Coarse cloth and hemp garments, once wet, cling stickily to the skin. Wang Guiying cursed and grumbled all the way home, still brooding over not knowing where that splashed water had come from.
The Wan family’s blue-brick tiled house, repaired two years ago, was truly the finest in the entire production team—standing out majestically among the rows of low, earthen-brick houses spread out like clustered peaks. The blue-brick tiled house was imposing and neat, its walls whitewashed. It was the respectable new house built with money Wan Decai had sent home.
But at this moment, Wang Guiying had no heart to admire her family’s imposing blue-brick tiled house. One unlucky thing after another had come crashing down on her recently, and she was truly troubled.
First, the broken engagement had failed, and instead they’d ended up paying for the three major marriage items. Then she’d taken sponge cakes to the door to try to hoodwink Wan Feng, but hadn’t even been able to get in. Today, on the way home, she’d been splashed all over with soap-pod water. How could Wang Guiying not be furious?
Who would have thought—when she got home, she saw someone even more unlucky than herself. Her old man Wan Guangfa had tripped over something on the road and fallen flat, kneeling down with a splash. Now his knees were bruised, and he was grimacing and enduring the pain.
She took out the medicinal liquor at home and rubbed his knees. Wang Guiying looked around but saw no sign of anyone else in the house: “Head of the house, where are Decai and his two comrades?”
Early this morning, Decai had said he was taking his two comrades to look around the nearby mountains. By all reasoning, they should be back by now.
At this moment, Wan Guangfa had no mind to worry about those grown-up younger folk: “Maybe they went far. How old are Decai and the others? Why are you still fretting? Go make food. Today really hasn’t gone well.”
Putting aside her worry about her son and the others, Wang Guiying went to busy herself in the kitchen. Seeing the pile of firewood was almost gone, she hurried outside the main gate to gather firewood from the corner by the wall.
The team’s firewood was mostly branches chopped from the mountain by each household, split into thin strips and left outside the door to dry. Only when thoroughly dry were they best for burning.
Wang Guiying carried an armful back to the kitchen. Only a faint, frown-inducing smell drifted over—it must have come from some child peeing. Wang Guiying didn’t take it seriously and directly threw the firewood into the just-lit stove chamber.
The moment the firewood was added, things went wrong. The flames that had just started burning gradually died down. Wang Guiying worked the spatula to stir-fry, but no matter what, the food wouldn’t cook. In desperation, she looked—the flames in the stove chamber were about to go out! Leaning closer to sniff carefully, that armful of newly dried firewood—if it wasn’t the smell of urine, what was it!
That evening, quite a few households in the team heard Wang Guiying at the Wan family doorstep, hands on hips, cursing loudly. She hollered about which turtle grandson had peed on her firewood, cursing until her mouth was dry and the sun set in the west. Only as night deepened was she finally persuaded to stop by Wan Decai and his two comrades, who had rushed home exhausted.
“Mother, what are you cursing about here?” Wan Decai saw a hint of something strange on the face of his soon-to-be wife, and felt embarrassed himself. After all, his own mother making such a scene—didn’t she feel ashamed?
“Decai, you don’t know—I got splashed with water on the road today, your father tripped and fell, and our firewood got peed on by some shameless bastard. Pah…” Wang Guiying, her blood rushing, was about to curse more, but Wan Decai stopped her.
“Mother, stop talking. Go inside and rest. Menghua and Changqing are tired too.” Wan Decai awkwardly welcomed his two comrades inside. Meeting his mother’s puzzled look, he explained, “Today I took them around. A section of road was rebuilt, so it was a bit hard to tell directions. We asked someone on the road and got sent the wrong way. We didn’t know where we were and took three hours to walk back…”
Wang Guiying cursed whoever had given her son directions, then put on a fawning face and affectionately patted her future daughter-in-law He Menghua’s arm, heading inside: “Menghua, come, come. Auntie will boil water for you to soak your feet and relax.”
He Menghua glanced at this vulgar rural woman and quietly shifted a step to the side, keeping her distance and politely saying: “Thank you, Auntie.”
That day, Wang Guiying went to bed in a foul mood. Thinking that tomorrow she still had to go persuade Wan Feng, she finally got up full of energy.
