Chapter 1: Reborn, Caught in the Act

“Hey, Grandma Chun hasn’t eaten anything in days—she might not make it through Yuanxiao. Why hasn’t Chen Zijin come back with her?”

“Who says otherwise? When your own grandmother’s dying, the eldest granddaughter doesn’t show up—she’s probably too ashamed to come back!”

“Ah, what a pity—Zijin was raised right before my eyes, prettier than Xi Shi, and you won’t find a more radiant girl in ten miles. Now her family’s rich, yet she’s been ruined by that brat Li Heng.”

“Let me tell you, Li Jianguo’s no good—he got fired from school for improper relations with female teachers. What kind of son could he possibly raise?”

“Aren’t there rumors that Uncle Li was framed?”

“Who can say for sure? If your own conduct was clean, how could you be framed?”

“Hey, did any of you see the scene that day? They say Chen Zijin’s aunt caught them red-handed—Li Heng and Chen Zijin naked, tangled together, not even a single pair of underwear on. Is that true?”

“Hehehe! Everyone’s saying the same thing—detailed, vivid, how could it be fake? I bet it’s 100% true!”

“…”

At the eastern end of the village, five ponds of varying sizes stood in a row; east of the ponds lay a grain-drying yard, slightly larger than a basketball court.

At this moment, six or seven rural women in simple attire sat on the yard, stitching shoe soles while gossiping about village affairs.

Today, their gossip centered on the Li family at the crossroads, focusing squarely on father and son, Li Jianguo and Li Heng.

In fact, it wasn’t just today—over the past few months, the scandal of the poor boy Li Heng and the noble girl Chen Zijin being caught in bed together had been the hottest topic in nearby villages and towns.

Just how hot was it?

The village chief’s third marriage to a 22-year-old widow couldn’t match it; the infamous Li family’s son-in-law sneaking into his daughter-in-law’s room couldn’t match it either.

These illiterate gossips didn’t fully understand, but they knew the Chen family had soared—and they were green with envy.

At this moment, inside the old earthen house across the yard, a woman in her early forties silently washed clothes.

Her skin was rough, her eyes lined with time’s marks, yet her figure remained graceful, her lingering charm a testament that she’d once been a great beauty.

She was Tian Run’e, Li Heng’s mother.

In the past, if anyone dared speak ill of her husband or beloved son, she’d drop her lifelong composure, grab a kitchen knife, and storm over to argue for hours.

When her husband was still a leader in the Education Bureau, Tian Run’e was the most illustrious woman in the village.

But now? Her husband had been framed and fired; the Chen family across the road had soared; her son was crushed under public scorn—she’d lost the will to fight.

Listening to the relentless waves of laughter from the drying yard, Tian Run’e clenched her fists tightly as she washed, then slowly uncurled them.

“Auntie Pang, lower your voices—aren’t you afraid Tian Run’e will hear?”

As she listened, a newly arrived bride in the village couldn’t bear it anymore and gently warned them.

“Afraid of what? Her son dared sneak into Chen’s daughter and strip her naked—can’t I say two words?”

“Exactly!”

The gossips on the yard, their breasts swaying, burst into another round of unrestrained laughter.

At that moment, a young boy with a crew cut passing by overheard them and immediately scowled:

“Hey! You’re all middle-aged women, half-buried in the grave already, and all you do is whisper behind backs? Aren’t you ashamed? If you’ve got guts, say it to my brother’s face—openly!”

This instantly enraged Auntie Pang. She leapt from her low stool, hands on hips, pointing and yelling:

“Zhang Zhiyong, you idiot, who do you think you’re talking to like that? Do you think I won’t tell your dad to slap your face?”

“Oh wow! I’m so scared!”

Zhang Zhiyong sneered, shoved his butt out, slapped his own backside with his right hand, and jumped up to retort:

“I’m no good with words—I can’t out-talk you, old woman! But if you keep slandering my dad again, fine—let’s fight right now!”

Everyone knew the Zhang family was among the wealthiest in the village, and everyone knew Zhang Zhiyong’s nickname “idiot” wasn’t given for nothing—he’d do anything if pushed too far.

