Thud. Thud. Thud.
The knocking jolted Jade Rowan awake. Rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up from the hard bed with a groan. Halfway through the motion, she froze – her protruding belly demanded attention. With a grimace, she cradled the weight with one hand.
Outside, the knocking ceased, replaced by a woman's sharp call, "Jade! You home?"
No time to think. "Coming," she mumbled back, her voice thick with sleep. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side, found her cotton slippers on the floor, and wedged her slightly swollen feet into them. Leveraging herself up with an arm braced against the bed, she shuffled towards the door.
The belly felt like an anchor. She wrapped both arms around it for support.
In the courtyard, she slid back the heavy wooden bolt and pulled open the door. Outside stood a wiry, dark-skinned woman with a vegetable basket hooked over her arm. The woman was half a head shorter than Jade, her hair brittle, face drawn with exhaustion, fine lines etched around her eyes and mouth. Yet her features hinted at faded prettiness.
Seeing Jade, the woman's mouth immediately turned down. Her shrewd eyes raked over Jade's form, finally settling on the sleep creases still marking her right cheek. Her tone was brittle. "Locking the door in broad daylight? Still asleep at this hour? Forgotten you've got a man, have you?"
Jade blinked innocently, then lowered her gaze.
Guilty as charged. She really had.
May Lin choked back her irritation at Jade's blank expression. How did my son get saddled with this useless creature? Her face darkened as she dug into her pants pocket, pulling out a few crumpled bills. She snatched Jade's hand and shoved the money into it, then thrust some wilted vegetables from her basket at her. "Go bail him out at the station. If you've no shame, I do!"
She turned away without another glance, muttering curses about "deadbeats" and "slackers" as she retreated down the lane.
Jade watched her go, then closed the gate. Clutching the vegetables, she retreated inside.
It was 1998. This remote southern county town hadn't yet felt much of the Reform and Opening Up boom. Most residents, like Jade, still lived in single-story houses of weathered bricks and soot-stained tiles.
The door opened directly into a dimly lit living room. Dominating the wall opposite was a large, colourful painting of a welcoming pine tree. To its right hung a framed black-and-white portrait of an elderly man beneath an old pendulum clock, its rhythmic tick-tock slicing through the silence. Below these sat a tall tea table and a square dining table pushed against the wall, flanked by two chairs. The room reeked of a bygone era.
Jade set the vegetables and money on the table. She poured herself a cup of cool boiled water from the teapot and drank deeply. A sigh of relief escaped her as she sank into a chair, wiping sweat from her brow and fanning herself with her hand. The pregnancy made her unbearably hot – worse than any training drill back at the police academy.
Back at the academy… Her gaze dropped to her swollen belly, and her mood soured. Just two days ago, she'd woken up here, twenty years in the past, transformed into the ex-wife of the prime suspect in a case she'd studied: Nigel Shaw.
The only warning had been that fleeting moment during the case wrap-up. As Nigel was being escorted away, he'd heard a colleague call her name – Jiang Rou. His head snapped up, his icy, indifferent eyes locking onto hers across the corridor. That gaze had haunted her, lingering long after the news of his fatal car crash had given her weeks of nightmares.
Nigel Shaw was infamous at the precinct. Her instructors had used his case as a grim lesson back at the academy. Seeing the name "Jiang Rou" listed as his wife – the one who'd supposedly run off twenty years prior – had felt unnervingly personal, sharing that name. Her field placement had coincidentally landed her on his case as a rookie, assisting senior detectives with paperwork. She'd learned far more than the textbooks contained.
The case was labyrinthine: sprawling connections, a timeline stretching years. It began with the death of an innocent girl from relentless school bullying. Within a year of her death, her tormentors began dying under mysterious circumstances, vanishing Nigel becoming the prime suspect. Only his reappearance eleven years later cracked the case open.
Nigel himself was an enigma, but his daughter had been undeniably blameless. Jade had seen the girl's photo. She'd inherited her father's striking looks – a beautiful child with an angelic smile. Records showed she was bright, gentle, and kind.
Her bullies were older boys from privileged families. Their youth and their families' influence had quickly buried the incident, silencing both school and local police. Recalling the classroom lecture, Jade remembered the heavy silence. Legal reasoning felt cold; as students, they'd burned with youthful outrage. Back then, they'd all assumed Nigel was the killer. Not pity for him, but a stark belief that the boys who'd destroyed his daughter deserved no pity themselves.