The Wan family set out early toward the western mouth, carrying half a tin of malted milk—going all in. After all, if you aren’t willing to give up the child, you can’t catch the wolf. Once Wan Feng and Lin Cui were matched and married, getting back the three major items their family had paid for would be even easier. This nephew was the most obedient and easy to fool—there was no way they couldn’t handle him.
However, Wan Decai didn’t know about this. He only thought his parents were going to visit his cousin, and generously added two fruit cans to go along.
Back when Old Master Wan passed away, Wan Guangfa had taken the initiative to split the family from his elder brother. Wan Guangfa took their parents’ house, and Old Wan the Elder had no choice but to take his wife and child to find another plot of land and build an earthen-brick house. Now, after years without anyone living in it, the earthen-brick house had been weathered and worn down. When it appeared before Wan Guangfa and his wife, it looked as if a gust of wind could scatter it.
Wan Guangfa and Wang Guiying could no longer quite remember what their nephew Wan Feng looked like. After all, back when they’d swindled Wan Feng out of the martyr subsidy he’d received, the two families had cut off contact. Wan Feng, who ate at a hundred households’ tables, also knew not to go to his second uncle’s house to eat cold rice and see sour faces. Moreover, Wan Feng had gone into the mountains and disappeared five years ago. Wan Guangfa thought even less of this son of his elder brother, with whom he’d never gotten along.
He only vaguely remembered that Wan Feng was thin and weak, skin and bones, all from going hungry. Now, missing for five years, he probably was thin as a rail…
Wan Guangfa’s drifting thoughts froze the moment his gaze touched the tall figure standing in front of the earthen-brick house.
His body suddenly went rigid. His originally small eyes flew wide open, almost nailing themselves to the familiar face before him.
Wan Feng had changed.
His height of over 1.9 meters was like a towering mountain peak, almost filling the earthen-brick house’s door frame so tightly that not even wind could pass through. His build was tall and straight. The section of forearm exposed below his short sleeve was knotted with muscle, faintly showing blue veins. As he shifted his steps, there was already an overflowing sense of power stirring, as if he had come treading upon dust.
Wang Guiying’s lips moved soundlessly. She stealthily reached out and tugged the hem of her old man’s clothes, whispering: “Head of the house, this, this is Wan Feng?”
The moment the words left her mouth, Wang Guiying regretted it deeply. What a foolish question she’d asked!
That face was exactly Wan Feng’s face from years ago. If he wasn’t Wan Feng, who else could he be!
Compared to his parents, who were shocked by Wan Feng after not seeing him for years, Wan Decai—who had also been in the army for years and had long not returned home—was much more composed toward this cousin.
“Cousin, it’s been so many years. It’s really great that you’re back.” Wan Decai stepped forward to meet this cousin who was only half a year older than himself. But when he reached Wan Feng’s side, he unconsciously raised his head to look up at the other man. Even though he had a strong physique trained through years in the army, at this moment he actually felt a sense of being outmatched.
From being a thin, weak, short cousin in the past, he had actually become so tall and imposing—truly astonishing.
Wan Feng, who was being stared at and sized up by several pairs of eyes, wore a blank expression. His dark, heavy eyes swept over the crowd—calm and rippleless, yet carrying a powerful deterrent and shock. It frightened Wan Guangfa and his wife into being momentarily speechless. In the end, he nodded toward Wan Decai, who had spoken to him, then stepped inside.
After all, he had only just arrived in this strange world a few days ago. Everything still needed to be familiarized with and explored.
Wan Feng, who had transmigrated from the apocalypse, tried his best to control his overall aura and boundless strength, unwilling to repeat the accident from a few days ago when he had accidentally crushed the winnowing machine.
After all, one second he had still been studying zombie and monster maps, and the next second, somehow, he had transmigrated here. The gray, dusty sky had changed color. The bombed-out high-rises had become low earthen-brick houses one after another. Having lived for several hundred years in an apocalyptic world that had long lost all color, Wan Feng was somewhat unaccustomed to suddenly seeing green mountains and clear waters here. Yet that longing deep in his heart for the normal world of several hundred years ago stirred faintly again.
