The Abandoned Daughter’s Return: Farming My Family to Prosperity

The spring breeze of late spring should have been warm, yet on Lin Wanxing's skin, it carried a piercing chill. She slung a half-worn coarse cloth bundle over her shoulder, its frayed edges fraying at the seams. Inside were her only tattered, patched clothes, plus a few odd silver coins tossed to her when her husband's family threw her out—not so much alms as an insult. The cloth shoes on her feet were soaked through with mud, a hole worn through the toe, revealing her toes caked in yellowish-black dirt. Every step felt like fine sand grinding against her skin, a sharp, numb ache. Wild grass grew rampant on both sides of the field ridge, reaching past her ankles. It rustled in the wind, as if whispering mockery at her dishevelment. In the distance, a few thatched cottages were scattered sparsely across the village, wispy smoke curling from their chimneys. A faint aroma of food wafted over—someone else's warmth and comfort, nothing to do with her. Lin Wanxing lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed, but she stubbornly held back her tears. She stared at the ramshackle thatched cottage not far away, her heart clenched in an invisible grip, the pain stealing her breath. That was her home. Three years prior, she had been the village girl most consumed by the longing for wealth and glory. She had turned a deaf ear to her parents' pleas, dead set on marrying into the Zhang family in the town to become their young mistress. Blinded by greed then, she had thought her natal home shabby and miserable, her parents honest and ordinary, unable to give her the fine clothes and rich food she craved. She had even brushed off her younger siblings' pleas to stay with impatience. She had believed that marrying the Zhangs would let her leap into prosperity, escaping this backwater village—never imagining that three years of endless suffering awaited her. The Zhangs had married her only for her looks, hoping she would bear them an heir. But three years passed, and her belly remained empty. The Zhang matriarch had made her life a living hell, her mother-in-law was sharp-tongued and mean, beatings and scoldings were daily occurrences, and going hungry and cold was the norm. Even the Zhangs' servants dared to order her around. She had endured for three years, hoped for three years, thinking that if she was docile enough, hardworking enough, she would eventually win the Zhangs' acceptance. Instead, all she got was the label of "barren, a husband-killer," and was thrown out like trash. The moment she was driven out of the Zhang family's gate, she had stood on the street, penniless and homeless, and only then did she think of her parents far away in the countryside, of the home that, though shabby, had once given her warmth. She thought of her past life: after being cast out, she had been driven to despair and died of illness on the street. On her deathbed, a fellow villager had told her that after she left, her parents had wept every day, her younger brother and sister had traveled far and wide to look for her, and in the end, they had all met tragic ends. Perhaps it was heaven's mercy, or perhaps her obsession ran too deep—when she opened her eyes again, she had somehow returned to this very day, the day she'd been cast out by the Zhang family, the moment she was about to set off for her natal home. Reborn, she no longer coveted vanity and glory, no longer chased the so-called wealth and high status. Her only wish was to return to her parents, stay by their side, stay with her brother and sister, live a down-to-earth life, and prop up this broken home with her own hands. She would never let her family suffer again, never let the tragedy of her past life repeat itself. Taking a deep breath, Lin Wanxing suppressed the sourness and guilt in her heart and quickened her steps toward the thatched cottage. The closer she got, the heavier her guilt grew. She could almost see her parents' aged faces, her siblings' sallow, gaunt forms. At last, she reached the door of the thatched cottage. The wooden door was already in tatters, crisscrossed with cracks, its edges rotted through. A rusted iron lock hung on it, but it was not fastened—just ajar. A light push sent it creaking open, a harsh, mournful sound that seemed to speak of the hut's vicissitudes and decay. The yard was overgrown with