Chapter 9

Wang Chunfang stood with her back to the door, her smile forced and skin-deep, the warning in her eyes unmistakable.

She looked exactly like Lady Rong from that old TV drama.

Probably plotting in secret how to torment the original host to death.

Jiang Heniang shivered.

Her ankle still ached from being yanked earlier, but she lowered her gaze and replied blandly:

“The sickle fell in the field. I went back to get it and tripped.”

Having already swindled money from Song Wenqing, Jiang Heniang had no intention of bringing up that mess again.

Better to stay far away from the jinxed male lead and stay alive—no need to get sucked into the original storyline.

Jiang Chengmin came in puffing on his tobacco pipe. He glanced over and saw the large bump on the back of Jiang Heniang’s head, frowning slightly.

“Swollen like a steamed bun.”

“Feeling dizzy? Should we get Old Ma Liu to take a look?”

Old Ma Liu was the only barefoot doctor in Huagou Village. He could treat common ailments like dizziness and mild fevers. For more complicated issues, he’d mix up some wild herbs from the mountains. He might not always cure, but at least he’d try.

His consultations weren’t cheap—20 cents just for a look, medicine extra.

If you didn’t have money, a pound of grain would do.

He was in his fifties, unmarried and childless, with bad legs. He couldn’t earn much from farm work, so this was how he made a living.

The moment money was mentioned, Wang Chunfang’s face soured.

“That’s unnecessary! San’ya’s a tough girl. Just steam a hot towel and press it on her head. Where would we get the money for that?”

Oh wow, what a wicked stepmother.

If the original host’s brain had literally spilled out, she’d probably say, “Just scoop it back in and stir it around—it’ll be fine.”

In the book, it said the original host was unconscious for four days, nearly died, and because Old Ma Liu was called twice (costing a whole yuan), the stepmother punished her viciously afterward—had her chopping wood until the calluses on her hands broke open and bled.

Even after that, she still kept delivering warmth and kindness to the male lead and ultimately died alone on the mountain road.

Jiang Heniang had never seen a more tragic, lovesick cannon fodder character. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became.

Then she suddenly realized something.

She had woken up just one night after transmigrating, even though the injury looked serious, it only left her with a bit of swelling—she could walk, eat, and even get dramatic.

She didn’t know why, but that didn’t stop her from faking a bit.

“Mother’s right. Let’s not waste the money.”

Jiang “Daiyu” weakly held her forehead, even swaying a little.

“But my head’s all fuzzy, I can’t remember things clearly. Just now I almost mistook you for a banshee.”

“Maybe an egg would help me recover. If not, I might not be able to go work in the fields tomorrow.”

Jiang Chengmin wasn’t much involved in household affairs—he had only made a casual suggestion earlier. If an egg could save the cost of a visit to the doctor, all the better.

He tapped the ashes from his pipe and turned to Wang Chunfang.

“Do we still have eggs? Boil one for San’ya.”

“There’s only seven left,” Wang Chunfang quickly said, “we’ve got to save them for Xiaobao and Fuquan. We were going to trade some for salt, too.”

This damn girl lay around for half a day and now wanted to act spoiled! Lazy and greedy!

Hadn’t done a thing and already asking for eggs!

And what do you mean “mistook me for a banshee”? Clearly that girl’s not brain-damaged—just grown a sharp tongue!

Fuming inside but unable to act out in front of her husband, Wang Chunfang snapped:

“San’ya, you’re grown now. Why are you fighting your younger brother and nephew over food?”

“Besides, what’s one egg going to do? You’re just hungry. You can have a half bowl of gruel later. First, get up and make lunch. Your father’s been working hard in the fields and still hasn’t eaten!”

Jiang Heniang sneered inside.

Ten years ago, Wang Chunfang married Jiang Chengmin, a widower with a daughter, bringing along her own son and daughter.

There were two chickens and a pig in the family—guess who had been feeding them all these years?

The original host had.

And since the stepmother moved in, not once had the original host eaten an egg in ten years, but all the hard labor fell to her.

At eighteen, her hands were so calloused they looked like she’d worked for thirty-eight years.

And when it came to meals? She’d cook for the whole family and get barely half a bowl of the thinnest cornmeal gruel.

No way was Jiang Heniang going to suffer that kind of life.

“Then I’d better rest a few more days, make sure nothing serious develops. Wouldn’t want to end up needing a doctor and wasting more money. For now, Dad can pick up the extra work.”

“Mom, you’d better make lunch. I’m too dizzy to hold a bowl—might just drop it. Can’t let Dad go hungry.”

As soon as she finished, Jiang Heniang flopped right back onto the bed, carefully turning so the big bump on her head was visible.

She didn’t care about anyone else.

She’d already had a delicious lunch and wasn’t going hungry.

Wang Chunfang was stunned.

“You—”

“Enough,” Jiang Chengmin cut her off with a frown.

“San’ya, go get an egg from the cupboard and boil it. Don’t miss work tomorrow.”

Jiang Heniang grinned and popped up, flashing a bright smile.

“Thanks, Dad!”

She didn’t even want the egg—it was the principle. This was justice for the original host.

Jiang Chengmin was momentarily dazed by her smile.

Ever since her mother passed, the girl had never smiled again, turning gloomy and withdrawn. She’d go days without saying a word, always hunched over, giving people a bad feeling. Even the villagers had started whispering that if she weren’t so hardworking, she’d never get married.

Naturally, he’d overlooked her too, figuring Wang Chunfang was a good woman and would treat her well.

Now, hearing his daughter call him “Dad” so brightly, he was surprised—and pleased.

He nodded, smiling.

“Go on, then.”

Jiang Heniang cheerfully responded, holding the back of her sore head dramatically as she practically skipped out the door past the others.

Jiang Chengmin followed her out, puffing on his pipe.

Inside, Wang Chunfang’s face turned into a mule’s behind. She bumped her daughter with her elbow and grumbled:

“What’s wrong with you?! You were quiet all day, and that damn girl actually had the smarts to act sweet.”

“If she gets an egg, you get one too!”

Jiang Yanqiu stood leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. She didn’t reply, just kept staring at Jiang Heniang’s bouncing figure outside.

Out by the outdoor stove, water was already boiling.

Jiang Heniang placed the egg into a bowl and set it in the pot. Seeing that the fire was dying down, she hiked up her pants leg and squatted to stoke the flames.

Of course, she had never done this kind of chore before—but come on, she’d seen enough in movies and shows.

Just add firewood, right?

She grabbed a bundle of thin kindling nearby and stuffed the stove’s mouth until it was absolutely packed.

Satisfied, she patted her hands clean, then sat down on the short wooden stool behind her.

As the firewood inside crackled and snapped, she finally felt some of the tension from the past few days ease a little.

Suddenly—

“What?! You want her to take my place and marry him?!”

Jiang Heniang’s ears perked up and her tension returned in full force.

She quickly turned to press herself against the wall, eavesdropping.

“Everyone in the village is talking! He’s all injured and unconscious now. That damn old woman from the He family wants me to marry him to ‘bring luck’! That’s basically asking me to be a widow!”

“But it was your late father who arranged the marriage, and—”

“I don’t care! Either you give the betrothal money back or find someone else. I’m not marrying a cripple! They lied—said he was some kind of army officer, but he’s just a damn cook!”

“No one’s refunding anything! That money’s for Xiaobao’s future bride. Just wait and see—he’s still a soldier, even if he’s a cook. What if he gets discharged with a fat settlement package or something?”

Jiang Heniang had always had sharp ears. Even though Wang Chunfang and Jiang Yanqiu were whispering, she could hear every word clearly.