Eighth Day of the Western Month.
In the early morning, the sky had just begun to brighten with a pale fish-belly white. The crowing of roosters and the barking of dogs rose and fell in turns, as if they were communicating with each other—or perhaps competing over whose voice was louder.
Villagers who had been asleep gradually woke one after another, and the once quiet countryside slowly grew lively.
From a distance, a thin figure walked slowly toward the village, carrying a bamboo basket full of wild grass on her back.
Her clothes had faded to a whitish color, clearly washed many times. After returning home, she skillfully chopped the pig fodder and tossed it into the pigpen.
Only then did she wipe the sweat from her forehead and let out a sigh of relief.
Zhou Qingling had already been in this world for nearly half a month. During this time, she had lived in constant fear and unease. Before she came here, nothing special had happened—she had simply gone to sleep one night. When she opened her eyes the next day, the entire world had changed.
After a brief moment of confusion, she was urged to get up by footsteps and催促 voices coming from inside the house.
She mechanically went to cut pig grass, sweep the courtyard, and handle various trivial chores.
Although she had never done such work before, her movements were extremely familiar, as if they had been carved into her bones.
Zhou Qingcha, the original owner’s second elder sister, saw her spacing out and impatiently urged, “Lao San, what are you standing there foolishly for! It’s time to eat.”
Only then did Zhou Qingling snap back to her senses. She responded briefly, quickly dumped all the chopped pig fodder from the cutting board into the pen, washed her hands, and hurried toward the kitchen.
The family meal was extremely simple—a bowl of vegetable porridge and a small steamed corn bun. Eating to fullness was impossible.
The corn bun was hard and scratched the throat, so Zhou Ling could only swallow it down with sips of vegetable porridge.
She did not act picky or complain, because meals in the village were basically like this. Although every household had farmland to cultivate, refined grains were too precious to eat; they were taken to the town and exchanged for money to support the family.
After half a month of observation, Zhou Qingling learned that the original owner’s family had four children. She was the third child, with an older brother and an older sister ahead of her, and a younger brother behind her. With many children, favoritism was inevitable—after all, even ten fingers were not equal in length.
In every household, there was always someone less favored by the parents, especially in this era where sons were valued over daughters.
Zhou Qingling felt no emotional fluctuation. She was not the original owner; she was an adult soul and held no dependence on parental affection.
She interacted with her family as if they were ordinary relatives, and once this body reached adulthood, they would each live their own lives. As a married daughter, she would not have much connection with this family.
In this era, the belief was that a daughter obeyed her father at home and her husband after marriage. Women were treated as insignificant as grass—cheap, overworked, and often beaten or scolded.
Most children had overly large heads and thin bodies, the result of long-term malnutrition.
When Zhou Qingling first saw them, she was truly startled and feared that such small bodies could not support such large heads.
Later, she went to the river and looked at her own reflection. This body was not much better.
Her complexion was sallow, and her hair was as dry as withered grass. She had been feeling pity for others, yet if placed on a modern street, even beggars would look healthier than her.
Zhou Qingling was just an ordinary person, and so was the original owner. She had no martial arts skills or extraordinary abilities. Like most working people, she had graduated from university only two years ago and had been quietly working in her profession in the city, enjoying its conveniences and living an ordinary, stable life.
She did not understand why she had come to this place. It was clearly an ancient world, yet not one recorded in history.
Villagers had little knowledge of the imperial court. During these half a month, she only learned that this dynasty was called the Great Shun Dynasty, and the place she was in was called Yangliu Village. It was a relatively large village with five to six hundred people. Beyond that, she knew nothing.
In truth, for people living at the lowest level of society, who became emperor or what struggles existed in the imperial court were neither understood nor cared about.
They only cared about when it would rain, what the harvest in the fields would be like, and whether their families could eat enough. Everything else was meaningless.
Her thoughts were interrupted when her younger brother Zhou Guanghe quickly finished a boiled egg, picked up his school bag, and ran out of the house.
Mother Zhou called after him with a hint of reproach, “Slow down.”
But the response had already drifted beyond the courtyard.
In the countryside, eggs were a precious food. Among the Zhou family, only the youngest son was able to eat them every few days.
Zhou Guanghe studied at the village school. According to Mother Zhou, studying consumed the mind, so he needed extra nourishment.
There was a village school in the village, run by an old xiucai.
For many years, he had tried to pass the imperial examinations but repeatedly failed. Eventually, his family could no longer afford his studies, and he became disheartened. He returned to the village and opened a school to make a living.
The annual tuition was two taels of silver plus fifty jin of grain, which was much cheaper than city academies. Therefore, children from nearby villages came to study under him.
Although Zhou Qingling had not been here long, she had learned that the original owner’s family conditions were relatively good; otherwise, they would not have been able to afford to support a scholar.
Aside from tuition, writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones throughout the year were also a significant expense. This was one of the reasons scholars were naturally respected in ancient times.
The Zhou family owned eight mu of paddy fields and four mu of dry land. After taxes and annual food consumption, they could save about five taels of silver a year.
This was considered a well-off family in Jiangliu Village. However, no one came from stone cracks—there were always social obligations, weddings and funerals among relatives and friends, and also contributions to the Zhou ancestral home. That is, the original owner’s grandparents received 200 wen and 200 jin of grain each year as filial support. With a scholar to support as well, life was still tight.
Her maternal family was from a neighboring village not far from Yangliu Village. Marriages between villages were common, and illnesses occurred frequently.
Every time, someone would send a message asking Mother Zhou to visit her natal family when she had time.
Nothing more was said. If anyone asked what was wrong, it was simply said that the daughter was missed.
Mother Zhou could only bring a piece of meat or buy some pastries every couple of months to visit.
Each time she arrived, her sister-in-law acted very properly, greeting everyone and saying, “Aunt has come back to visit the elders.”
“My mother-in-law loves her daughter the most. She misses her after only a few days of not seeing her!”
The villagers all watched. Mother Zhou could only force a bitter smile. Their family had more farmland, and each time it required help from her brothers and nephews.
As for why she had authority in the Zhou family, her natal family had clearly helped a great deal. With all these mixed factors, Mother Zhou gradually stopped feeling so distressed about the money.
In the world, mothers who favored sons always found various ways to extract benefits from married daughters.
After the family finished eating, Zhou Qingling began clearing the dishes.
In the countryside, there was no idle time—there was endless farm work.
She had to clean the chicken coop and pigpen before the sun rose higher, wash clothes, water the vegetable garden, remove weeds, and go to the fields. There was never a moment of rest.
The original owner was only twelve years old, yet already handled all household chores.
While working, Zhou Qingling calculated the days ahead.
She probably could not return. But in this era of scarce clothing and food, how she was supposed to survive became a real problem.
She understood one truth: no matter when, one must have money in hand. However, the profession she had studied in her previous world was completely useless here.
For a moment, she had no clear direction. She sighed inwardly. Forget it—earning money had always been the hardest thing from ancient times to now. She would think about it slowly.