Chapter 2

Mother actually spoke to her so gently! And she didn’t cry!

Her mother used to cry all the time and rarely spoke to her or Big Brother.

Yun Erya couldn’t help but beam with joy, bouncing her way into the room.

Only then did Yun Shuang notice the chipped wooden bowl in Erya’s hands. The little girl ran to her and, like presenting a treasure, handed the bowl to Yun Shuang and said, “Mother, this is mushroom soup Big Brother made. Erya saved a bowl just for you! Mother, here, take it!”

Yun Shuang looked into the bowl. Floating like scraps in dishwater were random bits of mushrooms. Her brow twitched slightly, as if recalling something. But unable to resist the little girl’s enthusiasm, she reached out and took the bowl.

Immediately, Erya bounced back outside, returning with a skewer of grilled fish, about the length of a child’s forearm.

Looking at the fish, charred like a lump of charcoal, Yun Shuang couldn’t help but wince. She suddenly remembered: the original Yun Shuang had once suffered under her son’s catastrophically terrible cooking. Of course, back then, the former owner of the body had been drowning in grief and didn’t care what she ate.

The little girl shoved the skewer into Yun Shuang’s hands and, drooling a little, pleaded, “Mother, eat! Erya and Big Brother saved this just for you!
Big Brother said that you’re still sick and needs nourishment. After breakfast, he went out to search for more food.”

Though Big Brother often came back empty-handed. But today he’d found some mushrooms and caught a few fish—already impressive!

As Erya spoke, her stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. The little girl’s face flushed red, and she hastily covered her belly with both hands.

Yun Shuang looked at the frail little girl in front of her—skin and bones, yet with a swollen belly—and frowned. She’d only ever seen children like this on TV, in African slums. It came from a lack of protein in their diets: their muscles couldn’t support their organs, leading to malnutrition-related swelling. In simpler terms, this child was malnourished.

They were only five years old, right at the age for growth. With erratic meals and such poor diets, how could they possibly get the nutrients they needed?

Yun Shuang stared at the scorched fish in her hand, unable to eat it.
Instead, she lifted the bowl and took a sip. A pained expression instantly spread across her face.

The soup was utterly flavorless, with a strange, indescribable smell. With the original owner’s memories, she knew their household was poor—but the neighbors often offered aid, and at least they had coarse salt.

Still, to stretch their ingredients, Goudan’s cooking always ended up watery and bland.

Erya lay on the bed, blinking at her. Seeing her stop after just one sip, she asked worriedly, “Mother, why aren’t you drinking?”

Yun Shuang glanced at the little girl’s pouting face, then smiled and said, “It’s not that Mother doesn’t want to drink—it’s just that this soup isn’t enough. Come on, Erya, let’s head to the kitchen. I will make something tasty for you.”

Erya froze. Mother making something tasty?

In her memory, Mother hadn’t stepped into the kitchen for a very, very long time. She couldn’t even remember what her cooking tasted like anymore.

When Yun Shuang said she’d cook, she meant it. She climbed out of bed immediately, put on her dirty, holey cloth shoes, and walked toward the back kitchen, following the route etched in her memory.

The outside of the house was just as run-down as the inside. Several sections of the stone wall at the entrance had collapsed, the wooden front door was covered in peeling patches, and in the upper left corner of the courtyard sat a vegetable patch that had been abandoned long ago.

Yun Shuang paused briefly as she passed it.

Despite everything the original owner had gone through, she’d once truly wanted to live well. After giving birth to two children, she attempted to emulate other farm women by growing vegetables and sewing to support her household. But that effort didn’t last long. Soon came news from the neighboring Suzhou prefecture: the daughter of the local magistrate had married, in grand bridal procession, the very scholar who once saved her. Stories of “phoenix men” had always captured public imagination, and this one spread to their tiny village. The news shattered the fragile determination the original owner had just begun to rebuild. From then on, she spiraled deeper into despair.

After only two glances, Yun Shuang turned her gaze away.

The original owner had been strong enough. But she was also a woman raised in an ancient household’s inner chambers—like a flower sheltered in a greenhouse, suddenly battered by storm and rain. She didn’t know how to protect herself, and thus was inevitably knocked into the mud.

The kitchen, just as she remembered it, was extremely bare. There was only a grime-covered stove, surrounded by a messy jumble of jars filled with seasonings—most of them donated by village neighbors. Most jars were empty now. Only a small jar of coarse salt and sesame oil remained. What surprised Yun Shuang was the half-full jar of malt syrup.

Erya immediately chirped with excitement, “Mother, this was a gift from Auntie Village Chief two days ago! But Big Brother won’t let me eat it. He said that she’s a bad person…”

She spoke with a puzzled expression. She didn’t understand why Big Brother thought Auntie Village Chief was bad—after all, she was so gentle and kind to them. But if Big Brother said so, it must be true!

Even if she couldn’t make sense of it, Erya trusted her brother unconditionally.

The woman they called Auntie Village Chief was the village chief’s wife, known locally as Sister Miao. Over the years, she had brought the family many useful gifts. But anyone with clear eyes could see her intentions. Sister Miao’s youngest son had intellectual disabilities, making it hard for him to find a wife. From the day the original Yun Shuang arrived, young and beautiful, Sister Miao had had her sights set on her.

Dragging two kids? That wasn’t a problem at all! The village was in Xiazhou, near the border. It had originally formed when the families of soldiers settled together—almost every household was a military one.

In Da Qi, military households were strictly regulated. Once registered, it was nearly impossible to leave. Each household was required to provide at least one adult male for military service. But war was brutal—living meant dangling one’s head by a thread—so many soldiers and families tried desperately to escape every year.

Apparently, the Xiazhou they lived in had a commanding general known for strict discipline and ruthless methods. Thanks to him, their region had the lowest rate of soldiers and military households attempting escape compared to neighboring prefectures. But before that general arrived, desertions were rampant.

That’s why the original Yun Shuang was able to settle so easily in the village. To live there, one had to register as a military household—but everyone was desperate to shed that status. So, when someone willingly came forward, they were, of course, welcomed with open arms. The house they now lived in had previously belonged to a deserter.

Because of this, Sister Miao didn’t mind the original Yun Shuang’s two burdens at all. In fact, she welcomed them eagerly. Her real target was Goudan: once he grew up, he’d be a strong laborer, and could be pushed forward to take her family’s place in military service. Why wouldn’t she be thrilled?

Not to mention, with her own son’s mental condition, it was uncertain whether he could ever have children.

Naturally, the original Yun Shuang had noticed these schemes—but back then, she lacked the energy to deal with such trivial concerns.

But Goudan was just a child. He hadn’t understood Sister Miao’s intentions before, so how did he suddenly realize now?

Yun Shuang pondered the thought for a moment, then set it aside and continued rummaging through the kitchen for ingredients. In the end, she found a small basket of assorted mushrooms—leftovers from Goudan’s morning foraging. Clearly, the boy had top-tier survival skills.

Yun Shuang carefully inspected every piece and confirmed they were all edible. Outside the kitchen sat a battered water vat, with two lively fish swimming inside. Beside it lay two taro roots, still covered in mud. Not much, but it would do.

Yun Shuang rolled up her sleeves with a bright smile and said, “Erya, Mama’s going to make something delicious for you and your brother!”