---

Chapter 1: She’s Cleaner Than Those Other Women

“The Yan family isn’t just offering 200 yuan as a bride price—they’ve even arranged a job for you at the village school ringing the bell. Where else could you find such a good deal?”
Mother Yi pressed Yi An’an down while forcing a concoction into her mouth.

It was a drug specially obtained from the village vet—meant for breeding sows. Its effects were said to be strong. Tonight, Yi An’an would definitely be sent into the bed of the village head’s son!

“Mom, didn’t the Yan family already give us thirty yuan? Tomorrow, I’ll take A-Zhen to the supply co-op to buy her a pair of woolen pants. It’s getting cold, and she needs them.”
Yi Daping, the eldest son, tightly bound Yi An’an’s hands while trying to curry favor with Mother Yi.

A-Zhen was his fiancée, who had always looked down on him for being poor.

“As long as she gives me a chubby grandson, I’ll get her wool pants, even a fox fur scarf if she wants!”
Mother Yi’s smile twisted with malice as she looked into Yi An’an’s wide, terrified eyes.
“I raised you for eighteen years—you’ve eaten dozens of baskets of sweet potatoes. It’s time you paid me back.”

Yi An’an struggled desperately, but still swallowed some of the drug.

She didn’t understand what was happening. One moment ago, she had died from AIDS in her rental room, and the next, she had returned to more than forty years ago. Yes—October 1st, 1977. She would never forget this day—it was the beginning of her tragedy.

That day, her mother drugged her and delivered her to Yan Dabao, the village head’s son. The next morning, the whole village came to gawk at her disheveled appearance. In this isolated rural village, still reeling from the Cultural Revolution, she had no choice but to marry him. From that moment on, her life spiraled into darkness like a bottomless pit.

Her mind was already growing hazy, but she bit her lip hard, using the pain to stay awake.

She didn’t know if this was just a dream—but this time, she refused to let the Yi and Yan families control her!

She forced herself to stay conscious while pretending to be unconscious.

Sure enough, Yi Daping thought she had passed out and loosened his grip, grumbling as he spit on the ground.
“She refused to cooperate, so we had to waste two yuan on medicine and rope—what a hassle!”

Mother Yi said, “Alright, alright. The Yan family will be here soon. Just throw her onto the flatbed cart. That drug is potent—I saw the vet use it on pigs. She won’t wake up anytime soon.”

Yi Daping stretched lazily.
“Let’s get it over with so I can sleep. That girl’s got surprising strength—my arms hurt!”

Mother Yi rubbed his arms for him, when suddenly, a woman’s voice came from outside.

It was the village head’s wife.

Money exchanged hands for the bride. Mother Yi, delighted by the 200 yuan she received, happily loaded Yi An’an onto the flatbed cart.

Yan Dabao stared at Yi An’an’s body.

During her earlier struggle, the collar of her floral cotton jacket had torn open, revealing her undershirt. Her fair neck and tousled hair—she really was the village beauty, far better than those lonely widows!

“Ma, I like this one!” Yan Dabao sniffled and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve, which was already crusted stiff.

“As long as you’re happy, let her give us some grandsons. She’s much cleaner than those other women!”
Yan’s mother pushed Yi An’an to make sure she was asleep, then threw a fertilizer sack over her to cover her.
Though it was dark and no one dared meddle in the village head’s business, it was still better to be discreet.

Just like in her past life, Yi An’an was being taken to the Yan house.

From the Yi home at the eastern edge of the village to the Yan family, they had to pass by the ancestral hall. Today was October 1st on the lunar calendar—the “Cold Clothes Festival,” when the living offer paper clothes to their deceased loved ones. Though the village had avoided such traditions during the Cultural Revolution, on this night, many still gathered in the courtyard, some holding lanterns, others lighting candles, quietly remembering their ancestors.

Yi An’an knew—this was her only chance to escape.

As they walked, she heard Yan’s mother say, “Don’t go through the square, go around the village. No need to cause a scene.”

Yan Dabao protested. He wanted to show off—Yi An’an was the prettiest girl in the village.

The two started to argue.

“Oh hey, isn’t that sister-in-law?” A village woman greeted Yan’s mother cheerfully.

While they chatted, Yi An’an threw off the fertilizer sack, jumped off the cart, and ran for her life.

Though she hadn’t drunk much of the drug, her legs were still weak. She thought about running toward the villagers gathered in prayer, but the memory of their cold indifference when she had begged for help while holding her daughter’s corpse stopped her.

She turned and ran out of the village.

In this village, everyone but her family bore the surname Yan. They were all the same. She couldn’t trust a single one of them.

Outside the village, there was at least open land—abandoned wells, pig pens—maybe somewhere to hide.

As soon as she jumped off the cart, Yan Dabao noticed.

“Ma! She ran! She ran!” he shouted.

Yan’s mother turned and saw her fleeing figure, then took off after her.

Yi An’an raced past the village fields, suddenly realizing that in lunar October, the fields were covered with wheat barely reaching knee height—offering no place to hide, even in the dark.

She couldn’t find the well. Then, she spotted candlelight from the pigsty.

She remembered the man being “reformed” in that pigsty—the most disgraced person in the whole village. A so-called “capitalist lackey,” exiled from the capital—a criminal.

A bad element…

Yi An’an gritted her teeth. If even her own mother and brother could sell her off, how could anyone else be worse?

No matter what, she couldn’t let Yan Dabao get his way tonight. She had to change her fate!

She dashed into the pigsty—and slammed straight into a man’s chest.

Looking up, she met a pair of cold, black eyes—deep and lifeless like a still pond.

A chill ran down her spine.

He was tall—at least 1.8 meters, towering over her 1.6-meter frame. With the candlelight behind him, he looked even more imposing, the scar running from his mouth to his forehead casting a menacing shadow.

Yi An’an shuddered.

She didn’t know much about him, but she remembered that one day, this man was officially vindicated and left the village—with a Red Flag car escort.

In this era, only high-ranking officials rode in Red Flag cars.