Old Wang looked somewhat surprised. “You know me?”  

“I’ve heard the brigade leader mention you,” Song Ruan said earnestly. “Besides, everyone knows you’re reliable and skilled at driving the cart. Anyone who spends a little time in our brigade would’ve heard of you.”  

Bullshit. She had just made it up on the spot.  

But she was confident it wouldn’t backfire—if this man weren’t reliable, the brigade leader wouldn’t have sent him to handle business at the commune. As for his cart-driving skills, well, drivers always had an inexplicable confidence in themselves. Even if they drove like a dog crawling, they’d still call it “riding a dragon in flight—pure skill, what do you know?”  

Sure enough, Old Wang was delighted by the flattery. “Hah, you sure know how to talk, girl! Hop on quick. There’s a basket of mountain goods someone asked me to trade in the back—be careful not to get any on your clothes.”  

“Mountain goods?”  

“Heh, you city folks wouldn’t know, would you? Just some wild fruits or animal pelts from the mountains. Clean ‘em up and take ‘em to the purchasing station to exchange for a bit of cash to help out at home.”  

“Is that allowed?” Song Ruan was surprised.  

She had assumed even wild pheasants in the mountains were off-limits in this era.  

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Old Wang seemed to guess her thoughts. “Our brigade isn’t as strict as other places. No one cares if you hunt small game—just don’t try selling it outside.”  

He lowered his voice on the last word.  

Song Ruan nodded in understanding, then suddenly had an idea.  

“Do they buy medicinal herbs too?”  

“Sure they do. But our brigade doesn’t even have a barefoot doctor—who knows anything about that stuff?”  

The thought seemed to annoy him, and he spat to the side. “A while back, some folks tried copying the next brigade over and gathering herbs, but that bastard at the purchasing station took advantage of us not knowing better. Said the roots were damaged, or they weren’t dried properly, or they were mixed with junk—always some excuse to lowball the price. After that, no one wanted to bother.”  

The ox cart swayed along the road until they reached the commune, where Old Wang dropped Song Ruan off. They agreed on a time to meet for the return trip.  

Song Ruan first went to the meat processing plant to buy some meat.  

It was a bit late, and the fatty cuts were already sold out. Only a few lean pieces remained, but Song Ruan liked them just fine and bought two.  

The butcher sat behind the counter, legs crossed and rocking back and forth. Seeing Song Ruan buy two pieces at once, he looked at her like she was an idiot.  

Same price, but this meat didn’t even render any fat—and she bought two pieces in one go. Young people these days just didn’t know how to manage a household.  

Thank goodness she wasn’t his kid. He shook his head repeatedly.  

Completely unaware she’d been labeled a fool, Song Ruan carried the meat to the state-run restaurant. Using the lunchbox from this morning’s braised pork, she packed a portion of stir-fried pork slices and filled a tea mug to the brim with fresh meat dumplings. She also bought fifteen large meat buns, wrapped them in newspaper, folded and tied them together, then hooked the bundle on her finger and walked off.

The last stop was the post office.  

The moment she gave her name, the clerk remembered her—that enormous package! Normally, their mail carriers could deliver packages to the village, but this one was too big to secure. They had been planning to send someone to notify her.  

As she checked the list, the clerk studied Song Ruan curiously. She’d worked here for three years and had never seen such a large package, especially one shipped all the way from Hunan. How much had that cost?  

Then she noticed Song Ruan’s left hand holding meat, while her right hand carried something wrapped in newspaper—but the clerk recognized the smell instantly. Meat buns from the state-run restaurant. That big of a bundle had to be at least ten.  

Good grief, even a landlord’s family wouldn’t eat this extravagantly.

As she helped Song Ruan strap the package onto her back, she couldn’t help but ask enviously, “Comrade, your family must really love you, huh?”  

“Ehh…” Song Ruan thought for a moment, then tactfully replied, “Mainly, I love myself.”  

The system in her mind snorted coldly, so she added, “And my system loves me too.”  

The clerk didn’t understand and gave an awkward laugh.  

Shifting the meat from her left hand to her right, hooking it with her pinky, Song Ruan used her now-free hand to steady the massive package on her back. Walking like a turtle hauling its shell, she moved slowly forward. Every time she passed an empty street corner, the package on her back subtly grew larger—her secret stash, stealthily added by the system.  

By the time she reached the meeting spot, the already enormous package looked like it had undergone giantism syndrome, every inch of fabric stretched taut as if it might burst open at any second.  

If not for the Body Enhancement Pills she’d taken, she would’ve been crushed flat.  

Old Wang was already waiting there, affectionately patting his ox. When he looked up and saw Song Ruan, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.  

To put it simply, at first glance, all you could see was a gigantic package with two skinny legs beneath it, like two toothpicks skewering a massive potato—and this potato was slowly inching forward.  

He rushed over to help load the package onto the ox cart, but the moment he took it, the weight nearly slammed him to the ground. His face flushed red, barely avoiding utter humiliation.  

Gritting his teeth, he finally managed to secure the package, panting heavily. “Little Song, didn’t expect you to be so strong.”  

(Though he was a bit worried about the ox.)  

How the hell is there so much stuff? 

Before he could voice his thoughts, something warm and fragrant was suddenly shoved into his hand. He looked down—a meat bun!  

His eyes widened in disbelief.  

A meat bun! 

The kind he was lucky to eat once a year!  

Song Ruan smiled. “Sorry for the trouble with all this stuff.”  

