Chapter 10

Jiang Yanqiu had a childhood engagement.

It was arranged early on by her birth father, Li Dehua, and the village carpenter, Old He. The two were sworn brothers.

The very year Jiang Yanqiu was born, the carpenter gave 180 yuan in bride price to the Li family to betroth her to his ten-year-old youngest son. When she was six, both fathers died in an accident while working on a reservoir project. But the engagement was well-known in the village—practically set in stone.

Later, the fiancé left to join the army and hadn’t returned in ten years—until last night, when someone found him collapsed at the village entrance, covered in blood, his leg mangled by some wild animal.

There was no luggage on him, only half of a demobilization certificate on the ground, the visible words reading: “Company 1, Mess Unit.”

So much for marrying a military officer.

The man wasn’t some heroic commander—just a cook. And now, it wasn’t even clear whether he was alive.

Jiang Yanqiu had always felt secretly proud of this engagement, but now it had turned into a hot potato.

She was completely distracted at work today, eavesdropping on village gossip but too scared to chime in—didn’t want trouble.

No way would she marry a cripple like that!

The best solution now, she thought, was to let Jiang Henián take her place.

After all, they were one family now, and the same age—who cared which “daughter” got married?

And Jiang Henián? Quiet as a mouse—she wouldn’t dare protest.

The more Jiang Yanqiu thought about it, the more it made sense. She whispered her plan to Wang Chunfang for quite a while.

Just beyond the wall, Jiang Henián crouched in the corner, puffing out her cheeks in fury as she listened.

These black-hearted mother and daughter!

They took the bride price, refused to marry, and now wanted her to act as a stand-in bride—possibly even to become a widow?

Spit! As if we’re really one family!

She glared at the mud-brick wall, itching to storm in and beat them with a fire poker.

“What’s that smell outside?!”

“Jiang Henián!! I told you to boil an egg, not burn a hole through the pot!”

Wang Chunfang burst out from behind the cloth curtain. Seeing the stove belching black smoke, she nearly fainted from rage.

“Dear husband! Just look at what this girl has done! She’s trying to burn the whole house down!”

—

The village’s dirt path was overgrown with weeds. Jiang Henián trudged forward with a basket taller than herself strapped to her back.

She had stoked the fire so hot it burned like her own temper—successfully charring the pot.

Wang Chunfang had been so angry she nearly rolled her eyes back, immediately grabbing Jiang Chengmin to tattle.

“She’s grown up and turned wild! We gave her an egg and she burned the pot—she wants the whole family to starve!”

Her dramatic tale made it sound like Jiang Henián had set a fire large enough to raze the house.

Jiang Henián had just stared at the scorched pot, blinking innocently.

Oops. She’d been too focused on eavesdropping and let the egg boil dry.

She’d fished out the cracked, blackened egg, snapped off a piece and popped it in her mouth, mumbling:

“I didn’t mean to. I must’ve blacked out for a second.”

“Maybe… I really did hit my head too hard.”

At that, Wang Chunfang shut up instantly, her expression guarded—afraid the girl would start asking to see a doctor.

At least this meant Jiang Henián got out of cooking lunch. Wang Chunfang didn’t dare let the “possessed” girl near the stove again.

That pot was expensive! Now it’s black as coal!

The corn gruel she made still tasted oddly burnt. Even Jiang Chengmin’s face soured as he ate.

Jiang Henián ignored everyone’s expressions at the table. She slid her untouched half bowl of porridge over to her “cheap dad” with a sweet smile, then grabbed her basket and slipped out.

Since she was new to this world, she couldn’t act too suspicious—best to blend in, avoid raising alarms.

(Though she had no idea how far she already stood out compared to the original host.)

She tossed the other half of her scorched egg in the air and caught it as she walked, heading to where the original used to gather pigweed.

Huagou Village was remote and far from the county town. Most of the houses she passed were crumbling mud-brick shacks. A rare few were made of blue bricks.

Everything was either yellowish dirt or bright green vegetation—poverty laid bare.

Jiang Henián felt a bit disheartened. This wasn’t much better than the apocalypse, honestly.

