A murmur rippled through the canteen.
The word landlord lingered in the air like a drawn blade.
In these years, such a label was not merely an insult—it was perilous. Once attached, it could drag down an entire household, staining not only one generation but three.
From the dim edge of the hall, Zhao Hongmei watched, her pulse quickening.
She had always known her mother to be sharp-tongued and shrewd in quarrels. But this? This was ruthless.
A dangerous thrill rose in her chest.
If the word took root, Li Shuying's entire family would never again lift their heads in the brigade.
Li Shuying's expression darkened, but only briefly. She lowered her gaze for a heartbeat, as though steadying herself, then lifted her eyes again—calm, lucid, unhurried.
"Step-Aunt," she said evenly, "our family has tilled this land for generations. The production team's records are there for all to see. If you call us landlords, do you have proof? Or are you merely casting accusations to frighten people?"
Her tone was composed, neither loud nor confrontational, yet every word carried clearly across the hall.
"If you insist on throwing labels about so casually," she continued, "then I may have no choice but to report this to the Public Security Bureau as intentional defamation. After all, such accusations are not light matters."
A faint stir passed through the villagers.
No one wished for official scrutiny to descend upon the brigade.
"As for studying," Li Shuying went on, her voice measured, "since when has education become a crime? Chairman Mao himself has said that knowledge must serve the people. If my brothers study well and one day contribute to the country, is that not also labor? Must only those who swing hoes be deemed diligent?"
Several elders exchanged thoughtful glances.
Her reasoning was carefully aligned with official rhetoric—impossible to refute without appearing ideologically unsound.
"You say everyone worries about the next meal," she added softly. "Precisely because times are difficult, should we not think ahead? If no one studies, if no one learns improved methods, how will yields increase? How will the country grow stronger?"
Sun Guifeng opened her mouth—then found no immediate reply.
Seeing her hesitation, Li Shuying allowed herself a faint, courteous smile.
"And regarding laziness," she said gently, though her eyes sharpened, "during the busy season this year, my brothers and I earned more than seven work points per day—no less than an adult man. Yet I rarely saw your daughter, Zhao Hongmei, in the fields."
A subtle hush fell.
"If I remember correctly," Li Shuying continued, her tone turning cool, "she earns just over three work points collecting pig grass alongside small children. Last year, she gathered poisonous weeds mixed among the fodder. Because of that, one of the brigade pigs died. After submitting the required hog to the state, there was none left for the villagers to share during the New Year."
Her words were precise. Deliberate.
"Tell me, Step-Aunt," she concluded lightly, "is this the diligence you speak of?"
The atmosphere shifted abruptly.
Several villagers turned sharply toward Sun Guifeng.
The death of that pig had not been trivial. It had meant no pork for the New Year feast—a tradition stretching back generations. In ordinary years, meat was already rare; once a year, the New Year bowl was a small comfort against hardship.
And that year, even that had been lost.
Resentment had never entirely faded.
From the shadows, Zhao Hongmei shifted uneasily. Her earlier excitement curdled into embarrassment. She wished, with sudden desperation, that her mother would change the subject before the attention shifted fully toward her.
Sun Guifeng felt the weight of those stares.
It had been five months since the New Year. Must this girl truly drag out old grievances?
Her face flushed as she glared at Li Shuying.
"Don't change the subject!" she snapped. "We are discussing you. Hongmei already apologized for that incident. But did you apologize to your grandmother and to Hongmei for upsetting them this morning?"
"Apologize?" Li Shuying let out a soft scoff.
"I never saw Sister Hongmei come to our house to apologize for the New Year matter. Are we not also members of this village? Yet today she arrives to show 'concern' for my elder brother."
Her gaze flicked briefly toward the darker corner where Zhao Hongmei stood.
"In fact," she continued smoothly, "she has been showing such concern for over a week now—meeting my brother privately, speaking to him alone."
The words fell like pebbles into still water.
"Does Sister Hongmei not understand," Li Shuying went on, her tone almost sympathetic, "that it is improper to meddle in another household's affairs—especially when the families separated over a decade ago? My brother and she share no blood relation. If others misunderstand, they might question her conduct."
She turned deliberately toward Wang Chunhua, her expression full of calculated concern.
"And then," she asked gently, "who would dare marry Sister Hongmei in the future?"
The implication was unmistakable.
A low buzz erupted among the villagers.
Grand-Aunt Li was the first to speak. "Old Li's daughter is not wrong, Sun Guifeng. A young woman should not meddle excessively in other households' matters. It harms her reputation."
Aunt Wang, who lived beside Li Shuying's house, chimed in, "Indeed. Even if they are step-siblings in name, it is not proper for Hongmei to loiter around the Li siblings' courtyard. I have seen her speaking alone with the elder brother more than once."
Lu Lingmei, mother of the twins from the rear courtyard, added firmly, "During last harvest, Chen Meilan and all four of her children—including Shuying—earned seven work points each day. But Zhao Hongmei was still assigned pig grass. When Accountant Hu asked if she could assist with the harvest, she dragged her feet and damaged several corn stalks. In the end, Accountant Hu had to send her back to collecting fodder."
Widow He, thin and sharp-eyed, shook her head. "Corn is precious as gold these days. Even a few damaged stalks could feed a family like mine for days. If a girl cannot work diligently and even harms livestock…" She sighed meaningfully. "Who would dare take such a daughter-in-law? If she grows dissatisfied with her mother-in-law, who knows what she might do?"
Her words were not loud—but they carried.
