Chapter 6 Doubt

Even in the years to come, this attire would never appear rustic. The only flaw was...

"Next time..." Xie Ning had wanted to say that when her elder brother sent fabric coupons again, she would get a length of red cloth and make something bright for Yinyin. Children ought to wear cheerful colors. But as the words reached her lips, she suddenly remembered her brother was dead; there would be no more fabric coupons sent home.

Her eyes reddened in an instant.

Gu Zhuo did not know what she was about to say, but from her expression, he could guess it was related to Xie Lin.

The thought of Xie Lin cast a shadow across her gaze.

A wave of suppressed urgency rose uncontrollably within her. She told herself: Don’t rush—Xie Lin is still alive; his true death comes two years later. You have enough time to save him.

"Come, let’s wash up and have breakfast. I made fish soup and porridge. You and Yinyin should have some," Xie Ning said hurriedly.

Yinyin’s eyes lit up when she saw the fish soup, the poached eggs, and the bowl of pure white porridge without millet.

She had been weaned at one year old. Back then, Gu Zhuo, though unfamiliar with the concept of supplemental foods, did everything she could to make special meals for her. The household’s white rice was almost entirely reserved for the little one. When eggs were scarce, Gu Zhuo would venture into the mountains to gather wild eggs—those of hens and birds—to make steamed egg custard for her. Over the past year, she’d gone fishing in the river more often, too. If Xie Lin ever sent back a few withered apples, she would go without, but her daughter’s share was never compromised.

Even so, Yinyin did not get meat or fish every meal; during lean years, they survived on sorghum and cornmeal. Yet Gu Zhuo was never put off by the trouble—she would always grind coarse grains fine on a stone mill, making them easier for the child to eat.

The little one was now grinning so broadly her eyes turned to crescents.

"Mama, I want to eat!" she called.

Gu Zhuo chuckled helplessly. "You have to brush your teeth and wash your face first."

She fetched toothpaste and toothbrushes for both herself and her daughter from the kitchen, brushing Yinyin’s teeth before her own.

In fact, tooth brushing was not a habit common in Jiujia Village. Gu Zhuo herself only started after the educated youth arrived and taught her. Some villagers, like her, adopted the practice, but most still kept their original habits—not out of laziness, but because toothbrushes and toothpaste cost money, and not just money but industrial coupons, which few could spare. At first, Gu Zhuo had used a homemade brush crafted from bamboo and pig bristles, and salt in place of toothpaste. Fortunately, with the meager daily fare and scarce sugar, dental decay was rare; yellow teeth were the worst of it.

Washing one’s face was easy in summer; there was no need for hot water, just the cold well water sufficed.

As the chilly water splashed on her face, Yinyin burst out laughing.

Gu Zhuo watched her daughter’s bright smile, and her own expression softened.

Carp have many bones, and worried she might not pick them all out, Gu Zhuo only placed the belly meat in Yinyin’s bowl and ladled some fish broth into her porridge. This way of eating was odd, but she liked it, and Yinyin, raised by her, was used to it as well.

The poached egg, fried and then added to the fish soup, was not the local custom, but Chen Xinwan’s family had done so. Xie Ning, influenced by her, continued the practice, and Gu Zhuo didn’t mind, so she kept it up as well.

Xie Ning had clearly used plenty of oil to fry the egg, its edges crisp and golden. But that made it tough; Yinyin couldn’t bite through it in one go.

Gu Zhuo laughed at the sight, but Yinyin was undeterred, clutching the other end with her chopsticks and chewing with all her might.

The little one not only resembled her father in looks, but also in spirit—proud, confident, and never willing to admit defeat. She was sweating as she ate but refused to ask for help.

Gu Zhuo ate her fill too, finishing off whatever Yinyin left behind. Her priority was to restore her health, and eating well was essential to that.

When they finished, Xie Ning quickly gathered the bowls to wash. Gu Zhuo hesitated but didn’t object. She checked her pulse—her health had always been robust. Though ill, her condition was only a result of overwhelming grief and urgency. Now that her emotions were steadied, a couple of herbal treatments would no doubt see her well again.

It was still early. Xie Ning dragged a reluctant Chen Xinwan off to the fields for work points. Xie Chong remained holed up in his room, whether out of embarrassment or stubbornness, and Gu Zhuo had no mind to bother with him.

Though she despised this selfish, hypocritical man, her focus was elsewhere for now.

In the yard, Yinyin squatted by the chicken coop, scattering feed and laughing at the squabbling hens. Gu Zhuo leaned back in her chair, watching her daughter play, her thoughts drifting.

Rebirth had happened in the blink of an eye. So much had occurred in such a short span, and so much information had flooded in. With a rare moment of quiet, Gu Zhuo began to sort through it all, to bring order to her mind and plan her next steps.

Gu Zhuo had always been emotionally steady. In her life, she had only ever lost control twice—once upon receiving news of her beloved’s death, and once upon learning of her daughter’s.

But after death, upon reading the book "After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Became the Winner in a Period Drama," she had been driven nearly mad.

Had she not encountered Gu Min as a soul, she might well have hacked her into mincemeat and scattered her ashes.

Chen Xinwan thought her slap to Xie Chong was excessive, but little did she know that Gu Zhuo’s hatred ran so deep she’d wanted to stab him to death.

Beneath her calm exterior now simmered a cauldron of oil at boiling point—seething, but not boiling over.

Anger, she knew, was utterly useless at this moment. Endurance was necessary, so she could do what truly mattered.

She would not allow anything to happen to Yinyin again. And as for Xie Lin—this time, she would save him.

"After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Became the Winner in a Period Drama" was a sprawling novel of nearly two million words. To Gu Zhuo, the prose was mediocre, the plot dragged, and the values questionable. Readers probably sought only momentary thrills, forgetting most details by the end.

But Gu Zhuo remembered it all—every specific date, every pivotal event.

Even so, she could not feel entirely in control. Doubt crept in—had she truly been reborn? Was everything in that book really true?

Or, perhaps, the information she’d gotten from Gu Min was wrong from the start?