weeds, taller than a person, jumbled together haphazardly, mixed with dead branches and fallen leaves. A few chickens pecked at the ground in the thick grass; they flapped their wings in fright at the sight of Lin Wanxing and scurried away, clucking loudly. A few bundles of hard, dry firewood were piled in the corner, thick with dust, as if untouched for ages. Under the eaves hung a few strings of shrivelled, blackened corn cobs and some dried wild vegetables—clearly the family's emergency rations. A faint, intermittent cough drifted out of the hut, each sound cutting like a knife into Lin Wanxing's heart. It was followed by the soft whimper of a child, thin and small, filled with endless grievance and timidity. "Father? Mother?" Lin Wanxing's voice was hoarse, trembling slightly. She pushed the ajar door open a little more and stepped quickly inside. The hut was dimly lit. The windows were small, covered with tattered paper, letting in barely any light. The air was thick with a faint smell of medicinal herbs and mildew, choking her into a few coughs. She steadied herself, growing used to the dim light, and finally took in the scene inside. The hut was tiny, just one room, divided in the middle by a tattered cloth curtain. Behind the curtain was a mud kang, and in front stood a rickety wooden table. On the table sat a chipped earthen bowl and a broken clay pot—there were no other decent pieces of furniture to be seen. Lying on the mud kang was a sallow-faced woman: her mother, Mrs. Shen. She was covered with a thin, tattered quilt, hard and stiff, stained with grime. She huddled into a ball, her brows furrowed tight, her face as pale as paper, her lips cracked and dry. She coughed fitfully, her whole body shaking with each cough, as if she would cough up her insides. Sitting by the kang was an old man with grizzled hair and a hunched back: her father, Lin Laoshi. He wore a faded, patched coarse cloth shirt, his hair a messy tangle, his face crisscrossed with wrinkles, his eyes cloudy and bloodshot. His hand was clamped tight around a smooth, worn hoe, his knuckles white with the force. He hung his head, his shoulders shaking slightly, as if weeping silently. At the sound of Lin Wanxing's voice, he jerked his head up, his eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. His lips moved, but he could not speak for a long time, only staring fixedly at her, his eyes flooding with tears in an instant. On the dirt floor by the kang sat two sallow, undernourished children: her younger brother, Lin Wanzhou, and her younger sister, Lin Wanyue. Lin Wanzhou was seven years old, an age when boys should be lively and playful, but years of going hungry had left him tiny and frail, his face sallow. He wore an ill-fitting coarse cloth shirt, too short and thin, revealing his stick-thin arms and legs, covered in dust and small scrapes. His hair was dry and yellow, his eyes lacking the innocence and joy of a child—only an uncharacteristic thoughtfulness and wariness for his age. At the sight of Lin Wanxing, he straightened his back at once, shielding his younger sister tightly behind him, staring at Lin Wanxing timidly, a hint of strangeness and even faint hostility in his eyes—no doubt the young boy had remembered her cruelty when she left. Lin Wanyue was only five, even smaller and frailer than Lin Wanzhou. Her tiny frame was swaddled in a tattered cotton-padded jacket, thick and heavy, yet it still could not keep the chill from her body. She had a round face, sunken from malnutrition, and big, watery eyes filled with tears, her long eyelashes clumped with teardrops. At the sight of Lin Wanxing, she shrank back behind Lin Wanzhou, clutching his sleeve tight, and peeked out at her timidly before dropping her head again, whimpering softly. Watching this scene, Lin Wanxing's nose stung, and tears finally spilled down her cheeks. She had failed her parents, failed her brother and sister. If she had not been consumed by vanity three years ago, if she had not insisted on marrying into the Zhang family, her parents would not have worried about her day and night, her mother would not have fallen ill from overwork and been confined to the kang; her brother and sister would not have gone hungry and cold because the family was destitute, bearing so much suffering at such a young age. "Mother..." Lin Wanxing hurried to the kang, set down her bundle, and reached out