Chapter 1: Transmigration in Progress

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Crying and shouting woke Zeng Yan, her body feeling terribly wrong. Her head ached, a wave of nausea washed over her, and before she could even open her eyes, someone grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently.

“My poor granddaughter, you’re dead! What are we going to do without you?”

The world spun, and she fainted again.

“Auntie, Yan is still breathing! Let me through! We need to get her to the hospital immediately, or it will be too late!” The head of the brigade, Zeng Fumao, was fuming.

The old woman, however, held on to the girl on the ground, taking her unreasonableness to the extreme. “She’s lost so much blood, not even an immortal could help her now. What good are those quack doctors? Why waste our time? My Yan has made a glorious sacrifice to protect the nation’s property, and the brigade must report it to the commune. My granddaughter deserves a commendation, and our family must be compensated for our loss.”

The old woman’s mouth kept moving, a rapid-fire calculation spilling out. “That child, Yan, is famous for being a hard worker in our brigade. She earned a full work-point last year. With her work-point money and food rations, she’d make at least a hundred and fifty a year. She’s fifteen this year, and if she worked until she was eighteen and got married, she could have brought in a dowry for the family. So, with the extra compensation, we’re not asking for much—we’ll take a thousand.”

A ripple of commotion spread through the crowd. A thousand yuan? Could Hu Sifeng, the old woman, be sold ten times over for that much money?

Zeng Fumao scoffed inwardly. The girl wasn’t even dead yet, and the old woman was already calculating the compensation. She was wailing louder than anyone else, but not a single tear fell. Yan was truly unlucky to be stuck with a grandmother like this.

He couldn’t be bothered to argue with such a person. His eyes, full of mockery, turned to Zeng Lao Er and his wife. “Refusing to help is the same as murder. Do you want to kill your own daughter?”

With the heavy accusation of “murder,” Zeng Fugui had no choice but to step forward and pull at his mother’s arm. “Mom, let’s save her first. If she doesn’t make it, then we can talk about the rest.”

“It’s just a waste of time. She’s lost so much blood; she’s already gone,” Hu Sifeng grumbled, but reluctantly let go.

The old cart driver, Zhao, had been waiting nearby.

Zeng Fumao carefully lifted the girl onto the cart. Her weight was so light, barely more than a small piglet, and he sighed again. This child, Yan, was so earnest. She would work herself to death, refusing to listen to anyone’s advice, and now look at the state of her body.

He felt a surge of frustration and yelled at Sun Jiazhi, who was still wiping away her tears. “All you do is cry! The cart is bumpy; get up here and hold your daughter!” This family was truly exasperating.

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When Zeng Yan woke up again, she was in a hospital. The yellowing white walls, the peeling green wainscoting, and the new memories in her mind all told her the same thing: she had transmigrated.

The law of transmigrating into a character with the same name was true. She had become an unlucky character in a historical novel she had once read, a girl who had only been mentioned once by name.

The heroine, a city girl sent to the village, had overheard the villagers talking about a young woman named Zeng Yan. During a typhoon, the girl had been hit and killed by a falling tree while trying to save the brigade’s livestock. Even in death, her fate was miserable—her grandmother secretly sold her corpse to be used for a ghost marriage.

This girl’s life was truly bitter.

Sigh. Since the facts couldn’t be changed, she accepted her fate. She had always had bad luck. To be electrocuted by a faulty phone charger—a rare incident—was the last thing she remembered. Before she lost consciousness, she had felt a sharp, heart-piercing electric current and knew there was no way she could have survived.

To have a second chance at life, even in the harsh conditions of the late sixties, was a blessing.

Zeng Yan silently promised the original owner, Little girl, I will live twice as hard for both of us.

Zeng Fumao, who had just finished the hospital registration, pushed the door open. He was delighted to see Yan awake. “It’s good that you’re awake. The doctor said you have a severe concussion and need to stay for observation. Yan, don’t worry about anything. Just rest. The brigade will cover your medical expenses.”

Seeing that they were alone in the room, Zeng Fumao poured out what he had been holding in his heart. “Crops can be replanted, and money can be earned again, but if a person is gone, everything is gone. Selfless dedication has its limits. Don’t believe everything they say in those propaganda posters. People are more important than property. Child, take better care of yourself from now on.” What he didn’t say was that her family was completely unreliable.

Zeng Yan appreciated his kindness and nodded seriously. “Uncle Fumao, thank you.”

