“Sang Zhi, you really smell good.”
Inside the station clinic at Pingcheng Railway Station, a man stared greedily at the unconscious woman.
“So what if you’re pretty? You’re still a brainless idiot. Follow me, and I’ll make you a bride every single night, hehe…”
His leering gaze slid upward—then met a pair of clear, lucid eyes.
Oh, she’s awake.
Even though he’d seen her several times before, he was still stunned by her beauty. A delicate oval face, fair features, a pert, refined nose, rosy lips like a plump cherry. Her eyes were dark and bright, and when she looked at someone, there was an indescribable allure in them.
Wang Daqing reached out, infatuated, to touch her—only to be met with a loud slap.
The man’s eyes blazed with fury. “Damn it, you little bitch, you dare hit me?”
“Slap! Slap!”
Two more crisp blows followed, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Not only did she dare—she dared to hit him a few more times.
Ignoring his furious curses, Sang Zhi—now with a different soul—rubbed her wrist and surveyed her surroundings. A rough, uneven wooden table held a calendar.
—October 1974.
Beside a metal thermos stood a mirror, with red characters painted across it: “The people, and only the people, are the creators of world history.”
In the mirror was a young woman with two glossy black braids resting on her shoulders, a leader’s badge pinned to her chest. She looked almost exactly like Sang Zhi—nine-tenths alike—but younger, fresh and lively.
She had arrived in an unfamiliar era.
If she’d known, she never would have boarded that plane. Now look at her—the plane crash had taken her life along with it.
Fortunately, she had no family ties, no attachments. In this strange new era, the worst she could do was start over.
Wang Daqing swallowed his curse. He didn’t pursue the slaps, instead lowering his voice in a threat.
“Sang Zhi, it wasn’t easy for me to find out that Sang Bei is in Dawa Village. If we’re late and he runs off, you’ll regret it.”
Sang Zhi waited for a long time, but no memories from the original owner surfaced. Yet upon hearing the names Sang Zhi, Sang Bei, and Dawa Village, realization struck.
She had transmigrated into a novel.
And not just any novel—the one she’d skimmed last night to kill time, A Sweet Seventies Wife with Easy Fertility. She had become a vicious supporting character who shared her name.
In the book, her cousin Sang Yun was the female lead—innocent, sweet, kind-hearted. She herself was portrayed as scheming and duplicitous. Both studied medicine: one diligent and eager to learn, marrying into a powerful family, enjoying both career success and a happy family; the other became a stark foil—contrary to the heroine, incompetent, repeatedly prescribing the wrong medicine and nearly causing deaths.
As cannon fodder, she met a miserable end, trafficked into the deep mountains, tortured for two years, and died early.
And she’d transmigrated right at this critical moment.
The more Sang Zhi thought about it, the more something felt off. If the original owner were truly that selfish and malicious, why would she care about her missing younger brother at all? Why would she be tricked away with that excuse?
And ever since her cousin’s family moved into the city to rely on them—
The original owner’s parents died. Her elder brother went to prison. Her younger brother went missing. Even she herself could no longer live in the home where she’d grown up, tossed back to the countryside like a rag to fend for herself.
If not for Granny Cai, an elderly woman living alone in the village who pitied the child and taught her medical skills, living together with her, the original owner would have died long ago.
Before she passed away, knowing the girl’s striking beauty was dangerous, the old woman arranged an escape route in advance, telling her to seek refuge with her own younger brother. But the moment she arrived in the city, she was detained by her uncle and aunt. Meanwhile, her cousin took her token of identification and went instead to rely on a grand-uncle living in a government compound.
It could be said that the heroine’s family’s prosperity was built on seizing the original owner’s family resources, using them as stepping stones.
Could there really be so many coincidences in the world?
She didn’t believe it.
Now this was interesting.
As she pondered, an old green train clattered into the station. Fearing something might go wrong, Wang Daqing decided to act decisively and knock her out to take her away.
He hadn’t even gotten close when a searing pain exploded from below. Veins bulged on his forehead instantly—this damn girl dared to kick him in the balls!
Before he could retaliate, he met her slightly impatient face. Seeing the murderous glare in her eyes, he didn’t dare say anything harsh, scrambling away in terror.
