Chapter 7: Ridiculous

After all, in Gu Min’s eyes, she was nothing but an illiterate, blindly filial, and someone who spoiled her younger brother, but Gu Zhuo knew herself better than anyone. Was it possible that even the story of Xie Lin becoming a vegetable instead of dying was a lie? Whenever such doubts crept in, she would have to go and see Yinyin. Only when she saw her living, breathing daughter could she truly believe that her beloved was still alive somewhere in this world.

For Gu Zhuo, as long as she could save Yinyin and Xie Lin, fate would be changed. These two, more precious than her own life, were the very foundation of her capacity for happiness. Without them, she would lose the ability to ever be happy again. On the other hand, as long as they were alive, no matter what hardships she endured, she would still count herself fortunate. Only then would she have the leisure to pursue the things the world deemed important. Otherwise, money and status would mean nothing to her.

In her previous life, when the terrible news about Xie Lin arrived, she and those around her believed it without a shadow of a doubt. Yet, looking back, there were so many suspicious details. When she was young, Gu Zhuo couldn’t speak or even understand the common tongue—after all, there were no televisions in those days, Nine Families Village was remote and isolated from the outside world. Although there were a few educated youths in the village, they all came from Haishi and communicated among themselves in the Haishi dialect. When speaking with villagers, they had picked up the local dialect instead.

Because of this, when the army came to deliver the news, they brought a local to act as interpreter. No one ever suspected the interpreter might lie. But on closer thought, there were inconsistencies in her account—when the army informed a family of a soldier’s death, at the very least they would explain the state of the remains, since funerals had to be arranged.

If it hadn’t been for the accident with Yinyin right after, Gu Zhuo would likely have noticed the irregularities sooner. Yet… it was only a year later that she finally thought to go to the army to collect Xie Lin’s ashes. Every time she tried to set out, she was either caught up in the busy farming season and not allowed to leave by the production team leader, or she received word about a possible lead on Yinyin’s whereabouts.

By the time she finally managed to visit the army, she found the base had already moved. She tracked down the new base, but Xie Lin’s former comrades had either retired or been transferred away. Those who remained had never known Xie Lin personally, or had only heard of him, and could tell her nothing about his remains.

It was difficult to get information from the military, and her abilities were limited; her efforts to enquire came to nothing. Most of her energy had been spent searching for Yinyin, so in the end, she had to let the matter drop. After all, the living are more important than the dead.

If she hadn’t read “After Transmigrating Into a Novel, I Became the Winner of a Period Drama’s Life,” Gu Zhuo would never have imagined someone could be so brazen. Ironically, the perpetrator hadn’t meant to kill Xie Lin—she only wanted to take advantage of the situation and steal his heart. Yet, not only did the comatose Xie Lin fail to awaken under her so-called “devoted care,” he actually passed away in his sleep.

Even more laughable was that this woman became the heroine of a novel, found her so-called true love, escaped the “shadows” of her past, and found happiness anew. Meanwhile, Gu Zhuo became the pitiful, tragic side character—losing her husband and daughter, forced to become a housemaid, and not only denied sympathy but slandered and ruined by others.

The author’s wording was amusing, as though her suffering was all due to the whims of fate, rather than the deliberate malice and greed of others.

Gu Zhuo’s thoughts were interrupted by hurried footsteps and the sudden swing of the courtyard gate.

“Qixiu!” The newcomer was panting, sweat pouring down his face, his eyes filled with panic and hope. “Qiaoling went into labor early—she’s lost so much blood! Please, come quickly!”

Gu Zhuo looked at the middle-aged man and took two seconds to recognize him. His name was Liu Jiazhu, an old resident of Nine Families Village and known as a good man. His wife, Wang Xiaoling, had been a child bride—by rights, her lot should have been a hard one, but thanks to his protection, their days were quite decent. If the couple had any misfortune, it was that in fifteen years of marriage, they’d never had a child.

Gu Zhuo remembered Liu Jiazhu not just because she had a good memory, but also because his family played a significant role in “After Transmigrating Into a Novel, I Became the Winner of a Period Drama’s Life.” In her previous life, Wang Qiaoling’s premature labor had happened too, but at that time, Gu Zhuo had heard from Xie Chong that the human traffickers who’d taken Yinyin had fled into the mountains. She had chased after them, and when she was finally rescued, she was barely alive and thus unable to tend to Qiaoling.

But in the life where Gu Min transmigrated into her, things were different. Gu Min had used the excuse of ill health to avoid tending to Wang Qiaoling—truthfully, she knew nothing of medicine and was afraid of being exposed.

As a result, after Wang Qiaoling died with her unborn child, the Liu family bore a deep grudge against her. Later, when Qiaoling’s relatives came looking for her after the reforms, they gave Gu Min no end of trouble, making theirs a classic example of a minor antagonist family.

Though Gu Zhuo was still feverish, she stood up without a moment’s hesitation and called, “Aunt Liu!” to the next courtyard.

Aunt Liu was already in the yard and had overheard everything. Without waiting for an explanation, she said, “Go ahead. I’ll watch over Yinyin for you.”

Gu Zhuo hesitated, but Aunt Liu assured her, “Don’t worry. I won’t take my eyes off Yinyin for a second.”

Though still uneasy, Gu Zhuo knew she couldn’t take Yinyin into such a situation. She went inside to fetch her medical kit and hurried after Liu Jiazhu.

“What’s the situation? Tell me as we walk,” she said, striding quickly.

Liu Jiazhu, panting, explained, “Early this morning, Qiaoling was woken by the baby kicking. She couldn’t sleep, so she got up to make breakfast in the dark. When she went out to feed the chickens, she slipped and fell. She didn’t think much of it—just felt her hip hurt, sat there for a bit, then got up. At breakfast she seemed fine, but later, while cooling off in the yard, the neighbor’s boy, Niuwawa, fell from a tree overhead. It startled her so much that she slipped off her stool. That’s when the pain started, and she began bleeding a lot.”

As he finished, he seemed to remember the scene—this grown man broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

Gu Zhuo frowned. “She fell twice? Did she land on her belly?”

“No, no—just on her backside,” Liu Jiazhu replied hastily.

He couldn’t say more, and Gu Zhuo stopped questioning him, focusing instead on hurrying along.

Though the Xie family lived on the edge of the village, the Liu home was not far off, but the two houses were at opposite ends—one to the far west, the other slightly east. It would take at least seven or eight minutes to walk there at a brisk pace.