That lovely, well-behaved girl had her whole future stolen at ten years old. Even seasoned detectives, discussing the case over drinks after its conclusion, had called it heartbreaking: the girl's innocence shattered, the boys' lives ruined by their own cruelty, the parents' failure allowing a tragedy to fester for over a decade into an irreparable catastrophe. If those boys hadn't dragged the girl to that abandoned factory, hadn't pushed her into the icy river in midwinter… she wouldn't have stumbled upon the drug dealers hiding there. And they wouldn't have silenced her to protect their operation.
Someone had once mused that Nigel walked a blurred line between light and dark. His warped upbringing had forged a dangerous man with skewed morals. His daughter had been his lifeline, pulling him towards the light, making him want to be good. But her brutal death extinguished that light. The man who wanted goodness died with her, leaving only vengeance and despair.
The sheer anguish of the case had solidified Jade's resolve: finish the internship, find a quiet, safe desk job far from the front lines.
Lost in thought, she flinched as a tiny foot nudged her from within. Her expression softened instantly, her hand drifting gently over her belly. Then came the sigh. An unexpected mother, without even a boyfriend.
As if sensing her touch, the little one nudged her again. Soft. Gentle. Nothing like her sister-in-law's boisterous pregnancy. This child was Nigel's daughter – the one from the case.
Fortunately, Jade was adaptable. The initial shock had worn off after two days. What choice was there? One step at a time. Her eyes flicked to the money on the table, then darted away guiltily.
Nigel had been jailed a few days prior for brawling. Bailing him out wasn't happening. She fervently hoped they'd keep him locked up longer. As a mere intern, facing down someone like Nigel Shaw, who danced on the edge of darkness, filled her with primal dread.
As dusk approached, Jade took the vegetables to the kitchen. It housed a traditional earthen stove requiring firewood. Relying on fragmented memories, she clumsily ignited some wood shavings for kindling, shoved them into the stove's belly, and piled on scraps of lumber. The house belonged to Nigel's grandfather, Old Shaw, a carpenter. When Jade arrived, the yard and living room had been chaotic junkyards of wood. She'd spent two days clearing it, saving usable pieces in the shed, consigning the rest to the firewood pile.
She stir-fried two dishes: bok choy and amaranth. While the rice cooked, she steamed a bowl of silky egg custard. The kitchen was spartan: only sesame oil, salt, vinegar, and half a jar of lard testified to the household's poverty.
After eating, Jade washed the dishes. She ladled hot water from the reservoir tank beside the stove into a basin, making two careful trips to her room – one for hot water, one for cold. This body was frail. Even pregnant, she was thin and weak, struggling with anything heavy – a stark contrast to her former fit, well-nourished self. Her old face had been sweetly round, dimpled, radiating harmless charm that reassured her family – until her belated rebellious streak led her to the police academy, sparking constant fears for her safety. "Jiang Rou" was different: ethereally beautiful, fragile, with pale skin and timid, melancholy eyes that begged protection. Yet, since the change within, Jade noticed a new alertness in the mirror this morning – brighter eyes, less cowering.
Huffing with effort, she managed the two basins. She poured the water into the large bathing tub, then placed the day's sun-dried clothes on the bed. The primitive conditions made for a quick wash. Draining the tub afterwards was another exhausting chore. The laundry would wait for morning.
There was nothing here for entertainment. The poverty was absolute.
Jade secured the door and lay down on the bed, wielding a large palm-leaf fan against the stifling heat. The mosquito net kept insects at bay, but sweat beaded on her skin moments after bathing. An ancient electric fan stood in the corner, but its breeze felt too cold now. Pregnancy is hell.
She tossed and turned, drifting off with one fervent wish: Please let me wake up back home.
It didn't happen.
Early to bed meant early to rise. Jade awoke before dawn, her stomach growling fiercely. Resigned, she hauled herself up and headed to the kitchen. She refused to skimp. The original owner, raised in a family that favored sons over daughters, was perpetually hungry and ate little. Jade couldn't stand it. This body was a reed in the wind. Without meat, she ate two full bowls of rice, forcing it down if necessary.
She stir-fried the leftover vegetables and steamed another bowl of egg custard. The taste was surprisingly good – likely thanks to free-range eggs. A drop of sesame oil and a dab of lard made it heavenly.
After eating, Jade paced the small courtyard, then tackled the previous night's laundry. A well stood in the yard, requiring a rope and bucket to draw water. The cumbersome process meant a perfunctory wash – a few quick scrubs before hanging the clothes up to dry.
With chores done, she tackled the last small pile of wood scraps in the yard. Surveying the finally tidy courtyard and living room, Jade planted her hands on her hips, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. Pretty damn capable.
To reward her capable self, she made an instant decision: scooping up the money May Lin had delivered yesterday, she headed out the door.