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A fierce wind howled as dark clouds gathered overhead.
Su Qingqing was jolted awake by a brutal shove. Her body was wracked with pain—bruised, sore, and trembling. A child’s pitiful cry echoed beside her:
“Don’t hit my mother! Grandma, Auntie, please stop… Wuwuwu…”
Before she could react, someone kicked her in the back, sending her crashing to the ground.
Pain exploded through her body.
She tried to scream, but her throat was dry and hoarse—no sound came out. All she could do was curl up and shield her head.
Finally, the beating ceased.
Someone grumbled, “If not for your embroidery earning a few taels, do you think I’d keep a useless woman who only gives birth to money-losing girls?”
“Get up! Still pretending? A few kicks and you’re already playing dead?” a sharp voice snapped.
Smack! A slap landed hard on her cheek. Her head spun, and blood pooled in her mouth.
When Su Qingqing opened her eyes again, she realized this wasn’t her apartment. She was in a dim, thatched house surrounded by women in old-fashioned clothes—one with a whip, another with a thick stick.
The air stank of blood, sweat, and dirt.
Where am I? Su Qingqing’s heart raced.
Before she could think further, the woman raised her whip again.
“No! Don’t hit her!” a small figure darted forward— a child, throwing themselves over Su Qingqing.
The whip lashed the child’s back, and Su Qingqing, through sheer instinct, pulled the child into her arms, shielding them. A searing pain shot through her chest.
Then her world faded into darkness.
When she awoke again, she was lying on a worn straw mat. A faint ray of sunlight slipped through the broken roof.
Every part of her body throbbed with pain. She groaned softly as she tried to sit up.
In the corner, a dirt-smeared child stared at her with wide, frightened eyes.
“Mom… are you okay?” the child asked timidly.
Su Qingqing froze.
Then—memories surged. Bits and pieces of the original owner’s past.
She had transmigrated.
She, Su Qingqing, a top university student from modern China, had become a rural village woman—no parents, no husband, a child in tow, and barely any food to survive.
This body’s original owner was also named Su Qingqing. She had been married at fifteen, gave birth to a daughter at sixteen, and was constantly abused by her husband’s family for failing to produce a son. Her husband disappeared years ago, and she struggled alone—embroidering just to feed her child, yet still beaten mercilessly.
Just this morning, a poor sale of her embroidery had triggered yet another round of abuse—until she finally collapsed.
And now, Su Qingqing had inherited this broken body and its tragic life.
“This is too much…” she muttered, fists clenched.
She had never known this kind of cruelty. And this child—so thin, so bruised… it ignited a fire within her.
She gently pulled the little girl close. “Don’t be afraid. From now on, Mommy will protect you.”
The child burst into tears. “Mom…”
Su Qingqing’s heart hardened.
She was here now—and she would not waste this second chance.