Chapter 21

Chen Jue nodded again, and only after the bailiff received the village head's confirming nod did he finally hand the silver to Chen Jue.

"Zhou Qingshan, one tael of silver!"

Zhou Qingshan's hands trembled as he took the silver.

The bailiff was invited by the village head to his home for tea. After they left, the villagers began to console each other. Those whose family members had returned alive wept with both grief and joy, helping each other home, while those who had lost loved ones continued to wail in grief, with bystanders cursing heaven for its blindness.

"Dashu, if I had known it was conscription, I would have pawned everything I had to keep you from going..." Aunt Liu fainted from overwhelming grief.

"Aunt Liu!"

Chen Jue told the crowd to disperse. Fortunately, Aunt Liu was in decent health. Chen Jue pinched her philtrum until she regained consciousness.

Seeing her eyes open, he handed the herbal sachet he carried to Uncle Liu, telling him to hold it under Aunt Liu's nose. The sachet contained mint and patchouli herbs, which could refresh the mind.

Aunt Liu came to, tears streaming down her face, regretting that she hadn't paid to exempt her son from conscription.

Those around her consoled her: "Aunt Liu, exemption costs five taels of silver. Which family here could afford that!"

"Exactly! It's so unfair! Why only two taels? What can you even do with that? It'll be gone within a year!" Zhou Hehua said, her loud voice drawing agreement from the crowd.

"Right, what good does it do? Tiezhu's wife still has a child to raise."

"Tiezhu's wife, are you alright?"

"Shuier, don't be too upset. Take care of yourself. The child still depends on you."

Uncle Liu, who had himself endured the hardship of raising a kid single-handedly, couldn't help but advise Zhang Shui, who sat on the ground staring blankly while holding his child.

Zhang Shui's state was certainly not good. Unlike Chen Jue's extraordinary composure, he was truly dazed.

Uncle Liu had initially thought Chen Jue's calmness was a sign of deep grief, but later realized Chen Jue might genuinely not be that sorrowful, and he accepted that.

He'd walked that road before and wouldn't blame Chen Jue for being cold. The dead were dead—why should the living torture themselves to death with grief?

It was better that Chen Jue wasn't in such pain, after all, survival was what mattered most.

Zhang Shuier remained silent. With Uncle Liu's help, he stood up and led his five-year-old child away.

The sight of the large and small figures walking off was heartbreaking.

"How pitiful. Better to be like Dashan—at least he's alive and got a tael of compensation silver."

"Indeed, better alive than dead," an elderly man said.

Zhou Qingshan stood silently in the corner, propped on his crutch. Yet now he was no longer the most pitiful person in the village—instead, he had become someone to envy. The villagers, amid their sighs, began talking about him.

He was the only one sent back, with a broken leg and a wife who had run off. Back then, the villagers had pitied Uncle Liu, saying he had suffered every hardship life could offer as a widower.

But now it seemed Uncle Liu's family had actually turned misfortune into blessing, and people's words quickly changed accordingly.

Zhou Qingshan heard those words too. His expression was strained and ugly, but unfortunately, being tongue-tied, he couldn't retort. The hand gripping his crutch showed veins standing out, clearly under immense strain.

Chen Jue also heard what those people were saying. He told Zhou Qingzhu to take him back—Zhou Qingshan's illness hadn't fully healed, and he shouldn't listen to more of this and relapse.

Zhou Qingzhu had been about to curse those thoughtless turncoats, but upon hearing this, he had to help Zhou Qingshan back first.

"Brother, let's go home. We won't argue with them. Heartless bastards." Zhou Qingzhu spat contemptuously in the direction of the gossips.

Zhou Hehua had the loudest voice. She was a big mouth, airheaded—outspoken, but also quick to badmouth people behind their backs!

Zhou Hehua's sharp eyes spotted him. Being caught gossiping made her lose face, but she still tried to brazen it out: "Zhu Ge'er, what's with that look? An unwed maiden being so fierce—you'll end up an old maid!"

"Whether I marry or not is none of your business! Mind your own business or your tongue will rot! People who can't stand seeing others happy will get what's coming to them!" Zhou Qingzhu shot back without hesitation. He wasn't like his brother, a clam.

The word "karma" seemed to strike a nerve in Zhou Hehua. With inexplicable strength, she darted over in a few strides, her hand raised to strike caught by Chen Jue, though that didn't stop her from cursing: "Who are you brats calling out? I'm just stating facts! Since when can't people speak the truth? Your brother was just luckier than others! What, are you hoping he didn't come back?!"

That was below the belt. Chen Jue tightened his grip on her wrist.

Zhou Qingzhu was shaking with rage and was about to lunge at her when Chen Jue released Zhou Hehua's wrist and said calmly to Zhou Qingzhu: "Don't waste your breath on a sick woman. Look at her—she's obviously unwell."

Not only was Zhou Qingzhu stunned, but Zhou Hehua, who had been rubbing her wrist and preparing to fight Chen Jue, was also taken aback. Recovering, she pointed at Chen Jue: "Who are you calling sick?"

She knew Chen Jue could treat illnesses—he had just revived Aunt Liu from her faint—but how could she possibly be sick?

He was insulting her, right?

Chen Jue repeated to her: "You are sick."

Zhou Hehua was about to lunge at him when her husband grabbed her firmly: "Hehua, calm down. Let's talk this through properly. Hear what he has to say. You can't just attack him."

Zhou Hehua was soft and pudgy, and thank goodness her husband was tall, just barely managing to restrain her while desperately motioning for Chen Jue to get out of there—he couldn't hold her for long.

Chen Jue stood his ground, continuing to look at Zhou Hehua and speaking calmly: "Do you often feel lightheaded and drowsy, suffer from unbearable hunger and thirst, cold hands and feet, poor menstrual flow, irregular periods, sometimes going three months without one, and when it does come, with cramping so bad it's unbearable?"

Though Chen Jue's voice was soft, Zhou Hehua's eyes widened instantly: "You... how do you know?"

Chen Jue thought to himself, did he hang around the gossip crew for nothing?

Zhou Hehua was the central figure of village gossip, so others certainly gossiped about her behind her back. Liu Cuier had practically described everything about her, down to what was stitched on her bodice. Naturally, her cramps and being barren were all discussed.

Chen Jue had put two and two together, combined with her irritable temper, a face marked with acne scars, dark velvety skin patches, and her constant need for water, and deduced it with near certainty.

She had polycystic ovary syndrome caused by wasting-thirst syndrome.

When he had grabbed her wrist earlier, he'd taken her pulse. Now he could give her a diagnosis.

He looked at Zhou Hehua and her husband and said softly: "Wasting-thirst with polycystic ovaries, liver fire blazing, womb cold and body weak, blood failing to return to its proper pathways—trouble conceiving."

Though his words were bookish, Zhou Hehua still understood that she would have great difficulty bearing children.

Her face changed instantly.

The earlier cursing had been mere appetizers—small skirmishes that hadn't touched her core. This was different. Chen Jue had hit her right where it hurt.

She truly had never conceived a child. She and her husband had been married for seven years—not just no child, she'd never even been pregnant. When others vomited, it meant pregnancy; the one time in a blue moon she threw up, it was just a stomach upset.

She could eat and drink well, rarely fell ill, and was one of the few women in the village with a healthy, well-fed look! Big chest, big hips—

How could a woman like her not be able to have children!

But she simply couldn't. Seven years now. If not for her husband marrying into her family, she might have been cast off.

