When she first read the book, she also disliked the troublesome Ji Mengshi. As for Ji An, she didn't dislike her—it was more a case of frustration at her lack of progress, mixed with some pity. Toward the female protagonist Ji Xinran, she felt admiration but did not agree with her method of handling the marriage arrangement with Tan Dong.
In Ji Xinran's original lifetime, Ji An did not marry well—in fact, she never married at all. She was engaged three times, and each time, the groom met with various accidents before the wedding.
This was the main reason why Ji Xinran in the book pulled Ji An out to deal with the Tan family's marriage proposal. She believed Ji An was cursed to bring misfortune to her husbands and could cause Tan Dong to meet with an accident before the wedding, leading him to withdraw from the engagement on his own.
Tan Dong did meet with an accident—he was injured in his lower body and could no longer perform as a man. The Tan family covered up the incident tightly and then proceeded to marry Ji An into their family with great fanfare.
Many years later, when the Tan family fell, Ji Xinran, who had become a Fourth-rank Gongren, chanted sutras for Ji An for a day in the small family shrine and sighed twice—this was considered enough to settle her guilt toward Ji An.
From the very beginning of the novel Chongsheng Xinran Jinxiu, the author emphasized that the female protagonist Ji Xinran was not truly kind or virtuous. Ji An also found this reasonable—after all, after enduring a lifetime of suffering, how many people could remain pure and good after being reborn?
When troubles don't touch you, it's easy to remain indifferent. But now that she was in the midst of it all, she found it deeply ironic.
Ji An sneered, curling her legs and resting her chin on her knees. Recalling the moment she first transmigrated, she had been terrified, hating her own uselessness for being unable to withstand even the slightest hardship, and feeling endless guilt toward her parents. After realizing she could change nothing, she discovered she was in ancient times. The only comfort was that her family was relatively well-off.
Shortly before her first birthday, her father named her Ji An. It differed by only one character from her name in her previous life, and at the time, she thought it was fate. But just a few days later, her scholarly third brother named his eldest daughter Xinran.
Ji Xinran?
Ji An?
In an instant, she was stunned. Wide-eyed, she stared at her "skinny monkey" of a niece, who was only two days younger than her, unable to regain her composure for a long time.
Trapped in an infant's body, Ji An was rarely taken outside before her first birthday. No one in the family dared to call her mother "Ji Mengshi," nor did anyone dare to address her father by his full name. Her three older brothers also went by nicknames—"Oldest," "Second," and "Third." Her understanding of the family remained superficial.
But this situation ended with her first birthday.
The book Chongsheng Xinran Jinxiu was something she had read a month before her sudden death. Although she had experienced the bizarre phenomenon of "dying and coming back to life," she could still remember most of the book's main content.
However, at the time of her first birthday, although Ji An was certain she had transmigrated into a book, she couldn't be sure whether it was Ji Xinran's original lifetime or her reborn lifetime.
The difference between "original" and "reborn" was just one word, but its impact was enormous. If it was the original lifetime, Ji An could live freely, waiting to be rejected three times before tearfully begging her father to establish a household in her name. But if it was the reborn lifetime, that wouldn't work—Ji Xinran knew Ji An too well. If Ji An changed too much, she feared it would arouse Ji Xinran's suspicion.
Fortunately, whether in the original or reborn lifetime, Ji An in the book was portrayed as cold and indifferent. Aside from her parents, she treated everyone else with indifference.
This was good—acting aloof was something she excelled at.
In her previous life, her academic performance was poor. Afraid of being mocked by her classmates, she relied on her good looks to act cold and distant. She kept up this act until her death, and no one ever dared to mock her lack of intelligence to her face.
In this life, Ji An planned to do the same—not for any other reason, but to keep others from figuring her out.
After her first birthday, she no longer giggled at every little tease. By age two, she would sit beside her mother's embroidery frame, holding a needle without threading it, clutching a scrap of cloth, her chubby little face serious as she practiced stitching.
At three, after her father began teaching her characters, she muddled through for two years before moving to the eastern side room of the main house. There, she placed two of her father's handwritten books on the table and devoted herself wholeheartedly to learning needlework from her mother.
As for the books, she flipped through them whenever she had time.
To her delight, she possessed a remarkable talent for needlework, and her mother was more than willing to teach her, fueling her growing passion. Moreover, in her previous life, Professor Ji, fearing that academic pressure might twist her temperament, had taught her Chinese painting in her spare time to help her relax. Though she was not exceptional at Chinese painting, she was skilled enough to draft embroidery patterns.
Her patterns were vivid, and the small items she embroidered were exceptionally delicate. By the age of eight, she was already helping her mother take on small commissions.
