Doctor Zhou crouched down, lifted Lin Qianqian’s eyelids, and checked her pulse, his brows furrowed so tightly they could crush a fly. After a long moment, he sighed: “She’s lost too much blood. I’ll stop the bleeding first, then prescribe some medicine. Whether she can wake up… depends on her fate.”
He took some herbs from his medicine box, mashed them, and applied them to the wound on Lin Qianqian’s head, then tightly wrapped it with cloth strips. Lin Qianqian lay motionless, as if dead.
Lin Long stared at his sister’s face, not blinking an eye.
Doctor Zhou wrote a prescription and grabbed a few packets of medicine from his box: “This medicine, boil it in water and take it three times a day. Feed her as much as she can swallow.”
Huzi’s Mother took the medicine and fished out a few copper coins from her pocket to give to Doctor Zhou. Doctor Zhou waved his hand, glanced at the siblings on the ground, sighed, and left.
Huzi’s Mother put the medicine away and turned to look at Lin Long: “Ah Long, your injuries aren’t light either. Why didn’t you let the doctor check you just now?”
Lin Long shook his head: “Auntie, these are just superficial wounds, it’s fine. Just treat my sister—I can’t afford any more money.”
Huzi’s Mother opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. After a while, she picked up the medicine and stood up: “You’re in no condition to boil medicine. I’ll take it back and boil it for your sister, then have Huzi bring it over later.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” Lin Long tried to kneel again but was pulled up by Huzi’s Mother.
“Don’t kneel. Just watch over your sister.”
Huzi’s Mother and Ding Huzi left.
The woodshed fell silent, leaving only the sound of the wind blowing past the pigsty outside and the faint barking of dogs in the distance. Lin Long leaned close to his sister, watching her face. The daylight grew dimmer, and her face became increasingly blurred, until only a pale outline remained.
He gripped her hand tighter.
“Sister, wake up soon…” he whispered, “I’m scared being alone.”
Outside the woodshed, Ding Xiang and Lin Yuanyuan crouched beneath the window, listening to everything.
After the others had left, Ding Xiang straightened up, patted the dirt off her knees, and wore an expression that was hard to decipher—whether it was relief or something else.
Lin Yuanyuan tugged at her sleeve: “Mother, she even called a doctor. Where did she get the money? Could it be on credit?”
“Who cares,” Ding Xiang said, walking back into the house. “Anyway, I have no money to pay.”
As long as she doesn’t die. If she dies, there won’t even be anyone to do the work at home. In another year, I’ll find a matchmaker and sell this girl—she’s thirteen, she can fetch quite a bit of money.
Thinking this, a faint smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
In the woodshed, Ding Huzi rushed in carrying a bowl of medicine.
“Hurry, hurry, feed her while it’s hot!”
The two of them propped Lin Qianqian up, leaning her against Lin Long’s shoulder, while Ding Huzi spoon-fed the medicine into her mouth. Half went in, half spilled out, but at least some of it was swallowed.
After feeding her, the two of them kept watch.
“She should wake up now, right?” Ding Huzi asked.
“Definitely,” Lin Long said firmly, then paused and added less confidently, “Brother Huzi, don’t you think so?”
Ding Huzi was taken aback for a moment, then scratched his head: “Definitely! Sister Qianqian is a good person. My mother says good people are protected by heaven.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Qianqian suddenly coughed.
She coughed twice, then once more, and then abruptly opened her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Lin Long was startled, then overjoyed: “Sister! Sister, you’re awake!”
Lin Qianqian didn’t respond. She stared blankly at the dark, grimy roof beams overhead, her gaze vacant, as if she didn’t recognize where she was.
Hadn’t she just been at the theater watching a stand-up comedy show? She had laughed so hard she felt lightheaded, her vision went dark—and then, when she opened her eyes, how did she end up here? What kind of remote, backwater film set was this? The set design was way too realistic—this dilapidated roof, this musty smell, these straw curtains…
“Qianqian-jie?” Ding Huzi leaned closer, waving a hand in front of her eyes. “How many is this?”
Lin Qianqian’s eyes shifted, seeing a single finger thrust right in front of her face. Instinctively, she blurted out, “Two?”
Ding Huzi’s face went pale. He turned to look at Lin Long. “It’s over, it’s over! Her brain’s fried!”
Lin Qianqian: “…”
Seriously, what kind of decent person holds up one finger and asks, “How many is this?”
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, when suddenly a sharp pain shot through her head, as if someone had struck her with a hammer—a flood of memories surged in, overwhelming her until she saw stars.
She hadn’t landed on a film set.
She had time-traveled.
She had laughed herself into oxygen deprivation while watching stand-up comedy and died laughing.
She had transmigrated into the body of a thirteen-year-old village girl. This village girl was also named Lin Qianqian and had just been knocked unconscious by her stepmother with a stone, blood pooling on the ground, on the verge of death—
And then she arrived.