Li Shuying let out a soft scoff and slowly withdrew her gaze from Zhao Hongmei.
She knew exactly what Zhao Hongmei was thinking.
But she did not care.
What amused her now were Wang Chunhua's delusions.
Xiao Fu? A phoenix?
The image that surfaced in her mind was of a greasy-faced, overfed youth—so plump that no boy within twenty miles could rival him. Li Guofu, who spent his days swaggering through the county streets under the pretense of "attending high school," his belly straining against his buttons, his fingers stained with sunflower seed shells and oil.
A university student?
She could not help it.
A quiet chuckle escaped her lips.
The sound, though faint, was like oil thrown onto fire.
Wang Chunhua's face darkened instantly. She spat as she spoke, flecks of saliva scattering in her fury.
"Did I say something wrong? You dare laugh, you shameless girl? Just you wait! My Xiao Fu will rise above all of you. When he becomes a university student, you will only be fit to carry his shoes!"
Her shrill voice pierced the small living room.
Zhao Hongmei saw the situation slipping from control. She quickly placed a firm hand on her grandmother's shoulder, pressing down slightly in warning. Her eyes flashed with urgency.
"Grandma, please don't be agitated," she said in a low voice, though the sharpness beneath it was clear.
Then she lifted her head and turned toward Chen Meilan and the Li siblings, her expression once again soft and composed.
"Aunt Meilan, Brother Jianhua," she began gently, "I believe Sister Shuying has misunderstood our intentions. It is not that we would refuse to ask Uncle Li Guofu to quit school. It is simply that our household has several laborers. We earn sufficient work points to receive full portions from the communal canteen."
She lowered her gaze, voice trembling ever so slightly.
"But your family is different. Only Aunt Meilan earns steady work points, yet there are five mouths to feed. That is why we suggested Brother Jianhua consider leaving school. It was merely concern."
Her eyes reddened convincingly as she looked down at her feet, appearing hurt and misunderstood.
Wang Chunhua seized the opportunity at once.
"Hongmei is right!" she barked. "I was thinking for your family's sake. Chen Meilan, how dare your daughter twist my kindness into something ugly?"
Li Shuying almost laughed again.
White lotus and green tea—truly grandmother and granddaughter are cut from the same cloth, she thought coldly.
Outwardly, however, she widened her eyes slightly, as though struck by sudden realization.
"Oh…" she said slowly. "So Step Grandmother was acting out of kindness? And here I was, foolishly suspecting ulterior motives."
Both Wang Chunhua and Zhao Hongmei shifted uneasily.
Li Shuying did not allow them space to recover.
"So Step Grandmother knows that our family is suffering?" she pressed softly.
Her lashes lowered, and she forced moisture into her eyes.
"You are truly benevolent, Step Grandmother—far kinder than those so-called blood relatives who squeeze a family dry. Since you are aware of our hardship…"
She paused deliberately.
"…when will you return my father's allowance passbook?"
The words fell gently.
Like a blade wrapped in silk.
"It is already the beginning of the month. Father will soon send his allowance. Mother will need to withdraw the money to purchase grain and cloth. So, Step Grandmother—shall you bring the passbook to us? Or shall we accompany you to your house to retrieve it?"
Silence.
Utter silence.
Even the faint rustle of wind against the paper window seemed to cease.
Chen Meilan's eyes flickered toward Wang Chunhua—hesitant, yet faintly expectant.
Wang Chunhua's face drained of color.
Zhao Hongmei's heart dropped.
For nearly ten years, Wang Chunhua had kept Li Guoqiang's allowance passbook in her possession, labeling it filial support. Twenty yuan a month.
In this era, twenty yuan was no small sum.
It could purchase over one hundred jin of rice.
Or twenty-five jin of pork.
For rural families who survived on work points alone—where grain was allocated and cash was rare—twenty yuan was wealth.
And now, this girl had dared to expose it openly.
Zhao Hongmei turned to her grandmother and saw her wrinkled face flushing red with rage.
She knew the old woman was about to explode.
That could not be allowed.
If Wang Chunhua lashed out recklessly now, everything would unravel.
There were other ways to block Li Jianhua's future. She did not need this confrontation today.
Without hesitation, Zhao Hongmei grabbed Wang Chunhua's arm firmly.
"Aunt Meilan, Brother Jianhua," she said hurriedly, forcing composure into her tone, "Grandma still has tasks to complete. The afternoon rest period is nearly over. The loudspeaker will soon announce the start of the afternoon shift. We should not delay the production team's work."
