Chapter 15: Parents Can Choose Their Children, but Children Cannot Choose Their Parents

Song Zhanjin glanced at the handkerchief Lin Pandi handed over—it was indeed the one Lin Wanjun usually used.

With a smile, he took it and said, “Big Sister, you came all this way just to see us off. That’s very kind of you.”

Lin Pandi gave a brief nod, her sharp gaze sweeping over Luo Jinping, whose head she had already cracked open earlier.

“This filthy cur is thick as thieves with my useless younger brother. Eight or nine times out of ten, he must have heard from Lin Yaozu that my younger sister has a mole on her waist.”

She stepped up to Luo Jinping and barked, “You claim you’ve seen the mole on my sister’s waist—then tell me, is it on the left side or the right? Is it red or black?”

Luo Jinping’s eyes rolled nervously. “L… left side? Red mole?”

“Wrong!”

Before the word had fully left her lips, Lin Pandi brought the green brick in her hand crashing down toward Luo Jinping’s forehead.

“Right side! I remembered wrong—it’s on the right side, a black mole!”

Luo Jinping clutched his head like a cornered dog, terrified she would split it open again.

But the very next moment, the green brick still came crashing down on his forehead—harder than before—sending the blood spurting even higher.

Lin Pandi enunciated each word, “My sister does indeed have a mole on her waist, but it’s in the middle of her lower back, and it’s a very light brownish-gray.”

“You keep swearing you saw it with your own eyes, yet you can’t even get the location or color right. With such a pathetic excuse for a frame-up, no wonder you and Lin Yaozu are friends!”

Luo Jinping held one hand over the wound on the back of his head and the other over the gash on his forehead, his posture awkward and twisted.

“If you dare bully my sister again, I’ll take a butcher’s knife and geld you!”

Lin Pandi shot him a vicious glare, and Luo Jinping fled in panic.

Standing off to the side, Dong Yingying looked both shocked and bewildered, with a trace of uncertainty in her eyes.

Had she been wrong?

That shouldn’t be. In her memories from her previous life, Luo Jinping had clearly been Lin Zhaodi’s lover, and the two had worked hand in glove to commit countless misdeeds.

By then, Lin Pandi had already walked up to Dong Yingying.

“A young girl, yet your methods are so vile and filthy—you would stoop to using such tricks to bully my sister. If it weren’t for my brother-in-law’s keen discernment, my sister would have been condemned beyond redemption!”

Dong Yingying’s lips trembled, her words stumbling out, “I… I didn’t mean to frame her. They… they really were…”

“Jie, let it go.”

Lin Wanjun stepped forward to intervene, afraid that Dong Yingying might blurt out the secret of her rebirth.

“She’s not right in the head—prone to hysterics. What’s the point of arguing with a lunatic?”

Looping her arm through Lin Pandi’s, she dragged her away, giving Song Zhanjin a meaningful glance, signaling him to send Dong Yingying off.

When they reached the doorway of the house, Lin Pandi didn’t go inside.

She took Lin Wanjun’s hand, her timeworn eyes brimming with tenderness.

“You silly child, you came all the way to my doorstep—why didn’t you come in and sit for a while? If it hadn’t been for your brother-in-law spotting your back, I wouldn’t even have known you’d been here.”

“Everyone else calls you foolish and malicious, but only I, your Big Sister, know how hard and bitter your life has been all these years.”

Lin Pandi’s voice was hoarse, tinged with a deep resentment toward fate.

“Parents can choose their children, but children cannot choose their parents. You, me, the two younger sisters who were given away, and the one who was drowned in a chamber pot—we were all innocent.”

“It doesn’t matter if Heaven doesn’t favor us. We’ll carry our own lives on our own shoulders. If fate is unjust, we’ll fight it to the very end. The rain will stop one day, and the sky will brighten.”

This was a scene that had never existed in the original plot.

In the novel, Big Sister Lin Pandi’s presence had been nothing more than a few hurried, fragmented descriptions. But at this moment, to Lin Wanjun, she was a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood person—someone with loyalty, love, and a beating heart.

Born in the dust, yet never crushed by fate, she was like a lone boat sailing against the current of time’s tide—unyielding, unwilling to bow to destiny, keeping the helm of her life firmly in her own hands.

“Jie!”

Unable to hold back the tears in her eyes, Lin Wanjun did not know if they were her own or Lin Zhaodi’s. All she knew was that the tears came surging, flooding her heart.

Ever since she had transmigrated into this book, she had known she was utterly alone. She didn’t dare relax, didn’t dare reveal even the slightest weakness—always wound tight, always on guard, without even the right to cry.