Wan Feng had originally been a member of human society. When the apocalypse came, he had survived by relying on a calm mind and agile skills, beginning a long life of apocalyptic survival. But the normal order had been broken. The world collapsed and was rebuilt. Monsters mutated. The dangers of the apocalypse increased day by day. In the end, Wan Feng voluntarily abandoned all seven emotions and six desires in exchange for awakening supernatural abilities, achieving an even more powerful physique—comparable to a human-shaped machine.
Speed, strength, hearing, eyesight… Having abandoned his inner seven emotions and six desires, Wan Feng had no weaknesses. In the apocalypse, where danger lurked on every side and monsters wreaked havoc, he was like a god of slaughter. He was feared and guarded against by the various human factions, each scheming against the other. Ultimately, he single-handedly subdued the three major factions and became the true overlord of the apocalypse.
Having survived several hundred years in the apocalypse, Wan Feng had long cultivated himself into a powerful machine. Accidentally transmigrating into the unfamiliar environment of the 1970s, where there was blue sky and white clouds, birdsong and floral fragrance—even though he had no relatives or friends here, Wan Feng still wanted to stay.
Having been in a gray world for too long, constantly facing the threat of mutated monsters and human intrigue, here—even if there was only a little color—it was tempting enough.
It was just that every few days, someone claiming to be a commune or brigade worker would come to interrogate him about where he had gone during the years he was missing and how he had survived. Wan Feng had no choice but to make up a reason, saying he had hit his head in the mountains and couldn’t remember where home was, that he had hunted to support himself, and that he couldn’t recall much of the past.
The real Wan Feng had actually died in an accident five years ago when he went into the mountains.
The Wan family’s situation was not good. Old Master Wan had formerly been a hired laborer for a landlord family. Later, land reform overthrew the landlords, and only then did they turn over and sing. But the good times didn’t last. Old Master Wan’s body collapsed from years of labor, and before long, he was gone. He left behind two sons and their wives.
Once the old master died, the two brothers—who had never gotten along—split the family and lived separately.
Wan Feng’s fate was even worse. Ten years ago, a mountain flood broke out. Many people drowned, and some village cadres also sacrificed themselves fighting the flood. Wan Feng’s parents had been swept away by the mountain flood on their way home after participating in rescue efforts. At that time, Wan Feng was only thirteen.
His whole family was gone. The villagers saw he was pitiful. Thirteen-year-old Wan Feng grew up eating at a hundred households’ tables. He looked like a skinny monkey, but he barely survived—until five years ago, when Wan Feng went up the mountain alone and disappeared. The village sent people to search for over half a month but couldn’t find him. Only then did they sigh and lament that this poor child must be gone, carried off by a wolf.
The earthen-brick house, long uninhabited, was dilapidated and rotten. When a gust of wind blew through, it could stir up fine powder that rustled down.
Wan Guangfa recovered from his initial shock. Thinking of getting back the three major marriage items through Wan Feng, he warmly patted his own nephew’s arm: “Wan Feng, when Second Uncle heard you were back, I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. It’s good that you’re back. From now on, our family will live well together.”
Wang Guiying placed the half tin of malted milk and two cans of fruit on the table. Hearing that Wan Feng had hit his head five years ago and couldn’t remember much of the past, she felt even more reassured: “If there’s anything, tell Second Uncle and Second Aunt. Don’t be polite.”
It was even better that he couldn’t remember the past. Wan Feng was all alone—he could only rely on their family.
His sharp gaze swept over the several tin cans on the table. In his ears were the enthusiastic voices of the Wan family. Wan Feng responded with a blank expression. After seeing off the uninvited guests, he opened the tin can and tasted this era’s good stuff—malted milk. Sweet, fragrant, and crisp, mixed with the aroma of milk and malt. It was far more flavorful than the various potions of the apocalypse.
In the dead of night, Wan Feng looked at his home with its bare walls. A wooden rack bed spread with scattered straw, and a worn, peeling flat cabinet—that was everything.
He didn’t mind the lumps beneath him at all. He only carefully restrained his strength—otherwise, this bed would surely collapse. Accompanied by the creaking of the poor, pitiful wooden rack bed, his thoughts gradually surged. Wan Feng recalled the plot of the novel he had transmigrated into.
