A faint silence settled over the room.
Zhao Hongmei's smile thinned by a fraction, though her posture remained demure. "Sister Shuying," she said gently, "the elders are speaking. You may not yet understand the hardships of managing a household…"
"Oh?" Li Shuying interrupted softly, her lips still curved in a polite smile. "Then perhaps Step Sister can enlighten me. You compared the college entrance examination to a single-log bridge, with thousands struggling to cross. That may be so. But since when has fear of difficulty become a reason to retreat?"
Her tone was mild—almost respectful.
Yet each word struck with deliberate precision.
She turned to Wang Chunhua. "Step Grandmother worries that twenty yuan a month is insufficient. That is understandable. Grain prices have risen, and even coarse cloth grows more expensive with each passing season."
As she spoke, her gaze drifted slowly back to Zhao Hongmei.
Though Zhao Hongmei's complexion was darkened by sun and hardship, and though her clothes were old, they were unpatched, clean, carefully washed. There was no fraying at the cuffs, no crude stitching at the knees.
Li Shuying lowered her eyes briefly to her own sleeves.
Patched upon patched cloth.
Threadbare fabric worn thin from years of washing.
Her brothers' clothes were no better—faded, re-stitched, hanging loosely on their malnourished frames.
A slow heat rose in her chest.
From the time she first began to understand the world, her father—Li Guoqiang—had already joined the army. After Liberation, he had risen steadily through the ranks and had recently been promoted to squad leader. Every month, without fail, he sent home twenty yuan as an allowance.
Twenty yuan.
In these years, that was no small sum.
And yet—
After the households were divided, Wang Chunhua had insisted on holding the family passbook, claiming that she and her husband required filial support for their old age. The allowance sent by Li Guoqiang never reached Chen Meilan's hands.
Not a single yuan.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that Chen Meilan had raised four children on her own strength alone—scraping by on rationed grain, mending old garments until they could no longer hold thread.
Li Guoqiang knew.
But what could he do?
In this era, the accusation of unfilial conduct was heavier than a mountain. A soldier branded as unfilial would find his future extinguished in an instant. Helpless, he could only press a few crumpled bills secretly into his wife's hands when he returned on leave.
And now—
Li Shuying lifted her gaze again.
"But," she continued lightly, as though raising a simple accounting question, "doesn't Uncle Zhao Depeng also receive an allowance? After all, he and my father are both squad leaders."
Her eyes met Wang Chunhua's steadily.
"If that is the case, then Step Grandmother should be receiving forty yuan each month. That is nearly equivalent to the monthly salary of a section chief at the county steel factory. Surely that is more than sufficient for two elders to live comfortably?"
The room went still.
Wang Chunhua's eyes widened almost imperceptibly before she could restrain herself.
Because only she knew the truth.
The only money she received regularly was Li Guoqiang's twenty yuan. As for her own son, Zhao Depeng—his wife, Sun Guifeng, was sharper and more unyielding than iron. Not a single penny of Zhao Depeng's allowance was handed over willingly.
But such humiliation could never be spoken aloud.
Her expression hardened instantly, indignation rising like a shield.
"You money-losing wretch!" she snapped, her voice shrill with fury. "How dare you covet your grandparents' support money? Heaven will strike you with lightning for such unfilial thoughts!"
The words rang out harshly in the mud-brick house.
Yet instead of shrinking back, Li Shuying felt an unexpected calm.
Anger suited Wang Chunhua poorly—it revealed too much.
A slow, almost wicked smile curved on Li Shuying's lips.
"Oh my," she said lightly, tilting her head. "Step Grandmother, have you grown confused with age? What heaven? What lightning?"
Her voice dropped slightly, measured and cool.
"In these new times, we must be careful with our words. Spreading feudal superstition is not a small matter. If such talk were overheard…" She let the sentence trail off meaningfully. "One never knows whose future might be implicated."
The implication hung in the air like a blade.
She turned her gaze to Zhao Hongmei, eyes bright and sharp.
"Isn't that right, Step Sister?"
Zhao Hongmei's fingers tightened within her sleeves.
For the first time, the gentleness in her expression wavered.
