"Useless woman! You gave birth to two mutts and still dare to keep breathing!"
"Bad luck walking on two legs! Married in five years and not even a glimpse of your man. Who knows how many folks you’ve been fooling around with out there!"
"Serves you right! If I were you, I’d have found a rope and ended it already. Better than embarrassing yourself here!"
"Look at her, acting all flirty. Bet those kids aren’t even from the Chambers family!"
Josephine Murphy opened her eyes to this wave of spiteful curses.
She lifted her gaze. The wooden beam above had several long cracks, and a dusty spiderweb drooped in the corner. The newspapers slapped on the wall had yellowed like old straw, the curled edges trembling as the cold wind squeezed through the gaps in the wall, stabbing right into her bones.
In the room, aside from a three‑legged table barely holding itself up and a hard clay bed, there was nothing worth a second look.
Where on earth was she?
The last thing she remembered was the car accident on the road—she was kneeling, doing chest compressions on the injured man, when a truck lost control and came barreling toward her…
Then—nothing.
Before she could sort out the mess in her head, a sharp pain slammed into her skull.
Memories that weren’t hers surged in like a broken dam—
It was the winter of 1974, in a small county in the east.
The original woman was also named Josephine Murphy, a gentle girl raised in the water towns of Jiangnan. Her father died early, and that same year her stepmother hurried to marry her off.
They called it “bringing luck,” but it was really exchanging her for a hefty bride price and a way to get ration coupons in the city.
The groom was Zachary Chambers, an officer in the border defense forces, but the original Josephine hadn’t even seen his face before being pushed into the marriage.
Soon after a hasty ceremony, her husband returned to his distant post on the frontier.
The Chambers family followed him to the border area, leaving only the newly pregnant Josephine behind in the county—her health too frail for the long, grueling journey.
Zachary stayed on the frontier year after year, never coming back. Four years passed, and she struggled alone with a pair of twins, living a life no different from being widowed in all but name.
The folks in the village always gossiped behind her back, calling her bad luck for her man, and the moment they ran into her, they’d sneer, “You had two girls and still expect your husband to come back? Keep dreaming.”
After that, her stepmother stopped even pretending to be decent.
She’d show up every few days, first thing out of her mouth always about money—her son needed a wife, needed a house, needed treatment—every request said like it was heaven‑sent. And the tears came on cue, pitiful as could be.
The original Josephine Murphy had a soft heart. She felt her own household wasn’t doing too badly, so helping her mother’s family seemed right. Every time, she’d squeeze herself tighter just to hand something over.
Her pay, her food coupons, the military family allowance—her stepmother emptied it all out.
Josephine ended up so hungry her face turned the color of old candle wax, and the two kids suffered right along with her. The twins, just over three, were so thin they looked like little matchsticks.
Yesterday, that woman marched in again with a crowd behind her, saying her daughter‑in‑law was expecting and needed nourishment. Didn’t even wait for a word—took the only three eggs left in the house and walked off.
The original Josephine had knelt in the snow begging for ages. The stepmother just tossed back one line: “You damn jinx. Your man’s probably off with some woman in the borderlands, and you’ve got the nerve to fuss over a few eggs?”
The two kids, stomachs gnawing with hunger, could only watch their grandma and uncle walk off with the food.
That night, Josephine cried herself breathless, and when her eyes opened again, the one lying there had become modern‑day TCM doctor Josephine Murphy.
She’d seen all kinds of outrageous patient families in her last life, but relatives who sucked you dry like leeches—this was a first.
Josephine inhaled slowly, forcing her emotions back into place.
Fine. So she’d crossed over.
It wasn’t like she’d left much behind anyway—her parents were long gone, and she spent her days buried in labs and hospitals, no time to even think about dating.
But this original girl’s personality—damn, it was painfully spineless.
Josephine pushed herself up using the edge of the kang, her eyes landing on a small piece of paper on the table.
The writing was crooked and shaky, like a kid just learning to hold a pencil: “Mom, we’re going to find Dad. Don’t wait for us.”
