When I Was Four Years Old Again, I Asked the Magpie to Deliver a Letter to My Father.

In her previous life, four-year-old Niannian was thrown into a poor mountain village by her stepmother. When she died of illness, her father never came. On the day she was sent away after rebirth, she gave half a piece of cake to the magpie: "Xiaohua, send a letter to daddy for me, okay?" Nian Nian can understand animals talking, but can't force them. She exchanged grains of rice for news, and taught magpies to recognize photos and doors over and over again; the little mice got into her stepmother's house, chewed through her new clothes, took away hair curls, and shattered the dignity she had worked so hard to maintain. Shen Weidong in the city never gave up looking for a girl. That day, the magpie threw a red-headed rope into his palm and led him to the entrance of the village. Niannian shrank and didn't dare to admit it. It wasn't until the man knelt down that she threw herself into her father's arms and said to her stepmother, "Goodbye, bad aunt." Unexpectedly, the stepmother suddenly stopped the car: "Weidong, she is not your daughter at all!"