She tightened her grip.
"Aunt Meilan, you should also go to the communal canteen soon. If you arrive late, your portion may be reduced."
With that, she began pulling Wang Chunhua toward the door.
But Wang Chunhua was unwilling to leave quietly.
"You unfilial little wretch!" she shouted as she stumbled forward. "Coveting elders' money—have you no shame? You wait! When your father returns, I will tell him how you bully your elders! Heaven sees everything!"
"Grandma!" Zhao Hongmei hissed urgently hearing the word Heaven, trying to quiet her, is this old hag trying to get us killed, she cursed.
But the old woman's curses continued, echoing across the courtyard.
"You think a few clever words make you capable? You are nothing but a girl who eats without earning! Wait and see how my Xiao Fu rises—then you will kneel and beg!"
Even as Zhao Hongmei dragged her beyond the gate, her voice carried back into the mud-brick house, sharp and venomous.
Only when their figures disappeared down the dusty path did the courtyard fall quiet again.
Inside, the small living room felt larger somehow.
Lighter.
Li Shuying stood still, her expression calm, though her pulse thundered in her ears.
This was only the beginning.
But for the first time—
The passbook had been mentioned aloud.
And once a secret is dragged into daylight, it can never return to shadow so easily.
Chen Meilan let out a long, weary sigh. She turned to Li Shuying, her gaze gentle yet edged with reproach.
"Shuying," she said softly, "why did you do that? You know your step-grandmother's temper. By tomorrow she will have spread the story to every household in the brigade. You are already thirteen. In a few years, you will be of marriageable age. If rumors cling to you like burrs, how will we find you a good match?"
At the sound of her mother's concern—so sincere, so unfeigned—Li Shuying's vision blurred.
This was her mother.
In her previous life, this very woman had vanished without warning, like a morning mist swallowed by the sun. It was only after her death, decades later, that Li Shuying learned the truth: Chen Meilan had been sold to a brothel in the south. The money had been used to secure Zhao Hongmei's work allotment after she failed the college entrance examination.
The memory cut like a blade.
Without another word, Li Shuying threw herself into her mother's arms. This time, she did not restrain her tears. Sixty years of longing collapsed in an instant. The familiar warmth, the faint scent of woodsmoke and coarse cotton, the steady beat of her mother's heart—she melted against it, sobbing as though she were still a small child.
Chen Meilan panicked immediately. "Shuying! Why are you crying? Did Mother scold you too harshly? Ai-ya, don't cry. I was not reprimanding you—I was only worried. Don't cry, my good girl."
Her second and third brothers rushed forward as well.
"Shuying, don't cry," Li Jianguo coaxed, patting her head awkwardly. "If you keep crying, Wang Erbao next door will laugh at you."
Li Jianmin, the youngest of the brothers, grinned in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Yes, Shuying, stop crying. I'll take you up the mountain later to pick wild vegetables. Don't you like those tiny wild cucumbers? We'll slice them thin and eat them with hot porridge. How fragrant that would be, hm?"
But Li Shuying heard none of it. She only cried harder, as if afraid that once she stopped, this fragile warmth would vanish again.
Li Jianhua stood slightly apart. His brows were tightly drawn, his expression conflicted. He was worried—but beneath the worry was little anger. Just yesterday, his little sister had wholeheartedly supported his decision to leave school. Today, she had turned against him and even spoken sharply to Zhao Hongmei, who, in his mind, had only meant well for the family.
After much coaxing, Li Shuying's sobs gradually subsided. She lifted her head from her mother's embrace, wiped her swollen eyes, and forced a small smile.
"Second Brother, Third Brother… I'm fine," she said hoarsely. "I just had a nightmare last night and felt frightened for a moment."
Chen Meilan exhaled in relief, her hand still resting protectively on her daughter's shoulder.
Li Jianmin laughed. "It was only a dream. You shouldn't take it to heart." Then his eyes gleamed mischievously. "But Shuying, you were impressive today. You even angered Step-Grandmother and asked for Father's allowance passbook. I always thought you were soft and timid. Looks like I misjudged you."
Chen Meilan shot him a stern look. "Little Third, how can you encourage your sister to rebel? Should a junior speak to her elders in that tone? Have you forgotten propriety?"
Li Jianmin snorted. "What elders? That old woman and her precious granddaughter are forever calculating and meddling in our household. So what if Shuying spoke up for us once?"
