Cheng Nuo’s needle pierced directly through the back of Meng Sijing’s hand.
Having lived a pampered life since childhood, Meng Sijing had seen her circumstances decline after her father’s death, but she remained a coddled daughter under Mother Meng’s wing. Farming chores were out of the question, and even basic tasks like laundry or sweeping were never expected of her. Her hands were delicate, slender, and jade-like—no less refined than those of any high-born lady.
But now, beads of blood bubbled out from the puncture. First, the palm went numb, and only then did a bone-deep, heart-wrenching agony set in. Before Meng Sijing could even process what had pierced her hand, she collapsed to the ground, paralyzed by pain. She remained motionless for a long while. It wasn't until blood smeared her eyes that she began to shriek: "Mother! Brother! Help me! My hand, my hand..."
Hearing the commotion, the Meng mother and daughter were not the only ones to arrive; Meng Nanzhou rushed over as well. They were met with the sight of Meng Sijing covered in blood.
Mother Meng was horrified. "Jing'er, what happened? Who hurt you?" She instinctively glared at Cheng Nuo.
Unfortunately, Meng Sijing had already lost consciousness from the pain. She slumped into Meng Nanzhou’s arms, unable to answer.
"Mother, quickly, go borrow an ox cart. Little Sister is severely injured; the village bonesetter won't be able to handle this. We need to get to the medical clinic in town." Meng Nanzhou was more composed than his mother. Looking at the wound, he realized it didn't seem like something Cheng Siniang—a woman with no strength to truss a chicken—could have inflicted. Saving his sister was the priority.
Mother Meng was about to order Cheng Nuo to go fetch the cart, but then she remembered how this "vixen" was at odds with her daughter. If she intentionally dragged her feet and caused her daughter to miss the window for treatment, she would be devastated. Mother Meng hurriedly ran off to find transport herself.
The village's only ox cart happened to be away in a neighboring village for a vet visit, but when the villagers heard that the scholar’s sister was injured, they eagerly offered up a mule cart. Mother Meng carried the unconscious Meng Sijing onto the vehicle, while Meng Nanzhou took the reins. With a flick of the whip, they sped toward the entrance of the village.
Ignoring the villagers who were eager to gossip, Cheng Nuo slid the door bolt shut and turned back inside. She caught sight of the little one in the woodpile; hearing the noise, the child had buried her head between her legs like an ostrich once more.
Cheng Nuo started to walk toward her, but paused. She turned to the kitchen, stoked the charcoal brazier, and said calmly, "Are you coming over on your own, or do you want me to come and get you?"
The air stagnated for a moment.
The little ostrich stirred. A tuft of messy hair poked out from between her knees. Her eyes, filled with the terror of a cornered deer, remained just as wide, and her body began to shake even more violently.
Cheng Nuo: "..."
A sudden sense of guilt washed over her—the feeling of bullying a child. It wasn't that she was heartless, but the original host had been truly inhumane. Because the child was a girl, she had never been favored by her father or grandmother. The original host had blamed her own cold reception from Meng Nanzhou on this five-year-old girl, often letting the child go hungry or forcing her to do menial chores just to curry favor with her mother-in-law and sister-in-law.
If the Meng family was responsible for thirty percent of the child's suffering, the remaining seventy percent came from her own biological mother. The child had developed a deep-seated resistance to Cheng Nuo through years of abuse. Any rash attempt at kindness wouldn't bridge the gap—it would only make the child more guarded, causing her to retreat further into her shell.
As the room warmed up, dispelling the chill, Meng Pan'er stopped shaking so violently. She slowly walked toward the woman by the stove. She didn't dare get too close, but she was so cold—her body felt frozen, and only the burning flames could provide any warmth. Driven by fear of Cheng Siniang, she stopped three steps away from the fire.
Cheng Nuo tried to keep her gaze from meeting the child’s. "Take off your clothes and lie down on the kang."