She twirled her sickle, swiping at the roadside weeds, relishing the crisp slicing sound.

The feeling was strange—this body clearly knew how to do farmwork. It was strong and skilled, but she had no muscle memory at all. She relied entirely on fragmented memories from the original host.

Sometimes she even felt like her body was being controlled by someone else—a weird disconnect.

Suddenly, Jiang Henián stopped walking.

Her gaze drifted toward the edge of the village.

That injured “childhood fiancé” of Jiang Yanqiu’s was lying in an abandoned thatch hut at the foot of the mountain.

The story was: the second daughter-in-law of the He family was pregnant and refused to let the stranger—who happened to be her husband’s youngest brother—enter the house because of the smell of blood.

She said if he brought evil energy into the home and she miscarried, it would be “two lives lost.”

So the village chief had to step in. Eventually, they moved the man to an old empty hut once used by the production team.

The He family also asked Granny Ma Liu, the village fortune teller, to take a look.

She just shook her head and said: “The leg’s done for. If you want to save his life, send him to a hospital in the city.”

But for farmers in Huagou, even a county hospital was enough to skin the family alive with bills—let alone one in the city, a hundred kilometers away.

No one in the whole village had even been to the city.

And now it was harvest season—everyone was too busy to care about some soldier who hadn’t returned in a decade.

So, from last night to this afternoon, the man had lain there unconscious—left to fate. The only option left: a rushed marriage for good luck.

At first, Jiang Henián had been furious when she heard Jiang Yanqiu wanted her to take her place in the marriage.

But now…

Her feet turned. She headed toward the edge of the village, dragging the sickle behind her.

No one was around—everyone home for lunch.

The farther she went, the fewer houses she saw. Jiang Henián hesitated, not sure which of the nearby huts was the one.

Then she spotted a middle-aged woman coming out of the nearest hut, wiping her eyes.

Jiang Henián ducked into the bushes. Once the woman left, she crept toward the door.

She wanted to see this poor “future brother-in-law.”
If he really was about to die… then she was willing to marry.

The Jiang family wasn’t trustworthy. Even though she had taken the original host’s place, she had no desire to become part of them or put up with their nonsense.

That stepmother and stepsister? Today they schemed to marry her off. Tomorrow, they’d sell her to some random family for more bride price.

More importantly, she couldn’t let anyone discover her secret space and its supplies.

She’d been through too much to trust anyone anymore. All she wanted now was a place of her own, where no one would snoop.

If marrying this man could get her out of the Jiang family and into a secluded hut where she could take care of him quietly until the end…

Then so be it.

“A marriage, some inheritance, and a dead husband” might be a little morally sketchy—but the more she thought about it, the more tempted she felt.

She placed her hand on the worn wooden door, unhooked the latch, and gently pushed it open.

“Creeeak—”

The door gave a long, eerie groan. Jiang Henián flinched and looked over her shoulder.

No one.

She stared into the dim room. Her heart began pounding uncontrollably.

Don’t be scared, I’ll just take a quick look.

Biting her lip, she took a breath and shoved the door all the way open.

The stench of blood hit her like a wave. She wrinkled her nose.

In the corner of the dilapidated hut was a cracked brick bed.

A man lay on it—tall and long-limbed, his legs dangling over the edge.

Even from a distance, she could see the blood all over his body. His clothes were dark and stiff with it. Clearly, he hadn’t received any real treatment.

The scene was almost too much to bear.

Jiang Henián hesitated at the doorway for a long time before finally stepping inside.

The man lay flat on his back, facing away, barely breathing—if at all. Her throat tightened as she crept closer.

Her hand trembled. She nudged the bed frame with her toe.

She reached out to touch his shoulder—

And then saw his face.

WHAT?!

Jiang Henián’s eyes widened in shock. A cold chill shot up her spine, nearly choking her.

This man—

This man was that same Mr. He!

The one she’d gently nudged with her minivan!

Jiang Henián turned pale and stumbled backward.

Suddenly, her heart pounded violently. A rush of blood surged through her veins, her limbs went numb, and she lost control of her body—

Falling straight onto the blood-soaked man on the bed!