Song Ruan couldn’t care less about what she was thinking—she was too busy cleaning.  

The kang (heated bed) in the inner section had likely gone unused for so long, separated from the outer area, that no one had bothered with it. A thin layer of dust had gathered along its edges.  

She tore off a piece of Song Jiabao’s clothes to use as a rag, wiping down the dust from the *kang* and the walls beside it. Then, under the guise of rummaging through her bag, she had the system covertly slip out some newspapers to line the bed.  

Han Zhenzhen kept sneaking glances at her movements, copying her step by step.  

Halfway through, Song Ruan frowned. “Shouldn’t we paste paper on the walls first? Otherwise, if we accidentally brush against them, the dust will just keep falling.”  

Han Zhenzhen, thinking she’d been caught peeking, startled before relaxing after hearing the question. “Right, I was thinking the same thing.”  

“Then I’ll go mix some paste,” Song Ruan said, climbing down from the kang.  

“Huh? Wait for me!” Han Zhenzhen hurried after her. “I brought flour—use mine to make the paste.”  

She didn’t actually know how to make it, but if her flour was used, surely she’d get a share, right?  

Her little scheme clicked loudly in her mind as she eagerly handed over her flour sack.  

Song Ruan didn’t refuse, taking a pinch and putting it into her aluminum lunchbox.  

They’d be living together for a long time, but boundaries had to be set from the start. If she kept contributing resources and effort, she might earn some gratitude at first, but over time, it would become expected. And if she ever slipped up, she’d only face complaints.  

She wasn’t here to be anyone’s free maid.  

While mixing the paste, Han Zhenzhen—whether out of excitement or sheer curiosity—kept leaning in like an overeager husky. When the paste thickened into a semi-transparent glue, she even reached out to poke it.  

Song Ruan, thoroughly annoyed, shooed her away. “Go play with Comrade Xiang.”  

“Hah?” Han Zhenzhen pouted. “Why would I wanna play with her?”  

“Chat with her more. Once you get familiar, you’ll get along.”  

“What’s there to even talk about with her?”  

Muttering to herself, Han Zhenzhen suddenly brightened, as if struck by an idea, and dashed out excitedly.  

Before Song Ruan could react, she heard Han Zhenzhen’s loud, exaggerated voice next door:  

“Ohhh, Comrade Xiang, you’re lining your bed with newspapers too? We made some paste—want to borrow some to fix up your walls?”  

“Unlike you, who just nags and lectures, I actually take action to unite and care for my comrades. Even though you just scolded me, I’m magnanimous enough to offer help anyway!”  

Song Ruan: “…”  

She sighed, grabbed another pinch of flour, mixed it with water in a lid, and stirred it into the nearly finished paste.  

Sure enough, a stern voice replied:  

“I misjudged you. Though you’re a bit spoiled, you’re a kind comrade at heart. Thank you.”  

“Fine, if you don’t want it—huh?!”

Han Zhenzhen’s voice stopped abruptly.  

The sound of stomping feet followed, then came hurried steps rushing toward the kitchen.

Han Zhenzhen stormed in, indignant. “The nerve of her! Song Ruan, mix more paste—Xiang Hongying wants some too.”  

Then, realizing her mistake, she faltered—when she left, the paste had been nearly ready. Asking for more now was just causing trouble.  

Song Ruan smiled and beckoned her over. “Come here.”  

Han Zhenzhen, confused, stepped closer—only for a pair of chopsticks to be thrust into her hands. Song Ruan stared at her impassively. “You promised. You stir.”  

Han Zhenzhen: “…”  

Knowing she was in the wrong, she grumbled but still mimicked Song Ruan’s movements, stirring the paste with surprising competence.  

Once the drab walls were covered in newspaper and their bedding neatly laid out, the room finally looked somewhat tidy.  

Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside. When they went to check, they saw the older educated youth returning from work.  

Liu Yongqiang was setting up the dining table outside and waved them over. “Was just about to call you. Come eat.”  

Then, to the older educated youth eyeing the newcomers at the door, he said, “These are our new comrades—and our future teammates.”  

The older educated youth exchanged glances before nodding at them, their attitude seemingly friendly enough.  

Dinner was pumpkin rice. Since it was the busy farming season, they couldn’t get by on watery porridge, so the pot held more rice than pumpkin, gleaming golden and appetizing.  

The dishes could even be called lavish—stir-fried salted vegetables with eggs, a plate of shredded potatoes, and another of peppers with eggplant. But there was barely any oil, leaving them looking dry and unappetizing.  

Luo Zhaodi glanced at the spread and frowned, muttering under her breath, “Why so many dishes?”  

Hu Yan teased, “Wow, Team Leader, is it New Year’s already?”  

“It’s to welcome the newcomers,” Liu Yongqiang shooed them off. “Act dignified—don’t embarrass us in front of the new comrades.”  

Once everyone was seated, he spoke up as the team leader of the Educated Youth Dormitory:  

“First, on behalf of the older educated youth, I welcome our new revolutionary comrades. This meal is our way of celebrating your arrival, though our conditions are limited. Hope you don’t mind.”  

It was obvious politeness, so Song Ruan quickly replied, “How could we mind such a generous meal? You’ve gone to great effort, Team Leader—thank you, and thanks to all the seniors here for your kindness.”  

The others echoed their gratitude.  

Sure, such formalities were a bit fake, but they did warm up the atmosphere.  

Liu Yongqiang’s smile deepened. “Then let’s not waste words—dig in. They’ve got work this afternoon.”  

The older educated youth, exhausted from a morning of labor, were starving. The newcomers, after days of cold rations on the train, were practically salivating over hot food.  

