“Cough… cough cough!”
The air in her lungs was being squeezed out bit by bit, as acrid, sour, stinking slop was forced down her throat.
Meng Yaya felt her throat burning with pain.
“Drink! Drink it, you brat! You want to die? It won’t be that easy! I’ve already taken twenty catties of precious cornmeal from them. If you die, how is this old woman supposed to pay them back?”
the sharp, shrill cursing sounded like a rusty saw cutting through wood, making one’s scalp tingle with irritation.
Meng Yaya snapped her eyes open.
The first thing she saw was a black roof beam with cobwebs dangling from it.
An old, wrinkled face with a black mole at the corner of its mouth was pressed almost against her nose. This old hag was death-gripping her chin with one hand, while the other held a chipped black porcelain bowl, pouring the foul-smelling swill into her mouth.
Where was she?
She remembered she was clearly in the post-apocalyptic world, fighting a zombie tide. To cover her teammates, she had detonated her crystal core…
“Mom! I beg you, stop! Yaya will choke to death! That’s just slop!”
A heart-wrenching cry came from beside her.
A woman, so thin she was nothing but skin and bones, rushed forward to grab the bowl, only to be kicked squarely in the chest by the old hag.
“Get lost! You hen that doesn’t lay eggs, what do you know! If this girl dies, I’ll have to return the twenty catties of cornmeal the Li family’s idiot gave as a betrothal gift! I’m keeping her alive. Once she catches her breath, she’s being sent away immediately!”
Wang Guifen cursed, spit flying everywhere, as she ground her large foot—clad in a patched cloth shoe—twice more against the woman.
The woman let out a muffled groan from the kick and curled up on the floor, unable to get up, yet she still reached out a withered hand to grab the hem of Meng Yaya’s clothes.
“Yaya… my Yaya…”
Meng Yaya felt a surge of fury rush to the top of her head.
Well, well. It turned out they wanted to revive her just to sell her off as a child bride to some idiot!
Even in the dog-eat-dog post-apocalyptic world, she had never seen such an old beast who would force-feed her own granddaughter swill just to sell her for a good price!
This body was only three years old—weak, frail, and reeling from waves of dizziness caused by a high fever.
But who was Meng Yaya?
She was a Strength-type Esper who had struck terror into hearts in the post-apocalyptic world!
She took a deep breath, channeling that familiar heat from the depths of her soul. Though it was as faint as a candle flickering in the wind, it was enough to deal with a village crone.
Just as Wang Guifen was about to pour another mouthful of slop into her, Meng Yaya moved.
That small, previously limp hand suddenly shot up.
Fast, precise, and ruthless!
Slap!
An incredibly crisp sound of a slap exploded within the dilapidated earthen house.
Wang Guifen was stunned.
The force was so absurdly high that it sent her spinning halfway around. She tripped over her own feet and landed face-first on the ground with a loud thud.
The black porcelain bowl flew out of her hand, and the foul-smelling rice water splashed all over her face and body.
“Ouch! My back!”
Wang Guifen lay on the floor, unable to crawl up for a long time. Clutching her rapidly swelling cheek, she looked at the toddler on the earthen bed in disbelief.
That slap… was it delivered by this half-dead little girl?
The room fell into a deathly silence.
Even Lin Wanrou, who had been weeping on the floor, forgot to cry, staring at her daughter with her mouth agape.
Meng Yaya propped herself up and sat.
Only now did she see her own hands—small, soft, like steamed buns, and covered in several purple pinch marks.
The body of a three-year-old toddler.
So this was her current situation?
With a roar in her mind, a flood of memories that didn’t belong to her was forcibly shoved in.
The year was the 1960s.
The original owner of the body was also named Meng Yaya, aged three. Her father, Meng Changhe, had gone off to be a soldier and hadn’t been heard from in three years; rumors in the village said he had died out there.
Her mother, Lin Wanrou, was a pushover who worked like a slave for the Meng family, eating pig food and doing the work of an ox.
And this Wang Guifen wasn’t her biological grandmother—she was a step-grandmother!
Two days ago, the original Yaya had a high fever. Wang Guifen refused to call a doctor and even snatched away her only blanket to give to her own biological grandson, nearly freezing the original Yaya to death. Seeing that the girl was fading away, she had gone behind her daughter-in-law’s back and promised Yaya to the idiot in the neighboring village as a child bride in exchange for twenty catties of cornmeal!
That scene just now wasn’t “saving” her; she was just afraid the “goods” would be ruined if the girl died!
What a poisonous heart!
“You… you little beast! You dare hit me?!”
Wang Guifen finally reacted.
She had reigned supreme in the Meng household for decades. When had she ever suffered such a loss?
And to be hit by a three-year-old “useless girl”!
