Summer of 1978.
The Red Star Production Brigade.
The adobe houses stood crookedly. The peeling, mottled slogans painted in red on the walls had faded under the glaring sun. One could barely make out phrases like “Dig deep tunnels, store grain widely.”
The cornstalks in the fields were already turning yellow. When the wind blew, they rustled with a dry, crackling sound.
Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, several men in patched undershirts squatted, smoking.
Lazy smoke rings drifted upward, only to be scattered by the hot wind.
Suddenly, Auntie Zhang came rushing over in a pair of nearly broken plastic sandals.
“Oh no, oh no! Something terrible has happened! The Lin family’s daughter, Wanxing, jumped… jumped into the river!”
Everyone froze, their cigarettes forgotten in their hands.
Auntie Zhang slapped her thighs, her face pale with urgency.
“Go save her! She’s in the river east of the village!”
No one could stay put after that.
One after another, they stood up, stubbed out their cigarettes, and without bothering to tidy up, followed Auntie Zhang, stumbling and staggering toward the eastern end of the village.
The quiet village rarely saw such excitement.
Households busy with cooking, feeding pigs, chopping firewood, fetching water, or watering the fields all came rushing over at the commotion.
Soon, the not-so-wide river east of the village was surrounded by three layers of onlookers, both inside and out.
Everyone craned their necks and stood on tiptoes.
Whispers, speculations, and sighs rose in a chorus, louder than the cicadas in the trees.
Some wondered, “Oh dear, what misfortune is this? What could have driven the Lin family’s daughter to do such a thing?”
Others exclaimed in shock, “Don’t you know yet?”
Someone explained, “Her fiancé, Gu Jianbin—the eldest son of the Gu family serving as a soldier at the border—has died in the line of duty!”
Another sighed in pity, “Heavens! Jianbin was such a fine young man! And now this poor girl, barely even married, is already a widow?”
Yet another lamented, “No wonder she was driven to this, poor thing. What a tragic love story.”
“…”
On the muddy riverbank, Lin Wanxing lay soaked to the bone, coughing and trembling, her eyelashes fluttering.
Amidst the chaotic and ceaseless chatter, she struggled to open her eyes.
The feeling of suffocation hadn’t yet faded, and a burning pain throbbed in her chest.
As her consciousness returned, fragments of memories not her own flooded in like a tide:
Low adobe houses, dim kerosene lamps, laboring in the fields, work points, grain ration coupons, and that fiancé in a military uniform, Gu Jianbin, his face blurred in her memory…
Lin Wanxing realized—she had transmigrated into a book.
Just last night, she had been ranting about a 1970s-era novel she had randomly come across online, seething with anger on behalf of the hapless original wife who shared her name.
And now, after a night’s sleep, she had become that very Lin Wanxing from the book.
Those infuriating plotlines emerged vividly in her mind:
Her fiancé, Gu Jianbin, to care for the widow of a comrade who had saved his life—his “dear sister-in-law”—chose to fake his death and remain at the border, living with her as a dependent.
His “death,” however, doomed the original host.
Pressured by public opinion and her family, the original host was forced into a marriage with the Gu family as a “doorway widow,” bound to a husband considered dead.
She toiled like an ox, serving her in-laws, caring for her younger brothers- and sisters-in-law, and rigidly adhering to the absurd “Three Obediences and Four Virtues.”
For thirty long years, she waited in vain, withering from a fresh, vibrant young woman into a white-haired, stooped old widow.
In the end, what she got was Gu Jianbin returning in glory with that still-charming “dear sister-in-law.”
The two had long since married at the border and now, putting on a show of deep affection and righteousness, urged her to be magnanimous and step aside for them.
Lin Wanxing felt a bitter laugh bubble up.
The moment she chuckled, she felt her body being shaken vigorously.
“Wanxing! My poor, ill-fated girl! Have you lost your mind? You almost drowned—how can you still laugh?!”
A haggard woman with red, swollen eyes, dressed in a patched navy-blue diagonal-buttoned jacket, threw herself before Lin Wanxing, her rough, cold hands gripping Lin Wanxing’s soaked arms tightly.
This was the original host’s mother, Wang Shufen.
Shaken dizzy, Lin Wanxing lacked the strength to break free and could only listen indifferently.
Wang Shufen wept and scolded in turns.
“You mustn’t think of doing such a thing again! Leaves fall, but new buds grow next year. But once a person is gone… they’re truly gone for good!”
Seeing Lin Wanxing’s vacant, unresponsive stare, Wang Shufen grew even more frantic. She began repeating her old arguments over and over.
“Jianbin, he sacrificed himself for the country, he’s a glorious martyr!”
“You’re his officially engaged fiancée, you have to think for him, to hold up the family in his stead!”
“The Gu parents are getting old, and there are younger siblings to care for. If you just give up and die, how will you face Jianbin?”
“Besides, if you really died, what would the villagers think of our Lin family? Your dad and I would be shamed forever! How would your younger brother and sister ever find good matches?”
“Wanxing, you can’t be so selfish…”
A coldness settled in Lin Wanxing’s heart.
From start to finish, her father, Lin Jianguo, had squatted a few paces away, head bowed, taking deep drags from his hand-rolled tobacco pipe. He hadn’t uttered a single word.
