Quick Transmigration and Childbirth: The Target is Not Human

The grandest wedding I've ever seen was my mother's.

The wedding of Dr. Kang, who was trained by one of the four famous doctors in Beiping, and Young Marshal Lu, who unified the five southern provinces, was truly unprecedented and unparalleled.

The wedding was held in a Western-style church in Lincheng.

Can you imagine?

In that era, the lawn was covered with white roses, the champagne tower was stacked twelve layers high, the head chef of Yipinju restaurant prepared seafood on the spot, and the guest list included half of the military and political circles.

The officiant was my uncle, Lu Shaohuai, and the bridesmaid was the newly appointed female president of a university in Beiping who had returned from studying abroad.

As the wedding march began, I held the diamond ring the size of a pigeon's egg and walked forward step by step.

The father was wearing a black tailored suit with a white rose pinned to his chest.

The sun was shining brightly, but his expression was unusually tense.

I walked up to him.

The father took the ring and gripped the mother's hand tightly.

I heard my parents whispering.

"Don't be nervous," the mother said softly.

"I'm not nervous at all," the father said, spouting nonsense.

"Your palms are sweaty," his mother pointed out.

My uncle started reciting those old, worn-out oaths.

The father gazed at the mother with deep affection.

"I do."

A round of applause erupted from below.

The eldest uncle then looked at the mother: "Ms. Kangcheng, do you take this man to be your husband, to be married to him, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer...?"

The mother was a little distracted.

I looked at her, and I guessed she was probably thinking about how to do the surgery tomorrow, the free clinic on Xiangjiang Road the day after tomorrow, and taking me to get treatment for my throat the day after that.

In fact, ever since the day her father started preparing for the wedding, her mother had been somewhat distracted.

The father really wanted to give the mother a perfect wedding.

Sometimes, we tend to overlook what our mothers truly want.

"Ms. Kang Cheng, are you willing?"

The mother didn't hear it.

The uncle cleared his throat and repeated, "Ms. Kang Cheng, are you willing?"

The mother then came to her senses.

Her father was staring at her intently, his lips pressed down, his gaze urgent.

It's like waiting for an answer, no, it's like begging for an answer.

The mother looked at the father for a long time, then suddenly smiled and said, "I...I hope everyone can eat well, drink well, and have fun here."

Then, with lightning speed, they picked me up from the ground.

When she lifted her skirt, she startled all the guests present.

I don't know what's so scary about this.

Won't you wear riding breeches and ankle boots on your wedding day?

Clumsy high heels and shorts that are prone to revealing too much can make it difficult for you to make crucial decisions in life.

My mother ran away from the wedding in front of everyone.

She deftly climbed onto the tall, white horse that was supposed to symbolize romance and purity, pulling the "princess's" carriage.

He cut the ropes binding the horse with a single stroke.

The father and uncle chased after them in a panic.

The sunlight shone on her veil, making it sparkle.

The father pressed on, "You still haven't said I do!"

The mother gripped the reins and spurred the horse back.

The horse had a yellow saddle and pink roses pinned to its ears.

She looked down at him, her smile radiant with confidence.

"I've thought about it carefully, and I still don't want to be anyone's wife. If we always love each other, what does it matter if there's no marriage contract?"

Then, before my father could react, he spurred his horse and galloped away with me.

When I grew up and studied history, I realized how audacious my mother's actions were back then.

A woman who ran away from her arranged marriage, carrying the child she had given birth to out of wedlock.

This is the most criticized and condemned action.

Decades ago, that would have meant being drowned in a pig cage.

But at the time I didn't understand at all. All I knew was that after leaving the crowded streets of the city, there was an endless wilderness.

Ah, that soft, fluffy, pure white wedding dress skirt.

They followed the horse in a leisurely and unrestrained manner.

I opened my arms.

They're laughing so happily.

So, Father and Mother, when you read this letter...

I'm already on the train heading to the border war zone for the press corps.

Please forgive me for altering my college application and not choosing to pursue further studies, and please forgive me for declining the invitation from the Beiping News editorial department.

Just think of me as a little eagle.

You can't raise birds with fully grown wings in high-rise buildings.

Please don't worry about me.

Because you have already taught me how to fly.

I can walk the rest of the way on my own.

—Your loving daughter

Corning

----over----