1. Transmigration

There is a saying: “Don’t put away your cotton-padded clothes in February; in March, there’s still peach blossom snow.” As night fell, delicate snowflakes began to drift over Dongjing City.

Baokang Gate stood at the southeastern corner of the outer city. Most residents nearby were common folk. No matter how fierce the wind and snow, once the early morning drum sounded, people would rise to start their daily toil.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The urgent knocking shattered the quiet of the small courtyard.

“I’m coming.”

Xu Xiu hastened over in a few quick steps. The snow in the yard hadn’t been swept yet, crunching beneath her feet.

She opened the door and, upon seeing the visitor, her expression instantly grew tense.

“Aunt Yang, so early! Please come in and sit.”

“No need, I have to visit other homes too.”

Yang, dressed in a dark blue short jacket, held a small black abacus just slightly larger than her palm. A young maid stood quietly beside her.

She clicked the beads swiftly. “Madam Xu, it’s time to pay the rent. Three hundred and twenty wen— not a penny less.”

Xu Xiu rubbed her hands anxiously. “Aunt Yang, could you please grant us a little more time? I promise I’ll pay you then.”

“Still delaying?” Yang’s voice suddenly sharpened. “Last time, you said your sister was seriously ill, so I gave you six or seven days’ grace. But no matter what, the rent must be paid now. If not, you’ll have to move out.”

“That’s impossible, Aunt Yang. It’s so cold, and we have nowhere else to go. I swear I will pay, just please give me a bit more time.” Xu Xiu’s tone was almost pleading.

“It’s not that I’m heartless. My whole family needs money too. Originally, this courtyard was rented by the season, but allowing you to pay monthly was already a favor.”

Yang’s shrill voice continued, “The Imperial Academy and National University just started classes. Many students from other places are desperately looking for rooms. Just the day before yesterday, a student from Jiangnan offered four hundred wen to rent this courtyard. But because I feel sorry for you, I didn’t even nod.”

At these words, Xu Xiu realized she was being pushed out to fetch a higher rent elsewhere. She forced a smile. “I know your kindness, Aunt Yang. My sister is feeling better now. I plan to find work at the embroidery workshop in a few days and will pay you as soon as I earn my wages.”

Yang glanced down. “Madam Xu, don’t blame me for being blunt, but with your embroidery skills, you won’t earn money. You’ll starve first.”

Xu Xiu’s hands were red and swollen, cracked on the backs, the dark scabs painfully evident.

“I can embroider,” she said, shrinking her hands inward with embarrassment.

“If you really have no money, you could move to the outskirts. Rent there is only a hundred wen.”

Xu Xiu knew the outskirts were cheaper, but with so many vagrants and bandits, their family—just two frail women and a young boy—dared not live there.

“Aunt Yang, please have mercy and give us more time.”

But Yang was resolute and would not relent.

Xu Xiu’s heart sank with anxiety. She only had about sixty copper coins left. Even if she sold herself, finding a buyer immediately was impossible.

As she was about to plead again, a soft clear voice came from behind.

“Three days. Aunt Yang, please give us three more days. We will definitely pay the rent then.”

Xu Xiu turned around in surprise. “Xia’er, why are you up?”

Wen Zhongxia stood in the corridor wearing a pale moon-white jacket and skirt. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders, her face devoid of makeup, slender yet tall.

A little boy of five or six clung to her leg, bundled up in a gray cotton jacket like a tiny rice dumpling.

Wen Mengdong held the hem of her skirt, taking quick little steps behind her.

“A young lady of the Wen family, you say you can pay in three days. Are you tricking me?”

Yang sized up Wen Zhongxia. The last time she saw her was when she first moved in. This lady was a true beauty, clearly from a wealthy household, though some misfortune had brought her low.

“I will keep my word. I’ll personally bring the rent to you,” Wen Zhongxia said weakly but firmly, her voice still faint after a month of illness.

Xu Xiu hurriedly said, “Xia’er, where will we find so much money...?”

