to live well in this world.

Cao Xiu didn’t play games with false modesty. Seeing her sincerity, he accepted the eggs without fuss. Still, he was curious: “You’re planning to adopt this child?”

Xu Hehua smiled. “Yes. The girl already agreed earlier. I’ve even thought of a name—Taohua, Xu Taohua.”

Xu Lancao chimed in supportively, “Sounds lovely!”

Xu Wanchun: …

Cao Xiu: …

The straightforward Cao Xiu couldn’t help asking, “Why Taohua?”

Xu Hehua was puzzled by the question. “Everyone’s named after flowers or plants. And the peach blossoms just bloomed behind the house…”

Cao Xiu, whose mind was filled with poetry and elegance, could no longer hold back: “Tacky!”

But Xu Hehua wasn’t offended by the criticism. Her eyes twinkled as she made a request: “Doctor Cao, you’re an educated man. Would you do us the honor of picking a more refined name for the girl?”
As she spoke, she didn’t give him a chance to refuse—she reached into the cupboard and handed over two more eggs.

Xu Lancao almost gasped from the pain in her heart. What a waste! “Taohua” sounds perfectly fine—why spend two eggs just to change a name?

Cao Xiu declined, “No need for the eggs.”
He looked at the thin, frail little girl—an orphan living with a widow—and after a brief moment of thought, he had an idea.
“Your mother…”

—The two of you met in the spring, and April marks the end of it. Why not call her Wanchun (Late Spring)? Do you like it?”

Xu Wanchun’s surname was still Xu. Now that she had a second chance at life, what were the odds she’d end up with the exact same name? Her heart was full of shock, but on the surface, she just showed a slightly bashful smile.
“I like it very much. Thank you, Dr. Cao.”

How obedient—Cao Xiu nodded in satisfaction, lifted his medicine box, and got ready to leave.

Xu Hehua followed him out the door and only returned after seeing him off.

Seeing that everything was settled, Xu Lancao also made her exit: “I’d better go home and cook dinner.”

“I’ll come with you.” As she spoke, Xu Hehua had already scooped her new ‘daughter’ off the stool into her arms.

Completely caught off guard, Xu Wanchun froze stiff.

Sensing the little girl’s unease, Xu Hehua gently pinched her bony shoulder.
“Don’t be nervous. From now on, I’m your mother. A hug’s nothing strange.”

Those words only made Xu Wanchun feel more awkward.

Sure, being saved was like being reborn. Calling her mother wouldn’t be a stretch.

But in her previous life, she’d lived to 28—probably not even younger than the woman holding her. Even if she accepted the situation mentally, she still couldn’t bring herself to say the word out loud.

The little one’s stiff, serious face made her look oddly festive. Xu Hehua couldn’t help chuckling and explained,
“I’m taking you to see Uncle Tun so we can make things official, and we’ll shave your head while we’re out. It’s a long walk, and you’re too weak, so carrying you is faster.”

As for shaving her head—this kid wasn’t just skinny, she was filthy. Xu Hehua hadn’t even dared to put her under a clean quilt earlier.

Before Xu Wanchun could respond, Xu Lancao had already chimed in approvingly:
“Definitely shave it! Her hair’s like dried weeds—and she probably has lice!”

Xu Wanchun: AHHHHHHH!!

Knowing the child had lost her memory, Xu Hehua explained the village situation to her along the way.

And thanks to all that information, Xu Wanchun finally stopped feeling completely in the dark.

For example, Xujiatun wasn’t a small village. There were over eighty households, most of whom shared the surname Xu.

Uncle Tun was a man in his fifties, a highly capable elder who’d once run goods, fought the Japanese, and generally did all the difficult and dangerous things.

Even after his family’s distillery—the “Xu Family Brewery” in the county town—was shut down due to class reclassification two years ago, he remained the most respected figure in the village.

Whenever villagers had a problem, they came to him.

Xu Wanchun had grown up in the south and didn’t know much about northern customs, but she found all of this rather fascinating.

Of course, she wasn’t just listening—her eyes were busy too.

And what she saw was even poorer than she’d expected. Most of the houses were made of a mix of mud and straw.

Some even had tiny, triangular shelters called majiazi—her adoptive mother called them wopeng. They didn’t have heated brick beds (kang), and building one cost less than half a silver dollar.

To be fair, the Xu family of her past life wasn’t wealthy either.

