Even though Song Qingyu was a woman herself, among all the women she had seen, Su Xiangwan was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful.

Especially those eyes—just a slight lift of her gaze and they sparkled.

As for her skin, despite Qingyu staying indoors all the time, she couldn’t compare to Su Xiangwan’s fair complexion.

However, there was one problem—her entire mind was filled with thoughts of her second brother, Song Tingxiu(Song LaoEr’s real name).

Who knows how her brain was wired?

After finishing the bowl of sour soup, even picking out the last bits of sour vegetables with her chopsticks, Su Xiangwan finally set the bowl down with satisfaction.

For someone to eat such an awful dish so enthusiastically showed just how hunger could make anything appetizing.

Outside, Goudan and Ludan, like a pair of gate guardians, stood vigilantly at the door for Su Xiangwan.

“You two, come with me to buy formula milk, okay?” Su Xiangwan asked.

Goudan nodded eagerly. “Okay, Mom! I love going to the market!”

Ludan, on the other hand, waved his hands frantically. “Mom, you go ahead. I’ll stay home.”

“Don’t you dare go collecting dung again. You come back stinking, and at night, I don’t even want you around,” Su Xiangwan scolded, pointing at Ludan’s nose.

Lüdan nodded fervently. “Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t collect dung. I’ll just stay home and wait for you. Really.”

Going to the market meant spending money.

Bringing one more child would mean spending extra, so Ludan didn’t dare tag along.

However, he still followed them to the village entrance and watched wistfully as his mom walked away with his younger brother and sister under the scorching sun.

He sat cross-legged under the shade of a tree, watching them leave.

In truth, what he feared more was that his mom, with just ten yuan in her pocket, might not come back at all.

“Goodness, your sister-in-law has gotten bolder and more unreasonable. Luckily, she didn’t bring up the pension again. We must guard that money carefully,” Old Lady Song sighed in relief once Su Xiangwan left.

Yesterday, when her daughter-in-law had a sudden outburst, the old lady worried that she might demand her son’s pension.

If that happened, she could lose at least a hundred or two hundred yuan.

But after asking for ten yuan, Su Xiangwan acted as if nothing had happened.

Song Qingyu, with a hint of reproach, said, “Five hundred yuan, Mom. There are so many expenses at home. You should save some for yourself, but why give the portion meant for my Eldest brother’s job search to my sister-in-law? Why not give it to her? It’s unfair to take the pension meant for a widow and give it to a brother instead.”

“Your third brother is such a good talent. Why should he remain stuck in the countryside? Doesn’t he need money to get a proper job?” the old lady argued. “I heard they’re restarting the construction of Qingshui Gorge Reservoir and building a hydroelectric station. Your elder brother-in-law said he could help him get a good job at the power station. I need to save the money for your third brother’s future.”

“You’re so biased toward the third brother. All he does is sweet-talk you. Do you think he’ll really take care of you in old age?” Song Qingyu glared at her. “You’d be better off giving the money to me. If you fall sick or become bedridden, I’ll take care of you for ten years. My third brother won’t even take care of you for ten days.”

“Either way, even if I throw this money to the dogs, I won’t give it to Su Xiangwan,” the old lady declared.

She couldn’t believe Su Xiangwan could take money from her hands.

But would Su Xiangwan actually ask the old lady for money?

What a joke!

As a modern person, she had more sophisticated ways to get what she wanted without asking.

Outside Songjia Village, there were two markets to choose from: one in Xinxing Township, four kilometers away, and one in Hongxing Commune, just two kilometers away.

Carrying one child on her back and leading another by the hand, even though it was early in the morning, the sun was already blazing hot and glaring.

Even without relying on the original owner’s memory, Su Xiangwan had walked this road countless times before.

“Goudan, do you want Mom to carry you?” she asked her six-year-old son after a few steps, glancing back at him.

“No need,” Goudan replied cheerfully, running along. “Do you remember, Mom? That time you came back from Dongfeng City, my brother and I waited for you right here. Mom, you were so pretty that day!”

Of course, Mom was still beautiful now.

But back then, she had been dressed in a brand-new blue work uniform, her hair braided, wearing the Longines watch that Grandma now wore.

That was true beauty.

When they reached Xinxing Township, the market was bustling with activity.

At the entrance of the market, Su Xiangwan caught a familiar aroma of scallions.

“Mom, there’s a stall selling fried dough twists! Can we go over there?” Goudan asked.

“Why?”

“Every time we come here, we always run past it. It smells so good that we can’t resist, and our souls feel like they’ll get pulled into the frying pan.”

Fried dough twists were a specialty of Old Qinzhou.

Made with both fermented and scalded dough, mixed with scallions, sesame oil, and salt, and sometimes bitter beans, they were fried until the outside was crispy and golden while the inside remained soft like a honeycomb.

Each piece oozed oil and carried the enticing aroma of scallions.

However, they were expensive—one cost 1.5 cents.