Old Wang’s weathered face bloomed like a wild chrysanthemum in the fields. “No trouble at all! This little bit? Nothing! If you ever need the ox cart again, just call for me.”  

With that, he snapped his whip against the ox’s rear. “Lazy beast, move your ass!”  

The ox: “…”

The ox snorted and plodded steadily toward Dongfeng Brigade.  

Old Wang touched the bun tucked in his pocket, swallowing hard before carefully storing it away. When he got home, he could toss it into the pot, and the whole family would get a taste of meat.  

By the time they returned to the brigade, the sun had already begun to dip westward. The brigade members were still toiling in the fields, with only one or two slacking off under the pretense of a bathroom break catching sight of the colossal package on the ox cart. Their eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.  

Good grief, this Little Song must come from a rich family!

Well, of course—otherwise, why would she move out on her own?  

An old woman with a floral scarf wrapped around her head muttered sourly, “What’s a little girl need with so much stuff? Such a waste.” 

Before Song Ruan could respond, Old Wang cut in sharply, “Granny Sun, you’re old enough to know better. Quit yapping nonsense just ’cause you’ve got a mouth on you.”  

As one of only two people in the brigade skilled at driving an ox cart—and someone who frequently handled business at the commune—Old Wang held considerable sway. After all, folks often relied on him to fetch small goods or trade mountain produce, so few dared to cross him.  

Granny Sun stiffened her neck and grumbled under her breath, “Who’s yapping nonsense?” 

Old Wang glared. “Get back to work, or I’ll tell Tiezhu to dock your work points!”  

Cursing under her breath, Granny Sun shuffled back toward the fields.  

Losing work points was out of the question—she’d already slacked off most of the afternoon, and getting penalized now would ruin the whole day’s effort.  

Old Wang turned back to Song Ruan with a grin. “Girl, if anyone ever gives you trouble, just tell Uncle Wang. I’ll straighten ’em out for you.”  

Song Ruan nodded sweetly. “Okay, thank you, Uncle.” 

Normally, they should’ve reported to the brigade leader first, but Old Wang breezed right past the brigade office without a second glance, steering the ox cart straight to the educated youth dormitory. “Little Song, aren’t you moving today? The cart’s free anyway—might as well haul your stuff over in one go.”  

Song Ruan wasn’t one to pass up free help. She happily went along with it.  

While moving her belongings, she took advantage of Old Wang’s unfamiliarity with her exact inventory to sneak out a few extra items. By the time they finished, the cart looked packed to the brim.  

Old Wang helped her unload everything into the courtyard before finally driving off.  

The firewood shed and outhouse in the yard were already built. A few children were chattering away, sweeping up wood shavings and straw ash with brooms. When Song Ruan walked in, they instantly fell silent, nudging and shoving each other like a cluster of chicks.  

A bold, round-faced boy mustered his courage and stepped forward. “Sister, Grandpa told us to come help.” 

He paused, struggling to recall the exact words before finally blurting out, “Grandpa also said… it’s all done, and you should… yan… yan…”  

His face turned red with effort as he failed to remember the term.

The other kids couldn’t remember either, and they started guessing all at once:  

“Smoking pipe?”  

“Tobacco pouch! Grandpa has a tobacco pouch!”  

“No, it’s firecrackers!”  

Song Ruan found it amusing and gently reminded them, “Inspection?”  

“Yes!” The round-faced boy exhaled in relief. “If it’s not good, we’ll tell Grandpa to fix it.”  

Song Ruan took a quick look around and once again marveled at the honesty of people in this era. Not only were the outhouse and firewood shed solidly built, but someone had even transplanted a row of vegetable seedlings in the garden plot. The firewood shed was also stacked high with enough wood to last her two months.  

The leftover dirt and wood shavings had been swept clean by the kids, leaving her little courtyard looking neat and tidy.  

Song Ruan was very pleased.  

“You’re all so young, yet you’re already helping out—that’s amazing!” 

The children puffed out their chests proudly.  

Song Ruan rummaged around and pulled out a single biscuit, breaking off tiny pieces for each of them. “Here’s your reward. Go play now.” 

But the kids didn’t think she was stingy at all. They stared in delight at the crumbs—smaller than a pinky fingernail—in their hands, convinced that this sister was both beautiful and generous!  

This was real biscuit!  

They carefully nibbled at the crumbs, reluctant to finish them too quickly, then cheered and ran off to brag to their friends.  

The round-faced boy lingered behind, hesitating before mumbling, “Sister, next time you need help, you can call me. Even if the biscuit is smaller, it’s okay.”  

Then, as if embarrassed, he dashed away.  

Song Ruan smacked her lips. Kids these days are so easy to trick.  

Suddenly, her eyes lit up. Hey, that’s not a bad idea. She had been thinking of raising a couple of chickens but dreaded cleaning up after them and digging for worms. *This could work out perfectly.*  

Still mulling it over, she closed the gate and started unpacking.  

First, she sliced the pork into strips, rubbed them with salt, and hung them in a cool, breezy spot to keep them from spoiling. Then she unwrapped the takeout meals to prevent them from going sour. Finally, she washed her hands and began arranging her bedding.  

Just as she was busy settling in, faint shouts erupted from next door, followed by a shrill, hysterical scream—  

“THEN GO LIVE WITH HER INSTEAD!”  

Song Ruan’s eyes sparkled. Whoosh! She darted into the yard.