Just as she was wallowing in misery, the door SLAMMED open with a force that shook the walls.  

A thunderous roar followed:  

“SONG RUAN! YOU’RE TESTING MY PATIENCE!”

Song Ruan flinched and ducked her head, barely dodging the dark object hurled at her face.  

BANG!

A metal lunchbox grazed her scalp and smashed into the wall behind her with enough force to dent its sharp corner.  

Flying flecks of plaster left a red scratch on her forehead.  

Song Ruan choked on the egg yolk lodged in her throat, nearly passing out from the shock.  

“Day after day, you cause trouble and make the whole family miserable—are you happy now?!”

Song Guogang had just overheard coworkers mocking him for “selling his daughter” in the cafeteria. Humiliation burned through him like fire, and he hadn’t even bothered to get his food before storming home to take it out on Song Ruan.  

“Hunger strike? I’ll beat you to death and be done with it!” he roared, already yanking off his belt.  

Song Ruan gagged, scrambled off the bed in panic, and with trembling hands, swept up all the money the original owner had hidden under the mattress—never taking her eyes off him.  

Holy shit, he is a domestic abuser too?!

She had to run!

“Jiabao’s dad, Jiabao’s dad! Calm down—don’t hurt her! She’s going to the countryside tomorrow!”*

 Zhang Meijuan rushed in and pulled Song Guogang back. “Let me talk to her!”

As the two struggled, they blocked the only exit. Song Ruan quickly assessed the situation and decided against charging through. Instead, she turned and started feeling under Song Li’s mattress.  

More escape funds for herself!

After some hushed arguing, Song Guogang stood fuming by the door while Zhang Meijuan approached with downcast eyes, her expression heavy with manufactured concern—clearly waiting for Song Ruan to ask what was wrong.  

Song Ruan clutched the bedframe warily and stayed silent.  

When no obedient prompting came, Zhang Meijuan’s brow twitched in irritation. She broke first:  

“Third Daughter, Mom knows you’re upset. But the registration’s already done—yelling at Second Daughter won’t change anything. She’s already apologized. You’re sisters, flesh and blood—what grudge can’t be forgiven? Just let her take your job for now. Once she gets promoted, she’ll be in a better position to help you later.” 

Song Ruan’s mouth twisted. Yeah, and she was the reincarnation of Qin Shi Huang.

(Qin Shi Huang was the first Emperor of China, famous for being powerful, ruthless, and extremely ambitious. By saying “Yeah, and she was the reincarnation of Qin Shi Huang,” Song Ruan is sarcastically implying that there’s no way Second Daughter will actually help her later – just like it’s obviously absurd to think she’s the reincarnation of a historical emperor.)

Zhang Meijuan hated her daughter’s mute stubbornness. She forced patience but couldn’t keep the command out of her tone: “You’ve made enough of a scene these past few days. Lying around all day, not working, not helping—what will people think? Even your little brother bought soy sauce for me yesterday!”

Song Ruan stuffed the small cloth pouch she’d found into her pocket and kept her head bowed in fake attentiveness.  

She didn’t dare curse outright and risk escalating things, but internally, she was rolling her eyes so hard they might’ve fallen out:  

Song Li  also didn’t work or do chores, lazing around all day. Song Jiabao demanded five mao as a “delivery fee” just for buying soy sauce. But when the original workhorse daughter—now her—dared to rest for two days after being utterly screwed over? Suddenly, it was a crime worthy of scorn.  

Wahhh, and now I’m the next workhorse in line!

“Look how much you’ve upset your sister—she’s too scared to even come home! The neighbors are gossiping—do you want to kill me?!” Zhang Meijuan dramatically clutched her chest, eyes glistening with crocodile tears.  

“Besides, haven’t we found you a solution? Director Ma’s a great match! You’ll eat fine grains every day after marrying him. Those rumors about him hitting his wife are nonsense. If you just behave and serve him well, why would he hurt you? You’ll return to the city, your brother won’t have to go to the countryside—everyone wins! What’s so bad about that?”

Song Ruan’s brain unhelpfully replayed Director Ma’s heinous appearance. She shook her head like a deranged rattle-drum: “I won’t marry him. If you want someone to dote on you and eat fine grains, you marry him.”

Realizing that might’ve been too blunt, she pursed her lips and added softly, as if it would soften the blow: “You’re prettier anyway.” 

“SONG RUAN!!”

Ugh, the “lubrication” failed spectacularly. 

Zhang Meijuan looked as if she had been personally insulted to her core. With a shriek, she lunged to pinch Song Ruan’s mouth. “How dare you speak to your mother like that?!!!”

Song Ruan clamped her lips shut and shrank back. After stewing for a moment, though, she still couldn’t swallow the injustice. She muttered under her breath, “I think it’s a fair suggestion…”

Song Guogang snapped his belt in the air with a sharp crack. “I told you this ungrateful brat wouldn’t listen! A good beating is all she understands!”  

Zhang Meijuan was too furious to bother stopping him this time. She folded her arms and stepped aside with a huff.  

“Song Ruan, let me make this clear—Director Ma is out of your league, and you don’t get to pick and choose! You’re marrying him whether you like it or not! The engagement is happening TODAY! How can you be so selfish as a sister, watching your own brother suffer in the countryside?!” Song Guogang bellowed.  

The roar made Song Ruan’s heart pound violently, her eardrums buzzing. When his shameless words fully registered, shock, fear, and rage surged through her. Her already weakened body couldn’t take it—her vision darkened, and she teetered on the edge of passing out.  

Wahhh, this must be a nightmare… Maybe if I faint, I’ll wake up back home…

Just then, a mechanical ding sounded in her ear:  

[If you faint now, not only will you NOT go back, your father will immediately accept the marriage on your behalf. You’ll be tied up and delivered to that man’s house to ‘cook the rice’ overnight. Later, after being sent to the countryside, your reputation will be ruined by scheming people. Even if you return to the city, your in-laws will despise you, your husband will abuse you, and you’ll birth seven kids without ever tasting meat. When those kids grow up, they’ll call you useless—none will care for you, and you’ll die alone and sick in a hospital.]

[Go ahead, faint.]

Song Ruan: “…”

A future more bitter than biting into a basket of bitter gourds—who dares faint now?!

Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes wide open and whimpered internally: I-I won’t faint.

[Good.]

The system gave her a half-hearted praise before continuing:  

[I’m your ‘Roast Master System.’ Listen to me—the harsher you insult them, the greater your rewards. Your fate hinges on your mouth now.]

Song Ruan, who had only ever fantasized about epic comebacks but in reality turned into a stuttering mess during confrontations: “…”

Staring at Song Guogang’s furious, “I-will-bite-your-head-off” expression, her mind blanked. Instinct took over, and she blurted out weakly: “No! You—you black-hearted, daughter-selling, bootlicking monster! I’ll keep causing trouble!”

The second the words left her mouth, she wanted to slap herself. That was it?! No impact, no flair—another failed performance!

[…]

Even the Roast Master System crackled with static in sheer disappointment:  

[You call that an insult? If I threw rice at him, the chickens would cluck harder than you.]

[Whatever. At this rate, your doomed fate is unsalvageable. Let’s just fold ourselves into a little ball and explode together!]