Chapter 1

The screech of brakes tore through the night, and Jiang Ning felt her body lifted violently into the air, her vision flooding with red.

“Bride, wake up! Don’t miss the auspicious hour!”

A sharp, nasal woman’s voice pierced her ears. Jiang Ning’s eyes snapped open to find the shiny, greasy face of a plump middle-aged woman looming close.

She instinctively shrank back, only to hit the back of her head against a hard mudbrick wall, a thin layer of dust clinging to her hair.

“You useless girl, stop pretending! The Ji family paid thirty yuan for you—marry you will, whether you want to or not!”

Where… was this? She distinctly remembered escorting a VIP with her team when a truck suddenly came out of nowhere…

A rush of unfamiliar memories slammed into her mind—Spring, 1973. Qingshan Commune. Jiang Ning, daughter of village doctor Jiang Huaimin, married off in a “marriage of fortune” to save a sick man…

Jiang Ning’s eyes widened. She looked down to see herself dressed in a half-new red cross-collared jacket, black trousers worn shiny at the knees, and fraying black cloth shoes.

The room was bare except for the simple wooden bed beneath her.

She had transmigrated—into the body of a bride being forced into a marriage to “bring luck” to a dying man!

“Hurry up, the Ji family will be here any minute!” her aunt Zhao Hongyin barked, giving her another shove before shouting out the door, “Bring in the bridal veil—this wretched girl’s finally awake!”

Jiang Ning struggled upright, temples throbbing.

From the original owner’s memories: it was now the spring of 1975. Her father, Jiang Huaimin, had been the village doctor of Qingshan. Her mother, Ning Xiaoyue, had died giving birth to her.

Father and daughter had depended on each other until disaster struck—when Jiang Ning was ten, a flood swept through the village. Her father had drowned saving her life.

From then on she lived with her uncle and aunt. Aunt Zhao Hongyin and her children beat and berated her constantly; Uncle Ning Jun saw her as a burden and ignored her existence.

Five days ago, a matchmaker had come with a proposal: Ji Yanli, the eldest son of the Ji family in the next village, had returned from the army gravely wounded and unconscious. Doctors had given up hope. His superstitious grandmother believed marrying him off would “bring fortune” and cure him.

No family wanted to marry their daughter to a man who might be dead any day—until the Ji family, introduced through contacts, approached Jiang Ning’s uncle.

Zhao Hongyin demanded a bride price of thirty yuan and five catties of rice. The Ji family agreed without hesitation. Without caring about Jiang Ning’s protests, her aunt accepted on the spot.

“I—” Jiang Ning’s head spun, but before she could speak, the door burst open.

Several women in coarse homespun clothes bustled in, pulling a red bridal veil over her head and leading her outside.

“The bride is leaving!” someone called.

Firecrackers popped in a sharp, joyous crackle. Jiang Ning was helped into a horse cart draped with red ribbons.

The cart jolted along for half an hour before stopping before a small courtyard and three mudbrick rooms.

There was no ceremony, no feast. She was led straight into a room plastered with red wedding characters.

The veil was lifted. On the bed lay a pale young man.

“Yanli, Grandma’s found you a wife—get better soon…”

An elderly woman with silver hair wiped her eyes, pressing Jiang Ning’s hand into the man’s limp one.

“Granddaughter-in-law, take good care of him. The Ji family won’t treat you badly.”

One by one, the others left. At the door, the grandmother murmured, “You have to consummate the marriage—only then will the blessing work.”

When the door closed, Jiang Ning immediately pulled her hand back and studied the man.

He looked twenty-five or twenty-six, with sword-like brows and starry eyes—even in unconsciousness, his features carried a soldier’s firmness. His head and thigh were bandaged.

Her medical instincts kicked in. She took his pulse—weak. Lifting an eyelid, she found his pupils slightly dilated. She reached for the bandages on his head to examine the wound—

The door opened again.

A thin, simply dressed middle-aged woman entered, carrying a bowl of noodles. This was Tian Yufang, Ji Yanli’s mother.

“What are you doing?” she asked in alarm, hurrying over.

Jiang Ning quickly withdrew her hand. “I just wanted to check his wound.”

Tian Yufang still looked wary. She set the noodles on a stool, checked her son’s bandages herself, and relaxed when she found them intact.

She turned to Jiang Ning with a sigh. “I know this marriage wasn’t your choice, but we had no other way…”

Her voice broke—Ji Yanli had been her pride, and now he lay like this.

“I’ve heard about your situation. Don’t worry—if you’re part of our family, we won’t wrong you. If this marriage truly helps my son recover, we’ll remember your kindness forever.”

“‘Marriage of fortune’ is just superstition. And isn’t Ji Yanli a soldier? As a soldier’s family, shouldn’t you know better?” Jiang Ning frowned. This was the sort of thing she’d only ever seen in TV dramas—now she was living it.

“The village seer said it would work. And she’s never wrong,” Tian Yufang said firmly.

“Superstition? Aren’t you afraid of being reported?”

“Shh! As long as no one says anything… She’s helped every sick child in the village, and she said this would work, so it will.”

Jiang Ning was speechless. She could tell nothing she said now would change the woman’s mind.

“Ning Ning—may I call you that?” Tian Yufang asked gently, holding her hand.

“…Mm,” Jiang Ning replied.

“Now that you’ve married into our family, you’re one of us. Promise you won’t run away?”

Jiang Ning’s eyes flickered. She had thought about leaving, but in this era, one needed an introduction letter just to leave the village. Running off would be difficult. She decided to wait and see.

Looking into the woman’s expectant eyes, she finally said, “I won’t.”

Tian Yufang studied her, then nodded slowly. “You haven’t eaten all morning, have you? I made you noodles.”

She handed over the white porcelain bowl—inside were pale noodles sprinkled with a few green onions like tiny emerald islands, topped with a golden fried egg. The rising steam warmed the cold air.

“Ning Ning, eat your fill and you won’t feel homesick. From now on, this is your home.”

She smoothed Jiang Ning’s messy hair with gentle fingers, her voice warm and kind.