Tian Huini’s face was icy as she banged pots and pans while cooking. Song Ruan, standing nearby, only fanned the flames: “Comrade Tian, if you want to smash bowls, smash your own. Break someone else’s, and you’ll have to pay for it.”  

“You—!” Tian Huini was so furious she flung the wild vegetables in her hand to the ground.  

Luo Zhaodi, appearing like a ghost, darted over: “Whose bowl is broken?”  

Tian Huini forced a calm expression. “Nothing’s broken. After all this time cooking, don’t you trust me? It’ll be ready soon.”  

Luo Zhaodi cast a gloomy glance into the pot, confirming her own bowl was intact and no food was missing, then silently walked away.  

What a freak! Making such a fuss over a lousy bowl—born low and worthless!

Tian Huini cursed inwardly. Noticing Song Ruan still sitting there, watching her like it was a show, she suppressed her anger and returned to the stove, stuffing a handful of straw into the fire pit.  

The weak flames inside suddenly flared up with a sharp crackle.  

Startled, Tian Huini jerked her head back, but not before a lock of hair at her forehead was singed.  

Song Ruan burst into loud, mocking laughter.  

It had been a long time since Tian Huini had been openly ridiculed like this. Her eyes burned with rage.  

Then, as if struck by a thought, she abruptly looked up, locking eyes with Song Ruan. Slowly, deliberately, she asked:  

“Song Ruan, do you know Ma Mian?”  

Ma Mian—in her past life, that had been the name of Song Ruan’s fourth daughter, later drowned in a park pond after being taken out by her grandmother. The incident had caused a huge uproar locally, with newspapers and TV using it as a warning against children playing near water. Just hearing the name had always made Song Ruan break down in tears.  

If Song Ruan had also been reborn, striking at this raw nerve would be the surest way to expose her.  

“Horse-face? Who the hell would know that?” Song Ruan’s eyebrows shot up. “Comrade Tian, the Chairman has warned against feudal superstitions, you know.”  

Not seeing the reaction she’d hoped for, Tian Huini refused to let it go. With deliberate malice, she pressed on: “Not Horse-face—Ma Mian. You really don’t know her? A little girl, drowned in a pond by her own grandmother. They say when they fished her out, her body was bloated, with water bugs crawling all over…”  

“What? How could such a thing happen in socialist New China?” Song Ruan slammed the table and stood up. “People like that belong in labor reform!”  

“Comrade Tian, since you know so many details, did this happen in Dongfeng Brigade? Who was it? Let’s report it to the brigade leader!” She grabbed Tian Huini’s arm, pulling her toward the door. “We can’t let such bad elements hide among the masses. We have to investigate!”  

Tian Huini panicked, suddenly remembering the political climate. Digging in her heels, she resisted like a shrimp clinging to the edge of the stove, forcing a strained smile. “It wasn’t from around here…”  

“Then where?” Song Ruan refused to back down. “Who dares to act so brazenly? New China has been established—how can they still defy the law like this?”

Tian Huini cursed inwardly at this clueless idiot who couldn’t read the room. Stammering, she said, “I—I don’t know where it happened either. Just something I heard. Maybe it was before Liberation. Of course, nothing like that happens now.”  

Seeing Song Ruan still intent on pressing the issue, she quickly changed the subject: “Breakfast is ready. You should eat before work.”  

Song Ruan didn’t move. “It’s hot.”  

Tian Huini hastily handed her a rag.  

“Just one rag? If I use it, I’ll have to bring it back. Might as well wait for it to cool.” Song Ruan waved her off. “Perfect time to keep talking about this.”  

Tian Huini took a deep breath. “I’ll carry it over for you!”  

“Wow, really? Thanks, Comrade Tian. Just put it on the table.”  

Tian Huini’s nostrils flared in anger, but inwardly, she sighed in relief. As expected, I’m the true protagonist of this world. Rebirth is a miracle reserved for me alone. The changes in Song Ruan this lifetime must just be the butterfly effect of her own actions.  

With that thought, she looked at Song Ruan with a faintly superior gaze.  

“Waiting around, Comrade Tian? Want to chat some more?”  

Snapping out of her thoughts, Tian Huini flung the rag down and stormed out.  

Song Ruan took a sip of corn porridge, watching Tian Huini’s unconsciously hunched back as she walked. “System, this Tian Huini is suspicious.”  

She’s been in the countryside for over half a year, cooking all this time, yet still struggles to light a fire. Lately, with farm work picking up, the meals have improved—corn porridge and boiled potatoes—yet she looks at the food with disdain. And that blatant probing earlier, talking about some poor future child of the original host?

The key point? The original novel never mentioned anyone named Ma Mian.

Eighty percent chance she’s a reborn soul!  

The Roast Master System crunched on virtual melon seeds.  

[Relax. The world’s full of weirdness. At least she’s just reborn—you’re out here crossing worlds with a system.]  

Song Ruan: “….”

Guess I’m the ignorant one here.

“Get me half a pound of brown sugar—it’s in the enamel basin on the third shelf of the cabinet where you stored the stuff from the Song family.”  

Following her instructions, the system retrieved it:  

[What do you need this for?]  

Song Ruan wrapped the sugar and tucked it into her luggage. “I’m going to talk to the brigade leader about my living arrangements.” 

The original Tian Huini was already toxic, and now there’s a plus version? Moving out—absolutely moving out!

