Chapter 2: Easy to get pregnant and have multiple births, she also gave birth to eight?

Xue Qingdai softly muttered, “Okay,” and lay weakly in Yang Xiaomin’s arms, her whole body sore, not wanting to move even a finger. It was the first time Yang Xiaomin had seen her daughter so obedient, and her heart melted like honey. She tucked the blanket tightly around her again and kept rubbing her daughter’s cold hands.

In just a few moments, Xue Qingdai had already accepted the fact that she had transmigrated into a book. She had always been emotionally indifferent, her heart devoted solely to medicine and its legacy—perhaps because she never had a family. Pressing her dry lips together, she looked at her mother, Yang Xiaomin, who catered to her every whim. She really did want to be that spoiled “mama’s girl” people talked about.

In the original story, the strong and decisive Women’s Federation director had cried herself blind over the early death of her daughter. Xue Qingdai wanted to cherish this mother who had suddenly appeared in her life. In her previous world, she had been completely alone, devoid of emotion, strictly abiding by her family’s medical code: save the dying and heal the wounded. Her life was spent either treating patients or on the road to treat them. Despite never doing anything evil and even saving countless lives tirelessly, she still died young—because she offended a fake-medicine peddler.

This time around, she only wanted to live for herself. The heritage of Chinese medicine had nothing to do with her anymore, and she didn’t want to save anyone irrelevant to her. She was tired.

With the supplies accumulated by the elders and the medical skills she had painstakingly studied since childhood, she could live a peaceful life in the newly opening 1980s. Xue Qingdai looked at the black-and-white photo on the gray wall—it was the family’s only photo and the original host’s only memorial picture. It had been taken three months ago when her second brother came home on leave and promised to fulfill her request.

In the photo, she had almond-shaped eyes, a delicate nose, cherry lips, and black hair. Her gaze was innocent and delicate, pampered and naive, with pale pink lips from chronic illness—her adorable appearance clashed with her spoiled and stubborn temper. Her master had once read her fortune, saying she didn’t belong in that world. Looking at the photo, Xue Qingdai felt whole for the first time in her life.

The seven members of the Xue family were all in the picture, surrounding her, who was squatting in the middle. It was hard to imagine that this harmonious family would face total ruin just three years later.

The Xue family had seven people. Her grandfather, a veteran Red Army soldier, had survived bloody battlefields. His wife passed early, and he had only one biological son. He never cared for the idea of having many children—he just wanted each child to be raised well. Since he had missed raising his own son, he took great care in educating his grandchildren. He retired to personally guide them, and the success of her three older brothers was largely thanks to his strict discipline. However, all his iron-blooded principles were shattered by the soft and delicate youngest granddaughter. He spoiled Xue Qingdai the most—he was the least principled when it came to her.

Somehow, news of the original host’s divorce had spread ahead of time, and it hit her grandfather hard. On his deathbed, his last broken sentence was, “Did Daidai suffer…”

He passed with deep regret, never getting an answer. The Xue family never lied about matters concerning Xue Qingdai.

Outside, a commotion broke out—grown men jostling to be the first to enter.

“I’m going in first.”

“No, me! I’m the oldest!”

“I go first! Daidai said she missed her third brother.”

“You little brat! When did she say that?!”

“Ow, ow…”

The original host’s room was the biggest, but it could barely fit two or three people standing. The Xue men were all tall and broad-shouldered—one inside already made it crowded. The room was packed with furniture: a wardrobe with a mirror, a vanity, a wooden bed, and a desk—all made by her eldest brother and all engraved with the word “Daidai.”

Her third brother hadn’t completely gone into business yet, but after saving up for months, he had bought her a black-and-white TV as a birthday gift. The room was so full that Xue Qingdai couldn’t even see where the window was.

Yang Xiaomin gently stroked her daughter’s soft hair, feeling deeply satisfied. Her booming voice was noticeably gentler now: “You big men outside, keep your voices down. Don’t disturb our little treasure.”

Outside, a female voice chimed in. It sounded very much like the original host’s scheming cousin, Zhao Meiqin. Xue Qingdai’s gaze shifted calmly toward the door, her weak eyes steady. But when she saw the woman, her pupils shrank.

