Chapter One: Rebirth

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Yu Qian awoke in a haze, staring at the ceiling with confusion. Her memories lingered on the moment she had driven her two uncles off a bridge. Before she could dwell on it, sleep pulled her under once more.

When she opened her eyes again, daylight streamed in. The woman who entered made Yu Qian even more bewildered; she looked exactly like her mother in her youth.

“Qian Qian, get up for breakfast. I’m heading to work. Lunch is kept cool in the water jar—heat it up yourself at noon. Help Mom wash the clothes later, and remember to do your homework,” the woman said as she opened the wardrobe to change.

“Alright,” Yu Qian replied, still dazed.

After the woman left and Yu Qian heard her ride off, she snapped back to herself. She stretched out her hand: small palm, slender fingers—unlike her own hands, once plump from chilblains that never healed. The long, ugly scar on the back of her right hand was gone. She took in the room, realizing she was in her childhood bedroom in the old house before it had been rebuilt. The chair by the bed, wardrobe against the wall, and the vanity by the window were all just as she remembered.

She pressed her lips together. Since middle school, Yu Qian had read countless novels about rebirth and time travel. By those stories’ logic, she must have drowned and been reborn in her childhood. At this time, her parents were still alive; she had another chance to honor them, and perhaps avoid those who meant her harm. The family home had been rebuilt when she was ten, so this must be before the end of 2005, though she couldn’t be sure which year—her childhood was a time of growing tall but not gaining weight, always taller than the other kids, and the size of her body gave no clues.

She got up, changed clothes from the chair by the bed, and stepped outside. Her grandmother, Li Lingling, lay on the recliner under the eaves. Grandma had been paralyzed for thirteen years and could barely see, moving with her hands and the chair for support. She had passed in 2015, so this must be after 2002.

“Good morning, Grandma. Have you eaten?” Yu Qian asked softly.

“I have. Your mother made you noodles—go eat before they get mushy.”

Standing on a stool, Yu Qian lifted the pot lid and carried her noodles to the table in the living room. Tears welled up.

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Before her rebirth, Yu Qian was twenty-three, a graduate in directing from a junior college, working in a field unrelated to her studies. She liked to paint in her free time. Her father, Yu Wen, had died nearly a year ago, and her mother, Wen Yu, just months before. Yu Qian had been timid, harboring endless resentment—against her biased grandmother, her greedy and cruel uncles, her conniving aunt and cousins, and most of all, herself for trusting the wrong people and losing her mother.

On January 4th, the fourth day after New Year’s 2018, her father fell from a tall building at a construction site, suffering severe cranial injuries. He died before reaching the emergency room. The site paid a million yuan in compensation. After the funeral, Yu Qian, heartbroken, returned to work. She never expected her mother would die too, just half a year later—by suicide. Her uncles coveted that compensation money, colluding with her grandmother to force her mother to hand it over. Already broken from losing her husband and further wounded by her family, her mother succumbed to depression. The money had been transferred to Yu Qian’s account ahead of time.

New Year’s took her father; Mid-Autumn took her mother. At the time, Yu Qian didn’t know the truth behind her mother’s death—her uncles nearly tricked her out of the money, and she almost ended up sold by traffickers. When she learned everything, at Spring Festival 2019, Yu Qian took the opportunity while her uncles went to the mountain to pay respects and drove them into the Ming River, going in herself as well.

Yu Qian ate her noodles and cried. She had always known her grandmother was biased, always seen her uncles’ greed, and recognized, after her father’s death, who truly cared for her—the eldest aunt and uncle, the cousin who helped her and her mother. Yet she refused to believe in her real family.

Her grandparents always seemed stern, but their loud voices were due to poor hearing, not favoritism. They never mistreated her.

“Aiyo, grandchild, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did your mother hit you?” Her grandfather, Yu Cuny, returning from a visit to her uncle’s house, shook her from her reverie.

“Grandpa, Mom didn’t hit me. I can’t do my homework, and I’m afraid she’ll scold me when she gets back.” Yu Qian poked at her now mushy noodles and answered loudly.

“Oh my, the noodles are ruined. Don’t eat them. If you don’t know how to do homework, read your books. You’re old enough—you should be able to do it.”

“Okay.” Yu Qian wiped her tears, washed her bowl, and prepared to do her homework, suddenly recalling her mother had told her to wash the clothes.

Heading to the back room, Yu Qian sighed—before the house was rebuilt, there was no automatic water pump or washing machine. Clothes had to be washed by hand, water drawn from the well. Still, she had to do it. Her father was working away as a carpenter, and her mother spent long hours at the silk factory.

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After washing the clothes, Yu Qian felt her hands were worn out. Since high school, she had rarely washed anything but underwear by hand. Thankfully, it was summer, the clothes were thin, and aside from sweat, there wasn’t much dirt. She hung the clothes to dry and saw her grandfather poring over an old almanac. Curious, she stood by and watched, unable to decipher its contents.

“Grandpa, what are you looking at?” she asked.

He glanced up, “I’m checking what day your and your grandmother’s birthdays fall on this year.” Their birthdays were just a week apart, both counted by the lunar calendar.

“Oh, Grandpa, take your time. I’ll do my homework now. Mom’s made lunch—I’ll eat with you and Grandma.” Yu Qian smiled.

“Alright.” Her grandfather cleaned his reading glasses and replied slowly.

Yu Qian checked on her grandmother, refilled the two cups of tea on the small table, and returned to her room.

Sitting at the vanity, she pulled a random math book from the pile on her desk—third grade. Then an unused workbook. She thought and calculated. Third grade, started school early, not yet six when she began first grade. It was summer, likely just after the third grade term ended—summer of 2004. Her grandfather had mentioned birthdays, so she must be eight, with two months until she turned nine.

She felt a headache coming on. She’d died a year and a half after graduating college—her studies in directing had only a year of English for general education, the rest specialized classes. She’d forgotten most of the knowledge from elementary and high school. Would she even be able to do all this homework?

She tapped her head and tried to recall. What major events happened in Huaguo in 2004? The Olympics were just days away. Taobao hadn’t been around long, nor had it become the shopping powerhouse of later years. Prices and housing costs were still low. The family had little money: her father worked tirelessly at the construction site, her mother spent all day standing at the silk factory, yet they had little savings and lived frugally.

Most importantly, at this time, her closest relatives were her grandmother’s side; her father’s family felt distant. Thinking of what happened after her father’s death in her previous life, Yu Qian’s head throbbed.