Miss_Little_Secret

When Jian Yiling wakes up in the body of a struggling village woman in 1960s rural China, she finds herself burdened with two malnourished children, an empty kitchen, and a reputation as a fragile, abandoned wife. But Yiling is no ordinary woman—she has knowledge, survival skills, and a sharp mind.

With foraging, hunting, and rare medicinal herbs, she fights to turn their fate around, one meal at a time. But just as she begins to rebuild her life, strange occurrences shake the village. Her supposedly missing husband returns—but why does another man, identical to him, appear in the shadows? And why does the village chief seem to know more than he lets on?

As Yiling digs deeper, she uncovers secrets buried beneath generations, a mystery tied to a hidden legacy, and a force that threatens to unravel everything she’s worked for. Along the way, fortuitous encounters bring her riches, knowledge, and influence—enough to not only transform her own fate but that of the entire village.

Her children, once weak and forgotten, will rise as geniuses of their time—one in business, the other in medicine.

But first, she must survive.

In a world where history is set in stone, can a single woman rewrite the future?

THE FORAGER'S LEGACY.

The night was restless. The howling wind battered against their small hut, seeping through the cracks like ghostly fingers. Yiling lay awake, listening. The children had long since fallen asleep, huddled close to her for warmth and safety, but she could not close her eyes.

Zhi's words echoed in her mind. Like Baba?

She had spent so long avoiding the thought, pretending the past was buried. But the villagers still whispered, their gazes heavy with things left unsaid. Her husband had vanished without a trace, leaving her with nothing but debts and two starving children. The rumors had started soon after—some claimed he ran away, others swore the mountain had swallowed him whole.

Yiling had always told herself she didn't care. That he had abandoned them, and that was all that mattered. But now… now, she wasn't so sure.

A faint tap, tap, tap against the wooden walls made her breath catch.

She turned her head sharply. The wind? Or something else?

Slowly, carefully, she slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake the children. Grabbing the knife she kept hidden under the blankets, she moved toward the door, every step as silent as a hunter stalking prey.

Yiling pressed her ear against the wood, heart hammering. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then—

Too soft to make out the words, but unmistakable.

Her fingers tightened around the knife. She had faced hunger, scorn, even the cold bite of winter, but this… this was different.

Taking a deep breath, she yanked the door open.

The cold air rushed in, biting at her skin. The night stretched before her, dark and endless. The village huts were distant shadows, their dim lanterns barely flickering against the wind. Beyond them, the mountains loomed, vast and unyielding.

Then, just as she was about to step back inside, she saw it—

Fresh ones, leading from the tree line to her doorstep.

And yet… there were no footprints leading away.

She crouched, running her fingers over the prints. They were deep, heavier than a child's, but not quite the size of a grown man's. The shape was strange too, uneven. Almost like someone had been dragging one foot.

The whispering came again, barely a breath against her ear.

Yiling shot up, spinning around, knife raised. But the wind only howled through the trees.

Her mind screamed at her to go inside, to lock the door, to pretend she had seen nothing. But she was not the same helpless woman who had once cowered beneath the weight of misfortune.

The footprints led toward the woods.

A part of her knew she should turn back. That this was exactly how people in stories disappeared.

A scrap of fabric caught on a low branch. Worn, dirty, and faded—but unmistakable.

Her breath hitched. She knew that fabric. Knew that stitching.

It was from the robe her husband had been wearing the day he vanished.

Yiling's grip tightened on the knife.

Maybe she had spent all this time running from the truth. Maybe she had been too afraid to listen.

But tonight, the mountain was speaking.

And for the first time, she was ready to hear.

Chapter 26: Whispers in the wind.