Yunxi Village was in the north, and the winters were exceptionally cold. To save charcoal, the country folk built their kitchens connected to the kang. Once the brazier was lit, the kang warmed up instantly. Such a warm spot, naturally, didn't belong to Cheng Nuo. When Meng Nanzhou was home, it was his; when he left for the academy, it belonged to the Meng mother and daughter.
Cheng Nuo ladled two large scoops of water into the pot to heat it, then carried it to the side of the kang, only to find the little one still standing where she was, unmoving.
Cheng Nuo was confused. "I told you to take off your clothes and get on the kang, didn't I?"
Meng Pan'er bit her lip, making a final, desperate stand. She couldn't let them take her last layer of clothing. If they did, she would surely freeze to death; it was simply too cold.
Seeing the child clutching her collar, looking like she was facing death, Cheng Nuo finally understood. How could she clean the wound without removing the clothes? If the wound got infected—with the terrible state of medical care in this era—she could easily die of a high fever.
Seeing the child still wouldn't move, Cheng Nuo lost her patience. She reached out, scooped the child up by her armpits, placed her on the kang, held down her small hands, and stripped her in a few swift, practiced motions. She tossed a soft cotton quilt over her, all in one fluid movement.
Meng Pan'er hadn't even realized what was happening before she was tucked into the warm quilt. While the child was still dazed, the woman used a damp cloth to wipe near the wound on her arm. The moment it touched the injury, the child gasped in pain, tears welling up uncontrollably.
Cheng Nuo saw the tears about to fall, but the child quickly swiped at them with the back of her hand, sniffling hard with her frost-reddened nose, stubbornly tilting her head back to force the tears to stay in.
No wonder she hadn't heard a peep of crying from her all this time. The little girl’s stubborn, forced composure was so much like her own as a child.
Half the basin of hot water was now filthy, stained with blood. Cheng Nuo fetched a fresh basin, intending to wash the rest of the child's body. It was then she realized that the girl’s body was covered in old injuries that hadn't fully healed, alongside fresh ones. She could recognize the telltale bruises of pinching and the scars left by whipping.
What a bunch of animals! Including the original Cheng Siniang! Even a tiger wouldn't eat its own cubs; even beasts had some semblance of affection, let alone humans. This family’s hearts were completely rotten.
Meng Pan'er noticed that the woman’s expression had turned dark the moment she saw the wounds on her body. She was angry. She must have been angry because she had stolen food, or perhaps because she had hurt her hand when the Little Aunt beat her, and now that her grandmother was back, she would definitely be scolded.
In the end, everything would be blamed on her. Was it going to be another, harder whipping, or would they force her to starve and freeze?
Pan'er—her name was chosen for a younger brother who didn't even exist yet. Her parents and grandmother only wanted a boy. She had been born into this world without a blessing; no one cared about her, and no one loved her.
Meng Pan'er curled up like a shrimp, her eyes vacant. Every place the cloth touched felt like a prairie fire burning across her skin, spreading throughout her body, her head spinning dizzily.
Cheng Nuo searched the whole house until she finally found a bottle of wound medicine in Meng Nanzhou’s room. Smelling it, she figured it had been sitting there for quite some time; the efficacy was likely questionable. She walked to the kang and saw the child’s palm-sized face was flushed bright red, her body hot enough to fry an egg, her mouth muttering deliriously.
She was running a fever. If she didn't find a way to treat it, she would truly burn into a little fool.
"If only I had some fever-reducing medicine," Cheng Nuo muttered.
[Detected a request from the customer. Fever-reducing medicine has been arranged for you. Categorized by price: Special Fever Relief and Standard Fever Relief.]
A familiar, cold, mechanical voice echoed in her ears.
Cheng Nuo sat up on the kang with a start. A silver-white panel, roughly a square meter in size, floated before her, displaying the two types of medicine with black text on a white background, complete with illustrations.
This familiar interface...
Cheng Nuo was overjoyed. So, not only had she transmigrated, but the digital mall she had developed during the apocalypse had come along with her.