Transmigrated as an Unwanted Ugly Girl

Huai Zi wasn’t allowed in the room, so he urged Juhua to bring the newborn out for him to see, and Juhua smilingly agreed. Entering the room, she handed the basket in her hands to Mrs. Yang, smiling. "Mom, this is the chicken soup I stewed. I didn’t put any salt in it." With that, she went to see her little nephew.

Beaming, Mrs. Yang took out the earthenware pot and set it on the round table by the bed. When she lifted the lid, a rich aroma filled the room. She watched her son and daughter with delight as she ladled some soup for Liu Yunlan.

Qingmu was proudly showing off the tiny, red baby to Juhua, who was marveling at him—his eyes and brows truly looked like they were cast from the same mold as Qingmu’s. She turned to Liu Yunlan in admiration. "Sister-in-law, you’re incredible. You gave birth so fast! And you already look so well."

Liu Yunlan gazed joyfully at her swaddled son. "It was all thanks to those six eggs you brought. They’re what gave me strength."

Just as Juhua was about to speak, she heard Huai Zi call out impatiently from outside, "Juhua, hurry and bring the baby out so I can have a look!"

Juhua and Qingmu both laughed. Just then, He came over. "Let me do it," she said. "You haven’t held a newborn before; you wouldn’t know how."

Juhua breathed a sigh of relief. ’I really didn’t dare hold him.’ The baby was so soft, she was afraid to use any force at all.

Mrs. Yang came out and saw everyone gathered around He, remarking on how much the baby looked like Qingmu. She chimed in cheerfully, "It’s not just his looks, his temperament is the same too! He’s even quieter than his father was as a child. Besides crying once right after he was born, we haven’t heard a peep out of him. He’s so well-behaved!"

Hearing this, Juhua and Zhang Huai exchanged a glance and shouted in unison, "Hulu!"

"Hahaha..." The two of them burst into laughter.

Qingmu was not pleased. "It’s only been a day! How can you know his temperament already?" he said. "Let’s wait a few more days and see. I still think ’Banli’ is a better name. I may have been a quiet kid, but I’m not quiet now, am I? That’s much better than a hulu."

Mrs. Yang saw that her words of praise for her grandson had instead made them think of "Hulu." She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of her grandson being like a gourd either, so after hearing Qingmu speak, she quickly added, "Qingmu’s right. It’s only been one day. Let’s wait and see. Maybe he’ll be crying by tomorrow."

Seeing her mother and brother looking so reluctant, Juhua started laughing so hard she bent over. It took her a while to stop. Then, she carefully explained to her mother that all the names were perfectly fine; the important thing was for the nickname to match the personality, which would make it endearing.

But no matter how she tried to explain, everyone, including Zheng Changhe, insisted that the Zheng Family’s eldest grandson could not be called Hulu—it was too unpromising a name. They all felt Banli was a little better. If not that, Shanyu would also work—it sounded sturdy.

However, it seemed the Zheng Family’s eldest grandson was quite satisfied with this name himself. In the days that followed, his actions proved just how perfectly the name "Hulu" fit him: he did nothing but eat and sleep, sleep and eat. When he needed changing, he would at most furrow his little brow or purse his lips, disdaining to even let out a gurgle.

Not that he was mute; he could certainly make a sound.

One day, Qingmu grew uneasy seeing how exceptionally quiet his son had been. With Juhua teasing him from the sidelines about how "a nickname has to match the personality," he grew anxious and gave his son’s little bottom a pinch.

The pinch must have hurt, because the baby immediately let out an earth-shattering wail. Delighted, Qingmu turned and yelled to Juhua, "See? He’s crying! The baby’s crying!"

But in the next moment, he was dumbstruck. He could only watch as Liu Yunlan glared at him, lovingly scooped up their son, lifted her shirt, and popped her nipple into the little guy’s mouth. The crying stopped instantly, without so much as a final whimper.

Stroking her son’s little bottom, she cooed, "Your daddy is a meanie, and so is your auntie. They just want to make fun of you. My baby doesn’t cry or fuss, he’s so good. Other babies aren’t nearly as well-behaved as my baby. Mommy is so lucky to have such a good baby who doesn’t even make a fuss at night! Qingmu, if you ask me, it doesn’t matter what we call him. Banli and Hulu are pretty much the same."

Juhua watched her brother’s ever-changing expression from the side, laughing so hard she couldn’t stand up straight. Finally, she plopped down onto the footstool and rested her arms on the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Qingmu said, completely dejected, "Just call him Hulu. Could there be a more fitting name?"

Juhua finally managed to stop laughing. "Brother," she said, "it’s one thing for Mom and Dad to object—you could say they don’t get it—but why are you so hung up on this? It’s just a nickname. The name ’Hulu’ might sound a bit uncouth, but you should understand the principle that the greatest elegance often looks plain. If the baby really is like a gourd, you don’t need to worry. Being silver-tongued isn’t always a good thing—you know the saying, ’the more one talks, the more one is likely to misspeak.’ Whether he turns out good or not will depend on his character, and it’ll be up to you to teach him well in the future."