As the old woman and the boy bickered on the yard, Tian Run’e stepped out of the main room and softly called to Zhang Zhiyong:

“Zhiyong, don’t waste your energy on these ignorant people. It’s cold outside—come in and drink some hot water.”

Seeing Tian Run’e appear, Auntie Pang, still furious from Zhang Zhiyong’s words, immediately turned her fury on her:

“Tian Run’e! Who are you calling ignorant?”

Tian Run’e replied coolly: “If you’ve got time to show off here, why not go home and mind your own husband? I just saw him sneak into your daughter-in-law’s room from upstairs.”

Auntie Pang’s husband was the village’s infamous “son-in-law thief.” Hearing this, she forgot all about the two of them, hurled her unfinished shoe sole to the ground in rage, and stormed home cursing.

As the queen of gossip, her departure left the others without a leader—they scattered like birds.

Seeing Tian Yi silence Auntie Pang with one sentence, Zhang Zhiyong clapped and laughed, then turned to ask:

“Auntie Tian, is Li Heng home?”

Tian Run’e shook her head. “If he were home, he’d have come out to fight already. He wouldn’t let you show off alone.”

Zhang Zhiyong hurriedly asked: “Then where is he?”

Tian Run’e asked: “Why are you looking for him?”

Zhang Zhiyong nodded frantically like a chick. “It’s urgent!”

Tian Run’e pointed toward the dam. “Go check the dam—he left this morning with a fishing net.”

Hearing this, Zhang Zhiyong didn’t hesitate—he spun around and sprinted toward the dam.

…

At the dam.

In the clear, bottom-visible water of the dam, schools of small fish swam freely, playing among the currents.

At this moment, Li Heng lay on a pile of river sand, hands behind his head, legs crossed, staring blankly at the fish—his mind had never been so lost.

He’d been reborn!

And returned to 1987—a time of crushing poverty.

He thought of the crumbling earthen house at home, of the past two weeks of meals with nothing but turnips and cabbage—damn it, he wanted to cry. No courage, no grandeur, no spirit to start over.

In his past life, his health was excellent—he’d had annual checkups; doctors joked he was as strong as an 18-year-old, capable of nightly revelry. How could he suddenly get struck by lightning while taking a post-dinner stroll?

He was gone. What about his mother in that world? Wouldn’t his family and children be heartbroken?

Wouldn’t his beloved companion, who’d been walking with him, go mad seeing him lying there dead?

Every time he thought of these things, he felt like a fish gasping for air in a dying pond—choked, suffocating, desperate to scream and weep.

After graduating university, he’d worked in government, then joined a former classmate to found an overseas training agency.

Decades of hard work, step by step, had built him a fortune—he was at the peak of his success, life at its brightest—yet now his millions were gone, replaced by three crumbling earthen huts. All of it was wasted!

All of it was washed away!

He looked up at the heavens, wondering: Was this karma?

But he’d lived carefully, never committed any major sins.

He couldn’t accept it!

The more he thought, the worse he felt. Overwhelmed, Li Heng reached out with his right hand, plucked a dogtail grass, and put it in his mouth. Chewing, he tried to comfort himself:

My past life was smooth—university, a good job, successful business venture at the right time. Maybe heaven knew I owed too many debts, left too many regrets, and sent me back to make amends.

Thinking of regrets, his first thought was his father. A pang of sorrow rose in his chest.

Li Jianguo had poor health—chronic spinal disease—couldn’t handle any heavy labor, only cooked meals and did housework.

And Tian Run’e? Her marriage to Li Jianguo was absurd.

In his youth, Li Jianguo was handsome, a college graduate, with a respectable job—finding a wife was easy.

But it was as if a demon possessed him—he rejected every candidate, until a beautiful photo from a friend conquered him.

The friend told him the woman in the photo had fallen on hard times and was now a sent-down youth in neighboring Jiangxi Province. Too far to meet.

But Li Jianguo wouldn’t listen—he begged his friend to arrange a match.

The friend was furious—she’d intended to marry Li Jianguo herself, yet lost to a photograph. Who wouldn’t be shattered?

In the end, the friend swallowed her pain and bought two train tickets to accompany him to Jiangxi.

The woman in the photo was Tian Run’e. When she first met Li Jianguo, she spoke only three sentences:

First, Tian Run’e pointed to a stone bench in the courtyard: “Come, sit facing the sun. Let me see what you look like.”

