In the blink of an eye, restraint shattered.
Wang Chunhua lunged first. Widow He did not retreat. The two elderly women collided in the center of the courtyard like enraged hens, fingers clawing, sleeves flapping. They seized each other's hair, shrieking curses that grew sharper and more venomous with every breath.
"Shameless wretch!"
"Old viper!"
Their bodies twisted and stumbled; cloth tore with an ugly rip. Dust rose from the ground as they grappled, neither willing to yield.
The villagers, who only moments ago had been thinking about their dinner, now forgot hunger entirely. In an era when radios were rare and opera troupes seldom visited, such spectacles were grim entertainment. Men craned their necks. Women covered their mouths but did not look away. Even the children stared wide-eyed.
Li Changfu felt as though someone had slapped him across the face before the entire production team.
For decades he had guarded his reputation carefully—respected by the brigade. Now that hard-earned dignity was being trampled into the dust alongside his wife's disheveled hair.
The people stood in clusters, whispering and watching with unconcealed relish. In these austere years, even a family scandal became a form of entertainment.
Brigade Leader Liu's face darkened.
"Enough!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip crack. "Old Li, pull your wife back immediately!"
Then he turned to Hu Mei beside him and said, "daughter-in-law Take Widow He away at once!"
It took considerable effort. Li Changfu and Accountant Hu forced their way between the two women, prying apart fingers that clung stubbornly to hair and fabric. After much struggling, they finally managed to separate them.
Widow He's hair was disheveled, her blouse half-torn, yet her spirit was undiminished. She spat toward Wang Chunhua and continued to curse.
"You venomous woman! Mark my words—if you make those children suffer, one day you will taste the same bitterness yoursel!"
Wang Chunhua's eyes flared crimson. She opened her mouth to retaliate, but Li Changfu, humiliated beyond endurance, clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Shut up, you old fool!" he hissed under his breath. "Do you wish the entire village to laugh at our Li family?"
Seeing the fury in her husband's eyes, Wang Chunhua swallowed her words. Fear flickered across her face. At last, she fell silent.
Brigade Leader Liu stepped forward into the center of the courtyard, his expression stern.
"What happened today is disgraceful," he declared. "As brigade leader, I publicly reprimand both Widow He and Wang Chunhua. If such behavior occurs again, you will report to the brigade office for re-education and submit written self-criticisms."
At the mention of re-education and written confessions, Widow He's anger cooled visibly. She gulped and stepped back.
The brigade leader then turned to Li Changfu.
"As for the matter of Li Guoqiang's monthly allowance passbook," he said evenly, "it must be returned to his wife immediately. You have no right to retain it. Regarding filial support, Li Guoqiang will contribute two yuan per month. Considering you have five children, and two of them are already earning, that should suffice."
A collective murmur spread through the crowd.
Before Li Changfu could respond, Wang Chunhua burst out again.
"No! That money is mine!" she shouted. "What right does Chen Meilan have to keep it? I will not agree!"
Her voice trembled—not only with anger, but with fear.
She would never hand over the passbook. Those twenty yuan each month were what allowed her to hold her head high within the family. Without it, Sun Guifeng and Li Guosheng's wife would have long since trampled her authority beneath their feets. It was this money that had funded Li Yulan's comforts and indulged her precious son, Li Guofu.
More importantly, the passbook was her only leverage over Li Guoqiang and Chen Meilan. Without it, how would she command obedience? How would she maintain control?
No. It must not be surrendered.
For once, even Li Changfu did not silence his wife.
After all, those twenty yuan were effectively the only steady cash entering his hands.
Five children, the brigade leader had said.
But Zhao Depeng's allowance was entirely controlled by Sun Guifeng, who never contributed a single cent. Li Guosheng was merely a farmer earning work points; with his cunning and shrewd wife guarding every penny exchanged, he offered nothing either. As for Li Yulan and the youngest, Li Guofu—they earned neither wages nor work points. They were burdens, not providers.
