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Chapter 6: She’s His Woman Now

Marriage Registration Office, People’s Commune. Yi An’an came out cheerfully, holding two little red booklets.

In 1977, getting a marriage certificate didn’t require photos—just a letter of introduction and household registration documents would suffice.

However, Zhan Nanhui was a “bad element” sent to Yan family village for reform, so his process was a bit more complicated. Even with the village’s introduction letter, it had to be reviewed by the town authorities. Yi An’an made a scene there all morning, saying they’d already been living together and even had a child. The town officials, unable to deal with this “shameless” woman, finally gave in. By noon, she got the marriage certificate as she wished.

Yi An’an held the certificate up to the sunlight and couldn’t help but smile. In this life, I don’t have to marry Yan Dabao anymore!

This time, if this man was willing, she would live a good life with him and create her own happiness.

“Gurgle!”

“Gurgle!”

A duet of stomach growls echoed.

Yi An’an turned to look at Zhan Nanhui and asked, “You’re hungry, huh?”

Zhan Nanhui looked awkward and mumbled, “You followed me and can’t even get a meal…”

Since he didn’t work today, the team didn’t provide food—he had to go hungry all day.

Yi An’an thought for a moment, then pulled Zhan Nanhui along with her.

She led him to the back hills of the village.

Behind Yan family village was a mountain, and beside it, a small river. The location was quite decent.

Where the mountain met the river was a dam, and there stood an abandoned temple.

The temple had been around for over a hundred years, but had been left to ruin during the “Four Olds” destruction movement. Because yesterday was the Cold Clothes Festival (a traditional day to honor the dead), there were still some offerings in the temple today, left by villagers in secret for their deceased loved ones.

Though the temple was abandoned, terrifying legends about it persisted in Yan family village.

Legend said this was a “double-death temple.” If one person died, a second would follow within seven days—always in pairs.

Even though worship had long been forbidden, deaths in the village still followed this eerie pattern, so in the minds of the elderly, the temple still held a sense of awe and fear.

Yi An’an dragged Zhan Nanhui into the temple and indeed found some fruits and a few flatbreads on the dilapidated altar.

She went up, grabbed them, handed a piece to Zhan Nanhui, and took a bite herself.

It was white flour flatbread—left out overnight, now cold and dry, chokingly so.

Yi An’an chewed for a long time before swallowing it with difficulty. Then she took another bite and muttered, “Some hot water would be nice right now!”

Watching her eat, Zhan Nanhui felt a strange emotion rise in his chest.

These past years, sent to the countryside during the political crackdowns, he’d lived in pigsties, eaten pig slop when there was nothing else, been mocked and beaten by villagers—he had endured everything alone. Now, suddenly, there was someone by his side, and his heart unexpectedly softened.

Just earlier, this woman had married him. She was his woman now!

But what kind of foolish woman would follow a man who couldn’t even guarantee a proper meal?

“Hurry up and eat! Once we’re full, we need to find a place to sleep,” Yi An’an nudged him with her elbow.

“Sleep?” Zhan Nanhui instinctively folded his arms across his chest.

Why was this woman always talking about sleeping?

Yi An’an glared at him. “What are you thinking? I mean actual sleep. The two of us need to find a shelter first, don’t we?”

She took another bite of the dry bread and leaned back suddenly, almost bumping into the altar behind her.

“We can’t even eat our fill, and you’re thinking about that kind of thing?” she mumbled, cheeks puffed with food.

Zhan Nanhui turned his face away, a faint blush spreading.

As they were eating, voices sounded outside the temple.

“Not good, someone’s coming!” Yi An’an grabbed Zhan Nanhui’s hand and dashed out the back, not forgetting to snatch the last flatbread as they fled.

There was a back door in the temple.

As they ran out, Zhan Nanhui glanced down at their joined hands.

Her hands were small, a little rough, but strong—she gripped his so tightly it hurt.

Once they reached the riverbank and confirmed no one was following them, Yi An’an let go of his hand and pointed at a nearby shack. “Perfect timing, we’re here. Let’s go check it out!”

Zhan Nanhui stared blankly at the shack.

It had belonged to an old hermit from the village who had lived there to guard the dam. If the water level rose and the dam was at risk, he was responsible for returning to the village to report it.

“He died yesterday. The shack is now empty,” Yi An’an explained.

She remembered this event clearly, even after decades—because in her previous life, she married Yan Dabao on the very same day the old man died.

Back then, the village chief feared bad luck and forbade a proper funeral. The old man’s body ended up rotting in the shack before being buried carelessly by the river.

Yi An’an led Zhan Nanhui inside. Sure enough, the old man’s body still lay on the bed.

“Go report it to the village. I’ll change him into clean clothes. If no one cares, we’ll bury him ourselves,” Yi An’an said.

Reporting it to the village was just to avoid future trouble.

Zhan Nanhui looked around the shack. It wasn’t big, but it was tidy. Clearly, the old man had been a clean person. There were also pots and pans for cooking.

Still… moving into a shack where someone just died?

“You going or not?” Yi An’an asked.

Zhan Nanhui nodded. This was still better than the cold, damp pigsty.

He soon left, and when he returned, the village’s junior accountant followed behind.

The accountant took one look and muttered, “Well, that’s one month’s wages saved.”

Yi An’an stood up immediately. “What do you mean, saved? Doesn’t the old man’s burial need funds?”

The accountant regretted his words. Why did I even say that?

“If you won’t pay, I’ll carry his body to the commune and let them judge who’s right!” Yi An’an said.

The accountant frowned. This morning, she had already caused a huge scene just to marry that “bad element.” She didn’t even care about being an unwed mother. If she really made another fuss, it’d be even more humiliating.

And besides, the guy’s dead—what a jinx!

“Fine, fine, here’s 1 yuan and 2 jiao. Just take care of it already!” the accountant said, stuffing the money into a plastic bag, counted it out, and handed it to her. “We’re even now. You’re responsible for everything!”

Yi An’an took the money. “Deal.”

The accountant hurried off, afraid staying longer would bring bad luck.

Yi An’an didn’t fear such things. She had been reborn from a hellish past life. Compared to that, this life already felt sweet.

She and Zhan Nanhui wrapped the old man’s body in a straw mat and buried it by the riverbank. Then she cleaned up the shack a little and told Zhan Nanhui to bring his bedding.

When Zhan Nanhui returned, holding his one tattered blanket, he saw a large red “Double Happiness” character pasted on the shack’s front door.