Volume One, Chapter One: Selling My Sister at the Start? I Can't Stay in This Miserable Home Any Longer!

The sun was slanting westward, painting the distant mountains in a hazy blend of gold and crimson.

Chen Pingchuan drove the old, emaciated yellow ox at a slow pace back toward the village. The ox was hungry, and so was he. His body was only eight years old, the prime age for growing, yet the thin gruel in his stomach had long since turned to water. Now, he felt nothing but the hollow ache of hunger, his belly nearly caving in on itself.

In this impoverished and backward era, his greatest longing was simply to eat his fill for once.

Yes, Chen Pingchuan did not truly belong to this world.

He had been a top student in the Chinese Department of a prestigious university in the twenty-first century. Who could have foreseen that, upon waking from sleep, he would become a cowherd boy in a remote mountain village under the Daye Dynasty? Daye—a name that had never appeared in any history book, a dynasty with no trace of the renowned sages and scholars of his past life.

His only solace was that this body, at least, was healthy, and his mind remained sharp.

“Brother! Brother! Come home for dinner!” A soft, sticky-sweet voice called from afar. A small figure, her hair tied into two neat buns, was running toward him—his little sister, Chen Pingyu.

Chen Pingyu was five years old, thin and small as a bean sprout, but with delicate features and a gentle, obedient manner.

Chen Pingchuan stopped and waited for her to catch up, reaching out to wipe the sweat from her brow.

“Don’t run so fast—watch your step, or you’ll fall.”

Chen Pingyu tilted her dirty little face up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Mama said to call you for dinner. We’re having steamed sweet potatoes today!”

At the mention of food, Chen Pingchuan’s stomach growled even louder.

“Alright, let’s go home.”

He took his sister’s hand and hurried his steps.

The Chen family was not the wealthiest in Peach Blossom Village, but they managed. Their home was a few mud-brick houses clustered around a bare, simple courtyard.

The family was large and bustling—more than a dozen people squeezed together under one roof, which naturally gave rise to frequent quarrels and disagreements.

Old Master Chen, the patriarch, was over seventy—a stubborn old man who had spent his entire life yearning for the family to produce a scholar and bring honor to their ancestors. For this, the whole family had tightened their belts, scraping together every coin to support Chen Pingchuan’s eldest uncle, Chen Zhongwen, in his studies.

Chen Zhongwen had been lucky, managing to pass the preliminary exams a few years back and earning the status of a scholar. Yet that very honor had become a heavy millstone, weighing on the shoulders of every family member and turning into a burden for all.

As they neared the entrance, Chen Pingchuan sensed something was wrong.

The courtyard gate stood ajar. At this hour, the yard was usually echoing with the clang of bowls and chopsticks, the lively din of the family gathering for dinner. Today, it was eerily quiet—not even the usual crowing of chickens or barking of dogs.

The main house’s door was tightly shut, and from within came the muffled sounds of an argument.

Chen Pingchuan exchanged a glance with his sister, signaling her to stay silent. He crept silently to the window and listened intently.

Inside, the light was dim. Several figures sat huddled together, the atmosphere tense.

His eldest aunt’s voice rose first. “Father, Mother, Zhongwen is about to leave for the city to sit the autumn examinations. We still haven’t got the money for his travel, his lodgings, or the gifts for the officials along the way!”

She paused, her tone growing shrill. “This is a matter of family honor! We can’t afford any delays!”

Chen Pingchuan scoffed inwardly. Once again, it was all for his uncle’s exams.

The old master’s weary voice sounded. “You know what the situation is here. Where would we find any spare money?”

“No money?” The eldest aunt’s voice grew sharper. “Father, how can you say that? Zhongwen is studying for the sake of our whole family! When he becomes an official, won’t we all share in the good fortune?”

The old mistress’s dry, brittle voice backed her up, addressing the younger brothers: “Your sister-in-law is right. The second and third sons, you two need to find a way—anything you can scrape together.”

The room fell silent.

Chen Pingchuan could imagine his third uncle, Chen Zhongwu, and his own father, Chen Zhonghe, looking awkward and embarrassed.

But third uncle was cunning and always found an excuse.

Sure enough, Chen Zhongwu spoke first, his tone wheedling. “Mother, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but the carpentry jobs have dried up lately. I’ve got two mouths to feed at home… There’s really nothing left to spare…”

His wife, Madam Wang, immediately followed with a delicate, affected cough. “Yes, mother, our days are stretched thin as well. We really don’t have any extra money.”

