I Have Yet to Become a Doll Today

The old woman immediately shook her head: “Mrs. Li was too frail, too delicate.”

The old man in the house then replied: “Mrs. Li was quite young when she married into our family. The first time she gave birth, she nearly lost her life, and although she managed to survive, the child didn’t live past a month. The babies she gave birth to afterwards all died in infancy…”

When the old man finished speaking, he sighed, and said tiredly, “I am tired… Wife, is there any water?”

The old woman’s face dropped, she got up and went into the house, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

Once the three questions were answered, the NPC exited the scene.

The four people outside looked at each other.

Fu Miaoxue muttered, “Didn’t people in ancient times get married early? They were wed at fifteen or sixteen. If Mrs. Li was younger than that… how old was she? Fourteen? Thirteen?”

Bai Youwei reminded her, “Li Laitzi was a poor man with a head full of scabs.”

Fu Miaoxue shuddered dramatically: “That ugly, how desperate must her parents have been to marry her off to him?”

Du Lai said: “Perhaps Mrs. Li’s family was even poorer, and like many families in ancient times, they were so poor they couldn’t make a living, hence they sold their daughter in return for dowry, or to save resources for their son’s future marriage.”

“There’s another possibility.” Shen Mo said, “Mrs. Li herself could’ve been ugly, or ill.”

Like attracts like. If Li Qianggui was a dumb, poor man with a head full of scabs, then Mrs. Li might also have had some kind of defect.

“This might be tricky,” Du Lai laughed, “We don’t know anything about Mrs. Li – her name, age, where her family lives, nothing. Hence, we still can’t infer why her dead body wouldn’t rest.”

“At least we can rule out the possibility of her retaliating against her husband,” Bai Youwei analyzed calmly, “No children, an ugly husband, and a poor family…I don’t think they were a loving couple under these circumstances. A grudge seems more likely.”

Shen Mo pondered for a moment, looked up at the sky, and said, “There should be a household register at Lizheng’s house. We should have enough time to go now.”

Du Lai nodded.

In terms of theft, nobody was more adept than him.

Du Lai quickly found a house with laundry hanging out to dry, changed into a villager’s homespun outfit, grabbed a handful of yellow earth from the ground to smear on his face until he looked dusty and unremarkable, then he hunched over and headed towards Lizheng’s house.

Shen Mo, Bai Youwei, and Fu Miaoxue waited for him outside.

It wasn’t long before they saw him coming out.

He came out quickly, his expression gloomy. Everyone thought he had failed and didn’t get the register. Much to their surprise, Du Lai pulled a register from his bosom and handed it to Shen Mo.

“Got it.” Du Lai frowned slightly, “But Mrs. Li’s name isn’t in it.”

Bai Youwei froze, and then seemed to think of something. “Let me see.”

Shen Mo had just opened the first page and handed it to her.

The first page was an introduction to the village, roughly detailing its population, how much farmland it had, what crops it grew, and so forth.

The following pages contained information on each household, arranged in order of seniority, starting from the grandparents’ generation, down to the present.

Bai Youwei found Li Qianggui’s name.

His parents had long since died, his two brothers had also passed away one after another. Li Qianggui lived to be 70, which was rather old. If he hadn’t been decapitated, he might have lived even longer.

Next to Li Qianggui’s name, there were small characters that read:

“Wife, Mrs. Li.”

There was no name, no age, no introduction, nothing. She was like an attachment existing or not, no one would know.

Bai Youwei furrowed her brows, flipped through a few more pages, and took a deep breath.

“Most of the women in this village don’t have names.”