"You—"
The color drained from Sun Guifeng's already contorted face. In all her years in the village, she had never lost a quarrel. Her tongue had always been sharp, her temper fiercer still. Yet today she had been driven into a corner—by a mere thirteen-year-old girl.
And not just any girl.
Chen Meilan's daughter.
This was the second time in her life that she had suffered humiliation because of that woman.
She spun around and glared at Chen Meilan, her eyes blazing with venom. "You shameless vixen! First you steal another woman's man, and now you teach your daughter to spit poison? Chen Meilan, you are rotten to the core!"
A faint crease appeared between Li Shuying's brows.
There was something deeper in those words—something long buried beneath years of resentment. She had always known that Sun Guifeng targeted her mother at every opportunity, while Chen Meilan endured in silence, swallowing bitterness like plain rice. But Shuying had never cared to ask why.
Until now.
Not far away, Wang Chunhua's expression had also stiffened.
When she had earlier insinuated that Li Shuying might struggle to find a husband, she had only intended to tarnish the girl's reputation slightly—to press her down, to remind her of her place. She had never imagined the accusation would rebound upon her own granddaughter.
Her daughter, Li Yulan, was already twenty-five—past what the village considered an ideal marriageable age. Suitors had come and gone. The reason was simple: Li Yulan refused to marry a rural man. She insisted on a city husband, someone with an urban household registration, a proper work unit, grain rations without worry. Years had slipped by in that stubborn dream.
She was already stressed over it.
And now Zhao Hongmei, who would reach marriageable age within four or five years, was being implicated in whispers of impropriety.
How could Wang Chunhua endure that?
"You little wretch!" she shrieked. "How dare you speak of my granddaughter like that?"
She lunged forward, her hand raised high to strike.
Chen Meilan moved instinctively to shield her daughter.
But Li Shuying was faster.
Her slender fingers shot up and caught Wang Chunhua's wrist midair. The motion was swift, controlled, almost effortless.
In her previous life, she had survived thirty years behind prison walls. There, strength was not optional. A formidable woman had once taken a liking to her and taught her martial arts for survival.
This slap was nothing.
Wang Chunhua's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y...you dare to grab an elder's hand when she is disciplining you?"
The next instant, she collapsed dramatically onto her knees. She began pounding her thighs and chest, wailing in exaggerated despair.
"Aiyaa.... What sin have I committed? I raised Li Guoqiang as if he were my own flesh and blood. Now he serves in the army as a squad leader, and his daughter bullies me in public! Is this the reward for all my years of hardship? Old Li! Come out and witness this injustice!"
The performance was flawless—like the mourning women in rural opera, crying without tears.
Li Shuying nearly laughed.
Reward?
Was twenty yuan a month not reward enough?
Then, like a spark catching dry straw, an idea ignited in her mind.
Yes.
This was the perfect moment.
Since her rebirth, she had wracked her mind for a solution to their family's immediate hardship. The twenty yuan her father sent monthly—the military allowance—was their only lifeline. Yet it had never reached their hands.
If the truth were to surface now…
Her gaze shifted subtly.
Not far away stood Lu Lingmei's twin boys, barely three years old, watching wide-eyed. Shuying drifted toward them casually, bending slightly as if to pat their heads. She whispered a few quick words into their ears.
The boys nodded solemnly and ran off in opposite directions.
Meanwhile, Zhao Hongmei flushed with embarrassment at her grandmother's spectacle. But she quickly recovered.
If this incident escalated into a matter of filial piety, then Li Shuying would be the one condemned.
She hurried forward, squeezing out a few crystalline tears. Taking her grandmother's arm, she turned to Shuying with wounded gentleness.
"Sister," she said softly, "how could you seize Grandmother's hand? She was only disciplining you. As juniors, it is our duty to be filial. Even if elders beat us, we must endure."
Several villagers nodded.
"She's right," one woman murmured. "How can a child block an elder's hand? What kind of example is that for the younger generation? If my grandson dared such a thing, my heart would shatter."
Another chimed in, "Step-grandmother or not, she has the right to discipline you. How many stepmothers raise stepchildren as well as Wang Chunhua did? I remember she treated Li Guoqiang and Zhao Depeng alike. When they joined the army, she didn't hold either back for her own comfort."
"Yes," someone else added. "Accepting a beating from her would only show filial piety."
Li Shuying remained silent.
But Widow He, who had witnessed everything from the beginning, could not hold back.
"How can you speak without knowing the full story?" she snapped. "Wang Chunhua was the one who insulted the girl first—calling her lazy, mocking her marriage prospects. When the child merely repeated the same words toward Zhao Hongmei, she raised her hand to strike. Is that what a real grandmother does?"
Lu Lingmei snorted. "This is clearly a moral inversion. Smear the step-granddaughter to elevate her own flesh and blood."
Grand-Aunt Li, who had lived long enough to remember every family's history, leaned on her cane and spoke with authority.
"You say she raised Li Guoqiang like her own? I saw everything with my own eyes. That boy was thin as paper, never allowed to attend school. Meanwhile, Zhao Depeng studied properly. If not for that kind sent-down scholar who taught him at night and even shared his food, Li Guoqiang would have died of malnutrition."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"And when the army came recruiting, she hesitated to let Li Guoqiang go. She wanted to keep him at home to serve her old age. Only after he promised to send his entire allowance back each month did she finally agree."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Li Shuying's heart stilled.
So that was it.
That was why her father's allowance never reached them.
That was why he could say nothing.
A sharp glint flashed across her eyes—cold and resolute.
If that was the foundation of Wang Chunhua's righteousness…
Then she would tear it down, brick by brick.