Only when Wang Shufen cried herself breathless did he finally knock the pipe hard against the ground and stand up.
“Enough! Stop wailing! You think we’re not humiliated enough? First, carry her home. Whatever needs saying, we’ll say it behind closed doors!”
“…”
Lin Wanxing, freshly dragged from the river, felt utterly weak and sore, her chest aching. She had no strength to move.
Kind villagers carried her home.
Once Lin Wanxing’s father shut the courtyard gate, the curious onlookers, unable to see more, gradually dispersed.
Lin Wanxing was settled onto the earthen kang in her cramped little room, a worn, faded sheet beneath her.
Her younger brother and sister peeked in before entering.
“Big Sis, you’re awake?”
“You two, talk some sense into your sister,” their mother urged, nudging them forward.
Lin Dabao’s eyes darted shrewdly. “Big Sis, even though Jianbin’s gone, you two were engaged. You’ve got to pull yourself together. Don’t let people laugh at our family.”
Her younger sister, Lin Xiaoya, nodded in agreement. Her face held no grief or sympathy, only a glimmer of hidden anticipation. “Big Sis, both Gu brothers are soldiers. They’re the best family in the brigade. Even without Jianbin, if you marry in, you can honor the bond between our families and help out at home.”
Lin Dabao wholeheartedly agreed. “Jianbin was a martyr. Once you marry in, Big Sis, you can get that special ‘Honor to the Martyr’s Family’ plaque from the commune. Imagine hanging that on our door—so impressive! Such face!”
“You might even be chosen as the women’s representative for the production brigade!” Lin Xiaoya seemed already picturing herself boasting to her friends. “That’s amazing! You could go to meetings at the commune!”
Lin Dabao thought more practically. “Wonder if there’s any work-point subsidy. If there is, Xiaoya and I would have it a bit easier.”
Lin Wanxing scoffed inwardly.
These were the original host’s flesh-and-blood siblings.
So eager to push her into the marriage.
For a mere plaque, for so-called ‘face’ and shallow gains, they cared nothing for their own sister’s future.
According to the book’s plot, these two parasites would later suck the original host dry.
Lin Wanxing had neither the energy nor the inclination to argue with them now.
Waves of discomfort from the drowning washed over her. Weakly, she closed her eyes, her mind settling into a strange calm and clarity.
Since she was here, she would never repeat the original host’s tragic, suffocating life.
Become a living widow for a selfish scoundrel? Waste her youth serving his entire family?
Dream on!
The original host hadn’t dared rebel—in this era, gossip could drown a person.
But now that Lin Wanxing was here, well, let’s see who drowned who.
A bold plan began to take shape in her mind.
She would carve a path for herself and, while at it, secure a sterling reputation to silence all those wagging tongues.
With this thought, Lin Wanxing forced a fragile, gentle smile onto her pale face.
Her voice was faint as she said, “Mom, Dabao, Xiaoya, don’t worry. I’ve thought it through. I won’t try to die anymore.”
“Really?”
Her family stared, taken aback, likely surprised by her sudden change of heart.
Lin Wanxing continued softly, “Jianbin… he may be gone, but I remember what he told me before he left. I want to go to the Gu family, to see him off properly and to pass on his words to all of them.”
Her tone was sorrowful, yet she wore a deliberately brave smile.
Wang Shufen hesitated. “But you were just pulled from the water. Are you well enough?”
“I’m fine,” Lin Wanxing insisted.
Though still somewhat suspicious, seeing her seemingly revived, the family sighed in slight relief.
“We’ll go with you, then.”
“Alright.”
Lin Wanxing knew they weren’t convinced, but she didn’t mind.
After tidying herself up a bit, Lin Wanxing, accompanied by her family, walked toward the Gu house located at the west end of the village.
The closer they got, the stronger the heavy scent of mourning—a mix of incense, candles, and sorrow—hung in the air.
From behind the low courtyard wall, muffled weeping could faintly be heard.
Against the backdrop of the descending dusk, the white mourning couplets hung up stood out starkly.
Lin Wanxing entered the Gu family courtyard.
It was crowded with fellow villagers who had come to pay their respects, all murmuring their condolences.
The main hall had been arranged as a mourning hall.
A black-and-white photograph of Gu Jianbin—young, with a hint of heroic bearing—was placed upright in the center of the altar table, surrounded by clusters of plain white paper flowers. The flickering candlelight added to the desolate atmosphere.
Gu Jianbin’s parents and several close relatives, all dressed in plain mourning clothes, huddled together.
They tossed paper money into a brass basin while softly sobbing.
“Jianbin, ah, why did you have to leave so soon! What are your parents to do!”
“Jianbin, you’re a hero for the country and the pride of our family. Go in peace, we’ll take care of your family for you.”
“Jianbin, you were always such a sensible child since you were little. Now that you’ve laid down your life for the nation, we will always remember you.”
“Jianbin, you did us proud, you didn’t shame our old Gu family…”
Hearing the relatives’ words, Gu Jianbin’s parents cried even harder, their grief deepening.
Their faces were deathly pale, their eyes vacant, their voices hoarse from weeping, utterly unable to speak.