Rebirth: Splendid Marriage in the 80s Chapter 1 - 1 1 Back to Thirteen Years Old

Chiang Xiao was consumed by yet another terrifying nightmare. She dreamt of figures in white lab coats descending upon her like a pack of ravenous wolves hunting a defenseless lamb, their expressions twisted with malice.

Overwhelmed by dread and panic, she fought with all her might, retreating until she could go no further.

Suddenly, a violent shove sent her plummeting from the ninth floor. Upon impact, her skull shattered and her body became a mangled, crimson ruin.

That was her—her self at thirty years old.

With that gruesome end, she closed the chapter on a life defined by deception, exploitation, and betrayal—a life where she had been a fool who brought ruin to both herself and others.

Chiang Xiao could not stop the tears from streaming down her face.

She harbored a deep hatred for those who had wronged her, but she loathed her own past stupidity even more.

Suddenly, the simple printed curtain at the door was yanked aside. Someone rushed into the room, asking repeatedly, “Little, what’s wrong? What happened? Was it another nightmare?”

Chiang Xiao felt her thrashing hands captured by someone else’s. These hands were rough with calluses, yet they radiated a profound warmth.

Opening her tear-blurred eyes, she saw a familiar face filled with distress and deep affection.

The woman had slender eyebrows, elongated eyes, and short hair pinned back by three black clips. There was always a lingering trace of sadness in her gaze.

“Grandma?” Chiang Xiao whispered, her voice trembling.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Grandma looked at her tenderly. “Don't be afraid, Grandma is right here. Go back to sleep, my dear girl.”

What was happening?

Hadn't her Grandma passed away from a heart attack at the end of that summer when she was thirteen?

Chiang Xiao looked down at her own hands in confusion.

They were thin with pale, translucent skin that revealed the veins beneath. There was dark grime beneath her fingernails, making them look somewhat unkempt.

These were certainly not the hands that would later produce exquisite paintings; these were the hands she remembered from her youth.

Chiang Xiao was in a daze.

Wasn't she dead?

After falling from the ninth floor and having her body smashed beyond recognition, how could she possibly be breathing?

“Grandma,” she murmured hoarsely, “I never expected you to be the first person I’d see after dying. Grandma, I died such an ugly death. I'm just glad I didn't appear before you looking like that; it would have frightened you to death.”

Grandma Chiang Ge Liutao was stunned by those words. Fear flickered in her eyes as she watched Chiang Xiao drift back into a heavy slumber, her own heart racing with worry.

She remained seated for a few moments before tucking Chiang Xiao’s hands beneath the covers and quietly exiting the room.

The Chiang residence consisted of three rooms and a central hall. Beyond the hall lay a modest courtyard enclosed by yellow earth walls about 1.2 meters high.

The yard was square, with the main gate positioned directly across from the hall. To the left stood a wampee tree ringed by stone slabs, with a neat stack of firewood tucked into the corner. A chicken coop occupied the right side. That particular wall was shared with the Old Chiang family, where Grandpa Chiang’s eldest brother and his kin resided.

It was the middle of the afternoon. Chiang Xiao’s grandfather, Chiang Songhai, was crouched in the yard, meticulously turning over medicinal herbs so they could dry in the sunlight.

In the early spring, the sun was weak, leaving only a two-hour window at midday for the drying process. If the herbs rotted, they would be worthless.

Standing under the eaves of the main hall, Ge Liutao called out to him in a hushed voice.

“Uncle Hai, come here quickly.”

In this region, the family hierarchy followed the sequence “Yi Hua Shan Bo Guo Shu.” Within the village, Chiang Songhai held high status as part of the ‘Hua’ generation, meaning many older men had to address him as Uncle. Ge Liutao belonged to the younger ‘Bo’ generation and had called him Uncle Hai since before their marriage. She had simply never changed the habit as they grew old together.

“What is it? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of this?” Chiang Songhai replied without looking up, focused on his task.

“Little...”

The moment her name was mentioned, Chiang Songhai bolted upright and turned toward the house. “What’s wrong with Little?” he asked urgently. “Is her fever back? I’m going to check on her.”

Ge Liutao caught his arm, glancing nervously toward the neighbors' side before whispering, “The village elders claim there’s a ghost down by the stream. Do you think it’s true?”

Chiang Songhai froze, then replied with annoyance, “Don't talk such nonsense!”