"You... how do you know?" Zhou Hehua's voice was shaking, as if clinging to the last shred of denial.

Chen Jue glanced at the distant eaves. He hadn't originally understood obstetrics and gynecology either, but when Jiang Xinhe became his patient, he'd become practically a gynecologist. Chief Zhou had even said he could get his diploma in the gynecology department of traditional Chinese medicine.

Chen Jue withdrew his gaze from the distance and looked at Zhou Hehua.

Her external symptoms were clear at a glance.

Although he didn't know whether Zhou Hehua could eventually be treated and have a child, her pre-diabetic condition definitely needed proper treatment.

Otherwise, it'd be bad if it turned into full-blown diabetes.

Chen Jue remained silent, which just made Zhou Hehua more anxious: "Hurry up and say it!"

Chen Jue glanced at her: "Your body is weak, you have polycystic ovary syndrome, along with uterine coldness, and there's probably a bit of a hereditary factor too."

Although the villagers gossiped about Zhou Hehua, he'd picked up on some clues about her infertility from those rumors.

Zhou Hehua's mother had the same symptoms as her, and he had observed that as well.

In other words, she had a family history of diabetes, which in ancient times was called consumptive thirst disorder. This condition wasn't rare, and poverty in ancient times didn't prevent it from occurring—if it was genetic, the likelihood of getting it was high.

"Impossible! Bullshit!"

Bringing up her mother made Zhou Hehua blow up immediately: "Stop talking nonsense! What would a clueless thing like you know? Don't think that just 'cause you got knocked up, you can go around bossing people. I'll let it slide this time out of respect for your late husband! If you dare talk crap again, I won't let you off easy!"

Although Chen Jue's voice was low, there was no guarantee those nosy people straining to listen wouldn't hear! Being called out in public for not having a kid in seven years made Zhou Hehua furious and humiliated.

Chen Jue glanced at her and turned to leave.

He'd said his piece and that was that.

Zhou Qingzhu didn't know who to cuss out at this point. He hadn't expected that what started as his brother's business would drag Chen Jue into the mess.

He coughed: "Brother Chen, does that Zhou Hehua really have... have an illness?"

Why did such a normal phrase as "has an illness" sound so much like an insult right now?

Chen Jue gave a hum of acknowledgment. He wasn't insulting her; he was just telling the truth.

Zhou Qingzhu clicked his tongue softly, surprised that the cocky Zhou Hehua actually had such a big flaw. Now he couldn't even bring himself to cuss her out.

Not being able to have kids was Zhou Hehua's biggest sore spot, worse than any insult.

Chen Jue had hit the nail on the head with one sentence. Cold.

Zhou Qingzhu wanted to give Chen Jue a thumbs-up. When he turned his head, he saw his brother still looking down in the dumps. Knowing what was eating at him, he supported his arm and said, "Big brother, don't let that gossipy Zhou Hehua get under your skin. You don't gotta listen to a word of that crap she spews. You know, if you weren't here, Dad and I wouldn't make it, and neither would the little girl."

He gripped Zhou Qingshan's arm tightly: "This family can't survive without you. I can't imagine a day without you."

Zhou Qingshan's expression finally relaxed quite a bit. Chen Jue glanced at Zhou Qingzhu—good, PTSD needs family support, and when a patient feels needed, they can be a little stronger.

But then Zhou Qingzhu added: "Most importantly, can you stand to waste the medicine Brother Chen's been getting you these past few days? Look how good you're doing now—"

Chen Jue shot him a look: "No need to add that part."

He already had survivor's guilt; adding that would just make it worse.

Zhou Qingzhu quickly clamped his mouth shut, but Zhou Qingshan cracked a smile instead: "Jue Geer, thanks. I'll get better, and I won't disappoint you."

Chen Jue glanced at him—good, he also hoped his patient would get better soon.

Zhou Qingshan then looked at him: "About Dalin, don't be too upset either. You gotta take care of yourself. If he knew there was a kid, he'd surely rest easy down there."

Zhou Qingzhu wanted to say, 'Big brother, you're overthinking it—I haven't seen Chen Jue look sad at all,' but he knew he shouldn't say that in front of him.

Zhou Qingzhu didn't blame Chen Jue for being cold. Sure, Huo Lin had been good to Chen Jue, but that didn't mean Chen Jue had to love him back.

To be honest, although Huo Lin had also helped their family, he was too quiet and tight-lipped. Zhou Qingzhu couldn't exactly sing Huo Lin's praises. For a married couple, you gotta talk things out, right? But in the year since they'd gotten married, Zhou Qingzhu had hardly ever seen the two of them talk.

Every time he went over, they were both just as quiet—one chopping wood or cleaning game, the other cutting herbs. The only sound in the yard was the thunk of the chopping board. Even their big rooster made more noise than the two of them put together. Every time he went over, he felt like he was the loudmouth.

Before, Zhou Qingzhu figured they were both just the quiet type, but after spending time with Chen Jue lately, he realized Chen Jue was just cold, not quiet. He could talk when he was with Zhou Qingzhu and his family, especially when prescribing meds—he explained everything so carefully.

So even though Zhou Qingzhu had never been married, he could tell Chen Jue probably didn't love Huo Lin.

And since he didn't love him, there was no point in forcing him to be torn up over the dead.

Most importantly, he was pregnant now. If he really fell into a deep depression, what would they even do?

The sound of that Zhang Shui's wailing was still ringing in his ears.

Zhou Qingzhu sighed softly. He could already picture it—within a few days, the villagers would be calling Chen Jue a 'husband-killer,' especially since he'd pissed off Zhou Hehua today—she'd definitely spread rumors about him all over the village.

So he hesitated, then said, "Brother Chen, in a few days there'll be all kinds of rumors going around. Don't let 'em get to you, okay..."

Chen Jue nodded, not bothered.

He'd lived through gossip and slander in his past life; he was used to it.

He'd just steer clear of those gossiping folks for the next few days.

Five people in the village had died at once, killed in the war. The heavy atmosphere in the village pressed down like the mountains behind them. To help the villagers move on, Village Head Zhou had someone pick an auspicious day for a proper burial for the five.

Taoist priests led the way, the dead's families wailing behind them, while other relatives tossed paper money. The white slips drifted down from the gray sky like snow.

Today, even the heavens seemed to mourn the dead—the sky was overcast and heavy.

Chen Jue placed a bundle wrapped in Huo Lin's clothes into the grave. There were no ashes, so it was a clothes burial.

Beside it were his father and mother—the family of three was finally together.

Chen Jue picked up a shovel and started covering the grave. Zhou Qingzhu worked alongside him, and soon a mound had formed.

Zhou Qingshan scooped up the last handful of dirt and placed it on top, speaking softly: "Dalin, don't worry, I'll take care of Jue Geer, and your kid—I'll raise him to be a man."

Chen Jue listened and glanced at the grave.

He said silently: "You two are finally reunited. Rest in peace. I'll carry your child and raise him to adulthood."

Uncle Liu watched Chen Jue, dressed in white mourning robes, standing at the grave with a cold face and not a single tear. He said silently to Huo Lin:

'Dalin, don't blame Chen Jue for being cold. He remembers you.

He bought this mourning cloth a few days ago.'

That didn't sound right. Uncle Liu swallowed hard. A few days ago, Chen Jue had bought a whole bolt of undyed hemp cloth.

