Transmigrated into a Farming Female Protagonist

It had been two days since Linh Du transmigrated to this world, and she was still seething with anger to the point of wanting to strangle the heavens. She couldn’t believe that after surviving the apocalypse and finally expecting some peace, fate decided to mess with her again. Someone had apparently spilled a basin of water right in the middle of the walkway, and the moment she stepped out the door—unaware—she slipped. Her head hit the concrete, her vision went dark, and she completely blacked out. When she woke up, Linh Du found herself in a strange dynasty that had never existed in any historical records — the Huyen Minh Dynasty. The body she now inhabited belonged to Madam Ta, the first wife of Trinh Dat Nhien, the eldest son of the Trinh family in Thanh Ha village. The original owner of this body was notorious for being sharp-tongued, ill-tempered, and constantly picking fights. If she wasn’t arguing with someone, she was looking for someone to argue with. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that quarrels echoed in the courtyard daily. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Linh Du discovered that… she was six months pregnant! A modern woman who had never even held a man’s hand suddenly became someone’s wife—and was pregnant on top of that? She was so shocked she nearly passed out again. What kind of hellish beginning was this? Linh Du sat on the wobbly bamboo bed, staring up at the broken roof with clenched teeth. The fire in her chest had been simmering for two whole days, but there hadn’t been a chance to vent it. A light knock came from the door outside. A small girl’s timid voice followed: “Auntie, it’s time to make lunch…” The child was Tieu Lang, five years old, daughter of Ta Van, the late younger sister of the original body’s owner. Besides Tieu Lang, there was also Tieu Me, three years old, also Ta Van’s daughter. Back then, when giving birth to her third child, Ta Van suffered from hemorrhaging and passed away along with the baby. Her husband’s family, already displeased with her for giving birth to three daughters in a row, deemed her unlucky. Rumors spread that the two older girls were “cursed” and had jinxed their mother and unborn sibling to death. Eventually, the husband’s family returned both girls to the Ta family. The Ta household was not well-off. More mouths meant more food to find. The original Madam Ta had refused to raise the girls, complaining daily that she didn’t have the time or resources to raise someone else’s children. However, Madam Trinh, the original owner’s mother-in-law, couldn’t bear it. She cried and begged to keep the girls, fearing they’d be abused or even sold off. In the end, Trinh Dat Nhien also agreed. Even so, the original owner made the girls work from a very young age — if they didn’t work, they didn’t eat. Linh Du held her belly as she stood and opened the door, her eyes cold as she looked at the trembling child. “I heard you. Wait a moment.” Tieu Lang flinched, expecting to be scolded, but to her surprise, the auntie said nothing. She simply turned around and walked toward the cupboard. Linh Du pulled out a container of brown rice, filled two large bowls to the brim, and handed them to the little girl. “Go cook.” Tieu Lang froze, her eyes wide: “A-Auntie… isn’t this too much?” She was used to receiving only a small bowl. Linh Du raised an eyebrow. “Too much? That’s just enough. Go.” “Yes, ma’am!” The girl hugged the bowls tightly and rushed toward the kitchen in the corner of the courtyard. There, Tieu Me and another girl, Tieu Yen—daughter of Trinh Nhi, younger brother of Trinh Dat Nhien—were already waiting. The Trinh family was a large household with ten people living under one roof. The elders, Trinh Dai Thanh and Madam Trinh Thi Nhan, had four children. Apart from the late Ta Van, there was Trinh Dat Nhien (the eldest), Trinh Nhi (married to Tien Thuc Nhi, a woman from the neighboring village), and they had a daughter named Tieu Yen. The youngest son, Trinh Tam, was only thirteen and unmarried, still attending school in the village and occasionally helping out with farm work. Lastly, there were the two orphaned girls — Tieu Lang and Tieu Me — who now relied on the reluctant charity of their extended family.