Transmigrated as an Unwanted Ugly Girl

The weather grew colder, and the young couple, Huai Zi and Juhua, became extra cuddly at night. Juhua loved Huai Zi’s warm embrace, using him like a body pillow. Huai Zi, in turn, loved Juhua’s soft body, finding her even more comfortable to hold than any pillow. The two were as sweet as honey.

Every evening, Juhua would do some needlework by lamplight. Now that she was married, she could no longer rely on her sister-in-law. Even if her sewing wasn’t great, she still had to make things for the family. To keep this chore from getting dull, she would have Huai Zi sit beside her and read aloud.

And so, their room was always filled with laughter and the constant sound of reading and debate. In the west room, Zhang Yang would often listen to them and find himself lost in thought. ’My brother and sister-in-law aren’t like scholars who study bitterly through the cold, nor are they like a typical farming couple who only knows how to work the fields and raise children. Their life is so free and easy, so leisurely and content... It’s a feeling I can’t even describe.’

A sudden wave of envy washed over him. He looked down at the book in his hands and sighed softly.

In another room, Zhang Dashuan sat on a stool, his legs stretched out long. He smiled as he watched He do her needlework, cracking melon seeds between his teeth.

He shot him a look. "Aren’t you going to sleep? If not, why don’t you go chat with Brother Changhe?"

Zhang Dashuan chuckled. "I can’t go bother him for a chat every single day—what would we even have to talk about? Besides, he’s busy with his grandson now!"

Hearing the sour note in his voice, He let out a "PFFT" of laughter. "Haven’t you been chatting with him for decades? And what grandson is he watching this late at night? The little tyke is long asleep. Don’t you be jealous of him. You’ll have your own grandson to hold soon enough." As she spoke, she shot a meaningful glance toward their son’s room.

She deliberately didn’t share a lamp with Juhua—they could afford to burn an extra one, after all—precisely so the young couple could have more free time alone together.

Hearing his wife’s words, Zhang Dashuan’s lips curved into a smile as well. He muttered, "That brat. After reading a few books, he’s started showing off his fancy words to his wife. And look at those two... they’re decent enough at farming and chores, but how come they’re so into their books, too? And why is Juhua so fond of reading?"

He glared at him. "What’s so bad about loving books? Would it be better if everyone was like you, completely illiterate?"

Zhang Dashuan said awkwardly, "I never said it was bad. I just think it’s a little strange, is all. I mean, a farmer, reading with such relish at night... and from the looks of it, they’re not just putting on an act. It’s not like they have to take the Scholar exam like Yangzi. Isn’t that odd?"

He said, exasperated, "Then go ask your son! See if he doesn’t call you an old fool. Who says farmers can’t read? Didn’t our village chief go to school?"

Zhang Dashuan pursed his lips. "You yourself said he ’went to school.’ Do you see him with his nose in a book nowadays?"

But He didn’t concern herself with all that. As long as her son and his wife were happy, that’s all that mattered. Farming was important work, and reading was even more so. It was a good thing Juhua could read—think of how well she could teach their future grandchildren. He often overheard Juhua tutoring Zhao Qing. She wasn’t one to brag, but half of Zhao Qing’s cleverness came from Juhua’s teaching. Just the other day, she’d heard Juhua teaching her to recite something like, "In the fragrance of rice flowers, they speak of a plentiful year." See how smoothly the words flowed!

It just goes to show that all art, no matter the form, must be close to life. Even He, who couldn’t read a single word, could feel the beauty in that line. The charm of words had truly reached its peak.

The next morning, Juhua hurried to the backyard and called out to He, who was just about to let the chickens out. "Mother, don’t let them out yet! Help me catch that big speckled rooster—I want to pull some of its feathers to make a little something."

He was utterly astonished. "Pull its feathers? Goodness! It’s a lively, healthy chicken, you’ll hurt it something awful! Are you trying to make a shuttlecock? You should have said so earlier! We’ve butchered several roosters already, and we just threw all the feathers away."

Though she said this, she still blocked half the coop door. The moment the big speckled rooster came out, she snatched it up, held it by the wings, and asked Juhua which feathers she wanted to pull.

Juhua was surprised that He also knew about the game of shuttlecock. ’I must not have spent much time with other kids when I was young,’ she thought. ’I had no idea people played this.’

She explained to He that she hadn’t thought of it before, but after mentioning it to Zhao Qing yesterday, she decided to make a couple for them to play with.

She gave the rooster an apologetic smile and told He to hold on tight. Then, near the rooster’s rear, she selected the beautiful, satin-like feathers and, without a moment’s hesitation, started pulling.

The poor rooster, being plucked alive, convulsed in pain. Its legs instantly shot out straight, and it let out a high-pitched SQUAWK.