Chapter 1: Overboard

1960, July.

The stream flowed clear and gentle.

Cicadas on the trees chirped incessantly, and whenever a breeze swept through, their song grew even more fervent.

It was midday, the height of summer.

Ordinarily, every household would be resting indoors, but at this hour, on a hillside by the creek, all the men and women of Niuluo Village aged twelve to fifty, led by the village chief, were confronting the people from Xiaxin Village, wielding wooden sticks, shoulder poles, hoes, and other farming tools.

“Will you move aside or not?”

“No, why should we?”

“If you won’t move, don’t blame us for being rude!”

“Come on then, who’s afraid of whom?”

“That’s right, this is Niuluo Village, and Niuluo Mountain behind us belongs to our village. You’ve come to our village to steal water, have you no shame?”

...

The two villages had been locked in a standoff for more than two hours. Neither side yielded an inch. At first, they traded insults, but as their voices grew hoarse, they simply glared at each other across the creek.

The cause of this confrontation was nothing but water.

The rice seedlings in the fields were almost ready to sprout, but it had not rained for two months. The experienced old farmers sensed what was coming—a drought.

With faces turned to the earth and backs to the sky, their livelihood depended on the crops in the fields; if it didn’t rain, how could they manage? If the harvest failed, they’d have nothing to hand over to the commune, and their own villagers would go hungry.

When the Niuluo villagers heard of the impending drought, they grew anxious. Sure enough, within half a month, someone began sneaking over at night to steal water.

Upon discovery, the villagers immediately organized nightly patrols.

But within days, seeing their attempts to steal water thwarted, the people of Xiaxin Village came en masse, demanding a share of the water from Niuluo Village.

At other times, they might have relented, but with a drought looming, how could they spare any? Without water, their rice would be ruined, and their own people would starve. No one was willing.

So, when the villagers saw the crowd from Xiaxin Village approaching with shoulder poles and buckets, they sounded the village bell. Soon, the two villages faced off by the creek.

Just as both sides paused to catch their breath, preparing for another bout of shouting, a sudden, frantic scream rang out, quickly followed by a chorus of cries.

“Help! Something’s wrong...”

“Something’s wrong, Little Ancestor fell into the water!”

“Help! Little Ancestor fell into the water!”

“Little Ancestor’s in the water, hurry!”

The voices came from upstream.

Those facing off paused in confusion, especially the Niuluo villagers. Who? Who fell in the water?

What?

Little Ancestor?

Little Ancestor fell in the water?

The next moment, those who understood dashed upstream, forgetting any risk of water being stolen.

“I’ll beat you little rascals!”

“Heavens, how dare you bring Little Ancestor here...”

“Little Ancestor had better be safe, or you won’t live to see another day!”

A large crowd rushed off, leaving the Xiaxin villagers standing bewildered, unsure what to do.

“Go!” The Xiaxin village chief eyed the chaos upstream, gritted his teeth, and turned to lead his people back.

Some villagers who hadn’t quite grasped the situation headed toward the pond, only to be scolded by their chief, “Are you looking to die? How dare you approach their pond now?”

“Did you not hear what was shouted? If you want to die, go ahead.”

Those carrying buckets quickly realized, turned around, and hurried after their own people.

Indeed, if the trouble in Niuluo Village involved their Little Ancestor, they’d pay no mind to the water now. But if they later realized water had been stolen, that would be a real disaster.

Meanwhile,

A chubby little girl with two goat-horn braids floated motionless, face to the water.

The village chief, arriving amid the cries, shuddered in fright, his heart nearly bursting. He waved frantically, “Quick, get Little Ancestor out of the water!”

With splashes and shouts, several people plunged in. Soon, the floating girl was carried ashore.

Her face was deathly pale, eyes tightly shut, her round belly clearly full of water.

Someone quickly placed a hand by her nose, their own face paling as they stammered, “L-Little Ancestor... she’s... she’s not breathing.”

“What?”

“Impossible!”

Everyone’s faces changed dramatically, gasping in shock.

A woman in her thirties pushed aside those near the little girl and immediately began pressing on her belly to expel the water.

Those who’d gathered watched her movements, hoping desperately that the child would open her eyes.

Minutes passed. Much water had been expelled, but the girl still did not breathe.

After more than ten minutes, the woman performing resuscitation, her face ashen, shook her head, and everyone understood what that meant.

“L-Little Ancestor...”

Around them, people drew sharp breaths.

It was over.

Some grabbed the children who’d been upstream, thrashing them.

“I told you not to bring Little Ancestor here.”

“I’ll beat you, you little devil...”

The children wailed, while the other adults of Niuluo Village stood pale and grief-stricken, as though they’d lost their own mothers. Some were already wiping tears.

At that moment, nine thunderclaps sounded in the sky.

No one noticed as a streak of azure light shot down onto the little girl, vanishing in a blink.

Now, the girl who had stopped breathing slowly began to draw breath again, though no one noticed.

Damn!

Bai Xi hadn’t expected that failing to ascend to immortal status and returning to cultivation would result in her being struck by the divine thunder, sent down to the mortal realm. To avoid the dissolution of her soul and destruction of her path, she could only possess this little girl and be reborn.

Listening to the cries and chaos around her, Bai Xi felt her head spinning.

*Cough cough... cough cough...*

“So noisy!”

“Shut up!”

At first, Bai Xi’s voice was faint, but when she shouted for silence, someone finally realized where the sound was coming from.

“Wait...”

“Little Ancestor spoke!”

Someone stared at Bai Xi in astonishment, exclaiming, “Ah, Little Ancestor came back from the dead!”

The village chief, regaining his composure, slapped the speaker aside and scolded, “The dead, your father! Stop shouting nonsense.”

Thank the ancestors, thank all the gods—Little Ancestor was safe.

The one who’d been slapped realized what he’d said, and instead of being angry, he slapped himself repeatedly, cursing, “It’s my damn mouth.”

The others had no time to pay him any mind, crowding around Bai Xi with concern.

“Wonderful!”

“Little Ancestor, Little Ancestor, are you all right?”

“Little Ancestor, are you safe?”

(A new story begins. I hope you lovely readers will enjoy it. As for the setting, of course, it’s an alternate history.)