Chapter 8: Cleaning Up

After leaving the guesthouse, Song Nanting thought she might get lost. However, having been extremely familiar with this city in her previous life, even though it was pitch dark outside with very few streetlights, she could still navigate the alleys freely. She held a stun baton in her hand but felt unusually calm. Today, she discovered that she was quite strong, so she planned to test it on Song Nanshan later. As for Song Nanfeng, being a grown man, she wouldn’t take risks without absolute certainty. Using the stun baton was the best choice.

She hurried along until she reached an alley near the Song family home. Since Song Nanshan was the youngest child, Zhao Xiue had always spoiled him, and he was somewhat lazy—he always took shortcuts rather than longer routes. Whenever he went out, he always used this path. Both Song Nanshan and Song Nanfeng were extremely selfish; the bigger the trouble at home, the more they’d go out wandering, pretending it was to clear their minds. Their father, Song Aiqiang, would also use the chance to discuss some matters with Zhao Xiue. Song Nanting knew them all too well.

The dark alley was very quiet, and from afar, she could see the gate of the residential compound. There was no one at the gate now. Song Nanting hid in the shadow of a broken streetlamp, making sure no one could see her from any direction. For safety, she took a burlap sack from her spatial storage to carry things.

At half past nine, a tall, thin figure came humming a tune. The voice was familiar—it was Song Nanshan. Song Nanting was not going to soften just because he called her “Second Sister.” She immediately threw the sack over Song Nanshan’s head and struck his stomach hard with the baton.

“Who’s there?!” Song Nanshan clutched his belly, struggling fiercely, terrified. No matter how much he struggled or kicked, the blows kept coming down on him. When he saw she wouldn’t stop, he panicked and begged, “Please spare me! Please spare me! I have money here, money I just borrowed, I’ll give it all to you!”

Song Nanting was surprised, bent down to pick up the money he dropped, stuffed it in her pocket, and kept hitting him for several more minutes until she finally felt satisfied. Then, as Lu Jian’an had taught her, she struck the back of Song Nanshan’s neck with the baton. He went unconscious, and she pulled off the sack.

Looking at Song Nanshan’s bruised and swollen face, Song Nanting felt an unprecedented sense of relief. In her past life, Song Nanshan and Song Nanfeng had begged her on the ground like dogs. But back then, worried that harsh treatment would negatively affect Lu Jian’an, she had restrained her anger and just chased them away. Later, Lu Jian’an secretly taught them a lesson to stand up for her, making sure their lives were uneasy even back in their hometown. It wasn’t her own doing, so she always felt unresolved.

Her older brother and younger brother, who were originally her blood relatives, had conspired with their parents to keep her down. Their ugly faces haunted her nightmares for a long time. In those endless dreams, her brother and younger brother would hold her down and shout at her, calling her lowly and ungrateful. Her mother watched coldly, and her father looked at her with disdain and disgust, like looking at an object.

For a long time, she couldn’t understand why her own parents’ children treated her so cruelly. She even suspected she might have been a daughter discarded by another family and picked up by Song Aiqiang and his wife. But later she realized none of that was true. She was simply born with the “wrong” gender and therefore had to grow up like an object, exchanged for perhaps the mere 150 yuan the family supposedly needed.

Song Nanting looked at Song Nanshan, lying there like a dead dog, and gave his knee a hard kick. Then she grabbed the sack and ran through one alley after another, waiting in another spot for Song Nanfeng to show up.

Song Nanfeng was extremely sinister. Song Nanshan was just a bit sharper but too young to make decisions; he always followed his older brother and mother. But Song Nanfeng was rotten to the core. In her previous life, after being taken back home by them, her parents tried to marry her off to a widower with three children—someone Song Nanfeng had met while playing cards. That man beat his wife and had married twice before, both wives had died. Song Nanfeng lost money playing cards with him and, desperate, offered her sister to him, asking for 1,000 yuan as a debt payment, of which 500 was owed and 500 left over. In the 1990s, 500 yuan could solve many problems for a family who’d just been laid off.

Leaning against the utility pole with the stun baton in hand, Song Nanting’s fingers gradually clenched. After a long time, her mood calmed down. The dark night and the north wind blowing on her made her feel a bit cold, but her heart burned with passion. For a moment, she wondered if this was all a dream—and if so, she hoped the dream would last longer so she could vent some more.

Time ticked by. Song Nanting saw Song Nanfeng staggering toward her, holding a bottle of liquor. She straightened up. Patiently waiting until he was near the broken utility pole, she suddenly jumped and threw the sack over him. Before he could shout, she struck him with the stun baton. He collapsed limply. This device wasn’t lethal, just enough to make him faint—but it was enough for her to vent.

When Lu Jian’an taught her boxing and kicking techniques, he told her which parts of the body were most painful to hit but left no visible marks. With no chance to practice before, she now put them all on Song Nanfeng. Kick after kick, punch after punch.

Song Nanfeng was in agony but finally struggled awake. However, his head was still covered by the sack. As he tried to call for help, another baton strike sent him back into unconsciousness.

Exhausted, Song Nanting removed the sack and dragged the dog-like Song Nanfeng into the light. After finishing, she faintly heard someone else coming from the house. She quickly cleaned the scene and slipped away from another direction.

By the time she returned to the guesthouse, it was already half past eleven at night. Song Nanting lay there for a long time, unable to calm her mind. She entered her spatial storage, filled the bathtub with water, and submerged herself in it, gasping for air only when her chest felt too tight. This rapid heartbeat made her feel like her heart would burst from her chest.

It also confirmed to her even more that this was no dream—she had truly been reborn.

After coming out, she went to the kitchen, soaked some leftover chicken soup and meat with steamed bread, then lay down on the bed she had slept on for many years in the bedroom.

Her insomnia was gone; she quickly fell asleep.

Just as Song Nanting fell into a peaceful sleep, a piercing scream sounded from outside the textile factory residential compound.