Daily Life in the Countryside After Being Reborn
Chapter 127 - 82: Xiao Xian’s Regret (2)

Chapter 127: Chapter 82: Xiao Xian’s Regret (2)

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Is it annoying or what, Yunteng has four cultivation space grades of gold, silver, copper, and iron, and there’s even Foundation Establishment, Nascent Soul, Golden Core... Anyway, that’s not the cultivation path Xiao Xian is going to take. The simpler and clearer, the better.

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Xiao Bai was very perceptive. Its little master wasn’t actually scary, but the "statuesque" sugarcane seedling behind her was terrifying. The aura it emitted was even more formidable than the strongest cultivator Xiao Bai had ever encountered.

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"Er, let’s skip my many impressive and formidable experiences. To put it simply and clearly, on a dark and windy night, I was struck by lightning while cultivating."

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"Stop, stop, stop, I know the rest. Then you opened your eyes, and you turned into a jiao. How tragic. I thought I was the most miserable, having transmigrated into a limping body this small, but you actually turned into, um, a jiao." Xiao Xian spoke rather euphemistically, after all, this little White Jiao was going to be her "family member" in the future.

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Xiao Xian’s family member list: "Grandpa, Sister-in-law Lian, sugarcane seedling, Xiao Bai Jiao, um, Yezi can barely be added." The Red Locust Great Wizard hurried over, that kid Zhu Shijun probably got back safely too.

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"It wasn’t just tragic, it was outrageously infuriating. If I had to transmigrate, so be it. After all, I still have memories from the Yunmiao Continent and can cultivate again. Sooner or later, I would have turned back into a human, but I was trapped in a Dragon Suppressing Bell. I was then picked up by that old witch who likes to play with gu insects. However, I slipped away when she wasn’t watching and hid in the pond, a hideout for decades. That hateful old witch even planted two Dragon Junipers next to the pond. It was only a little over a year ago that I noticed the spiritual energy in the mountains becoming abundant, and my cultivation made a major breakthrough, allowing me to control the clouds and rain. Later on, when the villagers cut down one of the junipers, it disrupted the feng shui, and I took the opportunity to escape." Xiao Bai Jiao obediently lay on the sugarcane seedling.

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A little jiao’s stirring history of striving upstream could have been inspirational, but alas, Zhu Xiaoxian came along and turned the history of struggle into a sorrowful tale.

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"Grandpa," Xiao Xian started timidly and shuffled over to Zhu Shijun’s side.

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"Awake?" There was a hint of solemnity in Zhu Shijun’s eyes. Tonight’s events made him question once again whether to leave Xiao Xian in Ge Village, with its dire mountains and waters and government construction always lagging behind. He couldn’t let Xiao Xian waste her life in a mountain village.

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"Grandpa, is everything okay in the village?" Inside the house it was dim and quiet. The outside was the exact opposite, the residual noise of human voices hadn’t settled down.

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"It’s fine, Xiao Xian, are you okay? Let me have a good look at you." Zhu Shijun hadn’t finished speaking when there was a commotion outside the door.

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The village chief pushed open the door, a look of panic on his face, "Old Sir, it’s not good. Secretary Qian is not going to make it."

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The candle on the table dimmed from the gust of wind brought in by the opening of the door, and went out.

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San Gouzi and the village chief transported Secretary Qian down the mountain overnight, and Zhu Shijun was temporarily burdened with the duties of the village chief.

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The Zhu family’s four tile-roofed houses were barely affected by the water and were cleared out to temporarily accommodate the owners of the collapsed houses in the village. They would all have to wait until daylight the next day to make plans.

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After a night of torrential rain and gale-force winds, it was a bright sunny day. As dawn broke, the villagers poured out of their houses, clearing away the debris from the collapsed homes.

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This flood was undoubtedly a heavy blow to the naturally optimistic and fate-accepting villagers of Ge Village. The mud washed down from the mountains was several tens of centimeters thick, and the neglected old houses suffered collapsed walls and fallen roofs, prompting head-shaking dismay from onlookers.

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The villagers’ nature was still pure, with those less affected helping those more affected. The village chief and San Gouzi had not returned all night, and Zhu Shijun directed the villagers to clean the open spaces at the entrance of the village with well water and to dry out the damp rice.

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Xiao Xian also carried a broom taller than herself, pretending to sweep her own courtyard.

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Around three in the afternoon, San Gouzi’s car came back. Sitting in the car, the village chief’s face was filled with sadness as he brought back bad news, "He passed away shortly after being taken to the hospital last night." Wang Chunhua was crying her heart out, and slaughtered the mischievous hen that same day.

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After rushing back, Qian Duoduo heard what had happened, grabbed a kitchen knife, and wanted to head to Dongnan Miao Village, insisting that the Great Wizard had cast a gu curse that killed his father. The only suspension bridge connecting the village and the Miao Village wasn’t repaired yet, and facing the raging waters of White Dragon Pond, he had no choice but to cry and return to the village.

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Secretary Qian’s body didn’t return until the third day, wrapped in a white sheet. Many children in the village clapped their hands and sneaked peeks, only to be chased away by Wang Chunhua with a broom.

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Zhu Shijun also spent a night at the Qian family’s home. When he returned the next day, his face was full of melancholy. Secretary Qian wasn’t a good man, and his demise left some villagers clapping and others shaking their heads in sorrow. But now that he was gone, all the village affairs were pressing down on the village chief alone.

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After the seventh day of his death, Qian Duoduo hired a band of trumpet and suona players who paraded all the way, playing music as they buried Secretary Qian on Leigong Mountain; the mountain gained one more lime grave.

This was also Xiao Xian’s true first encounter with the notion of "death": people could die of old age, illness, or accidents.

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A handful of soil, two lines of tears, a few bows, and a person is gone. When Xiao Xian went with Zhu Shijun to attend the funeral, she clung tightly to his sleeve. Thinking she was tired and wanting to carry her, Zhu Shijun was surprised when Xiao Xian looked up and asked, "Grandpa, will we die too?" The question of death was something Xiao Xian had been contemplating recently.

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"Birth, aging, illness, death—no one can escape it. Death isn’t scary. If before we die, we do all the things we want to do, there will be no regrets," said Zhu Shijun as he stroked his granddaughter’s head.

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"No regrets? Does Grandpa have any regrets?" Xiao Xian thought she must make sure her grandpa lived a long, healthy, and happy life.

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Zhu Shijun didn’t say anything, but his eyes had already given Xiao Xian the answer. (To be continued. If you like this work, we welcome you to Qidian (qidian.com) to contribute recommendation tickets and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)

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