Was it because of her rebirth…?
Had her actions stirred the currents of fate, setting off a butterfly effect?
Did it mean that what was meant to come later… would now arrive ahead of time?
The thought struck Li Shuying like a sudden gust of cold wind.
For a moment, her mind turned blank.
Lost in the turbulence of her thoughts, she no longer paid attention to the conversation.
Without another word, she turned and quietly walked into the house.
A few days ago, when she had gone to the production fields and overheard Brigade Leader Liu speaking of the recent difficulties, she had briefly considered stepping in—doing something, anything, to ease the burden.
But she also realized that this was no small matter.
This was not merely a bad harvest or a difficult season—it was the beginning of a catastrophe, a great famine that would later be etched into history, studied for decades as a scar upon the nation.
Even if she possessed knowledge from a lifetime ahead, what could she truly change?
Her abilities were limited.
The problem… was vast—national in scale.
And yet—
Her chest tightened.
She could not remain indifferent.
In her previous life, she had endured hardship herself, but she had also witnessed the suffering of countless others.
Those memories rose unbidden, vivid and merciless.
In 1958, life had still retained a fragile semblance of stability. But as time passed and the drought deepened into 1959, she had watched the villagers change.
People grew hollow.
Their cheeks sank, their bodies reduced to skin stretched over bone, as if the life within them had been slowly drained away.
Hunger became a constant companion.
Then came deaths.
At first, when someone passed, the villagers would still gather—offering what little they could, paying respects in quiet sorrow.
But as deaths became frequent… those gatherings ceased.
No one had the strength.
Families of the deceased also no longer expected visitors. As they had no spare grain to offer or even a bowl of thin porridge.
Survival itself had become a burden too heavy to share.
The most vulnerable had suffered the most.
The elderly…
And the young girls.
Old men and women would quietly give up their portions, saving what little food remained for the younger generation. Many starved in silence, their deaths unspoken sacrifices.
And the girls—
Li Shuying's breath hitched slightly.
She remembered their cries.
Some were sold by their families, exchanged for a few jin of grain… a desperate bargain for survival.
Those tearful pleas, those trembling voices calling out—
They still haunted her.
Even now.
She clenched her hands unconsciously.
Those were memories she wished to forget.
But could not.
By the window, Li Jianguo sat in silence.
Though he appeared detached, he had heard every word spoken by his mother and the other woman.
It all settled heavily upon his heart.
His fists tightened.
His gaze drifted toward the courtyard, landing on his mother's thin, weary figure.
A surge of anger rose within him.
The thought of her carrying water from the distant river—walking miles under the harsh sky, her frail body burdened with heavy loads—made his chest tighten painfully.
Their allocated fields lay in the middle of the production fields.
And with the river bank receding due to the drought, the nearest available source was now nearly three kilometers away.
That meant—
At least four kilometers of walking, back and forth, just to bring a single load of water.
The image alone was enough to unsettle him.
His eyes reddened slightly.
Then, almost unconsciously, his gaze shifted.
He saw Li Shuying.
She was walking into the house, her figure quiet, her expression distant.
And suddenly...
He remembered their argument from that morning.
For the entire day, he had been convincing himself that he was right—that Li Shuying and Li Jianmin had acted recklessly, that their defiance had been foolish and unnecessary.
That everything he said had been for their own good.
But now…
A bitter realization crept into his mind.
He had been the one who failed to see clearly.
Hearing his mother's words, witnessing the harsh reality before him, he finally understood...
Just how far ahead Li Shuying had been thinking.
And how crucial—how invaluable—those connections she had established might be.
Because when a single thread is drawn, the whole net is stirred, so what she had grasped was not merely a small opportunity, but perhaps a lifeline for their entire family.
Yet...
Even as understanding dawned, unease followed close behind.
His brows furrowed.
Because alongside that realization came doubt.
What kind of people were those contacts?
Did those supplies truly come from a legal source?
Could they be trusted?
Or were they stepping onto a path from which there would be no return?
Too many unknowns.
Too many risks.
The thoughts tangled together, pressing heavily upon his mind.
Li Jianguo remained seated in silence, his fists still clenched...
Li Shuying lay on her narrow wooden bed, her eyes fixed upon the dim ceiling.