Li Jianguo sat obediently, facing the sun.

Second, Tian Run’e asked: “Had you ever dated? Married?”

Li Jianguo shook his head. “Neither.”

Third, Tian Run’e dismissed him: “Leave. I’m not interested.”

Hearing this, Li Jianguo panicked: “No! Ever since I saw your photo, I haven’t slept a single night in six months—I want to marry you!”

No one understood why Tian Run’e married Li Jianguo. With her friend’s help, she eventually followed him back to southern Hunan.

She’d thought marrying into the Li family meant warm meals and comfort. But she never imagined—after years of toil, she became the family’s primary laborer, managing every task in field and home.

What a cruel twist of fate—just thinking of it brings tears.

Li Heng had two older sisters. The eldest, Li Yan, was 21, a premature baby born at seven months. Everyone thought she wouldn’t survive—but a miracle happened.

Due to her prematurity, she was slow in speech and action, always a step behind. Last year, she married a carpenter and is now pregnant.

The second sister, Li Lan, was the opposite of her elder—sharp-witted, greedy, and fierce. Li Heng had lived in fear of her since childhood. Now she’s studying at nursing school.

As for himself, Li Heng unconsciously raised his left arm—on it was a faint “C”-shaped scar, carved with a pencil knife during his first year of junior high.

C—not Zhang, not Li, not Zhao, not Wang—but Chen. It stood for his open, passionate love for Chen Zijin.

Memories flashed through his mind like a film, finally crystallizing into one clear, exquisite face.

I wonder how Chen Zijin is doing now, after moving to Beijing with her parents?

Has she adjusted?

But thinking of what happened last summer, the reborn Li Heng still felt deep guilt—he owed her so much.

Though they loved each other, the era’s values made such early romance a disaster for the girl—her reputation suffered far more.

Words like “immoral,” “shameless,” “self-destructive,” even “slut”—these vile labels clung to Li Heng and Chen Zijin, turned into stories by village busybodies, now numbering over twenty versions.

Under immense psychological pressure, Chen Zijin’s entire family was taken away by her grandfather and father, who had just established themselves in official posts abroad.

Then, all the gossip and slander focused squarely on the fallen Li family, and the story’s protagonist, Li Heng, naturally became the target.

For example:

“A beautiful flower stuck in cow dung.”

“A toad dreaming of eating swan meat.”

“Pah! Go look in a mirror before you speak!”

“Hah! Crows can’t perch on high branches, wild pheasants can’t climb to phoenixes—how dare that Li boy even think of it?”

All these vile words proved the old saying: when you’re prosperous, people flock to you; when you’re fallen, no one cares.

Those who once smiled warmly at the Li family were now often the cruelest in kicking them when they were down.

For this reason, Li Jianguo and his wife remained troubled for a long time, fearing their only child would carry such a stain on his reputation and never find a wife.

Tian Run’e had once fantasized about forming a marital alliance with the Chen family.

But the outcome was predictable—she had barely broached the subject when Chen Zijin’s mother coldly rejected her, showing not the slightest regard for their former friendship.

The truth proved again: poverty is pitiful.

Ever since, Tian Run’e, who once enjoyed visiting neighbors, rarely went out and avoided speaking much with others.

Because of this, young Li Heng once regarded it as a great shame and blamed the Chen family.

Later, he came to understand: it was reasonable for the Chen family to refuse to marry their beautiful daughter to him.

His father, Li Jianguo, the pillar of the Li household, had collapsed, becoming a sickly man dependent on his wife’s labor in the fields to survive.

The household also carried two burdensome students, and his eldest daughter occasionally came home swollen with child, begging for handouts, with no powerful relatives to lend a hand—barely enough to feed themselves. Who in their right mind would dare link their family to such a household?

What hope could the Chen family have in marrying their daughter into such a family?

Besides, he had damaged Chen Zijin’s reputation. In an era where holding hands made one blush, it was no wonder the Chen family treated him with contempt.

And the Chen family was no longer what it once was—they had risen to glory and prosperity. Why should they still marry their daughter to him?

Years later, Li Heng wrote in a personal essay: My story began with a climax at birth, and only after that came the long, slow buildup.

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(End of chapter)