She wiped her grease-stained face, struggled to get up, and grabbed the broom by the door, charging toward the bed like a madwoman.
“This is rebellion! If I don’t skin you alive today, my name isn’t Wang!”
The broom whistled through the air, swinging down toward her head.
Lin Wanrou, gaining strength from who-knows-where, suddenly bolted up from the floor and threw herself over the edge of the bed, using her thin back to shield Meng Yaya.
“Mom! If you want to hit someone, hit me! Don’t hit Yaya! She’s still so small!”
Thud!
The broom slammed heavily onto Lin Wanrou’s back.
The dull sound was enough to make one’s teeth ache.
Lin Wanrou trembled violently from the pain, but she bit her lip and refused to let go, instead pulling the child tighter into her arms.
Meng Yaya was squeezed painfully against the woman’s bony frame.
Her nose was filled with the scent of Lin Wanrou’s sweat from years of labor, mixed with a faint hint of blood.
So this was a mother?
In her ten years in the post-apocalyptic world, Meng Yaya had been an orphan; she had never felt what it was like to be protected by someone at the cost of their life.
It felt as if something hot had touched her heart.
“I’ll hit you! I’ll beat you to death, you jinx! You useless waste who can’t even give birth to a son! You can’t even teach a child right!”
Wang Guifen swung the broom again and again, her mouth spewing endless filth.
Meng Yaya poked her small head out from Lin Wanrou’s embrace.
She didn’t cry.
That face, which should have been innocent and sweet, held no expression at all.
She looked at Wang Guifen’s distorted old face, then at Lin Wanrou, whose lip was bleeding but who hadn’t made a sound.
Very well.
Old woman, you’ve just narrowed your road to the end.
Meng Yaya reached out a small hand and lightly patted Lin Wanrou’s trembling arm.
“Mom, let go.”
Her voice was milky and sweet, though a bit raspy from the fever.
Lin Wanrou froze.
She instinctively looked down, meeting her daughter’s eyes, which were unnervingly calm.
Before she could react, Meng Yaya had already slipped out from under her arm like a slick little fish.
She stood at the edge of the earthen bed, looking down at Wang Guifen, who was currently raising the broom.
Wang Guifen paused, then sneered, “Little brat, not hiding anymore? Fine, I’ll finish you off today!”
The broom swung down once more.
This time, Meng Yaya didn’t dodge.
She raised her right hand and, the instant before the broom hit her face, she caught the head of the broom firmly.
The cruel grin on Wang Guifen’s face froze.
She pushed down with all her might—it didn’t budge.
She pulled back with all her might—it still didn’t budge.
The broom seemed to have grown roots, held fast by that fair, tender little hand.
“This… how is this possible?”
Wang Guifen was terrified.
This girl was only three! She was half-dead just a moment ago; where did this strength come from?
Meng Yaya tilted her head, looking at Wang Guifen’s face, which had turned the color of a pig’s liver.
Just this much strength?
In the post-apocalyptic world, she was someone who could flip an armored vehicle with one hand. Although her body had shrunk and her Esper ability was greatly diminished, dealing with a village crone was…
“Get lost.”
A single word escaped Meng Yaya’s lips.
With a flick of her wrist, a burst of focused power surged through the broom handle.
Wang Guifen felt a massive force hit her. Her grip failed as a sharp pain shot through her hand.
In the next second, she went flying out of the room like a ragdoll, broom and all.
Thump!
A cloud of dust rose in the yard.
Wang Guifen landed sprawled out next to the chicken coop, crushing half of it. Several hens clucked in terror as feathers flew everywhere.
“Aiyoo! Murder! This little beast is possessed! She’s trying to kill her own grandmother!”
Lying in a pile of chicken droppings, Wang Guifen began to wail at the top of her lungs.
Inside the room.
Lin Wanrou remained in her protective stance, frozen as if struck by lightning.
She looked at her mother-in-law rolling on the ground outside, then at her daughter standing on the edge of the bed, slowly patting the dust off her hands.
Was… was this still her daughter who could barely speak a full sentence?
Meng Yaya turned around and hopped off the bed with her short legs.
Because her body was too weak, she wobbled upon landing.
Lin Wanrou instinctively reached out to support her.
Meng Yaya leaned against her leg and looked up, saying comfortingly, “Mom, don’t be afraid.”
She pointed a small finger at the howling Wang Guifen outside.
“In the future, whoever touches you, I’ll tear them apart.”
(Many readers might wonder: the synopsis says the child’s father is “Gu Changfeng,” so why is he called “Meng Changhe” here? Did the author make a mistake? I’ll keep you in suspense for now—all will be explained later. Please read on patiently! Your passion is my motivation. There are many more exciting plot points coming up, don’t miss out!)