Chapter 1: Transmigration

Cangwu Kingdom, Kun Prefecture, Lun County, Songjia Village.

Song Shitou’s household.

“Don’t sell my sister! Don’t sell my sister!”

Song Jinxiu’s head throbbed with searing pain. In her ears echoed the heart-wrenching cries of a young girl, mingled with the chaos of distant and near voices.

“Aiyo, what a temper this child has! What’s so bad about following Assistant Zhao and enjoying a life of luxury and fine food? Why would she be so foolish as to bash her head against the wall?”

Her eldest aunt sighed helplessly. This Third Girl had always been quiet and withdrawn—who would’ve thought she’d have the nerve to attempt suicide?

“Dead is even better—she’s worth more that way! Landlord Liu’s family is looking for a girl to marry their dead son!”

That sharp, venomous voice belonged to the original host’s grandmother, the shrewish Old Madam Song.

“If my sister dies, I’ll burn this damn house to the ground! If you won’t let us live, then none of you deserve to!”

A thin, frail-looking teenager clung tightly to the doorframe, his eyes blazing with fury and hatred. He ground his teeth, and the scar on his face twisted grotesquely in his rage, making him look even more terrifying.

Everyone froze. Even Old Madam Song instinctively took a step back.

That look in his eyes—it was terrifying.

And that face…

But as if realizing her dignity had been challenged, she pointed inside the house and began to scold, her shrill voice slicing through the air.

“You unfilial bastard, Third Son! This is how you’ve raised your son, huh? Look at him! Ready to eat me alive!”

In the central room sat Song Dashi and his eldest son, Song Dazhu, along with his third son, Song Sanzhu.

While chaos reigned outside over selling off a daughter, the three grown men inside just sat in silence, smoking one cigarette after another, not uttering a single word.

So what if the man’s a bit older? A marriage is a marriage—what difference does it make who she marries? He didn’t know exactly how much older the man was, but she was her grandmother after all—could her own grandmother really mean her harm? Was it really worth all this fuss over life and death?

With that thought, he couldn’t help but glance at Sun-shi. Now she was a good woman—blessed by fate. She had given him a bright son, one who was praised by the teacher after starting school at just seven years old.

Sun-shi stood to the side, quietly watching the commotion unfold.

She could encourage Old Madam Song to sell the girl, but she knew better than to get directly involved. Especially in front of her own husband, she had to keep up the act of a virtuous and gentle wife.

Noticing her husband’s gaze, she immediately lifted her hand to adjust her hair and hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Then she walked over and gently tugged on his arm, speaking in a soft tone, “The child is still young. Why are you getting upset with him?”

Then she turned to the teenage boy and coaxed him, “Don’t make a scene now. San Ya is still immature, but you’re older—shouldn’t you know better? So what if Master Zhao is a bit older? Older men know how to dote on a wife, don’t you understand?

Besides, he’s offering twenty taels. With that money, wouldn’t it be perfect to arrange a wife for you? Why are you being so ungrateful?”

“You vile woman—stop pretending to be kind! Don’t think we don’t know you’re the one behind all of this. If you think it’s such a good deal, then go marry him yourself. Stop ruining my sister’s life!” the boy shouted, still lying on the ground, fighting back with gritted teeth.

“My dear, I really meant well… sob sob…” Sun-shi wiped her tears pitifully.

“How dare you talk to your mother like that, huh?”

Furious, Song Sanzhu raised his foot to kick his eldest son.

Just then, Song Jinxiu finally finished absorbing the memories of her body’s original owner.

Oh my god—I’ve transmigrated!

She had actually crossed over into some unknown dynasty’s remote mountain village.

The original host’s grandfather, Song Dashi, was fifty-eight years old. He had married Old Madam Song at the age of eighteen, and over the years, they had birthed thirteen children. Only six of them had survived into adulthood—four sons and two daughters.

They were, in order: Song Dazhu, Song Erzhu, Song Sanzhu, Song Shuangwu, Song Shuanghua, and the youngest, Song Sizhu.

All four sons and two daughters had already married and started their own families.

The original host’s father was the third son, Song Sanzhu, and her mother was Tian Xinghua.

Rumor had it that her mother was born under an unlucky star—a bringer of misfortune. It was said she had cursed her own siblings. Her older brother had gone hunting, fallen off a cliff, broken his leg, and been disfigured—all supposedly because of her mother’s ill fate.

