June 2003, Linyang County, the quiet outskirts of a small southern city.
The sun was already dipping behind the low hills, washing the countryside in a dim golden light. Villagers returned from their fields with wicker baskets full of vegetables, the sound of laughter and barking dogs echoing through the narrow dirt roads.
Lin Qingya balanced a basket of freshly picked sweet potatoes in one arm and held her eight-year-old son's hand with the other. The little boy, Lin Chen, was humming tunelessly, his small shoes kicking up little clouds of dust.
He was round-faced, rosy from the sun, with a cowlick that refused to lie flat no matter how many times his mother tried. To Qingya, he was her entire world.
She had planned to cook sweet potatoe porridge for dinner. A simple meal, but warm and filling.
As they neared the turn into the small rented courtyard they now called home, a few men sitting near the communal well waved at her. Some were her old classmates from middle school, some idle men who spent their evenings gossiping and smoking.
"Qingya, you've been back for years now, haven't you? Still planning to open that sewing shop?"
"Yeah, I heard your ex-husband made a fortune in construction. Any chance he'll take you back?"
Their teasing tones made the corners of her smile stiffen.
Lin Qingya didn't stop walking. She smiled politely, nodded once,and pulled Lin Chen along. "Good evening uncle's," he said softly not stopping to engage.
Behind them, the men exchanged looks, some pitying and some with hidden agendas. A few women drawing water nearby whispered.
"She used to be so high and mighty when she was married to that city boss."
"Look at her now, carrying a basket like the rest of us."
"Still, she's prettier than more than half of the unmarried girls in town."
Qingya's faded blue shirt clung to her slim figure, it's sleeves rolled neatly to the elbow. Even with the hardship she was facing, there was a grace in her posture that didn't belong to the countryside.
When she reached her small courtyard she exhaled quietly. The yard was old but clean. It had one mulberry tree, a broken stool at the far end of the yard, a small stone stove she'd repaired herself. It wasn't fancy, but it was peaceful.
She rinsed the sweet potatoes in a basin while her son played with a wooden toy car nearby. The smell of smoke from burning straw filled the air, mingled with the faint sweetness of the boiling porridge.
Lin Chen's laugh faded when he saw another child standing by the fence; his cousin Haohao, from the next house over, holding a packet of crispy snacks.
"Hey," Haohao sneered, "my mom says your mom got thrown out 'cause she couldn't make a rich man happy. You're poor now, huh?"
Lin Chen's small fists tightened. "That's not true! and we are not poor. My mom just didn't want to live with a bad person."
Haohao snorted and threw a peanut shell at him. "Yeah right! My dad says your dad's building houses in the city and married a lady who can give him many sons. Unlike your mother, who can only give one, even a chicken lays more than one..."
Before he could finish, Lin Chen grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it right at his cousin's face.
Haohao screamed, dropping his snacks, and ran toward the neighboring yard.
The shouting brought his mother out, a sharp-voiced woman who always had something to say. She pointed at Qingya the moment she saw her.
"Lin Qingya! Can't you raise that boy properly? He's always fighting with others!"
Qingya stepped out from the kitchen, her expression cool. "If your child hadn't bullied mine first, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
The woman folded her arms, chin lifted. "Still talking back? No wonder your husband couldn't stand you. A woman like you.."
Before she could finish, Qingye quietly closed the gate on her face.
The sound echoed through the courtyard.
Lin Chen peeked up at her nervously. "Mom..did I do something wrong?"
She crouched down, wiping dirt off his hands with her sleeve. "You did fine," she said gently. "But next time, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. The truth doesn't change because people talk."
The Little boy nodded slowly.
She smiled faintly, then turned back to the kitchen. The porridge was babbling softly, golden and fragrant. She ladled a bowl for Lin Chen and blew on it until the steam faded.
"Eat," she said, setting it before him. "Eat and grow strong. One day, you'll stand taller than all the people who ever looked down on us."
Lin Chen grinned, spooning the porridge into his mouth, smearing some on his cheek.
Qingya sat quietly, watching him eat, the warmth of the firelight flickering in her eyes.
That night, when the child had fallen asleep, she cleaned up the kitchen and finally sat down beside the old kerosene lamp. The ticking clock on the wall marked each second in silence.
Her reflection flickered in the lamps glass; thin,tired, but strangely calm.
It had been a long road from the glittering city apartment where she'd once lived.
Lu Jianhao's name still made her chest tighten. The man who had promised her the world, only to walk away when she couldn't give him a second child soon enough, a son to be precise.
It had been almost six years since their separation, but it would always hurt thinking about it.
Her hand drifted to the faint scar near her temple, a relic of the last argument they had. She'd fallen, hit the marble floor, and when she woke up in the hospital, he was gone.
Now she was back in this quiet county, her pride as empty as her pockets.
Outside, the summer cicadas cried endlessly.
.....
She leaned back against the wall, exhaustion heavy in her eyelids and then, all at once her world spun.
A sharp pain burst behind her eyes again, the morning light was dazzling.
She froze..
The room looked not that different. The radio on the shelf was the same she'd owned after her son turned three, five years ago.
She stumbled to the mirror. The face staring back was her twenty-five-year-old self.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She was back.
Back just right after the betrayal.
Back just right after the divorce.
Back when her entire world had just crumbled.
Back before her remarriage due to the increasing mockery. The man,like her ex-husband was also successful but she was never happy and her son was never well taken cared of.
Lin Qingya's fingers clenched around the edge of the wooden table.
In her last life, she had left her first marriage with nothing but bitterness and pride, leading her to loose everything.
This time would be different.
She looked toward her sleeping son, so small again, curled in his blanket.
Her heart steadied.