Transmigrated as an Unwanted Ugly Girl

The frogs in the rice paddies created a clamorous uproar, their calls filling the sky. At times they would suddenly fall silent, with only a lone croak or two accentuating the quiet; then, as if on cue, all the frogs would start croaking in unison once more. Lying on a cooling bed and listening to their calls—now urgent, now relaxed, now fast, now slow—was like listening to an orchestra.

The summer insects chirped endlessly as well. It was a noisy scene, yet it paradoxically made one appreciate the profound stillness. Out in the open countryside, it seemed there was nothing but the croaking of frogs and the singing of insects. This was especially true for Juhua, whose family lived alone by the mountainside, far from the clamor of other people.

The most annoying thing about summer nights wasn’t the heat—Juhua’s house was nestled by the mountainside with water nearby, so the evenings weren’t too stuffy—it was the buzzing mosquitoes.

There were no mosquito nets, so they could only burn mugwort leaves to create smoke. It was better than nothing.

At dawn, Juhua awoke to the croaking of frogs. The sound drowned out the birdsong from the mountain behind her home. She wondered, ’How do these frogs never get tired?’

"The scent of rice blossoms promises a fruitful year, amid a chorus of croaking frogs." At this time of year, the rice plants grew exceptionally sturdy, already forming ears and beginning to flower. The endless sea of deep green across the fields always brought a smile to the faces of those who came to inspect them, full of anticipation for the harvest.

Zheng Changhe and Yang Family, however, were busy in the Shanyu field.

The vast patch of Shanyu was a dense, dark green. The vines had grown wild, crawling everywhere and showing off their untamed and vigorous nature. The red runners and stems were hidden beneath a canopy of green leaves, so that from a distance, the field was a sea of green.

So, they began to trim the vines. The cuttings were chopped up to feed the pigs, while the excess was piled in the root cellar.

Juhua would stir-fry the Shanyu leaves and stems. The stems had to be peeled first. Once peeled, they were exceptionally crisp and tender, snapping at the slightest touch. Stir-fried with the season’s first green chili peppers, they filled the mouth with a fresh aroma and were the perfect accompaniment to corn porridge.

However, peeling the Shanyu stems stained her fingers and nails an olive green. The sap took several days of washing to fade. It just went to show that if you wanted to keep your hands as pampered as a city dweller’s, you couldn’t do any work in the countryside.

But she absolutely loved eating the Shanyu stems. Every time she finished peeling them, she would look at her fingers—still quite slender, but stained a yellowish-green—and think, ’I’m still young, so it’s just a bit of color for now. In a few more years, my knuckles will probably grow thick, and my hands won’t be this delicate anymore.’

’But what does it matter? If you get hung up on things like that while living out in the wilds, you’ll never be able to relax.’

’Now, she didn’t have to think about which hand cream to use, or keep her nails perfectly trimmed and rounded, or wear gloves to wash a bowl. She didn’t need to... It seemed she didn’t need any of those things anymore.’

There was stir-fried Shanyu stem to eat, the earliest ’May-burst’ Huangdou to shell for soup, stir-fried green peppers, stir-fried cowpeas... It was a season where vegetables vied for the spotlight. They sprouted one after another, almost too many to keep up with. Compared to the rather monotonous winter, the summer vegetable patch was a spectacular assembly.

One day, Juhua went with Yang Family to Zhao San’s house to see his newborn daughter.

The newborn baby was pink and tender, though her face was a little wrinkled, making her look like a tiny old man.

As was custom, everyone praised how beautiful and sturdy the baby was. "Over Liujin!" they’d say. "She’ll definitely grow up to be a fine young woman."

Shi Tou’s mother held the tiny baby, beaming as she listened to the customary, easy-flowing praise. She couldn’t help but add happily, "She wasn’t even due yet, but I took a little fall yesterday, and labor started that afternoon. My own mother was worried something might be wrong with her, but look! She’s perfectly fine. And she’s so good! She just eats and sleeps and doesn’t fuss at night. So much better behaved than my Shi Tou was when he was little."

Little Shitou was home from his lessons today. Hearing his mother’s words, he wasn’t the least bit offended. He gently poked his baby sister’s cheek with a finger and said happily to Juhua, "Sister Juhua, feel this! She’s like tofu. No, even softer than tofu!" He was the most excited of all to have a new sister.

’A baby’s skin is practically made of water,’ Juhua thought. ’Of course it’s softer than tofu.’

She noticed the room’s door and windows were sealed shut, not letting in a single breath of air. The summer heat made the room stifling, and the air had become rather unpleasant. She wanted to advise them to open a window but figured they wouldn’t listen. They would probably just laugh at a little girl like her, presuming to know about postpartum confinement, and it would be too hard to explain. So, she held her tongue.

She couldn’t stand it any longer, though. She was starting to feel stifled. Just then, Shitou’s maternal grandmother brought in some boiled eggs and called for everyone to eat, so Juhua quickly made her way out of the room.

Shitou’s maternal grandmother had boiled the red-dyed eggs with a bit of salt, and they tasted wonderful.