Part 1Grandma, Get the Stick!

My gambling-addicted father pushed me off a balcony, and I landed right on top of my grandmother, who was returning from grocery shopping.

We both died instantly.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a hospital bed, getting an ultrasound.

Two little girls were standing beside me, looking up with wide eyes and calling me "Mom!"

I had been reborn as my own grandmother!

So the baby in my belly was... my dad?!

The doctor smiled, holding the ultrasound report. "The baby is very healthy. Four months along."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Good, there's still time.

"Doctor, I want an abortion."

* * *

Everyone gasped at my words.

My "husband"—that is, my grandfather from my previous life—grabbed my hair and started slapping me right there in the hospital.

"Sir! This is a hospital! If you touch her again, we'll call the police!"

Doctors and nurses rushed to stop him.

I was grateful, but part of me wished they hadn't intervened. Let him beat me until I miscarry. Save me the trouble of birthing that monster.

My in-laws—my great-grandparents—quickly stepped in.

"Lana! Don't talk nonsense! It's a boy! You can't abort a boy!"

"Exactly! Let's just take her home and talk some sense into her!"

And so, I was dragged home.

The whole way back, I kept chanting to myself:

[I am Lana Zhang. Lana Zhang is me. Jane Qi is gone. I am gone...]

When we got home, I realized "talking sense" meant tying me up.

I was tied to the bed for over three months. Eating, sleeping, and relieving myself all in one room.

My great-grandparents came in once a week to empty the chamber pot. As for my "husband," I never saw him.

They tried to persuade me: "Lana! Don't blame us. You kept shouting about abortion. We can't let that happen. It's a boy! You've already had two girls; this one must be born!"

I was emaciated and sore all over.

Yet, my great-grandmother still complained: "Eats like a pig. You've already gone through thirteen pumpkins..."

I did the math. Even though this was my third pregnancy, I was only twenty.

I had my first daughter at sixteen.

Turns out my grandmother suffered like this in her youth. But that didn't stop her from abusing me and my mom later on.

It was hell, but I knew it would end soon.

Because my husband—my grandfather from my previous life—was about to kick the bucket.