Chapter 1

As they finished speaking, the three women’s eyes all sparkled with a calculating gleam. They huddled together, speaking in hushed voices only they could hear, whispering their plans.

Meanwhile, Wang Guiying remained calm and unhurried, settling herself onto the long wooden bench in the courtyard to enjoy the summer evening breeze. The gentle wind blew softly and comfortably, as if it could wash away the day’s sunburn and fatigue from a hard day’s labor.

She turned her head to look at Gu Zhenqi, who stood nearby gazing at the starry sky, seemingly lost in thought. She called out, “Zhenqi, come and sit. You’ve been standing for so long—you must be tired!”

Gu Zhenqi snapped back to reality and sat beside Wang Guiying. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she looked around and muttered to herself, “How could I forget about Xiaode and Zhizhi? Where did they go?”

Because they were close by, Wang Guiying heard her clearly and replied naturally, “They’re doing homework. Otherwise, they’ll get scolded by the teacher tomorrow. Kids are so afraid of teachers, like mice seeing a cat!”

Gu Zhenqi seriously tried to recall her own student days, which felt so far away. Instantly, a memory of a teacher holding a bamboo stick and smacking students’ palms came to mind.

She quickly brushed away that unpleasant memory. Although she herself had never been beaten—as one of the top students—just witnessing it had left a lasting impression.

So she casually said, “Maybe they’re afraid of getting their palms smacked with the bamboo stick. It hurts, after all.”

Wang Guiying didn’t think much of it. In fact, she fully supported the teacher’s method. “Teachers are being responsible. If they don’t discipline the kids, the kids would be out of control. You need to hit them to make something out of them. A good beating is what they need!”

Gu Zhenqi felt helpless and speechless, not even sure where to begin criticizing. She had lived through two lives, witnessed changing times, and seen the transformation in education—from parents encouraging corporal punishment to outright rejecting it.

At this point in history, they were still in the early stage. Parents believed in strict, even violent, discipline. Naturally, when they sent their kids to school, they’d ask the teacher to be strict. “Strict” here meant very direct—and very physical.

If a teacher beat a child, the parents wouldn’t complain—instead, they’d praise the teacher for being responsible. They might even bring the teacher gifts and help beat the child themselves!

Why? Because in their eyes, getting beaten meant the child hadn’t studied hard enough. And without good grades, what kind of future was there?

A lifetime of farming, hard labor, and poverty—never able to get into a factory or secure an “iron rice bowl” job. Just surviving on the edge, back bent toward the earth.

It all came down to the same phrase: “How pitiful the hearts of parents.”

Whenever parents hit their children, they always said: “It’s for your own good.”

Gu Zhenqi didn’t argue. She simply sat quietly, continuing to look up at the stars, saying nothing, because no matter how eloquent your argument, it would all be in vain.

Instead, she decided to do what she could. Chen Xiaode and Chen Zhizhi were close to her—she would find time to help them with their studies. In this era, teachers judged students entirely on their grades.

The better the grades, the less chance of getting beaten.

As for her own two children, she would make sure they had early education before even starting school. And on the first day of school, she would clearly tell the teacher—she didn’t subscribe to the “please discipline my child” nonsense. Not a finger was allowed to touch her kids.

As she thought about this, Chen Chun, Chen Hua, and Chen Yue finally finished scheming. With cheerful smiles on their faces, they walked over and stood before Wang Guiying.

Chen Chun, being the eldest and the decision-maker, spoke on behalf of the other two. She had already mentally prepared what to say and began without hesitation:

“Mom, the three of us have discussed everything. Don’t say we’re ungrateful—we understand how hard things are at home. So here’s our decision: we won’t ask for any food or other odds and ends.”

“But since Gu Zhenqi injured us, she must pay compensation—100 yuan each. No negotiation. And you also have to give each of us 100 yuan. If you do this, we promise never to come back begging for stuff again!”

Wang Guiying quietly listened without any change in expression, but inside, she was fuming with rage.

Gu Zhenqi’s eyes changed when she looked at the three women. She couldn’t help thinking bitterly: “Tsk, human greed really knows no bounds. Absolutely shameless!”

They wanted 200 yuan each—totaling 600 yuan. Did they even realize how hard it was to scrape together that kind of money in this era?

Families were tightening their belts just to survive. Most meals were corn porridge or thin millet soup. After a full day of hard work, they still had to tighten their waistbands.

Under the blazing sun, sweating buckets, people gulped down water nonstop, but still couldn’t keep up with the rate they sweated it out.

Even after a year of backbreaking work, they’d only get three to four hundred jin of grain, based on work points.

And even for a child, three or four hundred jin of grain wasn’t enough to last a whole year!

Most people survived on thin porridge and a bit of homegrown cabbage. Fresh cabbage in summer, dried cabbage in fall, and more cabbage through winter and spring.

It was never enough. Too little land meant low yields. Meals barely filled their stomachs, and vegetables were stretched as far as possible.

Everyone was barely hanging on, just trying to live. In summer, things were a little better—you could forage mushrooms or wood ear fungus from the mountains. If you were quick and lucky, you might gather a basketful to improve your meals.

In this era, just staying alive was already a luxury. No one had extra money lying around.

Ordinary rural households were lucky to save a few dozen yuan over an entire year. And yet here they were, daring to ask for hundreds like it was nothing!

Gu Zhenqi understood them too well. They had calculated that since Chen Kuo was in the military and regularly sent money home, and Wang Guiying had likely saved some up, they could squeeze out 600 yuan from her.

Meanwhile, Chen Guo and Chen Qiang were eavesdropping through the cracks in their doors, listening to the conversation in the courtyard. As soon as they heard Chen Chun name her outrageous demand, they were furious.

They burst out of their rooms one after the other and marched straight toward Chen Chun, Chen Hua, and Chen Yue.

Chen Guo, as the eldest brother, spoke first, angrily shouting:

“Chen Chun, Chen Hua, Chen Yue—your faces are as thick as washbasins! How can you even say something like that? 200 yuan each? Do you even know if you’re worth that much?!”

“All these years, how much has Mom’s family given you? You think only you get hungry? What about us? We gave you food and went hungry ourselves. We’ve gone to bed on cold water more times than I can count—are you blind?!”

Chen Yue, hands on her hips, stood in front of him like she was ready for a brawl and shouted back:

“Hah! We’re owed! Drinking cold water is what you deserve! Debts must be repaid—that’s only right. Why shouldn’t we ask?!”

Chen Qiang didn’t hold back either, glaring at her and confronting her directly:

“Owed? You dare say that? What exactly do we owe you, huh?”