carefully to touch Mrs. Shen's forehead. Her heart clenched the moment her fingertips made contact—Mrs. Shen's forehead was burning hot, clearly she had a high fever, a severe one. Mrs. Shen stirred at her touch and slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze was blurred, and she stared at Lin Wanxing for a long time before recognizing her. Cloudy tears welled up in her eyes at once. She stretched out a trembling hand and clamped it tight around Lin Wanxing's, her voice so hoarse it was barely audible, filled with endless heartache and guilt: "Wanxing... my Wanxing... why are you back? Did you... did you suffer wrong at the Zhangs'?" Mrs. Shen's hand was cold, nothing but skin and bones, her fingertips rough and calloused, covered in small cuts. She held Lin Wanxing's hand as if clutching a lifeline. "Mother, I'm fine." Lin Wanxing forced down the sourness in her heart, wiped her tears with her sleeve, and forced a gentle smile, her voice soft: "That family couldn't bear me, so I came home. I'm sorry, Mother, I came too late, and let you, Father, and the children suffer." "Silly child, don't say such silly things." Tears rolled down Mrs. Shen's cheeks and onto Lin Wanxing's hand, burning hot. "It's Mother's fault, Father's fault. We couldn't give you a better life, let you marry and suffer at such a young age, and now you're sent back... our family is in such a state, we can't even feed you a full meal. How can we be a burden to you again?" As she spoke, Mrs. Shen was wracked with another violent cough, her whole body shaking, her face growing even paler. A faint streak of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Mother, don't get upset, don't cough. Rest well." Lin Wanxing patted Mrs. Shen's back gently, her voice urgent: "I'm home now, and I'll never leave again. I'll stay with you, take good care of you, Father, and the children. We'll live a good life together as a family, never go hungry again, never let you fall ill and suffer again." Lin Laoshi could hold back no longer. He sighed heavily and slammed his fist on the edge of the kang with a dull thud. His face was etched with guilt and self-blame, his voice hoarse: "It's Father's fault, Father is useless. I couldn't give your mother and you three a better life, let you suffer so much, let your mother fall ill, let the two children go hungry... Wanxing, Father is sorry for you, sorry for your mother and the children!" Lin Laoshi's shoulders shook violently, cloudy tears rolling down his cheeks and soaking into his tattered lapel, leaving a dark stain. He had lived an honest, hardworking life, yet he had never been able to give his family a good life. Even his own daughter had been bullied and cast out because the family was poor. The guilt and self-blame weighed on him like a boulder, stealing his breath. Lin Wanzhou looked at Lin Laoshi and Mrs. Shen, then at Lin Wanxing, his eyes reddening too. He let go of his hold on Lin Wanyue, walked slowly to Lin Wanxing's side, and looked up at her, his small face filled with grievance and guilt, his thin voice firm: "Sister, I'm sorry. It's all because I eat too much, I ate all the family's food, that's why Mother got sick, that's why Father is so tired. I won't eat anymore from now on, I'll help Father work, help Sister take care of Mother and Sister." Lin Wanyue stopped whimpering too and peeked out from behind Lin Wanzhou, her big eyes still wet with tears, but she whispered softly: "Sister... I'm sorry..." Looking at her brother and sister, so thoughtful yet so wronged, Lin Wanxing's heart ached as if cut by a knife. She squatted down, reached out, and stroked Lin Wanzhou's head gently, then Lin Wanyue's, her eyes soft and full of heartache, her voice choked up: "It's not your fault, really it isn't. It's Sister's fault, Sister came back too late, Sister didn't take care of you, let you suffer." "From now on, with Sister here, you'll never go hungry again, never be bullied again." Lin Wanxing clasped Lin Wanzhou and Lin Wanyue's small hands tight, her eyes firm: "Sister will pick medicinal herbs to cure Mother, reclaim wasteland and farm, cook food. If we work together as a family, we'll surely make our lives better, we will." Lin Wanzhou and Lin Wanyue nodded, half understanding. Looking into Lin Wanxing's firm eyes, a glimmer of hope sparked in their hearts, and the grievance on their faces faded a little. Lin