Reborn in Each Other’s Bodies: A Mother and Daughter’s Deadly Revenge - Chapter 34

The mother and son were enthusiastically discussing how they’d renovate their house, get a wife, and buy a couple of maidservants once they got the money…

Then, they’d eat white rice every day, feast on fish and meat, enjoy a little wine—living as happily as the village landlords.

What a blissful life!

The Zhang family was in such high spirits that they even stopped hurling abuse at Huang Yaning.

At noon, Zhang Yazhi cooked a pot of watery gruel and “reluctantly” gave Huang Yaning a bowl.

But when Huang Yaning saw Zhang Yazhi’s hands—unwashed after handling filth—and the disgusting state of the Zhang family’s kitchen…

She nearly vomited again. She refused his “kindness,” opting instead to roast a sweet potato for lunch and another for dinner.

As soon as night fell, Zhang Yazhi left. His mother said to Huang Yaning:

“My son has important business tonight. You’re in luck—go sleep on the bed.”

Her tone was dripping with condescension, making Huang Yaning’s skin crawl.

She shook her head like a rattle-drum, refusing outright.

She’d rather sleep in the Feng family’s woodshed, on a bench, or even on the grass—anything but that so-called “bed” of the Zhang family.

…

Early the next morning, Taohua Village was treated to another spectacle.

Turns out, the Feng family had “gifted” their youngest granddaughter to the Zhang family in the next village as a child bride.

And everyone knew what the Zhang family was like!

The Zhang household had three members: the father and mother, who’d been sickly since youth, lost two of their three children, and barely raised the third—Zhang Yazhi. The villagers took pity and helped feed the boy.

By the time Zhang Yazhi was three or four, his father became fully paralyzed, and later his mother half-paralyzed…

So, from childhood, Zhang Yazhi cared for his parents—washing clothes, cooking, cleaning their waste—and as he grew older, tilling the fields…

Though filial, the backbreaking labor aged him terribly. At twenty, he looked forty.

Pitiable? Sure. But who wasn’t struggling?

Lately, though, people noticed Zhang Yazhi had changed—his face perpetually dark, his presence unnerving. Children and young women avoided passing the Zhang house.

Even poor families sending daughters away as child brides would at least pick households that could afford food. Who’d throw a child into a pit like the Zhangs?

And yet, the Zhangs didn’t even want her for free! At dawn, Zhang Yazhi brought “Sixth-Ya” back to the village.

As he walked, he lamented how his family could barely feed themselves, let alone a child, so he was returning her.

The villagers praised Zhang Yazhi for having more humanity than the Fengs.

Meanwhile, the Feng family—who’d just celebrated getting rid of their “jinx”—were humiliated when the girl was returned within a day.

Old Madam Li was livid, blocking the door and screeching:

“Zhang Yazhi! Once given, she’s YOUR family’s now!”

Zhang Yazhi replied robotically, as if reciting a script:

“Auntie Li, my mother was ill yesterday, or I’d have returned her sooner. We’re too poor to raise her. Your family’s clearly better off—surely you can feed one child? Here she is. I must tend to my mother now.”

His father had drilled these exact words into him, warning him not to step inside or deviate.

Zhang Yazhi obeyed flawlessly. After his speech, he bolted like a rabbit.

The villagers gathered outside the Feng compound, their gazes scornful. When Feng’s sons tried to chase Zhang Yazhi, the crowd blocked them.

Soon, the village chief arrived—furious.

No wonder! Last time, Sixth-Ya accused her family of trying to sell her to a brothel. The chief had warned the Fengs.

Yet here they were, “gifting” her to the Zhangs instead. Clearly, they’d ignored his authority.

The chief said coldly to Old Man Feng:

“Old Feng, I’ve neglected your family’s plight.

“You own prime farmland, harvest well yearly. Your daughter-in-law works as a wet nurse for the wealthy, returning with gifts. Your house is among the village’s finest. Just days ago, you spoke of sending grandsons to school.

“With land, income, and property, I assumed your family was comfortable. Yet now, you’re too destitute to feed one girl?

“Tell me, what tragedy befell you? As chief, I’ll help if I can.”

Someone in the crowd snorted, sparking laughter.

Huang Yaning bit back a grin. The chief was mockingly implying the Fengs were cursed.

The Feng men flushed red—whether from shame or rage, who knew?

They’d never expected Zhang Yazhi to return Sixth-Ya. A free laborer, future wife, and childbearer—who’d refuse such a deal?

A young woman in the crowd “whispered” loudly:

“The Fengs reek of meat stew every other day! Their grandsons are plump as piglets. If they’re ‘poor,’ what are the rest of us?

“The chief’s right—they must’ve squandered their coffers on some misfortune. Why else abandon a granddaughter?”

Old Madam Li and Daughter-in-law Li didn’t dare snap at the chief, but they rounded on the woman:

“Who’s cursed?! You—”

Old Man Feng yanked them back, snarling:

“Shut your foolish mouths! Sons, drag them inside before they disgrace us further—”

His fists clenched. He knew the chief was shaming them.

But if he denied any “misfortune,” he’d admit to deliberately condemning Sixth-Ya. The villagers’ wrath would drown them.

Staying silent meant swallowing their insults. The humiliation was unbearable.

Forcing a smile, he beckoned Huang Yaning:

“Sixth-Ya, come home. Your grandma was just joking—”

No one bought it.