By the time Ji Xinran hit her head on the stove and was reborn at age ten, Ji An could already embroider small standing screens, inkstone screens, and table screens. Ji Mengshi only accepted small, intricate jobs for her daughter, and the copper coins earned were often pooled together and exchanged for silver, which she told Ji An to keep safely.
Even better, aside from the elderly couple, no one in the household knew about Ji An taking on embroidery work. Ji Mengshi intended for Ji An to have some private savings, and Ji Zhongming never spoke of it, often secretly supplementing his well-behaved youngest daughter.
Ji An also maintained a stern expression all day, rarely smiling, so her three sisters-in-law and the younger generation dared not provoke her. As for her brothers, after the age of seven, boys and girls did not share seats, so they dared not step into her boudoir.
Since confirming Ji Xinran's rebirth, Ji An had become even more cautious in her actions. Fortunately, the reborn Ji Xinran, much like before, avoided her company. She spent her days either helping her mother with chores or hiding in her own room, practicing characters on a wooden table using water and her father's discarded brushes.
This suited Ji An just fine—each keeping to their own, neither disturbing the other.
"Ya'er, time to get up."
A soft call came from outside the window, and Ji An immediately responded, "Mother, I'm already awake."
A month ago, her father had started mentioning that his daughter was now thirteen and ought to have a couple of decent pieces of jewelry. However, the weather had been overcast for some time, with occasional rain, and it only cleared up yesterday afternoon. Last night, her father and mother agreed to go to the county town today and take her along.
"Then be quick about it. Your father has already gone to the backyard to feed the donkey, and your eldest sister-in-law has nearly finished preparing breakfast."
Ji An slid her legs off the kang: "Alright," shivering slightly, she adjusted her inner garments, pulled on the small jacket she had draped over herself, and put on the dress hanging on the bedpost before slipping the jacket over it.
This thin jacket was her own work. The fabric hadn't cost much—it was pieced together from scraps her mother brought back from the embroidery workshop, and the cotton was from their own supply.
Qizhou Fu, located in the northern part of Dajing Chao, has a climate similar to modern-day Shandong, turning cold by early October. The thin jacket fit snugly, worn over her dress to retain warmth. Over it, she wore a high-collared hip-length jacket, which kept her warm without looking bulky.
She had made two each for her parents as well.
Wrapping two layers of cloth gauze around her feet, she put on fine cotton socks, tied them securely, and slipped into her embroidered shoes. Ji An stomped her feet lightly, a look of satisfaction on her face. Being skilled at needlework had made many things convenient for her. Not only could she make everything from head to toe herself, but she also never lacked for fabric scraps.
These scraps, though small, were made of good material and were highly sought after in the embroidery workshop. It was only because her mother got along well with everyone there that she could always secure some.
Over the years, her mother had poured her heart and soul into this family. Setting aside other matters, just look at those boys in the courtyard, shaking their heads and raising their voices as they study. Aren't they all dressed in fine cotton, neat and tidy?
Nowadays, ordinary fine white cotton, measuring three zhang and two chi per bolt, costs three hundred copper coins. For one mu of fertile land, with favorable weather and two bumper harvests a year, how much can it yield? After deducting the wages for hired hands, land taxes, seeds, and household food expenses, the net profit per mu per year averages only around four hundred wen.
And this is only possible because the family has two Xiucai, which exempts them from taxes on sixty mu of land.
Her mother bought damaged, second-grade goods from the embroidery workshop, costing about two hundred wen per bolt.
Damaged fabrics from embroidery workshops aren't as unwanted as they are in novels. In reality, they never even make it to the market, and outsiders have no chance of getting them. Every embroiderer in the workshop has a family and needs clothes.
So why could her mother buy them?
Those who don’t manage a household don’t know the cost of firewood and rice. In the book, the heroine Ji Xinran only saw Ji Mengshi’s harshness but failed to recognize her sacrifices.
Different perspectives lead to different views—this is no lie.
Sitting before the dressing table, Ji An combed her hair while looking into the bronze mirror. Though not as clear as modern glass mirrors, this bronze mirror was still something ordinary families couldn’t afford. It was part of her mother’s dowry and was moved to her room when she turned twelve.
The reflection in the mirror swayed and was somewhat blurry, yet it couldn’t hide the girl’s beauty. Delicate eyebrows, a graceful head, bright eyes, a fine nose, an oval face, and skin as tender as peach blossoms in March.
What pleased Ji An most was her figure. Just like in her previous life, her proportions were excellent—tall, slender, yet able to conceal a softness. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it a delicate frame with gentle curves.