In truth, the twenty yuan from Li Guoqiang was the pillar supporting Li Changfu's authority and comfort in his old age.
And now, before the entire village, that pillar was being kicked away, how could he let that happen?
Brigade Leader Liu Zhenshen's expression darkened at once.
He did not address Wang Chunhua directly. Instead, his sharp gaze fixed upon Li Changfu. The old man's silence—his failure to restrain his wife this time—spoke louder than any protest.
Liu Zhenshen understood immediately what was in his mind.
"Old Li," he asked coldly, "is this your decision as well?"
Li Changfu avoided his eyes. After a long pause, he said in a strained voice, "Old Liu, these are difficult times. Even we two old bones have our worries. Asking us to give up that money… it is like cutting flesh from our own bodies."
A sharp snort escaped Brigade Leader Liu.
Before he could respond, Accountant Hu Mei stepped forward. "Uncle Li," she said evenly, "did you not just claim you were merely safeguarding the allowance for your eldest son? How has it suddenly become flesh of your own body?"
Her voice sharpened slightly.
"You are right—these are hard times. Everyone is suffering. But is sister in law Chen Meilan not suffering? Are her children not suffering? You are their grandfather. Do you truly not see their hardship?"
Grand Aunt Li nodded firmly.
"Li Guoqiang is stationed at the border, protecting our country. He sends that allowance so his wife and children may live decently. Every time he returns on leave, you speak of how you are taking care of them. Just this year, when he left again, many of us heard you say so. But is this your way of caring for them—denying their rights and letting them go hungry?"
Lu Lingmei added quietly, yet her words struck with force.
"Uncle Guoqiang earns that money by risking his life."
Li Shuying felt a surge of anger at her grandfather's audacity. Yet she forced herself to remain composed. Anger, she knew, must be wielded carefully.
"In truth," she said softly, "my father does not even know how we live."
The villagers turned toward her again.
"He sees that my grandparents are frugal and assumes they are taking care of us. My mother has never exposed them, for fear that he would worry while stationed far away. Each time he returns on leave, he gives us a little extra allowance, saying that for small matters we should not trouble the elders."
Her eyes reddened, but her voice did not falter.
"But how can we tell him that the small change he gives us during his leave is the only money we ever receive?"
The words hung heavy in the air.
Even those with the hardest hearts felt a stir of pity. The murmurs that followed were no longer curious—they were indignant. One by one, accusing gazes settled upon Li Changfu and Wang Chunhua.
Then Accountant Hu Mei spoke again, her tone measured but resolute.
"If Uncle Li Changfu refuses to return Brother Guoqiang's allowance passbook," she said, "then I suggest we report this matter to the county and file an official complaint."
"In our country," she continued, "it is a serious offense to deliberately mistreat the dependents of a serviceman. Sister-in-law Chen Meilan and her children are military dependents. Their case is legitimate. They have endured hardship for over a decade—this cannot be tolerated."
Her gaze swept across the gathered villagers.
"If the higher authorities learn that such treatment occurred within our production team, not only the Li family but the entire brigade may be implicated."
At once, several villagers nodded. Some voiced agreement aloud; others began offering suggestions, eager to show their righteousness before the brigade leader.
The tide had turned.
Li Changfu and Wang Chunhua's faces drained of color.
Though they had never concerned themselves with such regulations before, they did not doubt Hu Mei's words. She was one of the few in the village who had completed high school, a rarity in these rural parts. She managed the brigade's accounts with precision; her knowledge carried authority.
The old couple exchanged a glance—fear, at last, creeping into their eyes.
Brigade Leader Liu Zhenshen raised his hand, and the murmuring crowd fell silent at once.
His gaze remained fixed on Li Changfu, unyielding as iron.
"Old Li," he said slowly, each word heavy with authority, "this is your final chance. Either you return the passbook willingly, or tomorrow I will personally go to the county and file a formal complaint."
A chill swept through the courtyard.
"This will not only implicate you and your wife," he continued, his tone sharpening, "but it may also affect your daughter's marriage prospects. No one in your family will be eligible for employment in the county or the city. As for you two—if the matter is deemed serious—you may be sent south for labor reform."