Wanxing stood up and checked Mrs. Shen's condition again carefully. The high fever showed no sign of breaking, her face was pale, she was listless, and her breathing was a little rapid. If she did not get treatment soon, she would be in danger. In her past life, during her three years at the Zhangs', she had to toil like a slave, and also help the Zhang matriarch tend to the medicinal herbs in the backyard. Over time, she had learned to recognize some common medicinal herbs and knew a few simple remedies. She could not cure serious illnesses, but at the very least, she could ease her mother's condition temporarily and bring down her fever. "Father, Mother's fever is too high, we can't delay any longer." Lin Wanxing turned to Lin Laoshi, her voice urgent: "There are some medicinal herbs on the back mountain that can bring down a fever. I'll go pick them now. You stay home and take good care of Mother and the children, and boil some hot water. When I come back, I'll make the medicine for Mother." Lin Laoshi stared for a moment, then nodded quickly: "Yes, yes, Father will do as you say. Go quickly and come back soon. Be careful on the way—the back mountain path is slippery, don't fall." "I know, Father." Lin Wanxing nodded, then told Lin Wanzhou a few words: "Wanzhou, Sister is going to the back mountain to pick medicinal herbs. Stay home and watch over Mother and Sister, don't let Sister run around, and don't let Mother move around, understand?" "I understand, Sister. I'll watch over Mother and Sister well." Lin Wanzhou nodded hard, his small face serious: "Be careful too, Sister." Lin Wanxing smiled and stroked his head, then picked up a bamboo basket from the corner and turned to walk out of the thatched cottage. Stepping out of the house again, the late spring wind was still a little cold, but Lin Wanxing's heart was filled with resolve and hope. She knew the days ahead would be hard—her family had nothing but empty walls, her mother was gravely ill, her siblings were starving, and countless hardships awaited her. But she was no longer afraid, for she had her family, the people she wanted to protect. The back mountain was not far from the village, only a half incense stick's walk away. Lin Wanxing hurried along the field ridge toward the mountain. The mud under her feet was still slippery, her toes still ached, but she paid no heed. There was only one thought in her heart—to pick the medicinal herbs quickly, to go back and make the medicine for Mother quickly, to make her better quickly. The trees on the back mountain were lush and leafy, the grass overgrown, the air filled with a faint fragrance of plants and trees, and a hint of medicinal herbs. Lin Wanxing walked, her eyes sharp as she identified the herbs by the roadside. Drawing on the memories of her past life, she soon found a few herbs that could reduce fever and fight inflammation—dandelions, honeysuckle, bupleurum, and some mugwort. She plucked the herbs carefully and placed them in the bamboo basket, her movements skilled and gentle, for fear of damaging them. As she picked, a weed scratched her hand, a small cut welling up with blood. The pain made her frown, but she just bit her lip, wiped it roughly with the edge of her shirt, and kept picking. She knew these herbs were Mother's hope, the family's hope—she could not afford to be careless. Before she knew it, the bamboo basket was full of medicinal herbs. Lin Wanxing glanced at the sky, knowing she could not delay any longer. She lifted the basket and hurried back home. When she returned, Lin Laoshi had already boiled the hot water. He sat by the kang, carefully wiping Mrs. Shen's face with a cloth. Lin Wanzhou and Lin Wanyue sat quietly by the side, not making a sound. "Father, I'm back." Lin Wanxing stepped into the hut and said. Lin Laoshi looked up, and at the sight of her, he hurried: "Good, good you're back. Hurry, bring the herbs here, Father will help you make the medicine." "No need, Father. I'll make the medicine, you take good care of Mother." Lin Wanxing smiled, then carried the bamboo basket to the stove outside the hut. The stove was built of mud, short and small, with a tattered clay pot on top, half-filled with clear water. Lin Wanxing first washed the medicinal herbs clean, cut them into small pieces, and put them into the clay pot, then added an appropriate amount of clear water. She lit the firewood in