Chapter 1

Inside a shabby, low mud-brick house, He Xianqiu sat on a wooden plank bed covered with a pink blanket, staring at her surroundings.

The yellow earthen walls were made of mud bricks, the uneven dirt floor was pitted, the old wooden windows were broken, and a few battered chairs were still barely usable. She felt on the verge of a breakdown.

A few hours earlier, He Xianqiu had suddenly been shaken awake. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was sitting on a rickety ox cart, leaning against a girl’s shoulder while the ox plodded along unhurriedly. She was stunned.

Her first reaction was: Had she been kidnapped? But then she thought about how secure her neighborhood was—this was absolutely impossible.

Before she could think any further, the plump, pleasant-looking girl sitting across from her spoke sharply, “Stop spacing out. Hurry up and get your luggage down.”

As she spoke, she pointed at two suitcases and a basin on the ox cart.

Though He Xianqiu was flustered by the situation, she didn’t show it on her face. She picked up the two suitcases and the basin and stepped down.

The old man leading the ox saw everyone had gotten off, so he flicked the rope to urge the ox away, leaving He Xianqiu with three female comrades and three male comrades standing there, looking at each other.

Fortunately, after a few minutes, a middle-aged man hurried over and told them he was Lin Jianshe, the production team leader of Qinggang Brigade. He apologized, saying he’d been delayed by something urgent and that was why he hadn’t arrived on time. Then he led them to the “educated youth point.”

It was only then He Xianqiu realized she had transmigrated to the 1960s or 70s.

Now, recalling everything, she not only clearly knew she was in June 1975, but also that she had become the vicious supporting female character.

Someone who opposed the heroine, whose fate was miserable—a tool to deepen the love between the male and female leads, forging an unbreakable bond.

But she hadn’t inherited the original owner’s memories, so she could only rely on the plot she still remembered to piece together her current situation.

He Xianqiu’s expression grew complicated. Since she had transmigrated here, where had the original supporting female gone?

Just a while ago, she should have been lying on a soft, luxurious bed, yet now she could only sit on a hard wooden board. The gap was almost too much to take in.

The book she’d transmigrated into was called Seventies Little Sweet Wife. The male lead, Chen Changping, and Zhao Yaling, the female lead, met through the supporting female character. Over time, they developed feelings, went to the countryside as educated youth, later resumed their studies when college entrance exams were reinstated, caught the wave of reform and opening up, started a business, and ultimately lived a happy life.

But as for the vicious supporting female, things were not so good. She repeatedly clashed with the heroine, was humiliated in various ways, was spoiled and arrogant—always contrasted with the heroine’s gentle and kind nature. Most of the people in the educated youth point disliked her, no matter how beautiful she was.

In that environment, the supporting female became increasingly resentful of the heroine and constantly tried to make trouble. In the end, she was strangled and pushed into the river by someone who loved the heroine, dying young.

When she died, the heroine even pretended to shed a few tears, which made everyone in the educated youth point praise her for her broad-mindedness.

Right now, it was soon after the male and female leads had come to the countryside, the same time the original supporting female had also arrived.

Since she had transmigrated in, she could only accept it. Whenever she ran into the male and female leads, bad luck followed—so she would just avoid them.

Even so, He Xianqiu still felt confused about her situation. She couldn’t fully accept the fact that she’d suddenly fallen into a book world and might even end up murdered by the heroine’s admirers.

But she had no choice—she couldn’t go back. Thinking of her parents and family, her eyes turned slightly red. She would never see them again.

She slowly calmed herself. Though she couldn’t hide her sorrow, she’d accepted that she was now the supporting female.

Feeling a bit steadier, He Xianqiu looked at the two other female educated youth in the dormitory who had come down to the countryside with her today. They, too, looked dejected, clearly in shock.

Since none of the three of them were in good spirits, no one spoke. The atmosphere in the dorm was oppressive. He Xianqiu decided to go out and get some fresh air.

To be honest, she really didn’t know what life in the seventies was like. She’d only heard her elders say it was extremely hard. Just now, she’d been too upset to notice more than the shabby dormitory.

Stepping outside, she looked into the distance. Rows upon rows of low mud houses stretched out before her. Among them, she noticed the only building with blue tiles, which looked out of place among all the mud huts.

Having grown up used to mansions and owning countless properties, He Xianqiu actually thought that blue-tiled house looked quite nice—at least much better than where she was staying.

She remembered her grandmother, who had once been an educated youth, saying that any family in a village with a blue-tiled house was considered wealthy, or at least decently well-off.

Glancing around and seeing mostly mud houses and dirt roads, she quickly lost interest.

Thinking about how long she’d have to live here made her frown. But she had no choice—the original owner had already signed up to come to the countryside.

She still couldn’t figure out why she had transmigrated into this book. Was it because she’d cursed the heroine when she read it? But that was almost two years ago.

She pouted. What, the male and female leads can have crooked values and nobody’s allowed to criticize them? She couldn’t understand how she had managed to read the story while seething with anger.

Maybe it was because she’d been so mad that some of the plot points were still fresh in her memory—and now those memories had become useful.

She crouched down, picked a foxtail grass, and absentmindedly tapped the ground, feeling vexed at the thought of how she’d have to get by here.

Resting her delicate, fair face in her palm, she sighed.