Her thoughts churned endlessly.
One idea followed another, yet none bore fruit. Like grasping at drifting smoke, every solution slipped through her fingers before it could take shape. She turned from side to side, the thin quilt rustling softly in the growing stillness.
Outside, the sky gradually darkened.
When Chen Meilan's voice called
for dinner, Li Shuying rose slowly.
Stepping out, she heard her mother's conversation with her brothers.
Her elder brother was still not home.
A faint crease formed between her brows.
For the first time, she felt as though troubles were piling up like storm clouds—endless, suffocating—while solutions remained distant, just beyond reach.
At the table, Li Jianmin spoke casually, though a hint of uncertainty lingered in his tone.
"Could it be that elder brother has taken on some tutoring work in town? Other than that… I can't think of anything else."
Chen Meilan sighed softly, worry etched across her face.
"If that were the case, why would he not say so openly? Why keep us waiting like this, hearts hanging in the air?"
Seeing his mother so troubled, Li Jianguo spoke in a low, steady voice.
"Mother, you know elder brother's nature. He carries his burdens alone and never wishes to trouble you. I think Third Brother is right—he must have taken on tutoring for a little extra income."
Li Shuying nodded in agreement, though unease still lingered within her.
Let it be so… she silently prayed. Let it be nothing more than that.
Because she knew—
If Li Jianhua truly encountered trouble, he would never speak of it.
Meanwhile, in the steel factory housing compound, within a small and dilapidated one-room apartment—
Tang Chunlan sat quietly on the edge of her bed.
The faint light of evening filtered through the worn window. Her fingers rested lightly on her knees, but her thoughts had long drifted elsewhere.
Back to that morning.
To the conversation that had unsettled her heart.
During the lunch break, as she had been heading toward the washroom, Zhao Hongmei suddenly stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
"Tang Chunlan," Zhao Hongmei began, her voice soft, tinged with self-reproach, "I came to apologize. If anything I said before caused you discomfort… please forgive me."
Tang Chunlan froze.
Her eyes widened, her fingers trembling slightly at her sides.
An apology?
Someone… apologizing to her?
That alone was enough to unsettle her.
In her experience, apologies were things she begged for—never something offered willingly. And when such rare gestures appeared, they often carried hidden thorns.
"W-what are you saying?" she stammered nervously. "We hardly speak… why would you hurt me?"
Zhao Hongmei lowered her head slightly, her expression pitiful and sincere.
"I'm referring to yesterday," she said softly. "I spoke on Tang Yulan's behalf. But I truly did not understand her intentions. I spoke without knowing the full story."
Tang Chunlan's breath caught.
Someone… was admitting Tang Yulan was in the wrong?
For a moment, she could scarcely believe it.
Zhao Hongmei continued, her tone turning urgent, almost pleading.
"You must forgive me. And… please, do not say anything unfavorable about me to Class Leader Chen."
Tang Chunlan blinked in confusion.
"Why… would Class Leader Chen hold anything against you… because of me?" she asked hesitantly, her voice growing softer at the mention of Chen Yongan's name.
Zhao Hongmei suddenly gasped, as if struck by realization.
"Don't you know?"
Tang Chunlan frowned. "K-know what?"
Zhao Hongmei paused, then let out a faint, knowing sigh.
"Oh… I see. So Class Leader Chen never told you."
"T-told me what?" Tang Chunlan pressed, her heart beginning to beat faster.
Zhao Hongmei glanced around quickly, then leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"That he… likes you."
"What?!"
Tang Chunlan's voice rose uncontrollably, sharp with shock.
Zhao Hongmei immediately flinched, her expression tightening.
"Lower your voice!" she hissed, her eyes darting about nervously. "Do you want the whole school to hear? If anyone overhears this, both Class Leader Chen and you could be in serious trouble!"
Internally, she cursed Tang Chunlan's foolishness, but outwardly she maintained a look of anxious concern.
Tang Chunlan quickly covered her mouth, her face flushing red.
"S-sorry…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I… I didn't mean to…"
Even so, disbelief still clouded her eyes.
"Who… who told you this?" she asked hesitantly.
Zhao Hongmei hesitated, as if reluctant to speak, then sighed.
"I overheard him this morning," she said quietly. "He was talking to a friend… he mentioned you."