Undyed meant off-white, not colored. Farming families usually wore dark colors, and they rarely bought this kind of mourning-white cloth. It was usually only bought when someone in the family died—or not even then, since mourning clothes could be borrowed, seeing as they were only worn a few times in a lifetime.

But Chen Jue had bought brand-new cloth, a whole bolt of it. And he'd sewn the clothes himself over the past few days. Though the workmanship was a bit weird—the ties were in the back—he'd put thought into it.

If Chen Jue knew what Uncle Liu was thinking, he would probably be speechless.

Chen Jue had bought the cloth to make himself a white coat. He bought a whole bolt because this kind of linen had many uses—soaked in lye water for a few days to soften, it could be made into sterilized bandages for stopping bleeding.

He just hadn't expected it to be put to use first at Huo Lin's funeral.

Chen Jue lifted his head. Having lost his husband, he was in deep mourning, wearing a mourning cap that looked like a conical bag.

Its long tail dragged behind him, which was quite uncomfortable.

But the way he looked in others' eyes gave off an impression of coolness like the moon and purity like snow—the look of a stunning beauty.

As the saying goes: nothing sets off a beauty like mourning white.

Zhou Shuyao's eyes unconsciously fixed on him, unable to look away. He didn't understand why a gē'er could make him unable to look away.

And he had never once given him a smile. Yet that damn face was irresistibly drawing him in.

Village Head Zhou followed his gaze to Chen Jue standing at the very edge.

Because the Huo family were outsiders—and troublesome ones at that—their grave was placed in a corner, all alone. So Chen Jue, standing alone, stood out like a lone flag.

So conspicuous it was almost glaring.

Village Head Zhou's face changed several times before he couldn't resist walking over to him.

Uncle Liu was pouring wine, setting it before all three graves. The wine Chen Jue had bought earlier also came in handy.

He said in a hoarse voice, "Brother Huo, may your spirit in heaven bless Jue Geer and the child with safety."

Seeing Village Head Zhou approaching, he hurried to greet him. Village Head Zhou just nodded, then looked at Chen Jue, who was still looking up at the sky, not even turning to look back at him.

He couldn't be heartbroken to the point of despair, could he?

He cleared his throat: "Jue Geer, don't take it too hard. The dead can't come back, and the living have to move on. I know it's hard for you to raise a child alone. If you want to go back to your family, I'll have someone take you..."

Chen Jue turned and thanked him: "No need. I'll raise the child myself."

Village Head Zhou let out an "ah": "How can you raise him here all alone..."

Chen Jue looked at him. The emphasis of Village Head Zhou's words was on "here."

Under normal circumstances, where else would he raise the child but here?

He hadn't even said he was leaving, had he?

Or was Village Head Zhou trying to drive him away—send him back to his family?

Chen Jue simply looked at him.

The flash of urgency on Village Head Zhou's face was brief, but Chen Jue caught it.

He had thought the Zhou family was strange before. That Zhou Shuyao would fawn over him while also asking in a roundabout way if he wanted to go back to his family.

He had thought Zhou Shuyao didn't want him to go back, but now it seemed just the opposite.

Village Head Zhou wanted to drive him out of the village entirely.

The laws of Great Liang state that if a family member dies in battle, their dependents should inherit their property. Huo Lin had no other family, so Chen Jue could inherit his household status.

Village Head Zhou couldn't not know that.

Huo Lin had just been buried, and not even a blade of grass had grown on his grave.

And Village Head Zhou was already trying to drive his family out.

This wasn't just about being disliked—it was about getting in someone's way.

Huo Lin, what exactly did you do to make people so afraid of you?

Village Head Zhou met Chen Jue's eyes and for a moment felt that Chen Jue could see right through him. But then he thought that Chen Jue—a gē'er who had never seen the world, who had married into the village only a year ago, and who knew nothing of the past—couldn't possibly know what he was thinking.

And those past events—the villagers would never mention them. No one dared.

He had no choice. The Huo family's past was not tolerated here.

"You may not know, but the Huo family were always outsiders here. Now that he's gone, why do you have to..."

Before Village Head Zhou could finish, he saw Chen Jue pull a strange knife from his chest. Village Head Zhou instinctively stepped back. What was Chen Jue going to do? Surely not kill himself at the grave?

Chen Jue wasn't about to die for love. He was simply slowly carving a line of characters into the wooden grave marker he had set up for Huo Lin.

"The surviving spouse, Chen Jue."

The characters were carved as if printed, each stroke carrying force, the small knife moving effortlessly in his hand.

Wood shavings drifted onto his slender hands, making them look so steady holding the blade.

Village Head Zhou stared at those words, his face stiffening.

Chen Jue was silently telling him that doing something too ruthless at a dead man's grave would bring retribution.

After carving, Chen Jue turned around, not looking at Village Head Zhou, and simply took a handkerchief from his chest to carefully wipe the wood shavings off the scalpel.

His utterly self-possessed manner, paired with his snow-mountain-like face, left Village Head Zhou completely speechless.

Not a single word was spoken, but the confrontation between the two ended silently.

Village Head Zhou turned and, looking at Uncle Liu who had been watching silently all along, cleared his throat: "Jue Geer living alone at the foot of the mountain is very unsafe. You all should help him out more."

Uncle Liu glanced at him and, as if nothing had happened, replied, "Don't worry, Village Head. I'll look after him. I'll have Qingzhu stay with him. Nothing will happen to him, and I'll make sure the child grows up safe. This is Huo Lin's only remaining bloodline—he'll be watching from above."

He emphasized the last sentence. Village Head Zhou paused, then finally said, "Good."

After he left, Uncle Liu stepped forward to support Chen Jue: "Jue Geer, let's go home."

Chen Jue had done well. The Huo family was gone now, and Village Head Zhou shouldn't take out past grievances on Chen Jue.

That Chen Jue could stand his ground—Uncle Liu was relieved.

Chen Jue nodded. The sky grew even darker.

On the way back, everyone murmured quietly. An elder said, "Heaven has eyes."

Others sighed: "Please don't pour down too hard—the wheat is about to be harvested."

Everyone was anxious about the rain. Those who had lost loved ones wept along with the sky.

Those whose relatives had returned worried about the wheat harvest.

Please don't let the rain come down too hard; the wheat is about to be harvested.

But that night, the rain still fell. Chen Jue got woken up by the rolling thunder.

The thunder was too loud—this was the first thunderstorm he'd seen since he got here.

The wind was strong, whistling against the window, and the thunder and lightning were unusually fierce. The lightning lit up the dim paper window, and he could even make out the shape of the bolt, which showed how close the strike was. Sure enough, a moment later, he heard the thunder roll, like it was crashing right on his roof.

Plenty of folks got jolted awake by the deafening thunder. Chen Jue had seen hurricanes, typhoons, tsunamis, and earthquakes back in his past life, so he wasn't all that rattled, but the villagers couldn't stop talking about it.

Zhou, the village head, furrowed his brow and said, "In all my years, I've never seen thunder this fierce. The heavens are showing signs of something."

Aunt Zhang stared at the window too, and after a moment said, "You think it's because the heavens are mad... what with so many people dying..."

Village Head Zhou said in a low, heavy voice, "Enough! Don't say stuff like that, and don't you dare repeat it to anyone!"

Aunt Zhang mumbled, "Like I'd dare tell anyone else..."

She pressed her palms together facing the window and said, "Heavens above, don't blame us. We didn't have a choice. The boy's father is the village head, and the county magistrate put out the conscription order—nobody could go against it..."