In the past, when the family was financially stable, they often bought these.

After her husband’s death, though, Su Xiangwan had no money to buy treats for the children.

She would always say, “When we pass the fried dough twist stall, we must run quickly. Otherwise, our souls will be lured into the frying pan and fried away.”

So, Goudan prepared to run past it, as usual.

But this time, Su Xiangwan deliberately stopped at the stall. “Auntie, I’d like four fried dough twists, please,” she said, pulling out a ten-yuan bill with a flourish and tossing a wink at Goudan.

Her gaze seemed to say, “See? We have money now.”

The freshly fried dough twists were steaming hot.

Su Xiangwan spent six cents on four pieces.

She strung three on a grass rope to carry, tore one open, and handed half of it—hot, crispy, and fragrant—to Goudan.

“Mom, these oil circles are so delicious!” Goudan took a bite and said loudly.

The child was excited because it had been a long time since he had seen his mother so cheerful and generous.

Su Xiangwan took a bite herself.

She had to admit, without any added preservatives, the texture of the wheat flour mixed with the fresh oil was delicious—it really was tasty.

She looked back at little Zizhi, who had bitten through the outer skin and was happily munching on the soft filling.

The one-year-old little girl was so delighted, blinking her eyes in enjoyment.

Today, the village was quite lively because of the market.

The little red mouth pouted, and the little girl, who had never smiled before, was now sniffing the scent of fried dough rings.

The one-year-old baby, so thin it looked like her bones might be visible, with deep-set eyes and a voice filled with the warm, sweet taste of milk, suddenly mumbled, “Mom.”

This was the most beautiful baby Su Xiangwan had ever seen.

Oh, she suddenly remembered who this baby resembled – it looked like her younger sister from her past life.

Her sister had died when she was only six years old, and there was no illness or disaster to explain it.

The child just suddenly passed away, leaving Su Xiangwan’s family devastated, unable to recover for a long time.

Her sister’s name was Zhi Zhi.

Su Xiaonan, the author, had written her sister into the book, and had even arranged for Zhi Zhi to have a tragic fate that Su Xiangwan couldn’t even bring herself to speak of.

Clenching her teeth, Su Xiangwan muttered to herself, “Su Xiaonan, if I ever meet you in this life, I’ll throw you into boiling water three times, then into snow water to rub you three times, and finally into alkali water to scrub you three times. If I miss any of these, it won’t count as me torturing you. You just wait.”

The only store in Xinxing Township was the supply and marketing cooperative, where milk powder could only be bought with a voucher.

Without a voucher, you couldn’t get it.

As for trying to get milk powder with a martyr’s certificate, that was impossible.

After all, the store only had sales clerks, and the clerks followed the rules.

Milk powder was in short supply, and even if you were the relative of a martyr, without an official order, they wouldn’t give it to you.

So Su Xiangwan didn’t bother going into the supply and marketing cooperative.

She wandered around the market and soon saw several men who looked like cadres.

A large black bag stood by the roadside. Clearly, these were cadres who had more vouchers than they could use and came to sell things.

“Hey, isn’t this Su Xiangwan?” One of the cadre-like men suddenly called out. “I heard you tried to commit suicide yesterday?”

Su Xiangwan recognized him immediately and said, “Oh, Cadre Zhao, I was just about to look for you.”

This man, named Zhao Guodong, was said to come from a high-ranking family in the provincial capital. He had volunteered to come to the village for some “re-education.”

He was a counselor in the village and worked at the credit office in Hongxing Brigade.

The last time Su Xiangwan tried to take her own life, he had been at the clinic to counsel her.

In his words, death wasn’t the only way out. Since her husband had already passed away, as long as she had the courage to step out of the house that confined her, she could have a fresh start.

But Su Xiangwan didn’t listen to him.

She was still thinking about her brother-in-law, believing that if he came back, he would be happy to see her and might even like her.

The real issue with Su Xiangwan wasn’t anything else—it was that she was naive.

She was quiet, tall, and wore black-framed glasses, looking like a university-educated cadre.

He carried a briefcase, clearly filled with something to sell.

“Is there anything you need?” Cadre Zhao asked, carefully opening his black leather bag.

Inside, there was a can of milk powder and a can of malted milk essence, which were the most popular and luxurious items to have right now.

It was obvious that Zhao Guodong brought them from home, probably because he was short on cash and was looking to sell them.

If Su Xiangwan could get some milk powder and malted milk essence, she could wean little Zhi Zhi off.

“How much for the milk powder and malted milk essence?” Su Xiangwan asked as she showed him the little girl she was carrying on her back.

University students were usually the softest-hearted, and though she didn’t have much money, she tried to look as pitiful as possible to get a good deal from this rich man.

Just look at his leather shoes and the watch on his wrist—it was obvious that despite being sent down here, his family was still well-off.

“Well, just one yuan a can. If you want, I’ll give them all to you,” Zhao Guodong said.