The Zeng family was the largest clan in the Xiangyang Brigade. The head of the brigade was a distant cousin of hers who had been a soldier in his youth and was known for being fair and decisive. In the book, he was a good person. Unfortunately, good people don’t live long. He died in a storm at sea later in the year while out fishing with his team.

Zeng Fumao let out a sigh of relief. After such a terrible ordeal, the child had finally come to her senses.

He didn’t linger, eager to get back to the village for disaster relief. “This is just bizarre. We haven’t had a single typhoon in years, and here we are, not even in August yet, and we’ve already had two. If we don’t replant the seedlings properly, there won’t be any grain to distribute at the end of the year.”

He had wanted to say a few things to Sun Jiazhi, but after waiting and waiting, she was nowhere to be seen. He could only turn to Yan instead. “The good doctors at the county hospital have all been taken away. This is the gold mine hospital, and it’s usually not open to the public. The deputy mine manager is an old leader of mine from my army days. I asked him for a favor, so you can stay here without worry. The food at the mine is good. I’ve left money and ration coupons on your account. The doctor said you need bed rest for the concussion, so have your mother get you whatever you want. I’m leaving now, but I’ll come back to see you in a couple of days.”

“Uncle Fumao, you’ve already put yourself out for me. I feel so bad.”

“This is nothing. You’re just an overthinker. Alright, I’m heading back.” Zeng Fumao waved a hand and left quickly.

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The brigade head had been gone for a while when her mother finally entered the room at a leisurely pace. From a paper bag she pulled out a packet of powdered milk. “I begged the doctor for a long time before he gave me a coupon for this powdered milk. It’s a rare commodity. I almost didn’t get it. I’m going to go rent a lunchbox for you to mix it with.”

Watching Sun Jiazhi’s back disappear behind the door, Zeng Yan’s eyes flashed.

The original owner had three older brothers. As the youngest and the only girl, she had not only been unloved but also treated like a draft horse because of her father’s extreme preference for sons. She ate little, worked a lot, and was beaten if her work wasn’t up to par.

Compared to her father and brothers, her mother, Sun Jiazhi, had seemed to show her a great deal of love. When the original owner was beaten, her mother would put ointment on her bruises. When she was hungry, her mother would secretly slip her a sweet potato. When she had no clothes, her mother would alter her own old clothes to make her a small jacket.

Her mother often encouraged her with sayings like, “Women hold up half the sky,” and “Anything a man can do, a woman can do, too. Women are never inferior to men.”

Having been discriminated against her whole life, the original owner had no one else to turn to. These words resonated with her, and the young girl worked with a vengeance. If a man carried a hundred pounds of dirt, she would carry a hundred pounds. If the men went out to sea to earn work-points, she would spend her days and nights weaving fishing nets, her fingers raw and bleeding, until she was a bag of bones.

Her sweat had not been in vain. She finally held up “half the sky,” earning more work-points than any of the men in her family. But she also lost her life in the process.

The fifteen-year-old girl, craving a mother’s warmth, had been blinded by it. But with a mature soul from modern times now in control, the perspective was different, and the flaws in her mother’s actions were glaringly obvious.

Zeng Yan’s eyes filled with scorn. Her mother only gave her small, insignificant acts of kindness. When her daughter was beaten, why didn’t she step in to shield her with her body? When her daughter was unconscious, why didn’t she stay by her bedside? And when her daughter died, why would she let an animal of a man sell her corpse?

To meticulously set an emotional trap and ensnare her own daughter’s heart—it seemed the world was full of unimaginable things.

Sun Jiazhi returned, having spent fifty cents to rent an aluminum lunchbox and carrying a thermos. She smiled brightly as she entered the room. “The conditions here at the mine hospital are so good. They even have white flour steamed buns for lunch. You really lucked out with this hospital stay, Yan.”

She was told that almost dying was a lucky break. Was she even a human being?

Zeng Yan’s gaze grew dark as she examined the “good mother” bustling at her bedside. The woman was almost forty, yet her face was fair and beautiful, and she didn’t look old at all. Her movements held none of the clumsiness of a country woman.

She was pretty and graceful and clearly adored by her husband, yet she never once used his favor to spare her daughter a beating, a hungry day, or a back-breaking task.

Some things could not withstand close scrutiny.

The poor original owner. If she were still alive, wouldn’t that single bag of precious powdered milk have made her even more blindly devoted to sacrificing herself?

A slap from the father, a sweet date from the mother. This abuse was so calculated. Good. Very good indeed.

But… why?

Zeng Yan’s lips curled into a sharp, knowing smile. If fate had given her a life more bitter than bile, she would have a heart darker than the night. Just you wait.