Wen Zhongxia gave her sister-in-law a reassuring look. The words on Xu Xiu’s tongue died away.

Yang didn’t care how they would raise the money. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Alright, I’ll give you three more days. I’m always kind-hearted. But if you still can’t pay after three days, don’t blame me for being ruthless—I will evict you.”

Wen Zhongxia nodded. “You can rest assured, Aunt Yang.”

Xu Xiu’s face was full of worry.

Yang shook her abacus and called her maid to step back into the cold wind, continuing to collect rent from the next household.

Wen Zhongxia watched Yang’s retreating figure and sighed inwardly. Why had she been born as the daughter of a disgraced Minister of Rites? Even a humble landlady would be better.

This country was the Great Song, its capital Dongjing Bianliang. Unlike the historical two Song dynasties, this was a unified empire.

The original Wen family patriarch, Wen Xun, had been impeached and demoted months ago for simply choosing the wrong side in a brutal struggle for the throne.

Court power struggles were always soaked in blood. Wen Xun, holding the high office of Minister of Rites, tried not to interfere, but could not remain untouched.

Fortunately, the court respected its literati. Unless one committed treason or colluded with enemies, officials were rarely executed.

After the new emperor ascended, a trivial charge was slapped on Wen Xun. He was demoted from a high-ranking second-rank minister to a powerless auxiliary officer in remote Binzhou, Lingnan, thousands of miles away—a minor post without any real power.

His eldest son, Wen Jichun, was implicated and demoted along with him.

Wen Xun’s first wife had died early. The family was small: the eldest son, a daughter, and a young son, plus a daughter-in-law.

Originally, the three should have gone to Lingnan together. But the daughter fell ill from the blow.

The journey was long and harsh; Binzhou was a wild land. Wen Xun worried about the delicate daughter’s health and the young son, only six years old. They might not survive the trip. So they stayed behind in the capital with the daughter-in-law to care for them.

Wen Xun had risen through official ranks from a distant province, was honest and incorruptible, and had no relatives in the capital. The court seized the family estate. The three women had nowhere to go and initially stayed at an inn.

Inns in Dongjing were expensive. Even one room for three cost sixty to seventy wen a day, including food and lodging.

Though Wen Xun left all his remaining money behind, it wasn’t enough. They left the inn to rent a house.

Dongjing was a metropolis with many people but scarce housing and high rents. Even the simplest courtyard in the outer city cost three to four hundred wen monthly.

With medical expenses for the daughter depleting their savings, they couldn’t even pay the rent.

It was at this moment Wen Zhongxia had arrived.

She looked around the cramped main room. Against the wall stood a paint-stripped Eight Immortals table, three long benches, and one short bamboo chair.

A small stove, no taller than half a calf, held a black ceramic pot bubbling with hot porridge.

Xu Xiu sat on the bamboo chair, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon, then looked up. “The porridge’s ready. There’s not much at home, just something simple.”

Her tone was cautious, fearing her sister-in-law’s displeasure.

But Wen Zhongxia smiled gently. “Sister-in-law, give me a bowl. I’m hungry.”

Xu Xiu was taken aback—her sister-in-law was smiling! It had been so long since she last saw that face.

Wen Zhongxia saw it too; the original owner had been broken by her fate.

Once the cherished daughter of the family, never suffering hardship, now a fallen lady who couldn’t accept reality.

Since moving into this humble courtyard, she had locked herself in her room almost daily, crying her eyes out. Xu Xiu cooked for her, but she refused to eat the coarse meals.

No exercise, no sunlight, no proper nutrition—how could she recover?

After Wen Zhongxia arrived, she had lain in bed for two days, taken two days of Chinese medicine, and now her mouth was bitter.

She stared at the porridge, which was more like wild vegetable soup, swallowing the astringent taste. Her already bitter tongue felt even worse.

She scraped the bottom of the bowl with her small spoon, picking out the few grains of rice and putting them into her little brother’s bowl.