"Sister Shuying, what are you saying?" Zhao Hongmei's voice softened at once, as though she had been wronged. "Grandma is only old and cautious. What she says is not entirely without reason. That money is for Grandmother and Grandfather's support in their later years. We should not discuss such matters openly. In these times… if word were to spread about how much Grandma holds, who knows what might happen?"
As she finished speaking, she lowered her eyes and gave a small, frightened glance toward the door, as if wary of unseen ears beyond the mud walls.
Wang Chunhua snorted in satisfaction, clearly pleased.
"Did you see that?" she said sharply. "That is how a proper young woman behaves—knowing her place. Unlike some girls who interrupt when elders are speaking."
Her gaze shifted accusingly toward Chen Meilan.
"Is this how you raise your daughter?"
Chen Meilan stiffened immediately. "Mother, please calm down," she said hurriedly. "Shuying had a high fever yesterday and is still unwell. She may be speaking out of confusion. I will explain things to her."
She turned to Li Shuying, her voice gentler. "Shuying, go back to your room and rest. We are discussing something important."
Li Shuying did not move.
"Mother," she said quietly, "am I not part of this family? Should I not speak for my elder brother's future?"
Her voice was steady, though her fingers trembled slightly at her sides.
"When Brother took the high school entrance examination, he ranked first in the entire county. Isn't that proof enough of his ability? His class teacher praises him openly. The school even subsidized his tuition. Are they all muddleheaded? They support him because they believe in his potential. Why should we doubt him now?"
Her words were clear and direct, without ornament.
Chen Meilan's expression wavered.
Only she knew the turmoil in her heart. Zhao Hongmei's earlier words about the "single-log bridge" had shaken her deeply. For a fleeting moment, she had forgotten her eldest son's brilliance, blinded instead by fear of failure.
But now, hearing her daughter speak so firmly, the scattered pieces of her confidence began to gather again.
Yes.
Her son was not an ordinary child.
He had always stood out.
Zhao Hongmei noticed the subtle change in Chen Meilan's face at once. The faint crack in her own gentle expression was gone in a flash, replaced by calm composure—but beneath her sleeve, her fingers tightened.
She nudged Wang Chunhua discreetly.
Panic rose in her chest.
She had planned this for far too long to allow it to unravel now.
Only she knew how true Li Shuying's words were.
In her previous life, Li Jianhua had indeed taken the college entrance examination—and passed. He had been admitted to Peking University. His future had unfolded like a clear spring river, smooth and unstoppable. In time, he had risen to the rank of cadre in Beijing.
No.
That could not be allowed to happen again.
In this life, Li Jianhua must not sit for that examination.
Wang Chunhua immediately understood her granddaughter's signal. Though she did not know Zhao Hongmei's deeper motives—nor that she is reborn—she knew one thing clearly, her fortunate "lucky koi" granddaughter did not wish for Li Jianhua to attend university.
And ever since the difficult months began, it had been this very granddaughter who brought edible roots and wild greens from the mountains, filling their bowls when others went hungry.
For the sake of her own bloodline, she would stand firm.
She slammed her palm against the wooden table.
"You little wench!" she snapped. "You think you understand more than your elders? Do you know how much a temporary worker at the county steel factory earns? Seven to ten yuan a month! Can books earn that? Can studying fill your stomach? Labor feeds people—not empty dreams!"
Even Zhao Hongmei joined in, her tone still gentle but tinged with urgency.
"Sister Shuying, the drought is severe. It hasn't rained in time this year. The fields are cracking. The only one earning steady work points is Aunt Meilan. The younger members of the family earn so little that even in the communal canteen, your share cannot fill your bowls."
She paused, lowering her voice.
"I see Aunt Meilan every day, scraping her portion aside, saving more than half for the four of you. She eats barely enough herself. Is that sustainable? If Brother Jianhua finds work in the county, he will receive state rations. He can collect grain from the county granary. Wouldn't that ease Aunt Meilan's burden?"
Her words were careful, measured.
Each one aimed precisely at Li Jianhua's heart.
He had been standing silently all this time, fists clenched, jaw tight. His resolve wavered visibly as he looked at his mother.
Chen Meilan was only in her early thirties.
Yet hardship had carved deep lines at the corners of her eyes. Her frame was thin; her face, sallow. She looked closer to fifty than thirty.
