Chapter 1

“ Tang Huan, go fetch some vinegar and toss together a cold dish, then we’ll eat!”

“Okay, Mom~” Tang Huan replied sweetly toward the kitchen.

She closed the book in her hands and put it away inside the house, then jogged to the kitchen to grab the vinegar bottle and walked out the courtyard gate.

This area was full of small siheyuan courtyards, with neighbors living close together. The grain and oil store was nearby, and if Tang Huan walked briskly, it would take just five minutes to get there.

Halfway there, she ran into Aunt Wu from next door. Aunt Wu glanced at Tang Huan’s trendy appearance, a look of disdain flashing in her eyes, though she kept a cheerful tone, “Zeyu’s wife, where are you off to?”

“Going to get some vinegar,” Tang Huan replied with a faint smile and quickened her pace.

This Aunt Wu didn’t get along well with her mother-in-law and had a habit of speaking with barbs. Tang Huan didn’t like her, but she wasn’t good at talking back. She planned to complain to her mother-in-law later—her mother-in-law was fierce when it came to verbal sparring!

Actually, it wasn’t wrong for Aunt Wu to call her Zeyu’s wife. She was Meng Zeyu’s wife—but he had died the day after their wedding.

Truth be told, Tang Huan wasn’t originally from this world. She had transmigrated here. In her previous life, she had been terminally ill, lived 21 years, and had spent more than half of that time bedridden; the rest in a wheelchair. When she arrived here, Meng Zeyu had already passed. The original host tried to run away but tripped over the doorstep and died.

Maybe Heaven had felt sorry for her previous suffering, and this new life was a gift. Though her husband was gone, her in-laws treated her like their own daughter.

The first month after arriving here was the most peaceful time she could remember—no pain, people who cared for her, and the freedom to do what she wanted.

A bottle of vinegar cost seven cents. The dark brown aged vinegar had a strong aroma. Tang Huan even brought the bottle close to her nose for a sniff.

The sour scent made her mouth water. Thinking of her mother-in-law’s cooking, she walked even faster.

Turning into the alley with the vinegar bottle in hand, she noticed from a distance that there was a jeep parked in front of her house—a military-green one. Wasn’t that a military vehicle?

A crowd of neighbors stood by the gate, looking toward her house. In these days, few people had cars—and even fewer had access to military ones.

Seeing Tang Huan returning, someone called out, “Tang Huan, hurry home and take a look. Meng Zeyan is back.”

Meng Zeyan? Her late husband’s eldest brother, whom she had never met?

Her mother-in-law had said that he had been serving in the army far away and hadn’t returned for many years. When Meng Zeyu died, the family had written to him, but due to various reasons, he couldn’t come back.

Tang Huan’s steps slowed. She wasn’t good with people—it had taken time for her to warm up to her in-laws.

As she neared the gate, she took a deep breath and walked in with the vinegar.

Meng Zeyu’s elder brother was her brother too. Nothing to be afraid of, right?

“Zeyan—” Xing Cui was hugging her eldest son in the courtyard and crying. Meng Zeyan had been away for eight years. In all that time, they’d only exchanged a few letters. Sometimes she dreamt he’d died, and woke up with her pillow soaked in tears.

Meng Zeyan held his mother, his eyes reddened too. The house was the same, but people had changed.

He had a lot of questions—how did Zeyu die? Why did he go to work the day after his wedding? Didn’t he have a week off?

But this wasn’t the time to ask.

Standing directly across from the main gate, Meng Zeyan noticed Tang Huan as soon as she walked in. His scrutinizing gaze fell on her.

Under his stare, Tang Huan paused briefly, gave a small nod, then quickly headed toward the kitchen with the vinegar, not wanting to interrupt the family reunion.

Her brother-in-law didn’t look much like Meng Zeyu. Zeyu had been honest and quiet, with regular features—thick brows, big eyes, resembling their mother.

Meng Zeyan’s features were more chiseled and stern, and he was much taller—probably around 190 cm. He looked kind, but his eyes were devoid of warmth.

He could roughly guess who she was—his younger brother’s wife.

Before getting married, Meng Zeyu had written him a letter saying he was going to marry. There hadn’t been much detail about the bride, just a note that she was a good person.

Watching his sister-in-law head into the kitchen, Meng Zeyan frowned and asked his mother, “Mom, is she of age?”

Xing Cui had just finished crying and was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Hearing the question, she immediately got upset.

“What nonsense are you talking! Would Zeyu marry her if she wasn’t of age?” she snapped, then sighed, “It’s Zeyu who wronged her. Just married and already a widow.”

Pretty and sweet-natured—it was Zeyu who didn’t have the luck.

Seeing her about to cry again, Meng Zeyan helped her to a nearby stool and began talking softly about himself: “I’ve been reassigned to the military district here. I’ll report in a few days. From now on, I’ll be around more often to take care of you.”

“Really?” Xing Cui couldn’t believe it. She had been mentally preparing for him to settle down out of province, and now he was back—just like that?

“Really,” Meng Zeyan smiled reassuringly as he sat down beside her.

He hadn’t made up his mind until he got news of Meng Zeyu’s death. His younger brother was gone—now it was his duty to care for their aging parents. Zeyu had been the one fulfilling filial duties all these years; he’d failed as a big brother.

Overjoyed, Xing Cui quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand and rushed to the kitchen.

“Put your things away and come eat. I’ll make two more dishes.”

Tang Huan was in the kitchen cutting vegetables. She didn’t know how to cook and wasn’t good at cutting either—what were supposed to be potato shreds looked more like thick sticks. She even almost sliced her fingernail.

Seeing Tang Huan’s cutting technique, Xing Cui was startled. “Xiao Huan, put that knife down right now!”

Looking back and seeing her mother-in-law, Tang Huan smiled sheepishly and set the knife down. She glanced at her chopping job, embarrassed. “Mom, I cut them too thick.”

“No problem. I’ll just stir-fry them as potato cubes. You go out and relax.”

Xing Cui liked Tang Huan very much—a petite and adorable girl, fair-skinned with a sweet voice and gentle personality. When she had her second son, she had hoped for a daughter but got another boy.

She’d raised him with care, and in the end, he gave his life to save someone—leaving behind a young bride and two aging parents. After his death, the old couple treated Tang Huan like a daughter, pouring all their love into her just to get through the grief.

Tang Huan knew that her attempts to help were more of a hindrance, so she obediently left the kitchen and went to retrieve her high school textbook to continue studying.

The original host had graduated high school but failed the college entrance exam. In her past life, Tang Huan had also completed high school—not because she failed, but because her health didn’t allow further study. Even during high school, her time at school was limited.

Now, she wanted to relearn the material and try taking the college entrance exam next year—just to fulfill a dream.

Meng Zeyan, having returned his belongings to his room, changed clothes and stepped into the courtyard.

Their yard was spacious. One half was cultivated into a vegetable garden by Xing Cui. The other half had a grapevine trellis supported by bamboo poles. Beneath it sat a table and a few benches—where they usually had meals and tea.

Tang Huan was sitting right there, under the grapevine, reading her book. She was so focused that she didn’t notice someone approaching until he sat across from her. Then she looked up.