Time travel—would you do your sister a favor?

"Miss, miss, wake up..."

In a haze, Meng Yun heard a man's voice, yet he was calling her in a naive, childlike tone.

“What’s going on? Didn’t I just get swallowed by a zombie beast?” Meng Yun’s head throbbed with dizziness.

“Sister, are you awake?” Jin Yanchuan, seeing her frown, hurriedly called out.

Meng Yun struggled to open her eyes, only to be met with a pair of star-bright eyes set beneath sword-like brows. The young man’s expression was anxious, his clear eyes fixed on her.

Meng Yun was startled. What’s happening? Where did this handsome young man come from? How could he look so pure? And what was he wearing? Dusty short clothes, with his long hair still tied back?

A sharp pain suddenly stabbed her head as fragmented memories surged into her mind.

“Sister, what’s wrong?” Jin Yanchuan knelt dutifully at Meng Yun’s side, his helpless hands grasping her arm as she clutched her head in pain.

As Meng Yun absorbed the original owner’s memories, the drug intended for beast partners began to take effect as well.

“Ah...” Meng Yun felt a wave of discomfort sweep through her. Understanding the source now, she cursed the original’s grandmother and stepmother in her heart. She formed a hand seal, attempting to draw upon her wood spirit power to detoxify herself.

After some effort, her arms dropped weakly to her sides. “Damn heavens, are you toying with me? You let me live again, only to start off poisoned, and not only that, but my powers from the apocalypse are gone...” she grumbled inwardly.

“Sister, are you in pain? Let me blow on it for you!” Jin Yanchuan bent down, puckering his lips to blow gently on Meng Yun’s forehead.

That did it—her willpower could not suppress the drug any longer, and as she strained to control its effects, her eyes flushed red.

“Sister, what’s wrong? Don’t cry...” Jin Yanchuan was terrified. Seeing Meng Yun like this, he quickly scooped her up, intending to take her to Grandpa Fugui.

Zhou Fugui was the only barefoot doctor in Zhoujia Village and the surrounding five or six villages, a man of about fifty.

Feeling the young man’s touch, Meng Yun’s final line of defense crumbled. She no longer cared who he was, or whether he was of sound mind—all that mattered was finding relief from the drug.

“Little brother, will you help your sister?” Meng Yun slipped off her outer garment and spread it on the grass.

“Yes, I’ll help you,” Jin Yanchuan replied, delighted to be of service to the beautiful lady.

His smile was captivating, dazzling with youthful grace that defied description.

There was no time for further thought. Meng Yun pulled Jin Yanchuan close, her lips finding his.

He was frightened, but still did his best to help her. Eventually, as he learned from her actions, Jin Yanchuan gradually took the lead. Meng Yun felt herself drifting helplessly until she fainted once more.

She didn’t know when she woke again, but she found herself being held in the arms of her “antidote.” Feeling his body, she quickly withdrew her hand, mortified by her own actions—she had taken advantage of a mentally challenged young man.

“You’re awake!” Jin Yanchuan exclaimed when he saw her open her eyes.

“Yes. Let go of me and put your clothes on first,” Meng Yun replied, realizing they were both still unclothed.

“Okay, I’ll listen,” Jin Yanchuan responded, standing up and dressing without a hint of embarrassment.

Meng Yun glanced over—this man’s physique was remarkable, though he was too thin and frail. Still, his large “bird” seemed oddly mismatched with his build. Flushing, she hurriedly dressed herself, noticing the red stains on her outer garment. She resolved to wash it in the river later.

“What’s your name? Which village are you from? How old are you?” she asked, rising to her feet, legs still weak.

“Jin Yanchuan! From Zhoujia Village. I’m nineteen. What about you?” he replied, looking at her expectantly.

“My name is Meng Yun, from Mengjia Village, about two villages away from yours.” She didn’t know the name Jin Yanchuan, but she’d heard of Zhoujia Village. Clearly, in her haste to escape, she’d ended up far from home. The thought of that lecherous man filled her with anger, and she clenched her fists.

“Oh. Are you still in pain?” Jin Yanchuan asked.

“No, thank you.” Meng Yun gazed at the man before her—a grown man with the mind of a child—and suddenly had an idea.

“Ah Chuan, do you like me?” she asked, studying his finely chiseled features.

“I like you!” he nodded vigorously.

“Then would you like me to be your wife?” Meng Yun smiled sweetly, like a wolf enticing a pure white rabbit.

“I’m still young. When I grow up, you can be my wife, all right?” Jin Yanchuan’s eyes flickered with confusion, then cleared again.

“You’re old enough to take a wife now. Go tell your parents you want to marry Meng Yun, the eldest daughter of Meng Yougen from Mengjia Village,” Meng Yun coaxed, seeing his bewildered expression. “I’m not happy at home. They make me work all day and beat and scold me. You have to help me escape this misery.”

Jin Yanchuan hesitated for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind. “Alright, I’ll marry you!”

“Remember to tell your mother you must marry me, even if my parents demand a high bride price. Ask your parents to borrow it if they have to. Once I’m married into your family, I’ll work hard to pay them back,” she urged. As long as she could escape the Meng family, who saw her as a commodity, she was confident she could carve out a future for herself, even without her abilities. As for love and marriage—rather than marry some heartless brute, she’d rather choose this simple, loyal young man. Even if she had to support him forever, at least he’d always listen to her and never betray her.

Settled. This was her plan.

Their agreement made, they parted ways. Jin Yanchuan shouldered a bundle of firewood nearby, looking back at every step as he walked away.

Meng Yun watched him go, feeling a twinge of guilt, but also a hint of sweetness.

Once he was out of sight, she headed toward Mengjia Village. At the foot of the mountain, a clear river wound its way past. She found a secluded spot to wash her bloodstained garment. Staring at the evidence of her “first time” in both her past and present lives, she felt nothing but hatred toward the Meng family, with only a thread of gratitude for Jin Yanchuan.

After washing the clothes, she hung them on a low branch and leaned against a rock, sorting through the memories of her body’s previous owner.

The original Meng Yun, sharing her name, had lived sixteen miserable years—much harder than Meng Yun’s own life. She lost her father at six, her mother at nine, her grandfather at eleven, and her grandmother at thirteen. Before she even had time to mourn, the apocalypse arrived.