"Serves her right! Falling sick in the middle of the night, who can get a proper sleep now?"
"I’ve always said, that woman’s just a worthless hen, and the little burden she brought along won’t live long anyway!"
The sharp, venomous words were like poisoned needles, stabbing straight into Eleanor Walton’s ears.
This wasn’t a dream.
She had died at thirty, helplessly watching her young daughter pass away while being cornered by her ex-husband's cruel family. In the end, bitterness and despair consumed her, leaving her with only grievances as she succumbed to illness.
But now… now she was back. Ten years in the past.
The familiar dirt-stained walls surrounded her, with a faded, yellowing paper cutting of the word “happiness” still hanging there. The air in the room carried the suffocating blend of cheap kerosene and damp mold.
It was 1990, the third year of her marriage to Victor Campbell, trapped in this so-called “home” that felt no less than a prison.
She had returned. Back to the exact day her daughter Sophia Hawthorne lay burning with fever, while her in-laws mocked her for being a barren jinx, ready to throw her out of the house.
"Mom... cold..."
The fragile child in her arms muttered through unconscious murmurings, her tiny body shivering like a leaf in a storm. Eleanor Walton felt her heart ache as though stabbed by a knife. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms tightly around her, hoping her warmth could reach her daughter. Yet, all she felt was the cold.
It wasn’t until then that she realized she was merely wearing a thin blouse, and little Sophia, cradled in her arms, was barely covered by a worn, patched-up blanket.
“What are you standing there for? Go to the hospital in town and get some medicine for my sister!”
Victor Campbell, her husband, gave her a push, his voice filled with impatience and devoid of even a trace of concern.
The "sister" he was talking about was the spoiled Chen Winter—someone who whined and feigned illness just because of a brief breeze during the daytime. And then there was her own daughter, lying in her arms, face flushed red with fever and breathing so faint it resembled a kitten on the brink of death.
In her past life, she had foolishly believed Victor’s nonsense and spent their very last few coins to buy medication for his sister.
And the result?
Sophia’s sickness went untreated in time, leaving her brain irreparably damaged, and not long after, death claimed her. Eleanor herself had been branded as a “bad omen” who brought harm to her husband and child, ultimately discarded by the Campbell family like trash. In the end, she died miserably, weighed down by regret and illness.
It was like an invisible hand was squeezing her chest, the pain so intense she could hardly breathe.
Looking down at her frail, barely responsive daughter in her arms, Eleanor made up her mind.
No more.This time, there was no way she was going to let that tragedy happen again!
"If you want medicine, get it yourself. The little money I have is only for my daughter’s treatment."
Eleanor Walton’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was like dropping ice into a boiling oil pan—it immediately blew things up in the room.
Victor Campbell froze, as if he couldn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him.
The Eleanor he used to know always had her head down, letting people walk all over her. Whatever he said was the law, and she wouldn’t dare to talk back.
And now? This spineless woman actually had the guts to argue?
"Eleanor Walton, are you out of your mind? My sister’s sick, and as her sister-in-law, isn’t it just proper for you to go buy her medicine?"
"Your daughter’s just running a fever. Kids from the countryside are tough. She’ll bounce back after a nap!"
"Tough?"
Eleanor sneered coldly and raised her eyes. The lifeless look in them was gone, replaced by an angry blaze that was downright frightening.
"Victor Campbell, go ahead and feel Sophia’s forehead. You call this tough? Your sister just caught a bit of wind. My daughter’s in actual danger here!"
Her eyes scanned Victor’s face and then landed on Barbara Campbell, who stood nearby with her hands on her hips, wearing her usual sharp and sour expression.
"And you, dear mother-in-law. You stash away all the good food for your son and daughter, but when it comes to me and Sophia, you give us rice soup so thin you can see your reflection in it." "Eleanor, why has Sophia gotten sick? Don’t you have a clue?"
"She got sick because you starved her!"
Barbara's face turned all kinds of shades—white, then green—like someone had ripped her mask off in public.
"You... what nonsense are you spouting! You useless woman! Our Campbell family letting you in was already charity, and now you dare stir up trouble here!"
"Useless?" Eleanor stood up slowly, clutching her daughter tightly to her chest. Though her movements were calm, her presence instantly dominated the room.
"Sophia is my child, born from me. You dare call that useless? Maybe the problem lies with the men in your Campbell family!"
That line struck Victor right where it hurt the most.
Face flushing a furious red, his rage boiled over, and he raised his hand to strike her.
"You crazy woman, looks like you're itching to feel some pain!"
But right before his hand could land, it was stopped mid-air by hers. Her hand, though slender, gripped his wrist with a strength that stunned everyone.
Eleanor’s gaze was icy, cold enough to cut.
"Victor, put your hand down. Now."
"Or else, I’ll make sure you won’t ever raise it again."
Her tone was steady, but beneath it was a sharp edge, leaving no room for argument. Victor Campbell was momentarily stunned by the sharp, almost murderous look in her eyes, unable to react.
Just then, Eleanor Walton heard an ethereal voice echo inside her head.
"Medicinal Cuisine Space activated."
"Starter pack granted: 'Basics of the Shennong Food Manual' and a spring of Spirit Water."
Suddenly, a peculiar scene appeared in her mind.
It was a place shrouded in mist, with a small spring at the center. Crystal-clear water bubbled out, exuding a refreshing and invigorating aroma.
Next to it was a chunk of glistening black soil, so rich it seemed to shimmer.
Floating near the soil was an old thread-bound book. Its cover bore four ancient characters—“Shennong Food Manual.”
What... what was this? Could this medicinal cuisine save her daughter?
Her top priority now was to save Sophia Hawthorne, get out of this hellish house, and head to the capital to find that person!
Yes, *that* person!
In her previous life, she only discovered after her death—when she was nothing but a wandering soul—that Alexander Hawthorne, who had promised to find her but never appeared, had already passed away.
This time, not only would she ensure her daughter survived, but Alexander Hawthorne was going to live the best life ever, better than anyone!
She’d take her daughter straight to the capital to seek him out!
“Rebellion! She’s outright rebelling!”Barbara Campbell's sharp, grating voice pulled Eleanor Walton out of her thoughts.
She glared at Eleanor, furious at her unbothered demeanor, and began to shout, "You useless woman who can’t even give us a son—how dare you talk back to me like this? The Campbells must've been cursed for generations to have you enter this house!"
"I’m telling you, Eleanor Walton, if you don’t go buy medicine for my daughter today, then grab that worthless child of yours and get the hell out of the Campbell family!"
Victor Campbell chimed in from the side, his tone harsh. "Did you hear her? Go now! Stop embarrassing yourself here!"
He figured he had her trapped—there was no way Eleanor would leave. A rural woman with no husband and a child tagging along? That spelled nothing but ruin.
But Eleanor’s words left them stunned.
"I’ve wanted out of this house for a long time now," she said calmly, as though she were discussing something as trivial as the weather.
"Victor Campbell, let’s get a divorce."
She didn’t even spare the mother-and-son duo a glance as she picked up Sophia Walton and headed out the door.
Right now, nothing mattered more than saving her daughter’s life.