Her rambling got on Village Head Zhou's nerves, and he snapped, "Enough! Quit your kneeling, what a sight! Go to sleep! Thunder and rain, a mother remarrying—it's all just part of life..."

His words got cut off by another blinding flash, then a thunderclap that hit right by their ears, and Aunt Zhang instinctively covered hers.

Village Head Zhou finally shut up, and it was a good while before he lay back down. Aunt Zhang didn't dare say another word.

She looked at this man, who'd shared the same kang with her for most of her life, his back turned to her, and felt something she couldn't put into words. She'd never known how ruthless Zhou Changliang could be. After sleeping next to him for half her life, she realized she didn't really know him at all.

This corvée labor was basically conscription in disguise. With the court's war effort in a tight spot, batch after batch of laborers were being dragged off to the battlefield. Zhou Changliang had found out about it from the next county over, but he hadn't told the villagers, because the county magistrate had ordered it kept hush-hush and banned anyone from buying their way out with silver, setting the price at five taels.

For folks who scratched a living out of the dirt and rarely made five taels in a whole year, that was an astronomical sum.

Aunt Zhang could only beg the yamen runners to let her son off the corvée for five taels.

She could only save her own kid.

Last year, Huo Lin had already paid to get out of military service, so this time he had no money left to dodge the corvée.

Huo Lin had no choice but to go.

Up to then, it was all just bad luck, but she happened to overhear Zhou Changliang telling the conscription officer that Huo Lin from their village was the best fighter, a crack hunter with great archery skills, and might win honors on the battlefield...

Aunt Zhang's heart hammered when she heard that, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound.

She thought of her husband, this village head, and how he treated his own people.

Huo Lin's death was mostly Zhou Changliang's fault.

The other deaths in the village might not be on Zhou Changliang, but Huo Lin's death was on his hands—no remains, not even a speck of ash. Even the heavens couldn't bear to watch, could they?

Aunt Zhang slowly lay back down, inching to the edge, wanting to get as far away from this man as she could.

Aunt Liu from the east side of the village knelt on the kang, sobbing her heart out: "My boy, is that you coming to tell your ma your woes? You died so wronged! My son! Heavens above, open your eyes! If you've got the guts, strike down those bastards! Give me back my son!"

Uncle Liu couldn't comfort her, and in the end just sighed along with her, tears running down his face as he stared at the window. He regretted it too—if only he'd used the silver he'd saved for his son's wedding to buy him out of the corvée! What good was keeping the silver now that his son was gone?!

The old burying the young—heavens, you're blind!

Zhang Shui from the east side of the village held his five-year-old son and stared blankly out the window. He hadn't been sleeping well anyway, and now there was no chance of it at all.

Zhou Hehua got woken up by the thunder too, and the lightning flashing by stung her eyes. She cursed at the top of her lungs: "You blind or what? You don't thunder during the day when folks are working, but you wait till night when everyone's asleep! You're set on not letting anybody rest! I swear, I'll poke a hole right through you!"

Her husband quickly pulled her plump waist into his arms and then said to the window, "Forgive us, forgive us! My wife's just talking in her sleep..."

Oh, that fierce wife of his—who'd dare talk back to the heavens like that!

Zhou Hehua was only bold for a second; once she came to her senses, she asked, a little scared, "You think the heavens heard what I said? Is it 'cause I used to curse at him all the time that he won't give us a kid?"

That was heartbreaking to hear. Her husband hugged her as tight as he could and said softly, "No, it's not your fault. It's mine—I'm the one who's lacking."

The usually bossy Zhou Hehua burst into tears and sobbed, "No, no! That Chen Jue said I'm the one with the problem! Ah, husband, I'll do what you say. I won't go against Chen Jue anymore. I'll go see him for treatment tomorrow..."

"I'll go with you."

Zhang Yan got woken up too. He stroked his belly gently, softly soothing the baby inside. His husband, Zhou Dajiang, draped a coat over him, and Zhang Yan leaned into him, staring worriedly out the west window and saying, "I wonder if Jue Geer's scared of thunder. He's tough, but how's he gonna manage alone with the kid now... Why'd Huo Lin have to go, leaving Jue Geer all alone in such grief... How's he gonna raise the kid by himself..."

What worried him was Chen Jue raising the kid alone.

Zhou Dajiang was slow to speak but not slow in the head. He picked his words carefully and said, "I think Jue Geer's the type who can make decisions. He'll definitely raise the kid right. When our kid's born, we'll have them play together. We'll pitch in too—we'll get through this together..."

Uncle Liu, of course, got woken up too. Old folks hardly slept much anyway.

At the slightest noise, sleep was out of the question. Staring at the window, he thought of Huo Lin, who'd left no remains, and said with a heavy heart, "Dalin, you come back to see Jue Geer? He's carrying your child. Up in heaven, you gotta protect him well..."

Chen Jue, who everyone was worrying about, had already sat up. He rarely saw weather this fierce either.

He stared at the sky lit up by lightning and thought, lightning in ancient times is really bright, and the thunder's deafening. It feels like the atmosphere's thin, no pollution, and the thunderbolts hit straight across the sky with nothing in the way.

After watching for a bit, he yawned. At four months pregnant, he got sleepy easy, but with this kind of house and windows, he couldn't sleep well. He'd just dozed off when he got woken again, and he had to sit up. Looking at the sky, he said, "If you're gonna strike me down, can you hurry it up? Make it quick?"

But the heavens didn't pay him any mind, and the thunder and lightning kept right on going.

Chen Jue lay back down, rolled up the cloth strip he used to tie his hair, and jammed it in his ears. He couldn't hear as well now, but it was still uncomfortable. Frowning, he finally drifted off at some point.

In a military camp a hundred li off, the lightning lit up the pitch-black tent, and a man opened his eyes.

A moment later, his low, raspy voice came out.

"Damn it."

Just two words, but anyone who knew Huo Lin would know that wasn't how he usually talked.

In a situation like this, where life and death had been swapped, he only said those two plain words. No one else could be behind that. If Chen Jue were here, he'd definitely recognize it.

Because the person who knows you best in this world is usually the one you're up against.

The next day, the sun rose like always, as if the creepy thunder from the night before had just been a dream.

Chen Jue hadn't slept well, so he slept in a little longer. When he woke up and opened the door with a yawn, Zhou Qingzhu was already in his yard, shooing the chickens out.

He now had six chickens all told, big and small. The big rooster had also taken to the ground, leading the four chicks to scratch for bugs at the foot of the mountain.

Zhou Qingzhu shut the fence gate and went to the shed to check on the rabbits. The wild rabbit he'd brought back last time, since Nainai was afraid she couldn't take care of its leg properly, had been sent back to Chen Jue's place. Nainai fed it, and Chen Jue changed its bandages. Now, in the wood shed, Nainai was talking to the little rabbit.

The rabbit was kept in a bamboo cage Zhou Qingshan had woven.

It was about to give birth, and Zhou Qingzhu had been bringing Nainai over every day lately.

When he saw Chen Jue come out, Zhou Qingzhu smiled and said, "Brother Chen, you're up. I made you some veggie and dough drop soup, with an egg and a couple drops of sesame oil. Come have a taste while it's hot."

Chen Jue looked at him: "Aren't you being a bit too domestic?"

Zhou Qingzhu thought, is this pity? Because Huo Lin was dead?

