Before cooking, Tian Sangsang wanted to confirm her appearance first. She casually picked up the small copper mirror on the table.
There was also a pile of dicine on the table. ng Shuyan said, "Mom, these are the dicines Aunt Zhong left for you."
Tian Sangsang carefully flipped through them—there were both external and internal treatnts, complete with instructions. She silently noted Aunt Zhong's kindness in her heart. The woman gave the dicine without saying a word, and Tian Sangsang promised herself she'd repay her soday.
If she rembered correctly, Aunt Zhong even gave the little bun a stead bun earlier today. Not only that, but over the past half month, Aunt Zhong had been quietly bringing stead buns to ng Shuyan quite often.
She looked in the mirror.
Wait, what? The mirror was too small; her face didn't fit in it.
She could only see the middle portion—a bit of pockmarks, a face where the nose and mouth's normal contours were lost amidst the flesh; when she raised the mirror a little higher, what showed were two slits. That's right—her squinty eyes couldn't even reveal a full eyeball. Her eyebrows were untouched—pitch black and thick.
But the real kicker wasn't that—it was her skin color.
Are you sure this isn't a tourist from Africa? Are you sure this family didn't immigrate here from Africa? Are you sure this is the mythical "Far East," the land of the dragon known as China? Her mouth opened wide, her eyes bulged—with the exception of the whites of her eyes and her teeth, there was no place on her face that wasn't black.
Pfft!
Even though Tian Sangsang had ntally prepared herself to transmigrate into a fat mom, she was still utterly devastated by the stark reality.
Ugly? Fine. Fat? Also fine. Tall? Okay, she'd deal. Strong? Sure, no biggie. But dark-skinned on top of all of that? If she committed a cri, she wouldn't even need to hide in the shadows—a police officer standing right in front of her would directly mistake her for the night itself.
This girl was ink-black—so black she might as well compete with any African. Even the Black model in old toothpaste comrcials wasn't as black as her. Nor were his teeth as blindingly white.
Inwardly, Tian Sangsang felt like a spring had just burst open on her head, with blood shooting out, forming a middle finger pointed straight at the heavens.
In her previous life, she was also nad Sangsang, because her parents once raised silkworms. She was a perfectly normal woman—not fat, actually quite slim. Appearance-wise, she may not have been a national beauty, but with no makeup she was a fresh-faced girl-next-door; with costics, she could rival those flamboyant "whatsits" outside.
Ah, the stabbing pain... Tian Sangsang covered her face, her expression beneath her hand worse than crying.
Whereas most fat people are rosy-cheeked and plump like prize-winning livestock, this fat woman was pitch black and utterly greasy—a mobile trash heap.
Skinny people will never understand the pain of being fat. In the past, she'd chatted with a few fat friends. Every ti, they'd lant their own crippling self-esteem, talking about dieting, skipping dinner, hitting the gym, running laps. She couldn't relate back then and would dismissively say, "Why are you all so preoccupied with this? Fat is cute! Who doesn't love the squishy charm of so flesh? Why bother losing weight?" Besides, they weren't all that fat—around 150 pounds at most. Now, she finally understood their sorrow—deeply, profoundly—so much so that just looking at herself with tiger backs and bear waist gave her the urge to hang herself.
Most people would rather live a forgettable life—a faceless side character—than have so unusual trait on their bodies, forever drawing judgntal gazes. Fatness, disability...
The strange looks you get from others can kill you silently; a wall rises up inside your heart without you realizing.
She looked again at the body of her predecessor.
Right now, it seed like it was the peak of sumr. Her predecessor wore a dusty cloth T-shirt, oversized pants tied at the waist with a rope, cinched around a barrel-sized midsection. On her feet were dirty, worn-out sandals, practically on their last legs.
The original owner seed to have been about 166 cm tall, weighing roughly 196 pounds. Her belly bulged as though she were pregnant with a second child. Touching it revealed layer upon layer of fat. Her face was round, like a pancake—her limbs disproportionately strong.
Tian Sangsang dropped her hands from her face and spotted her son, fair-skinned and only reaching her knees, looking up at her curiously. In an instant, she found the will to live again. Forget it—transmigration is transmigration. If she hung herself now, who could guarantee she'd transmigrate again? Even if she did, who could promise she wouldn't end up as a pig or a man? At least this wasn't the worst outco—there was a little bun.
She bent her barrel-shaped waist slowly, picked up the little bun, placed him on the table, and pinched his fair little cheeks. "Son, tell Mom, what's your na?"
"ng Shuyan." The little bun uttered the three syllables clearly.
"Mom's going to ask you sothing, okay? Are you really Mom's biological son and not soone Mom picked up from a public restroom... or a field?" Tian Sangsang thoroughly examined him up, down, left, and right. Having just seen her predecessor's appearance, she had serious doubts about whether the pair were truly mother and son. The son was a handso little bun, and the mom—well, a pitch-black, burly, ugly sow. No matter how you looked at it, the two didn't seem like they were from the sa family. If the mom had an African heritage, it'd be impossible for her to give birth to a son with such a different complexion.
"Great-grandma says I am." ng Shuyan's large eyes glimred faintly with tears as he lowered his head, his expression pitiful. "Mom, are you going to abandon ?"
"Don't cry, don't cry." Tian Sangsang realized her question was inappropriate and quickly hugged him. Sincerely, she said, "How could Mom ever abandon you? Yanyan, is that right? Our Yanyan is so adorable. Mom can't help but adore you—there's no ti to even think! Mom's just so happy—happy that she could give birth to such a beautiful, clever child. It feels unreal—you're like a gift from the heavens!"
Gift? ng Shuyan repeated the strange word in his head and roughly guessed its aning. His large eyes blinked, "Mom is my gift too."
"That's right!" Tian Sangsang held him while walking out the door, her mind spinning. What had just happened was purely a mont of disbelief. Based on her earlier dreams, it was definitely the predecessor who carried him for ten months and gave birth to him. That ant the boy's looks must have resembled his dad instead—the man in her dream was an extraordinarily rare specin, breathtakingly handso, and the two of them looked about 89% alike. Her son was essentially a miniature version of that man.
The resemblance was striking enough that anyone could instantly deduce their father-son relationship just from their faces. Tian Sangsang wasn't interested in that pretty boy—she just hoped he wouldn't discover her son.
Carrying the little bun out of the room and placing him on a chair, Tian Sangsang began examining this new ho. A central living room, basic and simple, served as a space for cooking and eating. There were two bedrooms—one Tian Sangsang used, and the other was shared by her grandmother and the bun. Tian Sangsang's mother's old bedroom had been repurposed into a storage room, and there was another small area used for bathing and as a toilet. Outside, there was a small yard surrounded by wooden stakes, with a tiny vegetable patch inside—only a few withered green onions were there, no other vegetables, a result of neglect. A spot had been fenced off for raising chickens and ducks, with two feeble hens languishing there. She realized that, despite having chickens, her predecessor had managed to starve herself—how hard would it have been to kill a chicken??
This was the first ti Tian Sangsang encountered a woman who could make a ss of her own life like this.
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