Her younger brother didn’t speak until the age of three and was slow and timid—again, blamed on the same curse.

Some even claimed she brought bad luck to her husband.

So, her father had been eager to divorce her mother.

Then he had quickly married his longtime mistress, the widowed Sun-shi from the neighboring village.

She had brought along a seven-year-old son into the marriage—rumored to be Song Sanzhu’s own child.

Classic scumbag with an extramarital affair.

To justify divorcing his wife and remarrying, the man even came up with a righteous-sounding excuse: “Tian-shi brings misfortune and ruin, while Sun-shi brings prosperity.”

And as for the rest of this family—young and old alike—not one person stepped in to stop the fight. They just stood around with contemptuous expressions. Song Dashi even gave a cold snort and said, “A son’s misconduct is the father’s failing.”

Seriously? That kid lying on the floor isn’t your own grandson?

Sure enough, upon hearing that, Song Sanzhu’s face turned beet red, and he started kicking even harder.

Song Jinxiu, having just transmigrated, could barely move her body—it wouldn’t obey her commands.

“Stop!” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

She couldn’t let that scumbag keep kicking!

“Wuya, hurry and go get the clan elder—or the village head. Bring them here to set things right! Quickly!”

She nudged the girl clutching tightly to her thigh.

This was the original host’s younger sister. She had been the one clinging to her and crying this whole time.

“What do you think you’re doing?” someone snapped.

Wuya was yanked back by her collar—Sun-shi had grabbed her.

Sun-shi had been watching the commotion with amusement, but when she caught sight of Sanya and Wuya whispering to each other, her expression darkened.

Though she hadn’t heard what they were saying, seeing the child try to run off made it obvious—she was going to fetch help.

She had finally gotten Old Song to agree to sell Sanya. How could she possibly let the girl run out and ruin everything?

This sort of thing was best handled quietly. If it turned into a public scandal, what would happen to her reputation?

“What’s going on here? Sanzhu, is this how you treat a child?!”

Just then, the main gate of the Courtyard was flung open from the outside, and a crowd of people surged in.

Leading the group was the village head.

It turned out that Tietou, the boy from the house to the right of the Song family, had climbed up the locust tree to pick blossoms. From his perch, he’d seen Song Sanzhu beating Chunsheng.

Tietou and Chunsheng were close friends, and when he saw him getting beaten, he panicked and wanted to intervene.

As their neighbor, Tietou’s mother had also heard the loud shouting and children’s cries coming from the Song household.

She said, “You going over might not help. Go call the village head—something’s not right with the Song family today. Looks like they’re trying to sell Sanya.”

Song Tietou took off running toward the village head’s house.

Seeing the village head arrive, Song Jinxiu finally let out a breath of relief.

Old Master Song and the eldest uncle of the Song family hurried out of the house.

“Village Head, what brings you here?” they asked.

“If I didn’t come, were you planning to stand by while Sanzhu beat his own son to death?” the village head snapped.

His face was dark with anger. When he saw the blood on Chunsheng’s lips, his gaze turned sharp as he glared at Old Master Song.

The child had coughed up blood—clearly, the beating had been vicious.

Old Madam Song muttered in displeasure, “Village Head, the boy was being disobedient. Isn’t it only right for his father to discipline him? Whose child hasn’t been beaten by their father before?”

“Sure, it’s normal to discipline a child, but beating him like this is taking it way too far,” the village head retorted.

“That’s right! Chunsheng’s spitting blood—what if they actually beat him to death?”

The surrounding villagers chimed in one after another, condemning Song Sanzhu for being too heavy-handed. That was his own son, after all.

A bowl of water was brought before her, and Song Jinxiu quickly took it, sipping twice. The burning pain in her throat eased a little.

Only then did she notice the little toddler beside her.

Her little brother?

Song Qiusheng was seven years old but looked no older than five. He wasn’t crying or fussing—just staring up at her with wide, expectant eyes.

How could this child be simple-minded? A dull child wouldn’t notice if someone’s throat was sore or bring them water.

Patting her little brother’s head, Song Jinxiu wobbled to her feet and went over to her elder brother, inspecting his injuries.

“Hey, what happened to Sanya? Why is she covered in blood all over her head?”

Only then did everyone notice—Song Jinxiu’s face and hair were smeared with blood, which looked truly frightening.

“Shitou, what exactly happened here?”

Shitou was the nickname for Song Dashí.

The village head’s anger flared.