Wasn't he already dead?

Zhou Qingzhu glanced at him and saw no trace of grief on his face, realizing his father had been worrying for nothing. Jue Geer wouldn't be scared of thunder, let alone be devastated.

Zhou Qingzhu smiled sheepishly: "I was worried the thunder last night might scare the rabbit—she's about to give birth."

Chen Jue nodded without saying anything else.

His life was pretty full now—busy, actually. Besides gathering herbs, he'd also started treating patients.

He didn't have a medical license, so he didn't charge for consultations—just for the medicine. As a result, quite a few people came to him for help.

For headaches, fevers, sprains, or falls, people came to buy medicine from him.

They still didn't see him as a real doctor, but they were desperate and came grasping at straws.

Adults could endure and delay their illnesses, but children were their precious darlings—they couldn't bear to let them suffer.

So for urgent issues like fevers, stomachaches, vomiting, diarrhea, choking, or falls, they'd come to him.

One mischievous kid had cut his inner thigh on a rock while in the water and lost a lot of blood. His parents were wailing, begging Chen Jue to save his manhood at all costs.

Chen Jue checked him—nothing vital was damaged, and since the kid was young, there'd be no lasting trauma affecting his future.

He bandaged the wound, and the kid was fine within a few days.

Then there was Zhang Shuier's case.

His son Tiedan had roundworms in his stomach.

Zhang Shuier thought it was something serious and fretted: "We saw a doctor before, but he was fine for a few days, then the pain started again. I'm at my wit's end. Jue Geer, please take a look—what's wrong with him?"

When Chen Jue said it was just a common roundworm infection, Zhang Shuier was still skeptical. Chen Jue didn't say much, just prescribed medicine and told the kid to go home and take it.

"It's bitter—I'm not drinking it!"

"My medicine isn't bitter, but you have to promise me one thing: wash your hands after playing with earthworms, or little worms will get into your belly. You've got some in there right now."

He described what the roundworms looked like—first, so little Tiedan wouldn't be scared when they came out, and second, to scare him a little.

Sure enough, Tiedan immediately threw the earthworm down.

"Wash your hands with soap before and after meals," Chen Jue told him. Roundworms were common in kids because they played in dirt and ate raw stuff, and since fertilizer back then was mostly manure, washing hands before and after meals was essential.

Zhang Shuier was a clean person, but unfortunately his in-laws had died early, leaving no one to watch the kid, so he could only drill good habits into the boy.

The kid recovered soon enough—by the second dose, he was better.

Zhang Shuier came specifically to thank Chen Jue, or rather, to get a good look at him.

He didn't know why, but looking at Chen Jue soothed the bitterness in his heart.

Not just because Chen Jue had cured his son, but because of his calm. Chen Jue's composure rubbed off on him in that moment—Chen Jue, alone and pregnant, had it harder than he did.

"Jue Geer, thanks."

Chen Jue held out his hand: "Pay up. Thanks don't count."

Zhang Shui laughed out loud.

After laughing, warmth surged in his chest. He hadn't even taken the medicine Chen Jue prescribed, yet he already felt lighter.

Chen Jue also took his pulse and prescribed a calming remedy—only ten copper coins.

Ten coins. He'd never known medicine could be so cheap.

The several doses Tiedan had taken earlier cost only fifteen copper coins. Way cheaper than what the hired doctor had charged. The problem he'd worried over for so long, hoping his husband would come up with a solution, was resolved so simply.

Chen Jue didn't charge for consultations, only for medicine, and the herbs he prescribed were, as he said, everywhere.

Zhang Shuier walked out of Chen Jue's gate and glanced back one more time.

Then he led his child home, back straight, as if carrying new hope for life.

Besides treating the village kids, Chen Jue finally made a major breakthrough in his medical research that day.

He had Liu Cuier to thank for it.

Liu Cuier's child had a high fever that wouldn't come down in the middle of the night. She came running in, hair all over the place, clutching the child and crying: "Jue Geer, please take a look! He was playing in the hills with the village kids, slipped and rolled down, landed in a pile of graves—he got scared and now the fever won't go down. I've burned incense, burned paper money, kowtowed—my ancestors just won't watch over him... Please think of something. I know you can heal—my grandpa's leg is much better..."

Chen Jue examined the child. While the medicine was being prepared, he had Liu Cuier unwrap the swaddling and loosen the clothes, then use alcohol to physically bring the fever down. Liu Cuier looked confused: "Shouldn't we make him sweat it out?"

Chen Jue didn't blame her—even in modern times, a lot of people still used that method.

"If you trust me, do what I say," Chen Jue said.

Less than half an hour later, the kid's fever dropped. Liu Cuier looked at Chen Jue with gratitude and amazement: "Jue Geer, don't worry—I'll tell everyone about your medical skills! You'll be making money from now on!"

Chen Jue glanced at her. He didn't doubt it—she had a big mouth like a loudspeaker.

But what Liu Cuier said gave Chen Jue an idea.

Graves.

Not that he intended to dig up anyone's tomb, but he suddenly remembered seeing a family moving a grave on the mountain behind the Taoist temple a while back. Over the years, only bones remained. The bones were very useful—extremely useful to Chen Jue.

He had now treated over a dozen kids—boys, girls, and young men—but he couldn't tell their internal structures from the outside.

He needed to see the internal anatomy.

And he happened to have a way to do it.

He lived by the mountain, and a lot of villages' burial grounds were in the surrounding hills. Especially the mountain behind Chen Family Village's Taoist temple, which was considered prime feng shui land with many graves.

So whenever someone was moving a grave, he'd go help.

His belly wasn't noticeably big yet, and with his height, people took him for a regular man. Plus, he could help those who didn't know how to properly collect their ancestors' remains.

After gathering the bones into a new coffin, they had to be put back in their original positions—that was the tricky part.

Most grave relocations happened because the graves had collapsed over time, leaving mostly skeletons. Most people couldn't figure out how to put the bones back together, which gave Chen Jue the opportunity.

And through this, Chen Jue got a more direct view of the human body's physiological structure.

He respected the remains, finding the bones more familiar than the terrified relatives, so he arranged them neatly, in perfect order, knowing the proper procedures better than the old Taoist master who performed the rites.

So while he was up in the mountains gathering herbs, he gradually picked up quite a few jobs like this.

He could now sketch out almost the entire human skeleton.

It was because of these jobs that he ended up taking on a case involving a man who died in difficult labor, which led to a huge breakthrough in his medical research.

He finally got the chance to do a dissection. No, not really a dissection—more like a suturing job.

People back then had no concept of dissection. The body and hair are gifts from one's parents, and even government coroners rarely did autopsies.

Chen Jue had tried all kinds of ways to understand how a pregnant man gives birth, like helping with deliveries, but there weren't many pregnant men in his village at the time. Recently, an aunt had given birth to a boy.

He went over, but unfortunately they wouldn't let him inside the house—not even into the courtyard.

That's when Chen Jue realized that as a pregnant man, he was seen as bad luck in other people's eyes. In their words, going into a delivery room could easily bring bad luck. And as a pregnant man himself, he was even worse luck.

So Chen Jue decided to go the alternative route of handling dead bodies for people. And today, he ran into a chance to dissect and suture.

A death from difficult labor was considered an unnatural death, so the man couldn't be buried in the family ancestral grave. So this man and his unborn child were buried on the mountain behind the Taoist temple.