You can’t stay on guard forever.  

Most importantly, this educated youth dormitory is way too cramped. Sleeping head-to-head, mouth-to-mouth, and even sneaking bites of sponge cake like a thief? A person lives by their mouth—this won’t do.

Because Tian Huini had cooked slower than usual, by the time they arrived at the threshing ground, they were already running late.  

A large crowd of villagers had already gathered, spread out across half the field, chatting and laughing loudly. The educated youths, meanwhile, huddled together in a small group, most of them keeping their heads down and speaking in hushed whispers if they talked at all. The two groups stood in stark contrast.  

The brigade leader raised a copper gong-like object and struck it three times—clang, clang, clang—and the threshing ground gradually quieted down.  

But it was another village official, who looked as stout as a coal stove, who spoke first:  

“Today, Dongfeng Brigade welcomes five new educated youths. As the village Party secretary, I extend our warmest welcome to you all.”  

A smattering of half-hearted applause rippled across the threshing ground.  

What followed was a series of formalities—cooperation, unity, economic development, and other such platitudes.  

The villagers grew impatient, their eyes roving over the new faces as they muttered among themselves:  

“Another batch of educated youths? And three of ’em are girls—what kind of work can they even do?”  

“Worse than that—look at that pasty-faced four-eyes over there. My old man was three days dead and still looked livelier than him. Skinny as a praying mantis—I could snap him in half with one hand. Even the girls are tougher than him!”  

Lin Xinping’s face flushed crimson, but Liu Yongqiang held him back. “Let it go. We’re outsiders here.”  

“What do you know? Those are glasses—all the educated folks wear ’em.”  

“Educated or not, they still ended up begging for a living in the countryside. Doesn’t seem so smart to me.”  

“Look at that girl wearing leather shoes! Damn, I’ve never even had a pair in my life.”  

“Where? Let me see—oh wow, she really is! What’s she thinking, ruining good shoes like that in the dirt?”  

Hearing this, Han Zhenzhen lifted her chin proudly, like a little swan preening.  

“Maybe city folks ain’t right in the head. Why else would they come here?”  

“Hey, watch your mouth—”  

Han Zhenzhen’s delicate brows shot up, but Liu Yongqiang tugged her back. “Let it go. A few words won’t strip the flesh off your bones. They were kinda complimenting you earlier, weren’t they?”  

“Oho, look at that girl on the end—she’s real pretty.”  

“Yeah, but she’s got that fox-spirit look about her. Like one of those seductive demons.”  

With no free hands left, Liu Yongqiang could only watch helplessly as Song Ruan darted over to the gossiping aunties.  

“Aunties, were you just praising me?” she asked, smiling sweetly.  

The aunties, who had been holding court with their unsolicited commentary, froze.  

They loved nothing more than cornering people for a good gossip, especially watching thin-skinned young wives turn red with embarrassment. When the educated youths arrived, they’d discovered these city youngsters were even more sensitive—it was like striking gold. Now, teasing them had become the village women’s daily entertainment.  

But this one? This one had come to them.

This was the first time someone had actually approached them on their own.  

But thanks to years of honed thick skin, they quickly recovered. An auntie with particularly large front teeth kept a straight face and was the first to respond, “Yeah, we’re saying you’re good-looking.”  

Someone habitually teased, “Big Tooth Xu, you’ve got some nerve saying that.”  

“You calling me Big Tooth Xu again?” The auntie’s prominent teeth seemed to retract as she snapped, “Don’t make me smack you in front of the kids.”  

The group burst into giggles.  

Big Tooth Auntie rolled her eyes in annoyance, ignoring them, and turned to chat with Song Ruan instead. “You’re a straightforward kid, just like us Northeasterners.”  

“Way more like than someone,” the teaser chimed in again.  

The crowd exchanged knowing looks and burst into laughter, even Big Tooth Auntie joining in.  

Song Ruan craned her neck. “Who? Who?”  

Honestly, this kind of backhanded compliment—though morally questionable—felt really good to receive.  

Her sparkling, inquisitive eyes made her the perfect straight man.  

(“Straight man” means the serious or clueless person in a joke who makes the punchline funnier by reacting sincerely. Song Ruan’s curious reaction made her unintentionally funny.)

Auntie Daya (Big Tooth) eagerly filled her in, “The production team leader’s nephew, a boy, no less. No ambition, shrinks back at the sight of people. If he were my kid, I’d be worried sick.”  

Perhaps their commotion had gotten too loud—the village Party secretary on stage glanced over and coughed pointedly.  

“Look at him, acting all official,” Xu Daya tsked but quieted down anyway.  

A moment later, she couldn’t resist whispering, “I’ll point him out to you next time.”  

So that’s the village Party secretary.

He was dark-skinned and short, with a gleaming bald head. The few remaining strands of hair had been grown long and combed over the bare spots, like fake grass laid over concrete in a zigzag pattern—serving little purpose beyond being better than nothing.  

She’d thought people in this era all had thick hair. Turns out, baldness transcends time.  

As if sensing her gaze, the Party secretary looked over again. His small eyes flickered when they landed on Song Ruan.  

*This educated youth is really something.*  

The brigade leader, following his gaze, noticed Song Ruan glowing beautifully under the sunlight and his expression shifted.  

He struck the copper pot in his hands, cutting off the secretary’s line of sight. “Let’s go over today’s production tasks.”