Chen Pingchuan curled his lip in disdain.

He’d heard from the villagers that Madam Wang’s family had once been well-off, but after their fortunes declined, she’d married his uncle. She prided herself on being more refined than the other village women; her clothes were always cleaner, her hair perfectly ordered, and she maintained a touch of the airs of a genteel lady. But beneath the surface, she was a busybody, always stirring up trouble behind people’s backs, sly and full of schemes. In Chen Pingchuan’s eyes, her hidden malice was worse than his aunt’s open sharpness.

With third uncle’s family deflecting responsibility, it was his own family’s turn.

The silence stretched for a long time.

At last, his honest, taciturn father squeezed out a sentence. “Mother… we… we really have no money…”

Madam Wang’s mocking laugh rang out at once. “Oh, second brother, what a thing to say! All the fields are worked by your branch of the family, and you say you’ve got no money? If word got out, not even a child would believe it!”

“Utter nonsense!”

His mother, Madam Luo, exploded like a firecracker.

“The fields were given to us, yes! But how much grain can a few lousy acres produce in a year? After we pay our dues to the clan and the government taxes, how much is left for us to eat? The four of us work from dawn till dark, all year round, and still can barely fill our bellies! Are you blind, Madam Wang? Open your eyes and look—my Pingchuan and Pingyu are skin and bones! Compare them to your own fat, shiny little Huzi!”

Madam Luo had always been fierce, as protective as a mother hen over her children, especially Pingchuan and his sister.

“Let me be clear! We’re not giving a single coin! Whoever wants to study can find their own way!”

The eldest aunt bristled at this, her voice rising even higher. “Sister-in-law, what’s that supposed to mean? It’s not as if our branch has taken advantage of anyone! All the hardships Zhongwen has endured for his studies—has anyone suffered them on his behalf? If he succeeds in the future, do you think he’ll forget his brothers and cousins?”

“Ha! Succeed?” Madam Luo snorted. “I’d wager he won’t even remember his own family name by then!”

“You—!” His aunt was speechless with rage.

When it came to quarreling, no one in the family was a match for Madam Luo.

At last, Chen Zhongwen himself, with a touch of arrogance, spoke up. “Harmony in the family brings prosperity. What kind of example are we setting with all this bickering?” He cleared his throat. “Father, Mother, this trip to the city is crucial. If I pass the examination, our family…”

His words were cut off by a heavy cough from the old master.

Silence fell, so complete that even a pin drop would have echoed.

“Enough!” The patriarch’s voice brooked no argument. “Second, third—neither of you can produce any money?”

Another heavy silence.

“Very well, very well…” His tone took on a menacing chill. “Since none of you are willing to contribute to this family…”

He paused for so long that Chen Pingchuan thought he might give up.

But then, cold and ruthless, the old man delivered his verdict.

“Then… sell a child.”

The words struck like thunder.

Chen Pingchuan’s heart plunged, icy dread crawling up from his feet.

He had known there was little warmth in this family, but never had he imagined they could be so cold, so callous. For the sake of a distant, uncertain ambition, they would sell their own flesh and blood as if they were livestock.

Given the old traditions that valued sons over daughters, it would surely be the girl who was sold first.

He instinctively looked down at the little hand clutching his sleeve. Pingyu’s face had gone pale; she too sensed something was terribly wrong.

The silence in the house was broken by his mother’s incredulous scream. “Father! What did you say? Sell a child?!”

“What else?” The old mistress’s chilling voice drifted out, steeped in heartless indifference. “The family’s like this—are we just going to watch my son’s future be ruined?”

She paused, her voice tinged with a twisted sense of pride.

“Back when my son had to go to the county exams and we had nothing left at home, I sold off Zhongxiu, didn’t I? And look how well that turned out—one less mouth to feed, and we got ourselves a real scholar. Worth it!”

A thunderclap echoed in Chen Pingchuan’s mind.

He remembered now: the old master had once had a youngest daughter, Chen Zhongxiu, who years ago was sold to a wealthy household in another county as a child bride, all to send the eldest son to his exams. She had vanished from the family ever since.

So this monstrous act had happened before in this home—and worse, they thought it was “worth it.”

Revulsion and fury surged in Chen Pingchuan’s chest.

This was the “family” he’d been reborn into—cold-blooded, selfish, shameless.