Chapter 1: The Cunning Boar

“Daughter, daughter!”

“Wake up!”

“Open your eyes and look at your mother!”

A girl of about thirteen or fourteen lay in a cornfield, while a woman knelt on the ground sobbing and shouting in despair, tears streaming uncontrollably.

“Cough, cough…!”

Lying on the ground, Meng Ling suddenly coughed violently a few times. She heard the heart-wrenching cries by her ear and struggled to open her eyes.

“Where is this?”

“Who is she?”

“Why am I here?”

She only remembered that on her way home from work last night, she encountered a fool who mistook the gas for the brake and slammed into her, sending her flying. How did she wake up in a cornfield, and why was the person before her dressed so strangely?

As she tried to make sense of it all, a sharp pain shot through her head and a flood of memories surged into her mind.

“Ah!”

The pain came swiftly and faded just as quickly, leaving behind countless unfamiliar images like a slideshow.

“I’ve transmigrated!”

This body was also named Meng Ling, thirteen years old, eldest daughter of the Meng family in Qingshui Village. She had an eleven-year-old brother and a three-year-old sister.

Her parents were still alive, grandparents had long passed, and the woman before her was her mother, Shen Yun.

Seeing Meng Ling open her eyes, Shen Yun’s sorrow was instantly replaced by joy.

“Daya, you’re awake! You scared me to death just now—I thought you…”

She stopped mid-sentence, realizing it was unlucky to say more.

Shen’s voice pulled Meng Ling fully into reality. She glanced around, then stood and said, “I’m fine.”

“Really fine?”

Shen examined her carefully, checking for any obvious injuries.

Meng Ling said slowly, “Really, I just felt really sleepy and dozed off.”

Now memories began surfacing.

These days wild boars had been causing havoc in the fields, and she had volunteered to guard the crops.

Her family figured wild boars were less active during the day, so they let her go.

That morning, she had heard noise in the cornfield and went out with a steel pitchfork to check.

Unexpectedly, the wild boar charged at her like mad, ramming her from behind. It was over 300 jin (150 kg), and it flung her several meters away. She passed out instantly.

Hearing it was just a fainting spell, Shen breathed a sigh of relief. So it had been a false alarm. She had panicked and thought the worst.

While brushing dirt off Meng Ling’s clothes, she said, “Child, you scared me to death. I thought that damn boar got you.”

After checking again to confirm Meng Ling was really fine, she smiled and said, “Good, that’s good!”

Meng Ling stretched a bit—aside from a sore back, nothing else seemed wrong.

She let her mother dust her off. This scene brought back long-lost memories—someone else had once helped her up like this after a fall.

Shen’s skin was tanned, her face weathered, and her clothes were patched in various sizes and colors.

Looking at herself, Meng Ling saw a thin frame, baggy patched clothes, and no longer the feeling of her usual curves—her chest was utterly flat.

“If not for my face, I wouldn’t even know which side is front or back…”

“What impoverished dynasty have I landed in?” she wondered.

She searched her memories.

Third year of the Daqian Dynasty, Qingshui Village, Qingping County.

“Well, I’m here already—what can I do?”

Just then, her stomach growled loudly.

Shen noticed she was dazing out and patted her on the shoulder. “Daya, what are you thinking about? Hungry, aren’t you? Go home and eat. I’ll watch the field.”

Meng Ling nodded. “Okay, I’ll head back first.”

Soon, she arrived home.

Three mud-brick houses with thatched roofs came into view. Two kids sat at the entrance—her younger brother Meng Shiqiao and little sister Meng Qingqing.

Though mentally prepared, she still sighed at the sight of such a run-down place.

They probably didn’t even have enough to eat.

Even when she lived in the countryside with her grandpa, she had never seen houses this primitive—not even a single brick.

Meng Shiqiao’s clothes were dusty and clearly worn for days.

Meng Qingqing looked better. Her big round eyes stared at Meng Ling with a curious and obedient expression.

Her brother called out, “Sis, you’re back.”

She nodded. “Mm, I’m back.”

Qingqing toddled over and hugged her legs, softly calling, “Sister!”

Meng Ling naturally held her little hand and said, “Qingqing is such a good girl today!”

She led her inside. The room was lined with farming tools—hoes, baskets, rakes. It wasn’t completely bare, at least.