He paused deliberately.
"The decision is yours."
Wang Chunhua's composure shattered.
"No—no! I'll give it! I'll give it—" she cried, her voice breaking.
But before she could finish, Zhao Hongmei stepped forward.
Her expression was obedient, almost dutiful.
"I will go and fetch the passbook," she said softly. "I know where it is kept."
Without waiting for a response, she turned swiftly, already taking a step toward the gate.
Li Shuying's eyes narrowed.
She had caught it—the fleeting, malicious glint in Zhao Hongmei's gaze. A subtle flicker, but unmistakable.
A tremor of unease stirred in her heart.
Zhao Hongmei was not someone to underestimate. With the so-called Protagonist Halo, she was resourceful and cunning.
And indeed, when Accountant Hu had spoken of filing a complaint, Zhao Hongmei had understood immediately that the old couple could not possibly keep the passbook any longer.
And in that instant, she had conceived a plan.
If the passbook were somehow damaged—lost, soaked, or burned—during the journey from home to the communal canteen, who could prove anything? Without Li Guoqiang's personal copy, no one would be able to withdraw funds locally. And who knew when he would next return on leave?
Such a delay would buy time.
Time enough for Zhao Hongmei to scheme further against Li Shuying's family—especially if the system assigned her another task concerning them.
But just as Zhao Hongmei was about to step out of the canteen, Li Shuying's clear voice rang out.
"Step Sister, wait."
Zhao Hongmei froze.
"There is no need for you to go home," Li Shuying said lightly. "The passbook is already here."
She lifted her hand and pointed directly toward Li Guosheng.
A ripple ran through the crowd and everyone turned to look at Li Guosheng.
In truth, Li Shuying had noticed something earlier. During work hours that afternoon, Li Guosheng and his wife, Liu Cuilan, had both been absent. Even when the quarrel first erupted, they were nowhere to be seen. Only when Accountant Hu mentioned filing a complaint—and when Brigade Leader Liu issued his final warning—had the couple quietly appeared, and even tried slipping into the crowd.
Moreover, this was the first week of the month.
The allowance would have been deposited already.
Which meant—
Li Guosheng must have gone to the county to withdraw the money.
A faint smile curved Li Shuying's lips.
"Uncle Guosheng went to the county today to withdraw the allowance," she said calmly. "He has just returned. That means the passbook is with him—and fortunately, the money as well. My mother will not need to take leave from the production team tomorrow after all. That is truly a relief."
Her tone was gentle, almost grateful.
Then, under the watchful eyes of the entire brigade, she took slow, deliberate steps toward Li Guosheng.
Stopping before him, she extended her hand politely.
"Uncle Guosheng," she said sweetly, "you have heard everything. So you understand that the passbook should now be returned to us."
Li Guosheng did not move at once.
Instead, he turned to look at his wife, Liu Cuilan.
Liu Cuilan, as shrewd as a fox in winter, understood the situation immediately. Under the watchful gaze of the brigade leader and the entire production team, there was no possibility of retaining the passbook. After a brief pause, she gave the slightest nod.
Only then did Li Guosheng reach into his inner pocket.
He withdrew the passbook—and the folded twenty yuan in cash—and placed them into Li Shuying's open hands.
Yet Li Shuying did not step back.
She stood still, her other hand extended calmly in front of him.
A ripple of confusion passed through the crowd.
Li Guosheng frowned. "Li Shuying, what is this about? You already have the passbook and the money."
Li Shuying's lips curved into a faint, composed smile.
"Uncle," she said sweetly, "I believe you may have forgotten something."
Her gaze was steady.
"The coupons."
At once, Li Guosheng stiffened.
"I recall hearing my Step Sister boasting at school," Li Shuying continued lightly, "that each month her father receives five grain coupons, one sugar coupon, one oil coupon, two industrial coupons. In addition, he also some times recives meat coupons and special coupons issued for the Three Turns and One Sound at the end of the year"
A few villagers exchanged glances. Those items—bicycles, sewing machines, wristwatches, radios—were symbols of status in these austere years.