The little boy ate scraps along with the adults, losing his baby fat, but never complained, obedient and heart-wrenching.

“Sister, you eat. I have some in my bowl,” Wen Mengdong said, holding his bowl’s edge with his small hand.

Wen Zhongxia said, “I’m not hungry. You eat more. After the porridge, I’ll make something tasty for you.”

At the mention of something tasty, Mengdong’s round eyes brightened briefly, then dimmed again as he whispered, “Sister, we have no money. How can you make something tasty?”

Though small, he could sense the family’s desperate plight.

“That’s right, Xia’er. You told Aunt Yang we’d pay in three days, but where will we find the money?”

Xu Xiu was torn between joy and worry. Her sister-in-law being able to eat meant she had survived her illness, but the rent problem was a mountain she couldn’t move.

If they ended up homeless in this bitter cold, the three might as well be waiting for death.

“Sister-in-law, do you think I’m the type to make empty promises? We can earn money.”

Wen Zhongxia lifted her bowl, tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and drank the bitter soup in one gulp, like medicine.

Xu Xiu was stunned—when did her sister-in-law become so bold with food?

She sighed afterward, “Earning money is easier said than done.”

A few days ago, Xu Xiu had taken on laundry work, washing clothes for others at home since she could care for the patient while working. But soaking her hands in cold water all day gave her frostbite, and she earned only a few copper coins—less than enough to buy half a dou of rice.

Wen Zhongxia put down her bowl and went to the corridor to fetch a small bamboo basket hanging under the eaves.

“What are you doing with the corn?” Xu Xiu asked, puzzled.

Wen Zhongxia smiled mysteriously. “We’re going to use it to make money.”

Corn was already common in this era due to thriving maritime trade. Many foreign crops like chili, corn, and potatoes had arrived.

Corn was cheaper than rice; Xu Xiu planned to grind it into grits for porridge.

But Wen Zhongxia had an idea: she could make popcorn to sell.

In her past life, she had been a food blogger, passionate about exploring delicious recipes. After university, she ran her channel for six or seven years, reaching a million followers before her untimely passing.

Fortunately, she had posted a celebration video for that milestone, at least finishing on a high note.

Consulting the original owner’s memories, there was no popcorn in Dongjing, but the capital’s residents were relatively well-off and liked to buy snacks.

“How does corn make money?” Xu Xiu asked, even more confused.

“Come to the kitchen,” Wen Zhongxia said.

Upon hearing this, Wen Mengdong gulped down the vegetable soup and jumped down from the bench to follow.

The kitchen was even more humble than the main room. The oil bottle was half full, and the salt nearly gone, but enough for them.

Wen Zhongxia asked Xu Xiu to help build a fire. Though puzzled, Xu Xiu obeyed, seeing the determination on her sister-in-law’s face.

Making popcorn was simple, but the corn had to be completely dry without moisture. The kernels in Wen Zhongxia’s basket were hard and dry.

She poured half a bowl of kernels into the pot, stirred them a few times, added oil, and continued frying until evenly heated.

“Sister-in-law, don’t turn the heat too high,” Wen Zhongxia warned.

Xu Xiu saw her tilt the oil bottle so high the rear end lifted. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated.

Since their misfortune, this was the first time her sister-in-law had shown such spirit. She didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm.

Suddenly, Wen Mengdong, who had been leaning on the stove, screamed, “It popped!”

Startled, he stepped back with wide eyes.

“What popped?”

Xu Xiu quickly dropped the fire tongs and stood up. Before she could see clearly, Wen Zhongxia slammed the pot lid down with lightning speed.

The pot crackled loudly, sounding like firecrackers.

“Is the pot going to explode?” Xu Xiu’s face showed fear. She thought this was reckless; her sister-in-law had never cooked before.

If the pot broke, they’d have to pay Aunt Yang for it.

“Quick, quick, let’s get out of here!” She decided immediately, grabbing Wen Mengdong with one hand and reaching for Wen Zhongxia with the other.