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Chapter 1: Reincarnated as a Three-Year-Old Girl
“Mother! Fubao! Fubao… she’s not breathing!”
“Ah, my daughter—”
“Fubao, why did you leave us so soon? You’re only three! How will your grandma survive without you? How could you do this to her?”
Accompanied by heart-wrenching cries.
Jiang Fubao slowly woke up.
Before opening her eyes, memories that were not her own flooded her mind.
Three seconds later, all the memories were absorbed.
Jiang Fubao realized: she had transmigrated.
She had died suddenly in the rental house from overwork.
Perhaps heaven had pitied her—an orphan with no parents—and given her a second chance at life.
The original owner of this body was also named Jiang Fubao, the youngest child of the Jiang family.
She was three years old this year.
Because the original Fubao had drowned in a river, she was able to take over this body.
The elderly woman crying by the bedside was the original Fubao’s grandmother, named Zhang Jinlan.
Zhang Jinlan and her husband, Jiang Shoujia, had three sons and one daughter.
The eldest son, Jiang Dahe, married Zhu Yingqiu from Zhu Family Village. They had three sons:
The second son, Jiang Eryong, married Sun Pingmei from Sun Family Village. They had two sons:
The naming of the children followed the order of the five elements: Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth.
The third child, Zhang Jinlan’s only daughter, was Jiang Sanhe, who had married into Sun Family Village years ago.
The original Fubao’s father was Jiang Siyin, the fourth son of the family, well-loved by his parents. He married Zhang Yanzi from Zhang Family Village and had two sons and one daughter:
The Jiang family was large, with sixteen members in total.
Since all the grandchildren were boys, the youngest, Jiang Fubao, was dearly cherished—a true family favorite. Her name alone showed it.
After understanding the family relationships, Jiang Fubao opened her eyes.
“Mother, Fubao didn’t die! She’s awake!”
Seeing her awake, a man who resembled a bodyguard wiped his tears and spoke excitedly.
“Fubao, my Fubao… you finally woke up! You must have missed grandma so much, that’s why you came back, isn’t it?”
Hearing that her granddaughter was alive, Zhang Jinlan, who had been slumped on the ground, regained strength, tightly embraced her granddaughter, and cried out in relief.
Her cries filled the room and spread to every member of the Jiang family.
“Grandma, don’t cry.”
Jiang Fubao raised her little chubby hand to wipe away Zhang Jinlan’s tears.
“Fubao, you scared me to death. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t have survived either.”
The original Fubao’s mother, Zhang Yanzi, knelt by the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
“My good granddaughter, tell grandpa, how did you fall into the river? Why were you there in the first place?” Jiang Shoujia’s eyes were teary, but he wanted to know the truth.
Fubao had always been well-behaved, never wandered off alone, and certainly wouldn’t go to the river by herself. Something must have happened.
When asked by her grandfather, Jiang Fubao quietly explained after recalling the memory:
“Sister Jiang Sanniu took me to the river. She said there were pretty stones, but as soon as I crouched down, someone kicked me into the river.”
The original Fubao had been killed by a seven-year-old girl named Jiang Sanniu.
It was spring plowing season.
Early in the morning, the Jiang family went to the fields to till the soil, and the younger children played in the village or climbed the mountains to pick tender vegetables.
The original Fubao, being small, had no one to play with and was squatting in a corner, poking mud with a stick to pass the time.
Suddenly, the third granddaughter from the clan leader’s family, Jiang Sanniu, came to find her.
She lured Fubao by claiming there were pretty stones in the river. Out of curiosity, Fubao followed her to the river, and just as she crouched down, she was kicked into the water.
No imagination required—it was obviously Jiang Sanniu who did it.
Only seven years old, and already so malicious.
Jiang Fubao didn’t hide anything and told her grandfather exactly what had happened.
“What a wicked little girl! Only seven and already harming others. If it weren’t for Fubao’s luck, she could have succeeded. I won’t let this go. We must go to the clan leader’s house to demand justice!”
Hearing that their granddaughter had been harmed deliberately, Zhang Jinlan was furious.
She looked at her husband, seemingly waiting for him to agree.
“We must seek justice. Otherwise, our granddaughter suffered for nothing. There is no such reason in this world. Everyone, get your weapons! Let’s go to the clan leader’s house! Tongji, Tongxiang, you two take care of your sister.”
At Jiang Shoujia’s command, the crying family members angrily left the room, including the original Fubao’s mother.
Inside the room, the three siblings stared at each other blankly.
“Little sister, are you hungry?” asked the eldest, Jiang Tongji.
“Yes!” Jiang Fubao nodded.
By now, it was already evening.
The original Fubao had only eaten breakfast before falling into the river. She had swallowed very little water and was forced to vomit after being rescued. She hadn’t eaten since.
Of course she was hungry.
“All right, brother will get you something to eat.” Six-year-old Jiang Tongji was exceptionally sensible. He tucked the blanket around his sister and went to the kitchen.
Soon, he returned with a chipped bowl.
“Little sister, eat quickly. There’s leftover coarse rice porridge from this morning. I added some hot water to warm it up. Eat while it’s hot.”
Jiang Fubao looked at the bowl.
She puckered her lips.
This wasn’t porridge—it was clearly chicken feed soaked in water.
The coarse grains were unlike modern rice—round like mung beans, covered in a dark yellow husk, completely unappetizing.
It looked like millet… but it wasn’t millet.
Yet her two brothers eagerly tasted it, eyes wide with anticipation.
“Little sister, eat up. You won’t be hungry after this,” urged the second brother, Jiang Tongxiang.
One brother held the bowl, the other scooped a spoonful to feed her.
At this point, not eating would be ungrateful.
Jiang Fubao opened her mouth reluctantly.
She chewed lightly, hating it immediately.
It was unbearably awful—like chewing gravel.
Not unlike eating raw unhusked rice.
She wasn’t a chicken!
If not for the original Fubao’s memory, she might have thought her brothers were deliberately tormenting her.
But remembering the scarcity of food, she chewed and swallowed.
Her throat burned painfully, and she frowned, refusing to eat more.
“What’s wrong, little sister?” Jiang Tongji asked, concerned.
“I’m not hungry. You guys eat,” Jiang Fubao said, unable to eat another bite, letting her brothers finish the porridge.