The icy rain fell like countless needles, piercing Luo Ling’s exposed skin.
He lay on the wet, shimmering asphalt, a warm, sticky liquid rapidly spreading beneath him.
His vision was blurry.
In his ears, a shrill screech of brakes rang out, accompanied by—
—a man’s voice, so cold it bordered on cruelty.
“What are you looking at? A Delivery Worker who doesn’t watch the road while walking deserves it!”
Luo Ling wanted to lift his head, to question, to scream.
He had only looked down at a customer’s rush message on his phone while waiting for the red light, and then that black luxury car crashed into him like a ghost.
The driver hadn’t even thought of slowing down.
What made him even more desperate was that he saw the man in a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses—later, he learned this was the Butler of some big shot—take a stool out of the car after confirming he was still breathing.
“Leaving him is a nuisance too. What if he clings to our Mr.—”
The voice sounded like a sentence from Hell.
Luo Ling struggled with all his might, but could only watch as the stool, with the whistling wind, slammed down on his legs again and again.
“Crack…crack…”
The sound of bones breaking mixed with the rain and the man’s panting, becoming Luo Ling’s final Memory of his previous life.
Agonizing pain devoured him like a tsunami, and his consciousness was snuffed out like a candle in a raging wind, sinking swiftly into endless darkness.
He was just an ordinary Delivery Worker, a “beast of burden” struggling to survive in the Modern City.
Each day, he braved wind and rain, spinning like a top for a few bucks’ delivery fee and a good customer review.
He had no background, no savings; his only dream was to save enough to build a small house for himself back home.
But now, even that humble dream was shattered along with his broken legs in the cold Rainy Night.
Why?
What did he do wrong?
A powerful sense of unwillingness and resentment corroded his remaining consciousness like poison.
He felt his Soul being forcibly torn from his body, drifting in the air, then dragged by an irresistible force into deeper, unknown darkness.
He didn’t know how much time passed—it felt like an instant, or perhaps an eternity.
Luo Ling’s awareness slowly gathered from chaos.
But he couldn’t feel his body.
Only a sense of warmth and…hunger?
No, wasn’t he supposed to be dead?
His legs had been broken by that bastard Butler, and he died in that icy Rainy Night.
He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as heavy as if they were welded shut.
He tried to move, only to find himself so weak he couldn’t even lift a finger.
Instead, an instinctive, uncontrollable urge—sucking—overwhelmed him.
“Wa… wa…”
A loud, tearful wail escaped his throat, uncontrollable.
The sound was weak and childish, filled with helplessness, completely unlike the weathered Delivery Worker Luo Ling.
This was…the cry of an infant?!
Luo Ling was utterly stunned.
He struggled to move his tiny body, feeling the rough cloth around him and the cold wind outside.
This wasn’t a hospital.
It wasn’t the Netherworld either.
The air was thick with the scent of earth, dried grass, and something like wild beast dung.
Had he…turned into a baby?
And been Abandoned in the Wilderness?
The Despair of his previous life and the terror of his new one pressed on his frail little body like two mountains.
His cries grew shriller, but in the empty Wilderness, they were so faint, quickly drowned out by the howling wind.
Cold, hunger, fear…
The shadow of Death seemed to envelop him again at the very moment he was reborn.
Did the heavens think his previous death wasn’t tragic enough, and now wanted him to experience being Abandoned, frozen, and starved to death again?
His consciousness began to blur again in the hunger and cold, his vitality rapidly fading.
Just as he thought he was about to meet Death for the second time, a jumble of footsteps and voices, accompanied by the low growl of a hunting dog, came closer.
“…I think I heard something over here?”
An old male voice sounded, tinged with uncertainty.
“It’s a child’s cry! Old Wangtou, listen!”
A slightly younger voice responded excitedly.
“Hurry, look around! Don’t let the wolf cubs drag it away!”
Several beams of oil lamp light swayed in the darkness, finally settling on the abandoned, tattered bamboo basket where Luo Ling was hiding.
The basket was half-hidden in the bushes, lined with dry grass and a faded piece of old cloth. Luo Ling was wrapped in that cloth, crying until his throat was hoarse.
“Heavens! It really is a baby!”
A woman with a headscarf exclaimed, hurrying forward and gently lifting the bamboo basket, warming the icy little life inside with her own body heat.
“Poor child, how did you end up here…”
Luo Ling felt that long-lost warmth, and the faint scent of earth and herbs from the woman’s body eased his tense nerves a little.
He struggled to open a slit of his eyes.
In the blurry vision, he saw several weathered but concerned faces.
There was a white-haired old man, a sturdy man with dark skin, and the woman holding him, her eyes gentle.
Their clothes were simple, even shabby.
They looked like…villagers from ancient times or another world?
“In these wild mountains, who could be so cruel…”
Old Wangtou sighed, staring at the basket that held nothing but a baby and a rag.
“Not even a keepsake left.”
“No matter what, it’s still a life.”
The sturdy man scratched his head.
“Granny Wang, what do you think…”
The woman called Granny Wang lowered her head, looking at the baby in her arms—his little face was purple from cold, but he had stopped crying, only staring at her with big, black eyes (Luo Ling’s desperate survival instinct).
Her heart softened instantly.
She gently stroked Luo Ling’s cold little face with her rough hand.
“How pitiful… Let’s bring him back to the Village. We’ll find a way to raise him.”
In that moment, Luo Ling felt as if something had slammed into his heart.
In the cold, indifferent Modern City, he’d been struck down and heard only, “Serves you right.”
But in this unfamiliar, primitive, and possibly dangerous world, as an Abandoned infant, he received the promise to “bring him back to the Village and raise him.”
The sharp contrast made this “Big-Age Soul” of a baby’s eyes well up again.
This time, it wasn’t because of pain or fear, but because a tiny flame called “Hope” was rekindled in his heart.
He stopped struggling, letting Granny Wang hold him.
He listened to their conversation, feeling them carefully place him in the middle and walk toward a distant place where faint lights flickered.
The wind was still harsh, but it no longer felt so biting.
Because he knew, for now, he was safe.