Because the rainy season had washed open the grave, a rock had hit the coffin and damaged the body—unfortunately, it struck right in the abdomen, and the scene was horrifying.

It had only been ten days since the burial, and the three-week mourning period wasn't even over yet. His family thought it was some kind of divine punishment. They didn't dare handle it carelessly, so they invited the Taoist master to perform rituals. The master suggested they first deliver the child, since the child's resentment would be stronger than the mother's—if the belly was already broken, the baby would naturally come out.

But how do you deliver a baby from a dead person?

At this time, Taoists weren't open-minded enough yet to cut open a body. Taoist medicine focused more on breathing exercises, physical training, Tai Chi, and some on Zhuyou rituals.

So nobody was willing to step up, and Chen Jue took the job.

He asked the Taoist master to clear everyone out.

Actually, the Taoist master didn't even need to do that—those people, thinking about curses like mother-child evil spirits, didn't dare get near the coffin anyway. When they heard the baby was going to be taken out, they backed off dozens of meters. The man's husband even walked his mother to the temple to burn incense.

Chen Jue stood alone in front of the coffin, quietly looking at the dead man.

Since the man had died in difficult labor, an unnatural death, he wasn't kept at home for the usual seven days. He was buried almost immediately after death was confirmed, in the cold mountain behind the temple, and the body was well preserved.

Chen Jue stood in front of him for a while, then gently bent down, lifted him out of the thin coffin, laid him on a prepared mat, and apologized: "I'm sorry."

In his past life, he hadn't said sorry in front of Jiang Xinhe's body. He couldn't speak back then; he held onto her hospital bed for a long time before he could find the strength to turn around and apologize to the people waiting outside the ward.

He still owed Jiang Xinhe an apology.

Chen Jue took a slow breath and began to deliver the baby from this man whose belly was already torn open.

It was the same procedure as Jiang Xinhe's C-section, just as careful and solemn.

First, he made a small cut in the abdomen, then bluntly tore through the abdominal wall. Since the man had been dead for days, the tearing was tough, and Chen Jue carefully did the surgery bit by bit, first pulling the baby out intact.

The baby, having died in the womb, was already blue and purple from suffocation, just like Jiang Xinhe's baby. Chen Jue's hands shook a little as he held the baby.

He paused for a moment, then placed the baby in the swaddling clothes the man's family had prepared.

He then carefully examined the uterine cavity and finally stitched it up layer by layer.

He had to thank this man for giving him such an opportunity, letting him understand the body structure of a pregnant man—apart from the extra uterus and hidden reproductive cavity, it was no different from a normal man.

This realization reshaped Chen Jue's scientific understanding: the pregnant men of this era weren't some strange species, but a stage of development in the long history of human reproduction.

Chen Jue rearranged the body of the man who had died in difficult labor and been hit by the rock, dressed him in clean clothes, and placed the baby next to him.

Once everything was done, his family finally dared to come closer.

Whether their tears were real or not, they wept bitterly at the sight of the delivered baby.

Chen Jue watched for a moment, then turned and went down the mountain. The Taoists up on the mountain invited him to stay for a meal—this job had been too big, and Chen Jue had done it so well, so a meal was definitely in order.

Chen Jue, holding the twenty copper coins in his hand, shook his head and said, "No, I've got other things to do."

He was a pregnant man, so he couldn't enter the Taoist temple. He'd already hidden his identity to help collect bones, so he couldn't very well go into their temple.

When Chen Jue got home, he wrote down the details of today's surgery, especially drawing the internal cavity diagrams.

These anatomical drawings might never be used, but he sketched them out out of habit.

He used up quite a bit of paper and ink.

The money from selling medicine last time was almost spent again, and paper, ink, brushes, and inkstones were expensive.

Every time Chen Jue plucked leaves from trees to wipe his bottom, he wondered why he hadn't learned to make paper. All these years, he'd studied only medicine, and after transmigrating, he couldn't even solve the problem of toilet paper.

Chen Jue complained, but the few sheets of paper he'd bought were still too precious to use for wiping. Most importantly, the paper was thick and not suitable for that purpose anyway.

If Uncle Liu knew about this, he'd surely say Chen Jue didn't know how to manage a household.

As mentioned before, he had ruined many things trying to make a good pen.

He wasn't used to this era's brushes, and the charcoal sticks made from stove ashes kept breaking—they were useless for drawing anatomical diagrams.

Chen Jue wanted to pluck some fur from a rabbit, but the little girl guarded it like the apple of her eye and wouldn't allow it.

So Chen Jue plucked some from Zhang Yan's little sheep, Hua. He wasted quite a bit of wool, nearly plucking Hua bald, before he finally crafted a pen with just the right softness and hardness, capable of drawing consistent, even lines.

The weather was getting hotter, and his belly was now showing, so he could no longer take on the work of collecting remains.

So he had to draw everything he could still remember while he had the chance.

Combining corpses, bones, and living bodies—all three together.

Chen Jue finally began to perfect the anatomical drawings of male pregnancy childbirth.

Relying on his photographic memory, he drew stroke by stroke.

He meticulously depicted the cesarean section and the birth canal. These diagrams didn't exist in this era, and drawing them might invite misunderstanding, but he feared that with time, these memories would fade.

Photographic memory only lasts so long—no matter how good his memory or high his intelligence, the brain's cortex would eventually overwrite these distant memories with new ones.

Opportunities for open abdominal surgery were rare. People here insisted on complete burials, as the body and hair are inherited from one's parents. He wasn't a coroner and had no other chance to access human bodies, so he had to draw while he still remembered.

Looking at these clear anatomical drawings, Chen Jue no longer marveled at the reproductive structure of this world's pregnant men.

Everything in this world exists for a reason; survival of the fittest is nature's business, and no one can change it.

Perhaps in the distant past, for the sake of human reproduction, everyone could give birth.

As a doctor, he was more accepting of these things.

He braced his lower back; his belly was already close to five months along. Lying on his stomach that long really wore him out.

Chen Jue rubbed his belly and leaned against the wall to rest for a while. Once the ink dried, he rolled up the drawing, slid it into a bamboo tube, then put it together with a few taels of loose silver into the only chest on the brick bed (kang). The chest was supposedly part of the original owner's dowry—camphor wood, so it kept bugs out.

He always kept the surgical knives close on his person.

He felt that this way he could sleep a bit better.

He hoped he'd get to use them someday—and also hoped he never would.

Chen Jue gazed at the mountain scenery outside the window and let his thoughts drift.

While Chen Jue was busy with these matters, rumors about him were flying all over the village. Because he showed no sign of wallowing in grief, the rumors about him were especially numerous.

The grief only lived in the homes of the bereaved; everyone else just went on with their lives.

And the gossip mill kept right on turning.

As Zhou Qingzhu had said that day, a "husband-killer" rumor started making the rounds in the village after five men died.

Among the five men, three were married, and all three had married male spouses.

The three widowed husbands got plenty of sympathy, but they also became the talk of every dinner table—and the more people talked, the uglier it got.

Eventually, the most repeated word in the village gossip circle was "husband-killer."

Among the three husbands labeled as husband-killers, Chen Jue bore the brunt of it—because he was the tallest.

That was not the reason Chen Jue expected, and it made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Haven't you noticed? Among the five who died, three were male spouses. You can't just dismiss this whole 'clashing fates' thing."

That loud voice was Zhou Hehua, no question.