Until this moment—when a sister, bound to this body by blood, appeared before her, offering comfort and warmth.

Like a wronged child, she clung tightly to Lin Pandi, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder, and finally let out muffled sobs.

Lin Pandi smiled through her tears, gently patting Lin Wanjun’s back.

“Brother-in-law is a dependable man. From now on, live your life well and treat your parents-in-law with respect. If you run into trouble over there, write to me. As long as I’m here, you have nothing to fear.”

See—despite the prison-like constraints of her own life, Lin Pandi was still willing to be the mountain and the tree her younger sister could lean on, selfless and steadfast.

By then, Song Zhanjin had already sent Dong Yingying away.

She had been muttering to herself the whole time, saying things like, “Why is it like this? In my last life, there was no such person as Lin Pandi,” as if possessed.

When he reached the doorway and saw Lin Wanjun crying in Lin Pandi’s arms, he felt a pang of sorrow in his chest.

Lin Wanjun was someone who knew how to stir up trouble—since marrying into the Song family, she had shed plenty of tears, but they had always been crocodile tears, with ulterior motives. He wasn’t a fool; he could see through them clearly.

But this time was different—this time, Lin Wanjun was truly crying.

She looked like a helpless child, the kind that made people ache with pity and tenderness.

“All right, all right, no more crying—brother-in-law is watching!”

Lin Pandi wiped the tears from Lin Wanjun’s face and placed her into Song Zhanjin’s hands.

“I’m entrusting my sister to you. If she does something wrong, don’t hit her. If you don’t want her anymore, that’s fine—just send her back to my home. I’ll take her.”

Her words made Lin Wanjun’s tears pour down like rain once more.

“Jie!”

She wanted to throw herself into Lin Pandi’s arms again, but her Big Sister pushed her gently into Song Zhanjin’s embrace instead.

“It’s late—I should be heading home. Your brother-in-law has to get up before dawn to slaughter pigs, and I need to help him boil the water.”

Lin Pandi cupped Lin Wanjun’s face in her hand, smiling as she said, “Be good, and live well with brother-in-law.”

Then she turned and walked into the fine drizzle. At the mouth of the alley, a broad-shouldered man approached with an umbrella, shielding her from the wind and rain.

He tilted the umbrella toward Lin Pandi’s side, letting the rain soak half of his own body without a thought.

“All the white flour and eggs have been given to Little Sister. For the next two months, our whole family will have to eat cornmeal and bran buns. You won’t be upset, will you?”

“What’s there to be upset about? She’s my little sister too. Taking care of her is only right. Don’t worry—when we slaughter the pig, I’ll secretly save some pork fat and offal so the kids can have a little treat!”

…

Leaning against Song Zhanjin’s chest, Lin Wanjun still had tears clinging to her face, her voice slightly hoarse.

“Looks like… my sister’s life isn’t as bad as I thought.”

In the original plot, the author had only used a few brief sentences to depict Lin Pandi’s misfortune of being forced to marry a butcher, as a way to highlight how vile Lin Guoqian and his wife were in their preference for sons over daughters.

But here, in this vivid, transmigrated world, it was actually the tender companionship of an older husband and a younger wife in hard times. Who could truly say Lin Pandi was unhappy?

When they got home, Lin Wanjun handed the eggs and the flatbread to Li Yuetang.

“Why didn’t you invite your sister in to sit for a while?”

Li Yuetang gazed at the fragrant flatbread and the warm eggs, feeling deeply moved.

“After our family fell on hard times, all those relatives who used to flatter us avoided us like the plague, afraid of being dragged down. Only your sister came to see us off—and even gave us the most precious things she had at home.”

She said, “If we ever turn our fortunes around in the future, we must repay them double. Zhanjin, do you remember that?”

Song Zhanjin smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I remember. I’ll never forget Big Sister’s kindness. We must repay it!”

It was already past eleven at night. In just a few hours, they would have to get up to catch the train.

Back in the bedroom, Lin Wanjun told Song Zhanjin to face the wall so she could change clothes.

But Song Zhanjin didn’t move—he just stared straight at her.

“You really have a mole on your waist?”

Lin Wanjun glared at him. “You don’t still think I have something going on with Luo Jinping, do you? With that face of his—more pitted than the surface of the moon—you think I’d ever touch him?”

“Even if I had the thought, I’d much rather take a bite of the tender, fragrant ‘grass’ right at my doorstep—you!”

Her words brought a flicker of amusement to Song Zhanjin’s expression.

He stepped forward, using an unquestionable force to make Lin Wanjun brace herself against the desk, her back to him.

The next second, his hand gripped her waist, and he lifted her damp clothes…

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