The identity of the dead man he had transmigrated into and taken over was special. Both parents were dead, and his only relative—his second uncle—was scheming against him at every turn. Thinking of the martyr’s child subsidy that had been swindled away by his second uncle and his wife, which he had caught from the original Wan Feng’s memories, and then recalling how Wan Guangfa and his wife had come to his door enthusiastically twice, Wan Feng’s gaze deepened.
These two must be after something.
……
Lying comfortably on the spacious wooden rack bed, with soft cotton padding beneath her, Lin Cui slept soundly through the night.
A little after six in the morning, when Lin Cui woke, she heard the pattering of rain. The moment she pushed open the window, what rushed to meet her even before the curtain of rain was the faint fresh scent after rain—moist, fresh, carrying the fragrance of green grass, refreshing to the heart.
A few magpies fluttered back and forth, their wings beating in time with a loud shout from next door’s Wang Guiying.
” Ai yo, they all say when magpies come, good things come. Turns out that’s exactly right!” Wang Guiying barged into the Lin family as if she were an old familiar, greeting Lin Cui, who was home alone. “Cuicui, your parents have gone to work, right? Then Auntie will tell you first—isn’t this a huge good thing?”
Lin Cui was eating breakfast in the kitchen—a bowl of sweet potato porridge in which rice grains were clearly visible, a salted duck egg, and a dish of pickles. Hearing this, she looked at Wang Guiying, who was not at all welcome in the Lin family: “Aunt Guiying, did you come to give me the three major marriage items? Then many thanks.”
Wang Guiying, who had barged into the kitchen without the least courtesy, was choked up. The smile on her face froze for a moment: “Let’s not mention that for now. Your matchmaking and marriage—would you say that counts as a huge good thing?”
“My matchmaking and marriage?” Lin Cui had already asked the matchmaker Aunt Hongmei to worry about finding someone. What was Wang Guiying so excited about? “Then that should be Aunt Hongmei helping me look.”
“Ai yo, that Zhao Hongmei has to help how many people look in a day? Waiting for her is like waiting until the daylily gets cold. Cuicui, Auntie has a good match right here. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied!”
Lin Cui’s eyes shifted slightly, ripples rising in her gaze. Why would Wang Guiying be so enthusiastic about introducing her to someone?
“Who?” Lin Cui asked without betraying her thoughts, responding to all changes by remaining unchanged.
“Your Second Uncle Wan’s nephew, Wan Feng!” Wang Guiying was fairly beaming, spitting as she spoke, wishing she could immediately grab Wan Feng and Lin Cui and marry them off!
…..
Meanwhile, Wan Guangfa, who had come to the door again after a day’s interval, was sitting in Wan Feng’s home.
“Wan Feng, your parents left early. Now Second Uncle is your only relative.” Wan Guangfa was gripping his tobacco pipe and tapping it lightly against the square table again and again. He stared at this nephew—who after years apart had grown tall and big—for a moment, then shifted his gaze away.
Wan Feng had not only changed in build; his eyes had changed somewhat too. His eyes were dark and heavy. Clearly there was no emotion on his face, yet it made one somewhat afraid.
Wan Guangfa suddenly straightened up. He stiffened his neck and put on the airs of an elder, determined not to be overawed by a junior: “It wasn’t easy for you to come back. Second Uncle is happy too. But you’re not young anymore. This year you must be twenty-three, right? It’s time to consider starting a family.”
Still expressionless, Wan Feng casually glanced at the second uncle seated across from him. Wan Guangfa was this impatient? He curved the corners of his mouth almost imperceptibly: “No rush. I’ve only just returned. Many things still need to be sorted out.”
“What do you mean no rush!” The tobacco bowl slammed heavily onto the tabletop with a loud crack. Wan Guangfa’s elder authority had been challenged, so naturally he was furious, blowing his beard and glaring. He no longer even bothered with roundabout persuasion and said bluntly, “Second Uncle has picked out a match for you—the Lin family’s little daughter, Lin Cui, from the western mouth. Hurry up and go have a look at her. Try to get married as soon as possible.”
Wan Feng bore the heavy responsibility of getting back the three major marriage items for him. Wan Guangfa wished he could throw this man at Lin Cui right now and have the two of them marry.
Lin Cui? Wasn’t that the former fiancée of the novel’s male lead, Wan Decai, whose engagement had broken off? Counting it all up, she’d almost become his own cousin-in-law.