"Since it is not the end of the year," she added gently, "My father also should receive the regular monthly coupons, should he not?"
Li Guosheng's jaw tightened. He ground his teeth, but beneath the collective stare of the crowd, resistance was futile.
Slowly, reluctantly, he took out the stack of ration coupons from his pocket and handed them over as well.
Li Shuying accepted them without haste. She carefully counted each coupon in full view of everyone, ensuring nothing was missing.
Only after confirming everything did she separate two one-yuan bills from the cash.
Then, turning gracefully, she walked toward Li Changfu.
Holding the two crisp notes between her fingers, she met her grandfather's blazing eyes directly and smiled.
"Grandpa," she said politely, "thank you for returning our passbook to us."
Her voice was calm—too calm.
"Although we will not ask for the money you have 'kept' safe for my father all these years, we will certainly not neglect filial piety. This is two yuan—the filial support for this month."
She placed deliberate emphasis on the word "kept."
Li Changfu's face darkened. His chest rose and fell heavily with suppressed rage. To be handed two yuan by his granddaughter before the entire brigade—like charity—was humiliation of the highest order.
For a moment, he could not bring himself to accept it.
But Wang Chunhua, whose heart was already bleeding at the loss of the passbook, reacted instantly. She snatched the money from Li Shuying's hand.
"Keep your money properly," she snapped coldly. "Now that you have it, do not squander it."
Though she spoke harshly, her mind was already racing with schemes on how to retrieve the remaining eighteen yuan and even passbook.
Li Shuying, unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—about her thoughts, returned calmly to her mother.
She handed Chen Meilan the passbook, the cash, and the stack of coupons.
Then she turned, bowed slightly to Brigade Leader Liu, and afterward to the assembled villagers.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Words are not enough to express my gratitude. In these difficult times, this money is our lifeline. Thank you, Grandpa Liu. Thank you, Aunt Hu. Thank you, everyone."
Her voice was clear, neither overly dramatic nor falsely modest.
Several villagers stepped forward, offering congratulatory words. Even Brigade Leader Liu's stern expression softened. Justice, at least for today, had prevailed.
The rest of the Li family did not linger. One by one, they slipped away, faces stiff with humiliation.
Chen Meilan expressed her thanks repeatedly, her gratitude heartfelt and unfeigned.
As for Li Shuying, she felt as though a mountain had been lifted from her shoulders.
She knew this would not be the end. The Li family was cunning and would not surrender quietly. Keeping the passbook would be another battle altogether.
But still—today was a victory.
In her previous life, her family had not received a single penny of that allowance, not unitl her father's execution. Compared to that bleak fate, this moment felt almost miraculous.
Today proved something else as well.
Destiny could be altered.
Her gaze shifted toward Widow He, Grand Aunt Li, and Lu Lingmei, who now stood beside her mother offering comfort. She understood that these three women genuinely cared for Chen Meilan.
Yet in her past life, their fates had been cruel as well.
The next three years would bring upheaval—not only for her family, but for the entire village. Including these three.
When her eyes rested on Grand Aunt Li, they reddened slightly. The memory of her previous life's tragedy flashed before her, sharp and painful. For now, however, she was powerless to change everything at once.
Gradually, as the quarrel settled, the villagers formed orderly lines before the serving window of the communal canteen, each holding a dented aluminum lunch box.
Dinner was simple: sorghum rice, coarse cornmeal buns, and pickled cabbage.
The aroma was humble, but after a day's labor—and such a spectacle—it was enough.
People sat wherever space allowed—on low stools, on bricks, even on the ground—and began to eat.
Li Shuying was among the last to receive her portion, standing quietly with the other children who had earned no work points.
Balancing her lunch box carefully, she scanned the canteen.
In a small corner, partially hidden from the crowd, Lu Lingmei's twin children sat side by side.
Without hesitation, Li Shuying walked over and settled beside them.
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