The mugwort returned to this small body.

She was a little speechless, but her current physical condition didn't allow her to think too much about it.

Her hungry stomach made her cry harder.

Cry hard, cry loudly. Only in this way can you get your mother's attention, only in this way can you get more food.

The tiny girl was picked up. Her mother's happy face was reflected in her eyes, and then her mouth was filled with soft, warm breast milk.

Her mother fed her a part of herself again, and life flowed from her mother's body into hers.

Artemisia stopped crying. She drank her mother's milk earnestly, filling her stomach with her mother's life.

After she finished eating, she fell into a deep sleep.

Her mother looked at her newborn daughter with joy. Her sisters took turns holding the tiny baby, carefully examining her features.

They said, "She looks like you."

To confirm their claims, they carefully pointed out Ai Cao's eyebrows and eyes, saying that they resembled her; however, Ai Cao's lips did not show a smile, and she resembled neither her nor that man.

The mother smiled even more joyfully.

She knew her sisters wouldn't lie to her, which made the joy all the more real.

They celebrated briefly, then the chieftain summoned them to prepare for the evening's feast. The birth of a new baby girl in their tribe was a momentous occasion worthy of a grand celebration.

The women then left with smiles.

The sleeping mugwort still nestled beside her mother.

The clan chief sat beside the woman who had just become a mother. She held the mother's young hand in her old, wrinkled hand and slowly told her about raising a child.

She passed on her experience to another version of herself.

They spoke slowly in the gradually dimming room, their souls seemingly merging together with the sunlight.

They share the same blood.

The eldest chieftain of the tribe was also once a mother. She gave birth to her child, and their blood ties bound them tightly together.

It wasn't until later, when she needed to hold power in her hands to compete with other tribal chiefs for land, that she gradually detached herself from her role as a mother. She used her position as chief to firmly secure herself in a high position.

But she is still the mother of everyone in the community.

The young baby girl, her mother, her mother's mother.

The three people are connected by blood.

As dusk fell and the twinkling stars emerged from behind the veil of sunset, the women would joyfully come to the birthing house to invite them to a feast.

The young mother attended the women's banquet.

At the center of the banquet was the bonfire that the women had recently built. Their main house had a bonfire that never went out, but the banquet fire was extinguished as soon as it was lit.

Women dressed in various styles of clothing gathered around the fire. The women brought out platters of food, serving delicious meat and wine to every woman at the feast. This was to share in the joy, and even the young children received a sip of wine.

The spring night still carried a hint of winter chill, but the ground was warm. The breath of every woman with rosy cheeks was also warm.

A young mother—she's young and full of energy. She's also just given birth to a child—a healthy baby girl.

The baby girl was temporarily cared for by her sisters, while the young mother was the center of attention at the banquet.

She wore a beautiful dress, woven from many lovely feathers and animal hides. Her body, in this dress, displayed an unadorned strength and beauty.

She freely exposed her body.

The mother's belly, still somewhat loose from childbirth, was caressed again and again by the other women in the tribe who also longed to conceive. Her belly seemed to bear the marks of divine protection; the wrinkles resembled the patterns of stone.

The women who had not yet given birth curiously poked the baby girl's face; although they had never given birth themselves, they had taken care of many women who had given birth; the women who had given birth told them about childbirth, about the vomiting and nausea during pregnancy, and about the joy and relief when their child was born.

They are connected by blood, so when one woman decides to have children, the other two sisters will temporarily refrain from having children as well.

They will work together to raise this baby girl.

They were both mothers of the baby girl, and the baby girl was their shared child.

This banquet is not only a celebration for mothers, but also a occasion where baby girls receive their names.

Her birth mother had the right to name her; but the surname was shared by their clan, and it had been their surname since the generation older than the clan chief.

Their tribal name is "Jiang." This surname binds every woman in their tribe together, whether they remain within the tribe or venture out to new places to cultivate new lands.

Hearing this surname tells you that the other person shares the same mother as you.

The banquet was already halfway over.

As the fire leaped, her birth mother threw a piece of tortoise shell into the flames.

The tortoise shell crackled and popped. The women dancing around the campfire danced joyfully, surrounding the devout mother in the center.

The clan chief began to sing a long, incantation to the gods.

Her singing voice fell on the stone, and the huge stone seemed to respond to her with a dull echo.

This is the Mother Goddess's response.

The women held hands and danced around the bonfire again and again.

The campfire slowly burned away all the wood inside, then silently went out at dawn.

The meat and wine in the food plate were all taken away, and even the scraps were licked clean by the greedy little girl.

The excited women continued to dance joyfully. They seemed tireless, crowding around the young mother as she retrieved the tortoise shell that had been scorched by the fire all night.

The tortoise shell was burned with uneven cracks.

The cracks formed words, so she brushed the dust off the tortoise shell and carefully examined the words given to her by the Mother Goddess in the light.

She turned the tortoise shell over, picked up some of the ash from its back, and affectionately smeared it on the baby girl's forehead.

“Ai,” the mother said, and the women around her listened quietly, “the Mother Goddess gave her the name Ai!”

The women cheered loudly.

Sleeping in the small house of the clan shrine, their brothers opened their eyes groggily, dragging their weary bodies, and picked up brooms to sweep up the remnants of their feast from the previous night.

From then on, the baby girl was given the name "Jiang Ai".

She will grow up in this tribe as Jiang Ai—

“I didn’t become Artemisia on this day,” Artemisia said. Though her body was asleep, her spirit remained strong.

The ball of light floating in her consciousness let out a disdainful sneer.

“Then let’s jump to the day you were called Artemisia,” the ball of light said.