For a while, no one spoke—only the clatter of chopsticks and the sound of chewing filled the air.

As the meal was winding down, Li Yongqiang suddenly slapped his forehead. “After this, the two new male comrades will come with me to the brigade to carry back your grain rations. Newly arrived educated youth receive a 50-jin grain subsidy per person. If you ration it carefully, it can last over two months—just enough to tide you over until the autumn harvest distribution. Rest this afternoon, then join us for work tomorrow.”  

Li Bing scratched his head. “So do we all eat together? I’ve got a big appetite—wouldn’t that be unfair to the female comrades?”  

Li Yongqiang’s smile stiffened. “Normally, everyone measures out their own portion from their grain sack into their lunchbox, and the cook steams them all together. But the dishes are shared. Sure, male comrades eat more, but we also do more heavy labor like fetching water and chopping firewood. Nobody’s trying to take advantage.”  

Lin Xinping kicked Li Bing under the table and forced an apologetic smile at Li Yongqiang. “My buddy here doesn’t know how to phrase things—don’t take it to heart, Team Leader.”  

Still, the most critical matter—food rations—had been clarified. Li Bing grinned sheepishly and lowered his head to keep eating.  

Li Yongqiang’s mouth twitched. “The vegetables are from our own plot out back. You’re welcome to eat them, but you’ll have to help tend to the garden. No objections?”  

That was only fair. Song Ruan and the others nodded in agreement.  

The older educated youth still had work in the afternoon, so they didn’t linger. After finishing their meal, they hurried off for a nap.  

Song Ruan, unwilling to let her sweat-stained self sully the freshly made bed, stubbornly used the embers in the stove to heat water. Carrying it to the washroom, she planned to wipe herself down.  

While washing her face, she habitually checked her reflection in the water.  

For two men with some influence in this era to have pursued her, the original host must have been beautiful—strikingly so. Her eyes were captivating, her lips red, her teeth white, like lustrous silk glowing under candlelight, radiating an enchanting allure. Or, as the gossipers would say, “That fox-spirit look—clearly up to no good.”

But Song Ruan loved it.  

In her past life, she’d had the kind of “good girl” beauty—soft, sweet, and innocent-looking. Everyone praised her as well-behaved, but really, that just made her an easy target. Who doesn’t prefer their opponents to be pushovers?

She narrowed her eyes at her reflection, and the woman in the water glared back—sharp, defiant.  

Even better.

“Tell me,” Song Ruan murmured, tilting her face this way and that, unconsciously framing it with her hands like a flower, “how did Song Guogang and Zhang Meijuan—two absolute potatoes—manage to produce someone as gorgeous as me?”  

System: […]

[You’ve officially crossed into shameless territory.] 

Soaking her feet, Song Ruan idly browsed the System Mall’s discounts section. She didn’t find “Strength to Topple Mountains”, but she did spot a Fitness Booster Pill priced at 30 dissing points. The description claimed it could enhance the body to the level of a healthy adult male.

What a gem!  

She’d been worried her sharp tongue might eventually earn her a beating.  

Without hesitation, Song Ruan placed the order, popped the pill into her mouth, and held her breath, waiting for the miracle to kick in.  

After a long while with no obvious changes, she experimentally lifted the water bucket. Did it feel a little lighter than before? 

Whatever. I’ll find out when I get into a fight later.

Exhausted from days of travel, she had no energy left to investigate further. Dumping the water, she climbed onto the kang and fell asleep.  

Whether it was sheer fatigue or the pill’s effects, she slept deeply. When she woke again, the window was bathed in a dim, hazy light.  

She slept so long but it wasn’t even dark yet? Impressive sleep quality.  

Han Zhenzhen sat at the table combing her hair and gasped when she saw Song Ruan stir in the mirror. “You’re finally awake! Do you have any idea how long you slept? It’s already the next morning—we’re about to head out for work soon!”  

Ah. So it was nearly dawn. She really had slept a long time.  

“Your grain rations were fetched and left in the kitchen. You were out cold yesterday, so we didn’t touch yours. Go mark your name on them later.”

Song Ruan hummed in acknowledgment and got up, heading to the kitchen’s large water vat to wash up.  

Tian Huini was on cooking duty today. Having gone decades without using a traditional stove in her past life, she was fumbling clumsily.  

Spotting Song Ruan, her eyes lit up. “Song Ruan, come help me cook!”  

She’d spent all night racking her memories—after all, she’d been in her seventies before rebirth, and many details were fuzzy—but she still couldn’t reconcile this version of Song Ruan with the one she remembered. The original should’ve been as soft and spineless as her name, the kind of pushover who’d cave to a few sweet words.  

How did that idiot, even after being labeled a ‘worn-out shoe,’ end up marrying a factory supervisor later? Must’ve been that fox-like face of hers. 

And after returning to the city, she’d cut contact, never lifting a finger to help her ‘sisters’ still suffering in the countryside. Such selfish coldness—no wonder she ended up like that! 

But if this time, Song Ruan knew to grovel properly, sent money after returning to the city, and especially after Tian Huini remarried brother Jun… well, she might consider lending a hand.  

Puffed up by her own magnanimity, Tian Huini graciously declared, “I’ll go to work with you later.”  

Song Ruan spat out her mouthwash with a “pfft” and beamed. “No thanks! Don’t need it!”  

“Then—what?” Tian Huini’s head snapped up in disbelief.  

“I said I won’t help you cook.” Song Ruan dragged a chair over and plopped down by the stove. “But I can cheer you on while you do it.”

(Mostly to make sure you don’t spit in my lunchbox.)

She made an encouraging gesture. “Begin! Go for it, Comrade Tian!” 

Tian Huini’s face cycled through shades of green and white.