Below it were two stick figures—one with little braids, one with a bare head—holding hands.
Josephine felt her mind explode with a sharp buzz.
Only four. Two four‑year‑old babies. Out in freezing weather below minus ten. And the place they were trying to reach was thousands of kilometers away.
She jerked upright, her head buzzing so hard it felt like someone had stuffed a hive in there. Her whole body was limp, like overcooked noodles, and even sitting up took effort.
When she lowered her head, she spotted a palm‑sized piece of dark jade hanging against her chest, giving off a faint glow. A soft warmth spread outward from it, slowly warming up her frozen limbs.
Then a flat mechanical voice popped into her mind.
“Mustard Seed Space activated. Host body repairing…”
She didn’t have time to figure out what that meant. She snatched the tattered cotton coat from the heated brick bed and bolted outside.
The wind outside cut across her face like blades, each gust burning against her skin.
Snow was falling hard, already piling thick across the ground.
Josephine Murphy pushed forward through the storm, her thin figure swaying with every step, but she refused to stop. The only thing circling in her mind was a single thought: she had to bring the kids back.
After running for what felt like fifteen minutes, a train whistle echoed from the distance.
Not good.
Her heart lurched, and she forced her numb legs to move faster.
The town’s station was tiny—just two platforms and a crowd that always seemed too big for the place.
By the time Josephine Murphy rushed in, a green train was crawling slowly into the station. People were already pushing forward—men hauling bulging woven bags, grannies clutching bamboo baskets, women balancing sleepy babies on their hips.
Josephine’s eyes swept desperately through the crowd. Then, near the ticket checkpoint, she finally spotted two small shapes.
The boy wore a cotton jacket patched so many times it looked like a quilt, his bare head exposed to the cold. He was gripping the hand of a little girl with twin braids.
The girl’s jacket was even more threadbare, and her tiny wrists, sticking out from sleeves that were far too short, were swollen pink from the cold.
“Andrew! Yvette!” Josephine Murphy shouted, her voice cracking as it carried over the crowd.
Both kids snapped their heads around at the same time.
The boy’s eyes went wide, and he instinctively tugged his little sister behind him.
"You… what’re you doing here?"
The look hit Josephine Murphy straight in the chest.
Just how beaten-down had the original her been for her own children to stare at her like she was trouble?
She took a slow breath, crouched to their height, and tried to soften her voice.
"I’m here to take you both home."
"We’re not going!" Andrew stuck his neck out, chin tight with stubbornness. "Go back just to starve again? I’d rather go find my dad!"
"Yeah, we’re going to find Daddy." Yvette peeked out from behind her brother, half her face showing, eyes glistening. "Daddy’s guarding the border with his brothers… If we go to him, he won’t leave us behind."
Josephine felt her throat clog up like someone stuffed cotton in it.
And right at that moment, an ear-splitting voice barked from the side.
"Well, if it ain’t the Chambers family’s walking bad-luck charm! Dead of winter and you’re not staying home—what’re you wandering around the station for?"
Josephine turned to see a middle-aged woman plastered with loud makeup, staring at her like she was watching a free show.
The original memory floated up—Sharon Palmer. The village’s famous gossip mill, never met a tongue she didn’t wag.
"I’m here for my kids. That bothering you?"
Josephine shot back before she even thought about it.
Sharon Palmer’s eyes darted with nosy delight as she raised her voice.
"Your kids? Oh please. Bet you’re here to drag ’em back so you can squeeze some money out of ’em! Everyone knows your stepmother’s always hitting you up for cash. Last time your brother got married, you even pawned the kids’ New Year clothes just to chip in. What now—planning to use the kids like pocket money again?"
People around them all turned to look, whispering nonstop.
"She looks all gentle and quiet, but who knew she’d be that heartless…"
"Heard her husband’s been at the border for years and never comes home. Maybe he’s already got someone else out there."
"Poor little ones… having a mom like that, no wonder their lives are so hard."