Chapter 2

Before Lin Yun transmigrated here, she had read many books and newspaper articles about the 70s and 80s, where the national economy was developing slowly and life was generally tough.

But she had never experienced it herself. No matter how vividly she imagined it, it still felt distant and even somewhat romanticized.

Now that she had been here for almost a week, the thing Lin Yun had eaten the most was sweet potatoes. At first, she found it a bit novel—after all, back in the modern world, a light meal with sweet potatoes wasn’t cheap.

But within just three days, sweet potatoes had “humbled” her. Two meals a day, all sweet potatoes, with maybe a small handful of rice added if lucky. The vegetables were just plain greens, and there was never a trace of meat. Lin Yun felt like every breath she took during that time smelled like sweet potatoes.

From this alone, she could tell that the original body’s family situation was far from good—actually, it was quite poor.

Later, from the original owner’s memories, Lin Yun learned that every semester, her tuition could only barely be paid just before the holidays—and it wasn’t even paid in cash, but with grains.

The school accepted it partly because the original owner had good grades and was well-liked by the teachers, and partly because she helped the school a lot with chores.

Yes, schools at this time also had their own fields—mostly vegetable gardens—which the teachers had to manage themselves. The original owner would often help them tend the gardens.

Seeing these memories, Lin Yun couldn’t help but feel admiration for the girl. She had tried physical labor herself, and after a single day, she felt completely drained, unable to think about anything else. But the original owner still managed to study hard and perform well in school despite the environment.

She wondered where the original girl had gone now that she had taken her place—was she doing okay?

The next day, Lin Yun called a family meeting, mainly to talk about her schooling.

“Sis, what’s the rush? Why’d you gather us all here?” her older sister Lin Yumei was the first to speak. She had a good relationship with her and was the one who usually broke the ice.

“It’s about my school—” Lin Yun hadn’t even finished her sentence when her mother interrupted.

“Er Ya*, it’s not that I’m being heartless, but we really don’t have money anymore. There are already two kids in school, and just your tuition alone costs eight yuan a year. Your dad and I dig in the dirt for a living—where are we supposed to find that kind of money?

And you’re not that young anymore—still in high school. Tell me, what girl your age is still going to high school?”

(*Er Ya is a nickname, literally “Second Girl.”)

Lin Yun looked at the woman in front of her—this was the original owner’s mother, Zhao Lanxiu.

She was thin, her skin rough from years of labor. She wore a faded, loose-fitting top and pants rolled up to her knees.

At the moment, her brows were tightly furrowed, and she was glaring at Lin Yun with disapproval, as if she had just said something outrageous.

Over the past few days, Lin Yun had gotten a sense of what kind of person this mother was from her sister’s complaints—favoring sons over daughters. Her harshest treatment had been directed at the eldest sister, Lin Yumei. The original owner had been sickly as a child and had taken a lot of effort to raise, so she had been treated a bit better.

So when Zhao Lanxiu spoke, Lin Yun didn’t take it to heart. After she finished, Lin Yun simply continued with what she had planned to say.

“Summer vacation is coming up soon, and I know I can’t finish this semester, but I definitely plan to go back to school next semester. I’ll earn the tuition myself—no need for the family to pay a cent. If I make more, I’ll even contribute to the household.”

Her tone was firm and confident.

That made Zhao Lanxiu, who had been about to say, “Where are you going to get money for school,” swallow her words.

“Actually, the family…” The usually silent father tried to speak, but his wife shot him a glare, and he clammed up immediately.

All the kids looked at their father but didn’t say anything. In this household, the mother made all the decisions. The father barely had a say.

“Sis, I think you should go to school. I can’t focus in class anyway—it’s better this way. Honestly, just seeing the teacher gives me a headache,” said Lin Yonggang at just the right time. He really meant it. His sister was clearly better at studying, and he had no objections to her continuing school.

Before Lin Yun could reply, Zhao Lanxiu snapped, “You’re just a kid—who asked for your opinion? Besides, you’re a boy. If you don’t go to school, what are you going to do? Hang out with those good-for-nothings all day?

Let me warn you, Lin Yonggang—if I catch you messing around with those punks from the village again, I’ll break your legs.”

It was obvious that Lin Yonggang, as a boy, received very different treatment from their mother.

Lin Yun had considered leaving this environment. But in a time when even leaving your village required recommendation letters and proof, and when buying anything needed all kinds of ration coupons, a minor girl trying to run away from home was nearly impossible—like trying to reach the sky.

Right now, her only realistic way out was the college entrance exam. That had also been the original owner’s goal—to study hard just to escape this closed-off mountain village and see the world beyond.

So Lin Yun had no choice but to stay. Her top priority now was figuring out how to pay for next semester’s tuition.

But with all the knowledge she had absorbed from reading time-travel novels set in the 70s and 80s and her understanding of this era, Lin Yun didn’t believe she couldn’t even make a measly two yuan for tuition.

Seeing everyone staring at her, Lin Yun declared with full confidence, “Just wait and see—I will earn enough for tuition.”

Looking at her daughter, Zhao Lanxiu didn’t say anything more. The girl was just like her—strong-willed since childhood. Seeing her like this, Zhao Lanxiu knew nothing she said would change her mind. She might as well let her try. When she failed, maybe she’d finally accept reality.

“Fine, if you insist on trying, go ahead. But let me make one thing clear—no one’s going to help you. There’s still farm work to do.”

“Okay. I don’t need your help. I’ll do it myself.”

At that moment, Lin Yun truly believed she could do it. After all, in all those time-travel stories, people always thrived after transmigrating—why couldn’t she? She didn’t think she was any worse than the others.

But reality hit hard, and now when Lin Yun looked back at her early trial-and-error phase, she could hardly bear to remember it.

The first thing she thought of was selling goods. She felt lucky that she had transmigrated in 1982. Her small village had just gone through land reforms, and trade was no longer so heavily demonized.

Once she decided to start selling things, Lin Yun began asking Lin Yonggang if anyone nearby had already started doing similar business.