The vague memories of the original host snapped into clarity—Zhao Meiqin looked exactly like that unscrupulous rival from her past life. She really wanted to stick a few needles into her.

Zhao Meiqin walked in and threw herself down beside Yang Xiaomin’s leg, crying, “Auntie, I came to apologize. If it weren’t for me, cousin wouldn’t have attempted suicide for love. She’s so fragile…”

Xue Qingdai barely opened her eyes, her head pounding from the crying. Her throat burned like it had been cut with razors, and every word was painful, but she still forced one out:

“Scram…”

But Yang Xiaomin misheard it as “scared.” Scared? Her Daidai had never feared anyone. Zhao Meiqin must have done something again to hurt her baby.

“Xiaoqin,” Yang Xiaomin said sharply, “you can see Daidai’s in poor health—everything needs money now. We won’t be able to cover your college tuition anymore. Tell your mother.”

She especially hated anyone pointing out that her daughter was weak—this was her bottom line.

Though Yang Xiaomin was a clever and diplomatic women’s affairs director, when it came to Xue Qingdai, she was just a sensitive and protective mother. Every time something happened to her baby in the past six months, it was always somehow related to Zhao Meiqin. There was no such thing as coincidence.

Hearing her tuition was gone, Zhao Meiqin cried even harder and clung tightly to Yang Xiaomin’s leg.

But Yang Xiaomin didn’t waste time on her. At over fifty years old, she still had strength to spare—she dragged Zhao Meiqin out.

As she was being pulled away, Zhao Meiqin sobbed out, “I did it for cousin’s own good! Her fiancé can’t even have children! Shouldn’t she have the courage to pursue true love?”

Yang Xiaomin rushed to cover her daughter’s ears—but it was too late.

That damned jinx! It was the old man who had insisted on adopting that green-hat-wearing brat out of loyalty.

Neither the mother nor daughter pair were any good—yet her little treasure had suffered so much because of them.

Xue Qingdai’s eyes revealed a hint of confusion—how did Zhao Meiqin know so much? Even the original host hadn’t known those inside details.

The original host had only learned about them after going to the capital to find the male lead, Xie Yan. That was when she discovered that the famously prestigious Major Xie of three provinces—Xie Yan—was infertile. But the original host, in order to get revenge on the scumbag Xie Wei, didn’t care about the consequences. She went all in, forcing Xie Yan to marry her. In a strange city, she married into the capital and was later stationed with him in the remote northwest.

Everything that followed had been the bitter fruits of her own actions.

“Don’t listen to her nonsense,” Yang Xiaomin said. “I admit, I did have selfish reasons when I agreed to this engagement.”

“Your eldest and second brothers were born from the same pregnancy. Your third brother and you came from another.”

“I was worried that you inherited my constitution—easy to conceive and prone to multiple births. If you married someone who couldn’t have children, your body wouldn’t have to suffer so much.”

Yang Xiaomin had worn herself out with worry over her daughter’s frailty, her hair graying early. She would rather her daughter never marry, but unfortunately, her daughter seemed to be a little too into men.

Xue Qingdai: “???”

Could she really pop out eight babies in one go too? Absolutely not.

This was the era of strict family planning—promoting late marriage, late childbirth, fewer and healthier children. Fame brings trouble, and being known as the woman who gave birth to eight in one go would definitely land her on the front page, and not in a good way.

She had already once made headlines for her excellent medical skills and low treatment fees, which drew endless streams of patients and dozens of media outlets following her. She was truly scared of that level of attention now.

She let out a slow breath of relief. She wasn’t the female lead. Those “blessings” from the heavens weren’t meant for her anyway. Still, her maternal family did carry the twin gene.

“……”
This marriage had to be annulled.

With her level of medical expertise, if a man stayed around her all the time, her professional instincts would kick in—she’d be poking him with needles nonstop. If his infertility were actually cured, she’d be the one to suffer the consequences.

“Mom, I’m tired…” Xue Qingdai could no longer bear it. Her sickly body needed some acupuncture.

Yang Xiaomin quickly wiped her down with warm water and then left the room.

Once Xue Qingdai was sure no one would come in, she opened her space and headed straight to the herb chamber.

Back then, she used to believe that medicine was her entire life.