His expression hardened.
"Little Shuying," he said at last, voice steady but heavy, "you need not speak further. I have already decided. I will continue searching for work. I will not return to school."
He paused.
"This is my final decision."
The words fell like a gavel.
Li Shuying's gaze lowered slightly.
Her vision blurred.
This was her brother.
A boy who had once spoken of his dream of being university student with shining eyes. The same boy ready to cast aside his dreams now without hesitation, simply to lighten his mother's burden.
In her previous life, he had done the same.
And she—
She had stood by him then.
She had believed Zhao Hongmei's reasoning was practical and sensible. She had supported him wholeheartedly in abandoning his studies.
Now she understood.
Those gentle words had been a dagger wrapped in soft cotton.
Her throat tightened.
But slowly, she lifted her head again.
This time, she would not stand beside him in retreat.
This time, she would stand before him—blocking the path that led to ruin.
No matter what it took.
Li Shuying's lips curved into a faint, almost admiring smile.
"Such reasonable words, Step Sister," she said slowly, her tone gentle as spring rain. "Listening to you, I almost feel that you are more a daughter of the Li family than I am."
She folded her hands calmly before her.
"You are absolutely right. The drought is severe. No one knows how long these bitter days will last. The communal canteen can scarcely sustain a family of five." She paused deliberately, her gaze soft but penetrating. "I imagine the situation in your household must be even more pressing, isn't it?"
The words were mild.
The implication was not.
She turned gracefully toward Wang Chunhua.
"In that case, Step Grandmother," she continued, as though asking out of pure concern, "when will Uncle Guofu be quitting school? If I remember correctly, he is also in his final year of high school."
The air froze.
Li Guofu was the youngest son born to Wang Chunhua and Li Changfu. After Li Shuying's biological grandmother passed away young, her grandfather had married Wang Chunhua—a widow who had brought with her a son, Zhao Depeng, the same age as Li Guoqiang.
Later, Wang Chunhua bore three more children: the eldest son, Li Guosheng, already twenty-eight and married; a daughter, Li Yulan, twenty-five and yet to wed; and finally the late-born treasure of her old age—Li Guofu.
Eighteen years old.
The "phoenix" of the household.
In truth, Li Guofu spent more time loitering in the county streets with idle youths than attending classes. His grades were mediocre at best. Yet in Wang Chunhua's eyes, he was a pearl hidden in mud, destined for greatness.
The moment Li Shuying mentioned his name, Wang Chunhua's expression changed drastically.
She shot to her feet, her stool scraping harshly against the earthen floor.
"You wretched, money-draining girl!" she shrieked, jabbing a trembling finger toward Li Shuying. "How dare you drag my Xiao Fu into this? My Xiao Fu is destined for university! He is meant to rise from this muddy village like a phoenix ascending to the heavens!"
Her chest heaved with indignation.
The contrast was impossible to ignore.
Moments earlier, she had dismissed university education as impractical nonsense. Labor was honorable, she had said. Books did not fill stomachs.
Yet when it came to her own son—
University became destiny.
Chen Meilan's brows knitted unconsciously.
Li Jianhua's jaw tightened.
Neither spoke, but the inconsistency weighed heavily in the room.
Even Zhao Hongmei felt a flicker of irritation. Inwardly, she cursed her grandmother's lack of restraint. Such blatant favoritism only weakened their position.
Her gaze shifted slowly toward Li Shuying.
This time, she studied her carefully.
Something was wrong.
Yesterday, Li Shuying had clearly supported Li Jianhua's decision to quit school. She had even wished him success in finding work this morning. There had been no resistance, no sharp tongue.
Yet now—
Her words were precise, calculated.
She was no longer reacting emotionally.
She was attacking strategically.
A faint chill crept up Zhao Hongmei's spine.
Had something changed?
Or—
Had she underestimated Li Shuying all along?
Across the modest living room, dust floated lazily in the slanting sunlight. The mud walls, cracked and uneven, bore silent witness to the confrontation unfolding within them.
Li Shuying remained standing, slender but steady, her expression calm.
She did not argue loudly.
She did not shout.
She merely smiled—soft, composed, almost filial and gazed back at Zhao Homgmei with equal intensity.