A small, wobbly square table stood in the middle, ready to collapse.

On it sat two ceramic bowls—one big, one small. The big one held watery rice porridge, the small one pickled radish.

Meng Ling took a sip. After so many fast food meals in the city, this salty porridge combo wasn’t bad.

After a few sips, she noticed her little sister watching her bowl longingly, occasionally licking her lips.

Meng Ling knew porridge didn’t fill the stomach. She soon got hungry again and gave the rest to her sister.

The reason for the shortage was a flood last year that ruined the crops. Normally, they could eat to 70–80% fullness.

Within days, she adapted to life here. The first two days were okay, but after four or five days of eating only porridge, salted vegetables, or boiled winter melon and radish, she was getting fed up.

There wasn’t a drop of oil in her belly. She felt dizzy just seeing porridge now. She could probably eat a whole pig if given the chance.

Though the family raised three old hens, one was brooding chicks, and the other two were kept for eggs, which were sold to buy salt.

There was a rooster, but it was needed for breeding.

The pig in the pen weighed under 50 jin (25 kg). It wouldn’t be ready even by the new year.

So, none of their livestock could be eaten.

Then she thought—wild ones might be fair game!

She had often gone into the mountains with her grandfather to hunt and learned a thing or two.

As for that wild boar, even the villagers had failed to catch it despite using traps, arrows, pitchforks… it was practically a spirit beast.

The boar had been ravaging crops since last year. Thankfully, there was only one.

Wild boars could destroy a field faster than a plow.

Villagers had no choice but to guard the fields day and night until harvest.

If she couldn’t catch the boar, then maybe fish or shrimp?

She knew the river had plenty, just no tools to catch them.

Fishing nets were for the wealthy or pros.

Meng Ling’s father was a bamboo craftsman, and she’d picked up some skills. Her brother knew a bit too. So they could definitely make fish traps.

Acting on her idea, she cut some bamboo and quickly split it into strips.

The finished fish trap looked like a funnel—wide opening that narrowed toward the middle, with a soft closing so fish could swim in but not out.

“Sis, is this the fish trap you mentioned?” Meng Shiqiao asked, staring at the thing.

“Yep. Now let’s dig up some earthworms.”

She took her siblings behind the house to dig worms.

She crushed them, mixed with ash, and packed them in a perforated bamboo tube to lure fish inside the trap.

She had done this many times before, so it was second nature.

“Can this really catch fish?” Shiqiao was skeptical.

Fish can’t be that dumb, right? Go in and not come out?

Would eating these fish make him dumb?

“Just wait and see.”

Meng Ling was ready to teach him a lesson. How dare he doubt a modern woman?

With her carrying the sister and her brother holding the trap, they soon reached the river.

She picked a backwater bay—ideal for fish—and instructed her brother how to set it up.

He rolled his pants, stuffed the trap’s end with grass, and secured it with a stick.

“Done. Let’s check it tomorrow.”

Next morning.

Meng Ling carried her sister, her brother brought a bucket, and they returned to the river.

As soon as they reached the spot, Shiqiao eagerly jumped into the water.

“Hold the bottom! Don’t spill it,” Meng Ling reminded him.

Fish could easily escape when lifting the trap.

“Sis, there’s fish!”

Shiqiao stared in disbelief at the trap—there were quite a few.

“Of course there are,” Meng Ling replied smugly.

Splash! She unplugged the trap, and fish tumbled into the bucket.

Small river fish, a few carp, none over half a jin. Several big shrimp too, plump and just like those in a Qi Baishi painting.

Shiqiao picked out bits of grass. “Sis, that’s like two or three jin!”

Meng Ling nodded and moved to the next trap.

It too was full of life.

“I’ll open this one!”

Shiqiao yanked out the stopper.

Splash!

Fish poured in—“Ahhh!” he screamed and bolted as if he’d seen a ghost.

Meng Ling saw a fat, slippery water snake wriggling in the bucket.

She’d seen plenty like this in the countryside—harmless.

“What’s there to be scared of? It’s not even poisonous!” she shouted.

Panting, Shiqiao said, “You may not be scared, but I am. Just get rid of it!”

Meanwhile, little Qingqing, who had no clue what fear was, curiously reached for it…