Chapter 4: A Home Without Privacy

Father Lin gave the back of Lin Yingwei’s head a swat. “You’ve been married two years and still talk like a brat. What happened to the manners we raised you with?”

Meanwhile, Lin Yingwan was bargaining with Lin Yingxian over the bike rental.

She had bragged to her classmates that Lin Yingxian owned a Phoenix-brand bicycle and had said she could borrow it whenever she wanted. If she didn’t show up riding it tomorrow, those snobby girls would definitely mock her.

Too proud to lose face, Lin Yingwan had no choice but to rent the bike. In the end, she paid Lin Yingxian forty cents for a day’s use.

In the ’70s, most workers didn’t have savings. Whether you earned more or less, your paycheck was usually spent by the end of the month. It wasn’t that different from the paycheck-to-paycheck crowd in the 21st century.

One major reason was that jobs back then were extremely stable—what people called an “iron rice bowl.” As long as you showed up for work, your salary was guaranteed, down to the last cent.

So people spent with peace of mind. If they ran out of money before payday, they tightened their belts and made do. When emergencies came up, they either borrowed from family or asked their unit to advance next month’s salary.

Another big reason was that it usually took just one or two workers to support an entire household, so there wasn’t much left to save. One person’s “iron rice bowl” often meant they were feeding the whole family.

A family like the Lins, where all of them were workers, was rare. Compared to most, their life wasn’t bad—except for how cramped their home was.

Lin Yingwan, always chasing trends, was also the kind of person who lived paycheck to paycheck. Shelling out forty cents at the end of the month felt like parting with flesh—especially since she only made about twenty yuan a month.

She was just a year younger than Lin Yingxian, and the two of them had started working at the factory the same year. Two years ago, they both hit the age where they were supposed to be sent to the countryside as educated youth. Lin Mother and Lin Father pulled every string they could to secure a work position, and they gave it to Lin Yingwan.

That left Lin Yingxian to be sent to the countryside.

Her parents tried to console her by saying they’d arrange for her to go to their hometown, where Grandma and the rest of the family could look after her. They reminded her she’d lived in the countryside before and would adapt easier than Yingwan, who’d never set foot in a village. Plus, Yingwan was the younger sister—it was only right for her to step aside.

But all her life, it had always been Lin Yingxian making sacrifices. No one ever gave way for her. In her parents’ eyes, she was always the least important—the first to be abandoned.

She too had longed to be the one who got favored, even just once. To know what it felt like to be someone’s first choice…

Living with her grandmother in the countryside had been a nightmare: called a bastard, bullied constantly, given endless chores, and always hungry. That time had left deep scars in Lin Yingxian’s heart. She couldn’t go through it again.

She had begged, gone on a hunger strike—but her parents never changed their minds. Her mental state worsened, and under pressure from Zhou Donghong’s false promises and manipulation, she bought a bottle of pesticide and tried to end her life.

That’s when the current Lin Yingxian crossed over and took the place of the one who died.

After waking up in the hospital, the emotional residue left behind by the original owner overwhelmed her. Add to that her own despair at being stuck in an unfamiliar world, and she tried to kill herself twice more—unsuccessfully. Her parents and Lin Yingwei physically restrained her, and the doctor sedated her.

Eventually, she started accepting her reality and began planning for the future.

She had no intention of cutting ties with the Lin family. A penniless girl with no home or job had little chance of surviving on her own, not to mention the trouble severing ties would bring. She’d already had enough misery—no need to invite more.

Going to the countryside to escape them? This body of hers was frail and weak. Rural life at this time was brutal—nothing like the new countryside of decades later. From the original owner’s memories alone, she could tell it was harsh beyond words. Without a “cheat” like a system or special talent, hard labor would destroy her.

Sending a sickly girl with no strength to a village? She’d only add to their burden.

So Lin Yingxian cried in front of her parents, saying she was useless, that even in death she couldn’t clear the way for her sister-in-law to raise children. Then she told them about the hell she’d gone through as a child at her grandmother’s house—and why she couldn’t bear to go back.

That, plus her suicide attempts, finally stirred some guilt in her parents. For the first time, a sliver of parental love surfaced.

Zhou Donghong, who had married into the family six months ago, lost her footing in the household after being blamed for nearly driving her sister-in-law to death. From then on, she dared to quarrel with Lin Yingwan, but never with Lin Yingxian.

Her parents were also reluctant to send Yingwan down to the countryside. She’d been spoiled her whole life—it was hard to imagine how she’d survive.

After what happened with Lin Yingxian, they didn’t dare risk sending her either.

They scrambled to find her a job—but work was scarce. There were too many unemployed young people in the city, and not enough jobs to go around. That was partly why the educated youth relocation policy existed in the first place.

In the end, Lin Yingxian managed to land a job at a pharmaceutical factory on her own. That finally eased the burden on her parents.

Feeling guilty, her parents didn’t ask her to hand over her wages. They told her to keep what she earned. But Lin Yingxian still gave them some money each month for household expenses.

She had come to believe that it wasn’t that her parents didn’t love her—it was just that, out of the three children, she got the smallest share. She treated them like slightly closer relatives: polite and dutiful on the surface, but with no expectations of affection. That way, she wouldn’t be disappointed.

After all, fingers aren’t all the same length. She was the shortest one. Both palm and back of the hand are flesh—but she was the back. The thinnest layer.

By the next evening, everyone on their floor knew a guest had come to visit the Lin family. They just didn’t know what was so urgent that he had to leave before dinner.

In the communal bathhouse, Aunt Li sidled up to Lin Mother. “Heard your relative left right before dinner. Folks are saying you don’t know how to host guests—he came all that way and you didn’t even feed him.”

Lin Mother, who’d been bathing there for over twenty years, still wasn’t used to people getting so close while naked. She subtly shifted away. “He’s an educated youth posted to the countryside. Had to get back in a hurry. My husband gave him some ration tickets before he left.”

Aunt Li immediately changed her tone, ranting about how people loved to gossip and twist the truth.

Lin Mother knew Aunt Li was part of that same crowd. She couldn’t be bothered to argue and responded with a calm, serious face.

When she got home, she quietly vented to her family about what Aunt Li said—keeping her voice low so no one in the hallway would hear.