But they had a small fruit shop. At least they never went hungry. As an only child, Xu Wanchun was raised with relative care. The worst hardship she ever endured was studying.

This place, though? It was the definition of destitution. Absolutely bitter.

Thinking about her past life made Xu Wanchun sigh.

She wasn’t a genius, but she’d known from a young age that for a family like hers, studying was the only way out.

And the best way to not burden her parents was to bury herself in her studies. She even skipped two grades in primary and middle school.

Later in high school, she realized being a doctor was the most realistic path for someone with no connections—so she charged toward that goal with all she had.

The tragedy was, the very year she got into her dream university, her parents were in a supply run when—

It had happened during a supply run—her parents were caught in a road collapse. Both died on the spot, never living long enough to enjoy the fruits of their daughter’s success.

And her? She barely survived the trauma of hospital residency, only to die before she could do anything with her hard-earned qualifications.
Absolutely tragic.

“We’re here—why are you zoning out again? And sighing? You’re just a tiny kid, yet you’ve already got so many thoughts.” Xu Hehua placed the feather-light little girl on the ground. The child was so scrawny she felt bony to the touch. Chuckling, she pinched her cheek. “Tch, just a layer of skin—nothing to pinch.”

Xu Wanchun didn’t know her new adoptive mother was silently “complaining” and looked up to take in her surroundings.

The house was actually quite big.

Other than Hehua’s and Dr. Cao’s homes, this was the third brick-tile house Xu Wanchun had seen—a traditional sanheyuan courtyard house.

But she had no time to inspect it properly before a man stepped out of the main hall.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-skinned, with a scar cutting across his square face—definitely not someone who looked approachable.

A normal child might’ve burst into tears at the sight of him, but not Xu Wanchun. Instead, she calmly observed his clothing with great interest.

“What are you doing here at this hour? Whose kid is this? She’s got guts.” Xu Jingjun was amused by the way the tiny radish-head stared at him, smiling wide enough to flash a row of yellow teeth—which somehow made him look even more untrustworthy. Still chuckling, he pointed to the stone table in the courtyard. “Sit down, let’s talk.”

Xu Hehua sat down on the stone bench with her daughter and motioned to her.
“Go ahead, call him Grandpa.”

So this was the famed Tun Grandpa. He didn’t look fifty—he appeared a few years younger at least. Xu Wanchun didn’t hesitate.
“Hello, Grandpa.”

“Hey, this one’s got guts.” Xu Jingjun pulled a candy from his tunic pocket and handed it over. It was originally meant for his eldest grandson, but though this little girl was a bit ugly, her boldness made her likeable.

Hehua stuffed the candy into her daughter’s hand and finally explained why they were there. She ended with a sigh,
“I know all too well what kind of life Wanchun had in Lijia Tun. If she goes back, I’m afraid she won’t last long.”

Xu Jingjun took a deep drag on his cigarette.
“Not a hard thing to settle, but…” He glanced again at the girl quietly eating candy and continued,
“You sure about this? You’re still young. Raising a child now, it’ll be tough to find a good man to marry.”

Hehua instinctively looked at her daughter. Seeing that her expression didn’t change—assuming she didn’t understand—she relaxed.
“I found her by Iron Egg’s grave. That’s fate. As for marrying again—I’ve got a house, land, even a donkey. I’m not worried about food or clothes. I’ve already been married once—no need to rush into another. It’s not that easy to find a good man.”

Xu Jingjun wasn’t some old-fashioned stickler—he wouldn’t have let a divorced woman live in the village if he was. So he didn’t argue.
“As long as you’ve thought it through. I’ll head to Lijia Tun tomorrow morning.”

“What time?” Hehua asked.

He took another puff.
“No need for you to go. I can handle it alone.”

Xu Hehua had full confidence in Tun Grandpa’s abilities and didn’t ask more. She stood up and carried the half-basket of eggs she’d brought to the kitchen—his compensation for the trouble.

When she came out with an empty basket, she brought up another matter.
“Uncle, could you also check the calendar for an auspicious date in the next few days? Now that the new house is built, I should invite the relatives over for a proper gathering.”

That was a happy occasion, and Xu Jingjun didn’t decline. He returned to the hall, and when he came back out, he was holding a thick book.

Feeling a bit embarrassed—after all, her adoptive mother had already given away so many good things in just half a day—Xu Wanchun suddenly perked up when she caught a clear look at the book.

A calendar!!

And written clearly at the top of the page was the date:

April 18, 1950.