Back in the 70s: The Neglected Heiress Is Reborn

Chapter Three

Shi Ying walked far enough that she could still hear Gu Xiao Hu’s crying behind her. Glancing back, she saw the three brothers—tall and short, uneven—standing rooted at the village entrance.

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t turn back. Instead of heading toward the riverside hillside the system had indicated, she took a different route—toward a lone cow shed below the slope.

This was the dwelling that even the simple villagers avoided: two feared figures, one old and one young—whispers called them “cow devils and snake demons.”

But Shi Ying wasn’t afraid. Not because she foresaw future upheavals or wanted to exploit them, but because inside that shed lived Grandpa Wen, the man who had saved her life.

When she first awoke after crossing over, it was inside this cow shed. The original girl had slipped into a stream while washing clothes and drifted here unconscious. Wen Grandpa had rescued her—not knowing that the body was now inhabited by Shi Ying, complete with the 001 system.

After that, Shi Ying often came here. Though 001's abilities were modest compared to interstellar standards, it still detected wild pheasant nests or fox dens in the hills—or created illusions like fish leaping from the river. Shi Ying would joyfully bring bird eggs, stunned rabbits, or big fish to share with Grandpa Wen. A hearty meal would bring laughter to the three of them.

Recently, Grandpa Wen had been ill. Worried, Shi Ying and Wen Lan had gone into the mountains to gather precious herbs. Now the old man seemed much better.

As Shi Ying arrived, only Wen Lan was inside, chopping pig fodder. He looked up with eyes that thawed when he saw her and waved softly:

“Ying‑ying.”

Around Grandpa Wen and Wen Lan, she always used her given name.

“Brother Wen Lan…” she said softly, quickening her steps. “How’s Grandpa? Why isn’t he home?”

Wen Lan’s face darkened.

“Grandpa has gone to work.”

He took the small satchel from her hand and paused at its contents—half a sack of white flour. He jumped.

“White flour? Where did you get it?”

Looking at the nearly 30 kg bag, he wondered how she, such a small girl, carried it. Of course, it was thanks to the system—and the wheat she’d harvested.

Shi Ying had intended to leave more for Grandpa Wen, but the system’s limits and Wen Lan’s special social status meant declaring a sudden bounty could be dangerous. According to the system, the wheat grown with interstellar culture medium didn’t meet star-level quality but was far more nutritious. The flour would help Grandpa regain health.

“We ground wheat from our plot,” she said carefully, knowing Wen Lan was smart. “When Grandpa returns, it’ll help him recover.”

Wen Lan was well aware of how flourishing Niu Rizhu’s wheat was, and that this child, Shi Ying, managed the plot alone. He couldn’t bear to let her toil, so he had secretly weeded at night and helped carry water.

Though he’d contributed, he didn’t want recognition. Shouldering the flour bag, he offered:

“No, I’ll carry this back for you.”

He wanted to keep the flour for Grandpa’s recovery, but he knew the old man wouldn’t accept it—and he couldn’t let Shi Ying suffer for it. He feared her being struck again by Niu Rizhu—or worse, confronting them physically. So he’d dug a hole on their path, let them fall in, and even stomped dog dung on them… but Shi Ying didn’t know. Wen Lan kept it secret.

Under cover of night, he’d have gone fishing for carp and loaches to help Grandpa’s health.

What Wen Lan didn’t know was that without Shi Ying’s first life intervention, Grandpa Wen wouldn’t have gotten his medicine in time. He’d died on a stormy night while frantically fishing in the river—washed away, leaving Wen Lan devastated. In a few days, the old man passed. Wen Lan was only twelve this year—thin, but strong. Before Shi Ying could stop him, he seized her and dragged her a few steps. She gasped and grabbed at a tree.

“No… I’m leaving. I’m going to find my real mom and dad…”

“Real parents?” Wen Lan froze. He wasn’t like Gu Wei Hong’s brothers—he had sense. He realized something was wrong. “What real parents? Who told you that?”

His first thought: the Niu couple had brainwashed her somehow.

“It’s true,” said Shi Ying, hurrying to clarify. “I heard them mention it. They said my real mom and dad live in Shilipu… I even remember my dad’s name: Shi Guoan…”

The name “Shi Guoan” wasn’t random—it originated the moment she arrived here.

In her original life, Shi Guoan was the richest man in China, a top philanthropist. The orphanage Shi Ying lived in was funded by him; children took his surname as thanks. On holidays, his foundation sent gifts and snacks—the fluffy pink plush rabbit she had was from the daughter of Shi Guoan.

When she later read his biography, she discovered that daughter had shared her name and the same sakura-shaped birthmark on her wrist—but she had sadly died young.

After the daughter’s death, Shi Guoan’s wife fell into the river and passed away, and his only son, autistic, lived his life in loneliness and despair. The missing daughter had taken the father’s warmth away, leaving him to die alone in a hospital room.

Shi Ying met Shi Guoan in his final days—she was a senior executive at Shi’s corporation visiting him. When he heard her name, he opened his eyes, looked long at the sakura birthmark on her wrist, gripped her hand, and whispered, “Daddy.” Tears rolled down as he called “Ying‑ying.” He lingered there until death.

That night, she couldn’t stop crying. As an orphan, she’d never known paternal love—but held by this man, she’d understood it.

When she first awoke in this body, she intuitively believed she was Shi Guoan’s daughter.

But in this rural village, no household had the surname “Shi.” There was no network to research, and though the system was bound to her, it couldn’t look up heritage. So she’d pinned her hopes on the Niu couple. Only today had they mentioned “Shilipu.” Whether or not her hope was true, she had to go. If the man was Shi Guoan, she wanted to change his tragic destiny.

Her determination moved Wen Lan. But he shook his head:

“That’s impossible. You’re too young. What if something happens on the road?”

“Then… you stay here. I’ll find someone tonight to ask about the way to Shilipu. When it’s dark, I’ll go with you.” Wen Lan couldn’t legally accompany her in daylight—they were bound by supervision rules due to Grandpa Wen’s past military service.

As they spoke, they heard footsteps. Grandpa Wen, leaning on a cane, was coming up the hill—with an unfamiliar middle-aged man in tow.

Seeing Shi Ying, Grandpa Wen brightened:

“Ahem, little Ying is back…”

His grandson barely smiled these days, walking around solemn like an old soul—but little Ying, with her pure smile, healed his battered heart.

“Grandpa…” Shi Ying rushed forward to help him, patting his back as he coughed. The middle-aged man stared, stunned at the scene.

“I’m fine, child… fine,” Grandpa Wen said, gently holding her hand, speaking to the man: “I’m okay. You’ve come enough… don’t visit again.”

“Old Commander…” the man’s expression went sad.

“That’s enough,” the old man said firmly, leading Shi Ying inside while waving the man off: “Go. Remember—don’t come back.”

The man looked pained but stood his ground.

From the corner, Wen Lan spoke up:

“Uncle Zhou, wait… could you help with something?”

The middle-aged man—Uncle Zhou—perked up, touched by the opportunity to help again.

Wen Lan continued: “Could you please take little Ying home afterward?”

“Of course, Wen Lan. You have my word.” Uncle Zhou nodded earnestly, took Shi Ying’s hand, and saluted the old man: “Commander, take care.”

“Home? What home?” the old man furrowed his brow and was about to ask—when Wen Lan suddenly raced after the pair.

He kept running until he saw Shi Ying and Uncle Zhou reaching a green jeep. Then he halted… and watched them drive off.