For the past few days, every time Zhou Hehua ran into him, she'd glare at him and then just stand there. Chen Jue hadn't bothered with her and just walked on by.

The man beside her—her husband—looked like he wanted to say something but held his tongue.

Chen Jue pretended not to notice. He'd already told her about her condition; whether she got treated was up to her.

Turns out Zhou Hehua didn't appreciate it at all—she was badmouthing him behind his back.

Chen Jue kept walking. After the thunderstorm a few days back, the heat had really kicked in—like the golden wheat in the fields had caught fire. The villagers were thrilled watching the wheat ripen, and that put them in the mood to sit under the trees and talk.

Even death was just fodder for gossip now.

Chen Jue had gone to East Mountain today, and the way back took him right past the village entrance. He could've gone around, but he was tired, so he didn't.

Gossip and slander didn't bother him.

Chen Jue carried a basket of herbs on his back and strolled toward the big tree. The gossips were so into it they didn't even see him coming.

Aunt Zhao, who lived right by the big locust tree, chimed in: "Oh, Hehua, you're not wrong. The other two never got married—look at how broke their families are, can't even keep food on the table. They'll probably end up with male spouses too."

Sixth Aunt used to be the ringleader, but after losing her son, she hadn't come out in days. So the gossip crown had passed to Aunt Zhao, who lived right next door.

Then Aunt Zhou, who was mending clothes and slicking her needle with hair oil, said, "I keep telling you, male spouses are too hard-fated. People with that kind of hard luck are exactly the ones who kill their husbands."

Zhou Hehua jumped in: "See, Aunt Zhao, I told you I was right! Take that Huo Lin—guy was so tough he carried a whole wild boar down the mountain. Even he died. And that Chen Jue is obviously hard-fated. He's so tall he might as well be a man!"

Chen Jue took a few more steps. He had every reason to think Zhou Hehua was gunning for him specifically—everyone else was just guessing, but with him she was pulling out examples like evidence.

Aunt Zhao laid down the final word: "Too hard-fated and too tall—obviously a husband-killer."

Chen Jue's brow twitched. What kind of logic was that? He was too tall, so he killed his husband?

Chen Jue gave himself a once-over. He was only about 1.78 meters tall, not even reaching 1.8 meters.

Sure, he was a head taller than Zhou Qingzhu, but back in his old world, that wasn't even tall. 180 centimeters was the baseline for a man.

He thought he could stand to be taller.

So how the hell did his height make him a husband-killer here?

Too curious to walk away, Chen Jue listened a little longer. Zhou Hehua was laying it on thick with the superstition: "People said from day one that Chen Jue was a husband-killer. Everyone in his village said it. Why else would he still be unwed at nineteen? If Huo Lin hadn't saved him and been forced to take him as a husband, he'd probably still be single. And one year after the wedding, he up and killed Huo Lin. The worst part is, the guy's so tall and he still managed to get knocked up!"

By the end, Zhou Hehua was grinding her teeth. Chen Jue was sure she was gunning for him personally. He had no idea how she knew so much about the original owner's past, but he filed that away.

Guess no matter the era, gossip was vicious—people would dig up eight generations of your family tree.

"Ah,"

Aunt Zhao sighed, almost pitying him. "He just didn't sort himself out right. He was just about a man already. So tell me—can two men be together? One of 'em's gotta die."

Those words hit hard, with a ring of finality, and they landed square in Chen Jue's ears.

Chen Jue's brow knit. What was that supposed to mean?

Two men in a fight—one's gotta die?

And what did she mean, "almost a man"?

Was she talking about that "evolution" idea he'd been mulling over?

Could it really be, like he'd guessed, that the three kinds of people in this world were the result of biological evolution, with the differences between them all down to genes?

He needed to sit down and get some answers.

Chen Jue set down his basket and walked up behind Zhou Hehua. She whipped around, startled: "You... you..."

Guess no matter how bold you are, getting caught badmouthing someone still makes you squirm.

Chen Jue smiled at her. "What's all the chatter about? Let me in on it—I'm curious."

He used to be part of this gossip crew himself—how could they carry on without him?

Zhou Hehua was stuck silent. There was no way Chen Jue hadn't heard her trash-talking him. And that smile on his face? Creepy, no matter how she looked at it. He never smiled.

Aunt Zhao fussed with her hair and said, "Oh, look at the time—I gotta get home and fix supper."

"I... me too. Can't believe it's this late..." Aunt Zhou grabbed her sewing basket, scrambled up, and hightailed it out of there.

"Oh, I just remembered I haven't checked the vegetable patch. I'm off..." Liu Cuier hadn't said anything bad about Chen Jue, but she still felt guilty. Chen Jue had saved her kid, and here she was listening to gossip about him—that wasn't right.

In seconds, only Zhou Hehua was left. The others all had thick skin and quick excuses. Zhou Hehua wouldn't stoop to lying, so she was stuck there, awkwardly face-to-face with Chen Jue.

Chen Jue looked at Zhou Hehua. "You said I'm too tall..."

Before he could finish, Zhou Hehua barked, "Yeah, I said it! You just didn't sort yourself out right in the womb—instead of turning into a man, you turned into a male spouse who has to pop out kids. And now you've gone and killed your own husband. And it's all because you're too damn tall!"

After saying this, she set her hands on her plump hips and glared at Chen Jue, refusing to leave, waiting for him to snap back at her.

But Chen Jue stood frozen in place, stunned by her words.

This was the most meaningful thing Zhou Hehua had ever said.

Zhou Hehua was a powder keg—she never let anyone off the hook when they struck a nerve, but she never lied either.

Over these days, he had treated many children—girls, boys, and xiaoge'er alike—bringing down their fevers with alcohol, bandaging their legs, and giving them massages.

Among the adults, he had gathered remains for many, including delivering the baby from the husband who died in childbirth and re-wrapping the body.

All those images now flooded his mind at once.

In his head, a clear evolutionary map formed in his mind.

Adult men's reproductive cavities had atrophied, evolving into the ordinary men of later generations.

Those who didn't fully differentiate into men became ge'er, possessing hidden reproductive cavities.

But over time, through nature's elimination, these ge'er—with their low fertility and incomplete development—were weeded out.

Step by step, humanity evolved until only two sexes remained.

Chen Jue took a slow breath.

He had to admit, this was a remarkably fair screening test by nature.

He recalled a post by a big influencer from his previous life.

She said the world was unfair—why should women bear the burden of childbirth? Why not strap the equipment on men and let them give birth? Aren't they all human? Why not start everyone off the same and let ability decide who bears children later?

Don't male seahorses do it?

A lot of people backed her up.

"Yeah, why don't stronger men give birth instead of pushing the dangerous job of reproduction onto women? Since this age-old problem can't be solved, then let nobody give birth—leave it to in-vitro embryos. That's fair for everyone."

That was the unanimous public opinion when the 520 In-Vitro Embryo Project first got underway.

But he'd held the opposite view back then.

He'd been dead set against in-vitro embryo research.

Even on his deathbed, and even now, he still opposed the 520 In-Vitro Embryo Project.

So was this the reason he'd come to this world—to see with his own eyes how men give birth?

Was this world made just for him?

That was a real show of force. Chen Jue unconsciously cracked a faint smile.

Zhou Hehua kept staring at him, watching that faint, airy smile spread across his face—a smile like...

She couldn't put it into words. She just felt she saw something in Chen Jue's eyes—a desolate emptiness like the sky falling, like the end of the world.