"Li Jianmin!"
Three voices rang out at once—Li Jianhua, Li Jianguo, and Chen Meilan.
Li Jianhua stepped forward, anger flashing in his eyes. "Is this what they teach you at school? Zhao Hongmei was speaking for our sake. What manipulation are you talking about?"
"For our sake?" Li Jianmin retorted, his usual playful expression gone. "Didn't she belittle you? Saying you would never pass the college entrance exam? Didn't you hear her laugh when Mother mentioned you might even go to Peking University? That laugh—was that concern?"
At the mention of it, Li Jianhua fell silent, his jaw tightening.
Li Jianguo spoke instead, his tone restrained but firm. "Whatever her words, she was thinking about the family's difficulties. You should not speak of her like that."
Li Jianmin scoffed. "Thinking of us? Then why did she avoid the subject when Shuying asked Step-Grandmother for Father's allowance passbook? Doesn't she know that, by right, it should be managed by our branch of the family?"
He turned to his mother and elder brother, frustration simmering in his voice.
"You think she's a saint. To me, she's nothing but a white lotus—pure on the surface, rotten underneath. We don't even have Father's allowance in our hands. The work points we earn are barely half of what their household earns. Yet before the communal kitchen opened, every single month she swaggered over to demand filial grain. Tell me—when was the last time we ate a proper, full meal?"
Silence fell heavily over the room.
Li Shuying let out a quiet sigh.
Just as she remembered. In the original course of events, Zhao Hongmei—though neither especially clever nor beautiful—had possessed an uncanny ability to sway others. Her elder and second brothers harbored no improper thoughts, yet they were instinctively protective of her. That subtle influence was dangerous.
Yet her third brother—usually mischievous and carefree—had seen through it with startling clarity. For the first time, Li Shuying looked at him in a new light.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her elder brother's face darken further. His lips parted, ready to reprimand Li Jianmin again.
But how could she allow that?
Li Shuying interrupted him, her voice still soft from tears, yet steady as bamboo in winter.
"Mother, Eldest Brother," she began quietly, "what Third Brother said may have sounded crude. I do not judge Zhao Hongmei entirely in that light. But his words are not without truth."
She lifted her eyes to Li Jianhua, her gaze calm and piercing in a way that did not belong to a thirteen-year-old girl.
"For some time now, she has been subtly persuading you to leave school. Today, she even accompanied her grandmother here to convince Mother. Household matters should be settled within our own doors. As the saying goes, even an upright official cannot easily judge family affairs. Why should a step-sister and step-grandmother interfere so deeply after already seprating the main household? That is why I felt… uneasy."
Li Jianhua responded at once, though his tone lacked the sharpness he had used on Li Jianmin. It was clear that, despite his frustration, he could not bring himself to scold his youngest sister harshly.
"Shuying, you should not say such things," he said, forcing patience into his voice. "Yes, Zhao Hongmei suggested that I quit school and look for work. But the final decision was mine. I thought it through carefully."
He paused, the weight of reality pressing down on his shoulders.
"She is not entirely wrong, is she? Several of my classmates left school in their second year. They joined work forces as a temporary workers and now earn ten or even fifteen yuan a month, with state grain rations guaranteed. Since these hard days began, more and more students have withdrawn. After this severe drought—no rain for over three months—who knows how much harvest we will even gather? Once we hand over the state quota, how much will remain for us? And tell me—can a few meager work points truly feed five mouths?"
His voice lowered, almost hoarse.
"In times like these, survival comes first. It is labor that fills the bowl, not books. University… that is a distant dream."
The words tasted bitter. Once, he had imagined himself wearing a white shirt and standing beneath the gates of a university, perhaps even Peking University, as Mother had once half-jokingly, half-proudly declared. But dreams did not cook rice. Dreams did not silence the rumble of hunger at night.
His heart ached, yet he forced himself to accept what he believed to be reality.
Li Shuying watched him quietly, her own heart tightening.
She knew this road all too well.
In her previous life, she had thought the same. At thirteen, she too had believed that books could not compare to immediate grain, that work points were more reliable than examination papers. Later, only in 1966, when the college entrance examinations were suspended, she finally understood what had truly been lost.
When she had been sold into the mountains to marry a widower by Zhao Hongmei and Wang Chunhua she had once overheard an educated youth speak of her elder brother, a university student in the provincial capital and spoke of the perks collage student actually got.