Her jet-black hair reached her hips, thick and dense. Ji An styled it into two coiled buns, leaving half a chi of hair to braid into a plait. After tucking away stray strands, she stood up to tidy the bed.
Once the quilt was folded, she opened the redwood chest at the foot of the bed and took out a small bundle. Inside were the embroidery pieces she had completed over the past two months. Today, she was heading to the county town and would surely deliver them to the embroidery workshop.
She counted: six small table screens, four inkstone screens, and forty-five handkerchiefs, pouches, and fan cases with auspicious patterns. Altogether, these would likely sell for around sixteen to seventeen hundred wen.
Moving the redwood chest aside, she pulled out the key hanging around her neck and unlocked the large clothing trunk beneath. Reaching into the bottom right corner, she retrieved a small wooden box hidden at the bottom. From it, she took four hundred wen. Combined with the earnings from her embroidery, it would be just enough to exchange for two taels of silver with Shopkeeper Hao.
Leaving her room, she locked the door. The kitchen door on the west side was closed, with white smoke seeping through the cracks and the aroma of porridge wafting out. Ji An first carried the small bundle to the main room.
"Mother."
Ji Mengshi, whose temples were already graying, sat by the oil lamp, squinting as she mended a gray robe. Hearing the voice, she looked up at her daughter, who had lifted the door curtain and entered.
"Your father’s robe has a tear, and he didn’t say a word. If I hadn’t noticed it this morning, he would’ve gone out wearing it and become a laughingstock."
"Let me do it," Ji An said, gently placing the bundle on the kang and taking the needle from her mother’s hand. "This time, you and Father don’t need to give me extra. I’ve put some copper coins inside."
As Ji An’an had said, Dajing Chao had strict rituals and placed particular emphasis on female chastity. Before the age of seven, her mother often took her to the town market, and when her father was on leave, they would go to the county to deliver embroidery work. But after turning seven, such outings dwindled sharply. After the age of ten, trips to the county became rare, and even visits to the town were few and far between.
This year was the first time she had ever left Zaoyu Cun. Of course, not all the girls in the village were like her. It was just that the Ji family was among the most prominent households in Zaoyu Cun, and her mother harbored certain ambitions, so she kept a tight rein on her. Moreover, Ji An herself was not fond of moving about, pouring all her energy into earning money and saving up her private funds.
“No wonder it’s so heavy,” Ji Mengshi said, placing the bundle her daughter had brought onto her lap and opening it with a smile. “Your father and I won’t be able to support you for much longer.”
Thinking of Wang Erniang, who had visited yesterday, she couldn’t help but sigh, feeling deeply helpless. How had her only daughter grown to thirteen in the blink of an eye? Last night, her husband had tossed and turned restlessly, like a pancake on a griddle, and even told her he wanted to try his luck in the imperial examinations next year.
Gently stroking the peony embroidery on the piece, Ji Mengshi frowned with worry.
“Your daughter is grown now and can’t always rely on you to support her,” Ji An said, her fingers deftly guiding the needle through the bean-sized hole as she stitched quickly. “Since we’re going to the county town today, should we visit Third Brother? Third Sister-in-law probably has something to send him. I’ll go ask her in a moment.”
Ji Mengshi snorted softly. Though her expression showed displeasure, she said nothing. Ji An knew she had tacitly agreed and smiled faintly. “Are you still upset with Third Brother?”
During the busy farming season in September, the family had hired temporary laborers to harvest the grain. Her mother, being frugal, was unwilling to pay extra wages, so she provided lunch for the ten laborers. With over a dozen mouths in the family, feeding twenty people was quite a task.
Usually, each household washed their own clothes, but during those few days, all the laundry was combined. While Ji An, along with the eldest and second sisters-in-law, were busy in the kitchen, Huang Shi was tasked with washing the family’s dirty clothes, assisted by her daughter. These two “diligent and uncomplaining” women carried a pile of dirty clothes to the riverbank, choosing the busiest spot, and began washing slowly.
Before dusk, the entire village was already gossiping about how Ji Mengshi was mistreating her youngest daughter-in-law again. They said only someone as gentle as Huang Shi, the daughter of a bookstore owner, would endure such treatment in silence.
When the rumors reached their home, her mother was so angry she skipped dinner.
Ji An also found it laughable. Since when had Huang Shi become the daughter of a bookstore owner? The Xianke Shusi in town wasn’t even owned by the Huang family—Huang Shi’s father was merely the shopkeeper.
Ji Mengshi sneered, “Yar, mark my words. If your third brother never achieves anything, that’s one thing. But if he ever rises to prominence, he’ll pay dearly for this wife.” She looked into her daughter’s clear, beautiful eyes and added, “Huang Shi is incapable of managing your third brother’s household.”