Still, He Xianqiu told herself she couldn’t only dwell on the negative sides of the seventies. Otherwise, she would sink into resentment and trap herself in an emotional whirlpool.

In fact, she thought this era had good aspects, too: in ’77, the college entrance exam resumed, and in ’80 the reforms would begin. The air was fresh…

If she could pass the exams, she could return to Beijing. But then she remembered she was bad at studying and felt discouraged again.

She was twenty-one, just graduated from college. Although her school was a top university, she’d gotten in as an art specialty student, not on academic scores. Her art exam scores were very high, but her general studies weren’t. That was how she’d managed to attend a prestigious university.

And now, she’d have to take the college entrance exams all over again. Worse still, there probably weren’t any special admissions for art students at this time—she’d have to rely entirely on her academic scores.

But she wasn’t willing to settle for a junior college. She’d once studied at a top-tier university, after all.

With almost two years to prepare, she could work hard. She still had a chance to get into a good school.

Clenching her fist, she gave herself a pep talk. She had survived the college entrance exam once already—there was no reason she couldn’t do it again. Besides, the exams had only just been reinstated; the questions probably wouldn’t be that difficult yet.

She threw away the foxtail grass and stood up. After brushing off her clothes, she headed toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was a short, shabby wooden shed. Inside was a cabinet with a lock and a pot that was neither new nor old. Very simple.

After checking the kitchen, she went to look at the little bathhouse. The floor was also made of yellow mud. Because the weather was damp, water had seeped in, making the ground muddy.

The conditions are awful, He Xianqiu thought, feeling her vision go dark. How was she going to adapt to this?

She was born into a wealthy family. Her father was among the first to get rich during the economic reforms. From birth, she’d lived in big villas, treated diamonds like toys, owned countless properties, and spent money freely. She never had to worry about food or shelter.

As the youngest in her family, she had been doted on by everyone and had become especially delicate. But her parents had raised her well—she hadn’t grown up to be spoiled in a nasty way.

Though when she was little, if her older brother refused to buy her candy, she’d run to their dad to complain. Then her brother would get scolded. Granted, she’d “added a bit of seasoning” to her complaints—but who asked her brother not to buy her the candy?

Even after so many years, her brother still called her “Little Tattletale.” He Xianqiu rubbed her nose at the thought.

Surveying the living conditions overall, she felt worried. The environment was so poor—she had no idea how she was going to manage.

Just then, a clear laugh came from ahead. He Xianqiu looked up.

Several male and female educated youth were walking back toward the settlement, their clothes splattered with yellow mud. But despite this, their expressions were relaxed and happy.

Suddenly, the laughter stopped. When they spotted He Xianqiu, they stared blankly at her.

All of them had the same thought: This girl is so beautiful.

He Xianqiu was wearing a navy-blue lace dress to her knees and little black leather shoes. Her face was fair and delicate, her peach blossom eyes gazing calmly at them. Seeing no one speak, she said, “Hello.”

Her voice was clear and pleasant, making people feel comfortable when they heard it.

Once they heard her speak, they finally snapped out of it. The male educated youth suddenly became self-conscious about their appearances, but with mud all over them, there wasn’t much they could do. Their faces were filled with embarrassment.

The female educated youth, seeing how refined and lovely she looked, felt inferior, as if all their own brightness had been hidden in her presence.

Since no one answered, He Xianqiu stood there for a few more seconds, then felt awkward. She said, “I’ll go back to the dorm,” turned, and walked away.

A little later, two of the female educated youth also returned to the dorm. He Xianqiu didn’t look up, quietly arranging her things.

The two looked at each other, and then one of them spoke: “Since we’ll be living in the same dormitory from now on, let’s introduce ourselves. My name is Zhang Zhijuan. I’ve been in the Qinggang Production Brigade for five years.”

The other girl said softly, “My name is Sun Xiaoyan. Also five years.”

He Xianqiu looked up. “Hello. I’m He Xianqiu.”

Probably because they’d been here so long, both of them were quite tanned. Zhang Zhijuan, the one who spoke first, had a slightly healthier color, while Sun Xiaoyan was so thin her face was sallow and her clothes were faded almost white from washing.

The two other girls who had come down to the countryside with He Xianqiu were feeling a little better now and introduced themselves too.

“I’m Zhou Hanmei.”
“I’m Yang Shuhua.”

After everyone finished introducing themselves, Zhang Zhijuan added, “I’ll explain the arrangements for our educated youth point. Each person has to contribute grain every month, and we all eat together. The female educated youth rotate cooking two meals a day and washing dishes. The male educated youth are responsible for carrying water.”

“Isn’t that exhausting? Can’t the ones who know how to cook just do it?”

The one who spoke was Yang Shuhua, the girl He Xianqiu had been leaning against earlier. She looked displeased, obviously unhappy with this rule.

Zhang Zhijuan explained, “That wouldn’t be fair to the other girls.”

Yang Shuhua’s face fell even more, but she didn’t argue—because Zhang Zhijuan was telling the truth.

He Xianqiu didn’t speak up but paid close attention to everything they were saying. As for everyone taking turns cooking and washing dishes, she felt it was fair.

But she had never done any of it in her life, and her head started to ache. If there was anyone who truly had “ten fingers that had never touched spring water,” it was her…