Tang Chunlan's heart skipped a beat.
Almost unconsciously, her gaze drifted toward the empty desk where Chen Yongan usually sat.
Her cheeks flushed deeper, her breathing growing uneven.
Zhao Hongmei watched her reaction closely.
A trace of triumph flickered through her eyes.
Just as I thought… she sneered inwardly. This little fool already harbors feelings.
Outwardly, however, her voice softened.
"Listen," she said, her tone earnest. "You must not tell anyone that I told you this. Not a single word. The school rules are strict—if this spreads, it will bring trouble to all of us."
She straightened, adopting a gentle smile.
"I only came to apologize. Let us not harbor any ill feelings between us."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Tang Chunlan standing there—
Motionless.
Like a statue in an empty classroom.
Back in her room, Tang Chunlan's lips curved slightly.
A shy, almost dreamy smile.
Her thoughts drifted further—
To yesterday, when Chen Yongan had stood up for her.
To the moment when once he approached her desk with a mathematics question.
To the small interactions they ever shared.
Piece by piece, those memories woved themselves into something warm and fragile.
And slowly—
She began to believe.
That perhaps… Zhao Hongmei's words were true.
A faint excitement stirred within her heart, like the first bloom of spring beneath winter's frost.
That feeling…
To Tang Chunlan, it was something entirely unfamiliar—so unfamiliar that it almost frightened her.
All her life, she had lived in the shadow of others.
In the classroom, she kept her head lowered. Among her peers, she spoke little. In her own heart, she had long accepted a quiet truth—that she was ordinary, insignificant, someone who would never be noticed.
And yet today—
She had heard something that overturned that belief completely.
Class Leader Chen… likes her?
Her fingers tightened unconsciously against the edge of the bed.
In her mind, an image surfaced clearly.
The first day of school.
He had walked into the classroom wearing a neatly pressed Dacron shirt tucked cleanly into his trousers, a pair of simple Republican cloth shoes on his feet. His posture had been straight, his bearing composed, his presence carrying that calm, scholarly aura that set him apart from the rest.
To her, he had seemed like a distant mountain—lofty, untouchable, something to be admired from afar but never approached.
And yet—
That same boy… had feelings for her?
The thought alone made her heart tremble.
Unable to sit still any longer, Tang Chunlan rose slowly and walked toward the corner of the room. There, hanging unevenly on the wall, was a small, cracked piece of glass they used as a mirror.
She stood before it.
For a long moment, she simply looked.
The girl staring back at her was… unremarkable.
An ordinary face, slightly darkened by the sun, her features plain and lacking refinement. Compared to Tang Yulan—fair-skinned, well-dressed, radiant like a blooming flower—she felt like nothing more than a rough weed by the roadside.
A wild toad trying to gaze at the moon, she thought bitterly.
And yet—
Even so…
Chen Yongan liked her.
She could not understand it.
No matter how she looked at herself, she could not find a reason.
But strangely—
That did not matter.
Because for the first time in her thirteen years of life, she felt something she had never known before.
She felt… seen.
She felt… wanted.
Her lips trembled faintly.
Since childhood, ever since she could remember, harsh words had followed her like a shadow.
People whispered behind her back, calling her mother names—concubine, mistress, even worse words that a child should never have to hear. They said her mother had ruined Deputy Director Tang's family. They said she herself was nothing but an illegitimate child, born of shame.
She had grown up beneath those voices.
Enduring the disdain.
Accepting the cold glances.
Becoming used to being unwanted… and unloved.
Except by her mother.
Only her mother had ever held her close, ever told her she was worth something.
But now—
Something had changed.
Someone else… cared that she existed.
The realization struck her deeply.
Her eyes reddened, a thin mist forming as her vision blurred.
She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself, but the emotions welled up too suddenly, too fiercely.
She did not know what to do.
Did not know how to face him.
The next time she stood before Chen Yongan…
Should she look at him?
Or lower her head, as always?
Her heart beat faster at the mere thought.
Standing before the cracked mirror, Tang Chunlan remained frozen—caught between shyness and anticipation, fear and a fragile, budding hope—
But what she didn't realized was the deception Zhao Hongmei had played with her, and the storm she is soon going to face.