Chapter 2: President Lin Blows Up (Part 1)

Lin Xiaqing returned to the old house, but it wasn’t the one she originally thought she’d return to.

She managed to make her way from the county train station back to the rural “home” by relying on the instincts of this body. The original soul had died unjustly, with such strong lingering attachments that she couldn’t let go of her terminally ill mother.

Lin Xiaqing felt deeply sorry for this young girl—so pure, understanding, enduring, and filial. She had mustered all her courage to leave her hometown, carrying only one belief in her heart: to go south, earn money, and treat her mother’s illness. That kind of devotion was rare even in Lin Xiaqing’s original era. She was just a teenager—a blank slate—and already gone too soon. She should have had a good life. How could she rest in peace?

Back in this world again, Lin Xiaqing vowed she would not waste this second chance. Not only would she plan this life wisely, but she would also live it in a way that honored the deceased and those who loved them.

The “home” before her wasn’t even built with proper red bricks. The yard was surrounded by a fragile mud wall that could be knocked over by the wind. The front gate looked like it would fall apart with a push. The main house was even worse—full of visible damage. The windows, paper-covered, were riddled with holes like a war zone fresh from battle.

This house couldn’t even afford proper window paper. In the entire courtyard, the only item that might be worth anything was the jar of soybean paste drying under the eaves. But that too had turned foul—since it hadn’t been stirred or tended to due to the mistress’s illness, it now reeked horribly in the summer sun.

Lin Xiaqing knew this wasn’t even the actual Lin family house. This decrepit building was the long-abandoned ancestral home, remote and neighborless. If something were to happen to the mother and daughter at night, not even screaming would bring help.

Last spring, the Lin family patriarch passed away. Immediately after, Lin Xiaqing’s mother and she were kicked out by his second wife, Wang Aixian. The woman claimed she was giving them a private place to live, but in truth, she simply didn’t want them around. She didn’t even bother pretending—just tossed them out and let them live in this run-down mud house.

The root of their misfortune could be traced back to Lin Xiaqing’s scumbag father, Lin Shushan.

When the original girl was born, her father had heard somewhere that his first love—his “white moonlight”—had gotten divorced from her military husband after moving to Xinjiang. Driven by romantic delusions, he ran off in the middle of a snowstorm to chase after her. At first, her mother Qiao Chunjin thought he was just going to Xinjiang for work. The first year wasn’t too bad—he got a job at a research institute and even sent money home. Life wasn’t easy, but manageable.

But after that? Total radio silence. Not a single word, not even a penny. Qiao Chunjin was abandoned and forgotten.

Lin Xiaqing looked at the frail woman on the kang bed, who had been ravaged by illness until she was unrecognizable. She felt it was a cruel waste. This was a woman born with stunning beauty, yet without a nurturing marriage, she had withered before her time. She was only in her early forties but looked like she was on death’s door.

She had been too beautiful—so beautiful that she looked out of place in this backward village, like a fallen star in the dust. Of course, once it was clear Lin Shushan wasn’t coming back, many of the local men began circling like flies.

Meanwhile, her in-laws had nothing kind to say. The stepmother, Wang Aixian, would gossip to anyone who’d listen, calling her a slut who couldn’t live without a man in her bed.

Qiao Chunjin would hide beneath the window ledge and silently cry.

Life in the Lin family was hell. Her husband, Lin Shushan, wasn’t even a man—he left his wife and child to live like pigs. She was constantly berated and shamed by her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law. If he had even a shred of decency, he’d never have left.

But where could she go? Her birth family had disowned her, and she had no place to turn. She chose to endure, thinking staying might offer some protection.

It didn’t.

Eventually, Qiao Chunjin fell seriously ill. The sister-in-law, Wang Yumei, suddenly showed a spark of humanity—or so she thought—and claimed to have arranged a job in the south for her daughter. Qiao Chunjin felt relief. She thought if her daughter learned a trade, earned some money, she’d at least have a future.

When Qiao Chunjin awoke and saw someone sitting beside her, she was terrified—was a stranger in the house? She thought she was about to be assaulted in her dying state.

Then she saw the face.

“Xia’er?!”

Lin Xiaqing had been admiring this living embodiment of a goddess and hadn’t expected her to wake up so suddenly.

She awkwardly choked out a “Mom.”

(“I’m sorry,” she thought silently, “your daughter is already gone. I’m Lin Xiaqing from the 21st century. I’ve taken over the beauty you gave her, but don’t worry. I’ve built empires before—I’ll take care of you now.”)

Qiao Chunjin, unaware, asked anxiously, “Didn’t you go south? Why are you here?”

“I didn’t go. I came back. I’m not going,” Lin Xiaqing replied gently.

“Not going?!” Qiao Chunjin panicked.

“They lied,” she said. “Wang Yumei and Lin Qinghui tried to sell me.”

Qiao Chunjin trembled with fury. Her face turned red with rage. They dared? They dared to touch her daughter?!

“I’ll kill them! I swear, even if I have to use my dying breath, I’ll chop those heartless bastards to pieces!”

Lin Xiaqing, remembering something, interrupted her, “Mom, where’s the kitchen knife?”

Qiao Chunjin blinked. “It’s on the counter.”

“It’s not,” Lin Xiaqing said. “I searched the whole kitchen.”

Qiao Chunjin scanned the room—sure enough, everything of value was gone. She leaned on her daughter, voice trembling, “Check the yard. Is the tricycle still there?”

“Tricycle?” Lin Xiaqing frowned. “There’s nothing out there but a jar of rotten soybean paste.”

Qiao Chunjin deflated. That tricycle had been left by Uncle Zhu, the butcher—her friend’s widower. He had been quietly helping her, even promising to take her to the hospital one day.

But now even that was gone.

She remembered her sister-in-law had brought her a bowl of water that morning. Could there have been something in it? A drug to keep her unconscious while they stole everything?

Those beasts! One moment they were selling her daughter, the next they were robbing her blind. And she wasn’t even dead yet!

Qiao Chunjin curled back on the kang, lost in despair. She had made all the wrong choices. Her softness had led to this—her and her daughter being trampled on.

Meanwhile, Lin Xiaqing didn’t notice her mother’s silence. Her mind was fired up—this felt just like the thrill of battle again.

She had been falsely imprisoned once, and her properties had been seized. She still remembered the pain of losing everything. Now, she had a chance for revenge?

She rolled up her sleeves and declared:

“All the stuff they took—the knife, the furniture, the tricycle—I’ll make sure they return everything, nice and proper, with both hands, not a scratch missing!”

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