the stove and began to boil the medicine. The firewood crackled, flames licking at the bottom of the clay pot, and a warm glow slowly spread, carrying the faint scent of medicinal herbs. Lin Wanxing sat by the stove, adding firewood now and then, her eyes fixed on the herbs in the pot, firm and gentle. She knew this was only the beginning. Countless hardships lay ahead, but she believed that if she and her family worked together, down-to-earth and diligent, they would surely overcome all difficulties, prop up this broken home, and let their family live a life of plenty and peace. Boiling the medicine took a long time. As Lin Wanxing added firewood, she planned the days ahead in her heart. First, she would cure Mother's illness, then lead the family to clear the wasteland behind the house, reclaim it for farming, and plant crops and vegetables to solve the problem of food and clothing. She would pick more medicinal herbs and sell them at the medicine shop in the town to earn some silver, to buy seeds, farm tools, and cloth, and improve the family's life. She would also teach her brother and sister to read and work, let them grow up healthy, and become promising people. Before she knew it, the medicine in the clay pot was ready, and a strong aroma of medicinal herbs filled the entire yard. Lin Wanxing put out the fire, carefully lifted the clay pot down, and set it on the rickety wooden table. She let it cool a little, then ladled out a bowl of medicinal soup and carried it into the hut. "Mother, the medicine's ready. Drink it quickly, and your fever will break, you'll get better." Lin Wanxing walked to the kang, helped Mrs. Shen sit up, and held the medicine bowl to her lips carefully. Mrs. Shen stared at the black medicinal soup in the bowl and frowned, clearly thinking it would be bitter, but she opened her mouth and drank it down spoon by spoon. The soup was bitterly bitter, making her frown tight and her mouth twitch, but she did not stop until the bowl was empty. "Mother, is it bitter? I saved a little brown sugar for you. Suck on it, and the bitterness will go away." Lin Wanxing took a small piece of brown sugar from her bundle and handed it to Mrs. Shen. She had hidden this small piece of brown sugar when she was driven out of the Zhangs'; she had meant to keep it for an emergency, but now she only wanted to make her mother feel a little better. Mrs. Shen took the brown sugar and put it in her mouth. The sweet taste dispelled the bitterness on her tongue. She looked at Lin Wanxing, her eyes full of heartache and relief: "Wanxing, my good daughter. You've grown up, you've become sensible." Lin Wanxing smiled, helped Mrs. Shen lie down, and tucked the quilt around her gently: "Mother, rest well, sleep for a while. When you wake up, your fever will be gone, and you'll feel better." Mrs. Shen nodded, closed her eyes, and slowly fell asleep. Perhaps it was the medicine, perhaps it was the comfort of having her daughter by her side—her breathing gradually steadied, and the pain on her face eased a little. Lin Wanxing sat by the kang, staring quietly at Mrs. Shen's sleeping face, and swore to herself that she would take good care of her mother, take good care of her family, and change the family's fate with her own hands, leading them to cultivate their own prosperous age. Outside, the sun sank westward, and golden afterglow spilled over the dilapidated thatched cottage, gilding the bleak little hut with a warm glow. The weeds in the yard were still a jumble, the cottage still shabby, but inside, there was full of warmth and hope. Lin Wanzhou and Lin Wanyue sat by the side, staring quietly at Lin Wanxing, and for the first time in a long while, a smile appeared on their small faces. Lin Laoshi stood at the door, watching everything inside, his eyes red, but a relieved smile on his face—he knew their family had hope now. Lin Wanxing looked at her family in front of her, her heart filled with warmth and resolve. She knew the road ahead would never be easy, but she was fearless. For she had her family, the people she wanted to protect, and a heart willing to toil diligently. The abandoned daughter has returned home. Though trapped in despair, as long as there is hope in the heart and a willingness to work hard, one will surely break free from adversity, and lead one's family to cultivate a mortal prosperity—a prosperous age for ordinary people.