The smile was like snowflakes, about to melt at any moment, yet carrying a quiet, cold indifference—just like him.

Zhou Hehua stammered, "You... you okay? I... I was telling the truth. They all say it. You... you can't blame me. You used to say I couldn't have kids either. So we're even now!"

Chen Jue gave her a faint nod, then walked right past her and left.

"..." Zhou Hehua stood frozen in place. Chen Jue just forgave her, just like that?

Zhou Hehua never badmouthed Chen Jue again. She didn't know why, but she always felt that Chen Jue's back looked lonely that day.

She knew her words had been too hurtful, just like when Chen Jue had said she'd have a hard time having kids.

Zhou Hehua stopped calling Chen Jue a husband-killer, but the rest of the village kept it up. Because Chen Jue was close to Uncle Liu's family, they dragged Zhou Qingshan and Uncle Zhou into the gossip too, saying Zhou Qingshan wanted to marry Chen Jue, saying Uncle Liu's widowerhood was contagious.

Zhou Qingzhu stood with his hands on his hips under the big locust tree at the east end of the village and cursed for a full incense stick's time without repeating himself once. Even Zhou Hehua secretly gave him a thumbs up.

Zhou Qingzhu let out a breath. He'd been bottling it up for days. He knew this outburst would wreck his reputation, but who cared!

This was just who he was. If he couldn't get married, then so be it!

Chen Jue told Zhou Qingzhu, "I'll handle your marriage from now on."

He liked Zhou Qingzhu's fiery personality.

Zhou Qingzhu snapped, flustered, "I'm not marrying anyone! I'll never marry in this life! I'll just stick with you!"

It sounded like a love confession, but Chen Jue knew he didn't mean it that way, so he let it go.

He'd find Zhou Qingzhu a good match someday, if he ever wanted to get married.

Once his medical skills brought him money and status.

Zhou Qingzhu didn't need to rush, and he didn't need to worry about his reputation.

He'd get Zhou Qingzhu out of this village.

He wouldn't be staying here much longer.

Even though he'd clashed with Village Head Zhou that day, he'd never planned to stick around in this village. When he left, it would be on his own terms, not because someone kicked him out.

So he ignored everyone's gossip, and in time, people stopped talking about him.

It was like punching cotton—no fun in it.

Besides, he kept to himself, with a face as cold as ice. Even starting a conversation with him took careful thought.

And anyway, when someone in the family had a headache or a fever, they'd need his help. Even if he was a ge'er, a husband-killing widower.

As long as they only paid for medicine and not consultation fees, they all quietly treated him as a barefoot doctor.

Chen Jue didn't bother explaining that he was way better than a barefoot doctor. In this era, his Western medicine skills were useless.

He'd thought the scalpel tucked in his chest would just be a keepsake, never to be used. But he hadn't expected to use it so soon.

He performed surgery on Little Flower, the pregnant sheep that belonged to Zhang Yan's family.

She'd gotten into a fight with a crooked tree on the mountain, lost her footing, rolled down the slope, and gone into early labor.

His scalpel was tested on a living creature for the first time, and it worked—saving one mother and two lambs.

This was different from the herbal medicine he'd been using. This was the work he knew inside and out.

It finally gave him something to hold onto in this world—a kind of anchor, different from the children.

Chen Jue thought his days would continue to flow by peacefully like water, when his husband Huo Lin, who had been laid to rest for three months, returned.

He returned at dusk. August was the harvest season, and villagers were coming back from the fields. As they watched him walk back step by step from the village entrance, they thought they had seen a ghost.

"Huo... Huo... Huo Lin? How... how... how did you come out?"

As Old Man Zhou spoke, he glanced toward the northwest foot of the mountain, where Huo Lin's grave lay, grass just beginning to grow on the mound.

This must be a ghost, right? It wasn't even night yet—the sun had only just set. How could he be so bold as to come out?

Old Man Liu could barely hold his pipe steady.

As soon as he finished speaking, the others in the threshing ground saw him too, dropping their rakes and coming to the roadside to look at him.

Before long, a small crowd had gathered. There was safety in numbers, and they no longer felt afraid. Of course, by now they understood—this wasn't a ghost, but a real person.

Huo Lin had come back alive.

Old Man Zhou let out a dry chuckle: "So it's my good nephew who's returned. I said back then that since you never saw the person or the urn of ashes, the man must still be alive. And sure enough..."

"Is it really a person? How did he manage to survive?"

"He's truly tough to kill. I said he wouldn't die easily—how could Zhou Dahe, that coward, come back alive while Huo Lin, that devil, couldn't?"

The villagers murmured among themselves, saying all kinds of things.

Huo Lin had actually come back alive, without even missing an arm or a leg.

"Didn't they say he'd died?"

"His remains were never found, so you never know."

"Hey, Huo Lin, how did you make it back?"

Surrounded by the crowd, Huo Lin only gave the enthusiastic villagers a cold "mm."

Someone with sharp eyes noticed Chen Jue.

"Hey, Jue Geer, Jue Geer, come quick—your husband is back!"

"Chen Jue is here, let Chen Jue come and confirm whether this is really Huo Lin!"

Chen Jue came down from the eastern mountain. Autumn had arrived, and there were plenty of medicinal herbs to gather, so he spent nearly the whole day picking them, planning to stock up so he wouldn't have to go up the mountain in winter.

Today was the same. He carried a basket full of mature herbs, walking slowly, when he heard the crowd shouting excitedly for him. He looked over, thinking someone else had heatstroke.

He'd seen quite a few heatstroke patients recently.

"Chen Jue, your husband Huo Lin is back! Well, he should be your husband—that's what everyone calls him." Liu Cuier scurried up to him and pointed to the threshing ground.

Chen Jue's footsteps paused, and he stood still.

The little lamb following behind him suddenly walked ahead of him, then turned back when it saw he wasn't moving.

One person and one sheep stood there, not moving.

The sun had already set, and the light wasn't as bright. For a moment, he couldn't see clearly the person walking over from the threshing ground.

Chen Jue hitched up the basket on his back with one hand, staring at Huo Lin as he drew closer and closer.

He also wanted to see whether this person was man or ghost. He had once been a firm materialist, but now he held doubts.

Zhou Qingshan had very clearly said that he had seen Huo Lin die with his own eyes.

And he was among the first to die—the dead piled up layer upon layer. By the time the war ended, they couldn't even find his remains to bury.

Chen Jue had imagined that scene: countless remains, enemy and ally alike, with broken arms and missing legs, buried in yellow sand, layer upon layer, a scene of devastation—

the best portrayal of "a general's glory is built on ten thousand bones."

Plus, four months had already passed since Zhou Qingshan said he died. If Huo Lin were still alive, why didn't he come back earlier?

Chen Jue stood in place watching that person walk closer and closer to him.

The man's figure was tall and large, backlit against the light, his face unclear. He leaned on a walking stick wrapped in tattered cloth, though his leg wasn't lame—perhaps he'd used it for support on the long journey.

Despite the walking stick, his steps as he walked over were slow and powerful. If the ground had been wet from rain, each step would probably have left a footprint.

The moment this person looked up and over, Chen Jue saw his face clearly. His eyes stung in that instant, as if all the sunlight slanting between the mountain ridges had shot straight into his eyes.

Author's note:

This long chapter is a gift for everyone, as a surprise for you all. The next chapter is V, and I'll also combine ten thousand words into one chapter. Thank you all again for your support.