Sang Zhi didn’t give him a chance. She chased after him and delivered two more lethal kicks.
“You—you…”
Wang Daqing clutched his crotch, wailing and rolling on the ground.
Just now, Sang Zhi had shattered his manhood.
Don’t think she hadn’t heard those filthy words earlier. Besides, he was the one who caused the original owner to inhale an excessive dose of sedative and die. For a scumbag this evil and dangerous to society, smashing his balls was getting off easy.
The train was about to depart.
Wang Daqing’s accomplices were anxiously pacing on the platform. Fearing his howling would draw them over, Sang Zhi used the sedative prepared for her to knock him out instead.
Just as she was about to leave, several chaotic footsteps approached from afar.
A rough male voice, tinged with tears, rang out.
“Station Master Xu, our commander was injured while protecting your local property. You can’t just ignore him!”
Feng Xiangdong was covered in mud, running while carrying a stretcher, crying as he went. The middle-aged man beside him was just as frantic, making promise after promise.
An urgent order had come down from higher authorities: no matter the cost, they had to save the person on that stretcher.
The two rushed into the clinic in a panic, neither noticing someone hiding in the inner room.
“Doctor, doctor—where’s the doctor?”
Seeing his comrade on the brink of death and no doctor in sight, Feng Xiangdong grabbed Station Master Xu by the collar and shouted.
In those special times, certain trains and major stations were equipped with medical rooms. The doctors on duty were from the railway hospital, but since they were on temporary assignment, when the hospital got busy, they often prioritized the hospital—after all, some stations could go an entire day without seeing a single patient.
Today, they were unlucky—the doctor just happened to be away. The comrade’s face was already tinged with a bluish-gray pallor. In a flash of inspiration, Station Master Xu said, “Comrade Feng, the railway hospital isn’t far from here. Take my bicycle and fetch a doctor. I’ll go make announcements in the station to see if any passengers are doctors. We’ll prepare both ways. Go, quickly…”
They came in a rush and left just as hurriedly. Once the room fell quiet again, Sang Zhi stepped out from the inner room and examined the man. He was tall and well-built, with regular features; the light caught his profile, giving him a faintly lethal air.
Under these circumstances, she should have stayed far away from trouble. Yet when it came to this man, she hesitated.
In her previous life, she had been an orphan, but she was fortunate enough to be adopted and taught by a grandmaster of traditional Chinese medicine, acquiring formidable skills. Though many people gossiped behind her back, calling her greedy and sly, they had to admit her medical expertise was exceptional. Countless wealthy tycoons had come to her, money in hand, begging for treatment.
Now, Wang Daqing’s accomplices could discover her at any moment. Saving him carried enormous risk—but not saving him didn’t sit right either. With the last trace of medical ethics at work, Sang Zhi stayed.
It was also his good fortune that the original owner’s satchel contained her tools. She undid the man’s uniform collar and checked the injury on his chest. To outsiders, his external wound looked fatal, but in fact it wasn’t. Judging from his faint, nearly halted pulse, his tongue coating, the coldness of his limbs, and the thin sheen of sweat that hadn’t yet faded, he was suffering from chest obstruction and cardiac pain.
Under normal circumstances, the standard treatment would be oxygen, heart-saving pills under the tongue, and an intravenous infusion of Danshen—but there were no such conditions here. She inserted several silver needles, then fed him a pill to dispel turbidity and unblock the chest. Seeing that he couldn’t swallow on his own, she blew air into his mouth. Once she was sure the pill had gone down, she performed artificial respiration.
Second by second, time passed. The station loudspeakers repeated their announcements over and over, yet the patient still showed no response. Outside the clinic, an irate male voice was also shouting Wang Daqing’s name—and Sang Zhi’s—again and again.
Several times, if he had only leaned his head toward the window, he would have discovered Sang Zhi saving the man. If she were caught, she would be in serious trouble. But if she simply walked away and this soldier didn’t wake up, he would die all the same.
With time running out, Sang Zhi had no choice but to try another method. She pried his mouth open and bit down hard on the tip of his tongue. In traditional Chinese medicine theory, this action can stimulate heart and lung function.
She didn’t know whether the medicine had taken effect or the external stimulation worked, but when the taste of rust mingled on their lips and tongue, his brow twitched slightly.