The system was excited, and Song Ruan was equally thrilled. Suddenly finding herself in an unfamiliar world with her assets reset to zero had made her feel like a plucked chick—weak, helpless, and terrified.  

Sure, there was a system—but something she’d just encountered, invisible and intangible, almost belonging to another dimension… still left her skeptical.  

But now, she had money!  

Six hundred yuan was a fortune in this era. Even if the system suddenly disappeared, it would be enough for her to live comfortably in the countryside for two years. And by then, the college entrance exams would have resumed—she could just ace them and latch onto the state’s support again. The future was still bright!  

Though the master (Song Ruan) and the system each had their own thoughts, their optimism miraculously aligned.  

Song Ruan shook out the thick cotton quilt, worried that taking it back might attract unwanted attention, so she decided to leave it at the post office first. She planned to buy some other things and mail everything together to her rural destination.  

The clerk at the counter looked young, probably fresh on the job and still brimming with enthusiasm and a strong sense of responsibility. When she heard Song Ruan was preparing supplies for her rural assignment, she was both sympathetic and pitying, patting her chest and promising to keep a close eye on her package.  

Song Ruan walked out feeling light as a feather.  

Most buildings in the 1970s were low and gray, and people’s clothes were rarely bright, but their spirits were high. Faces were full of smiles, greetings were exchanged from afar, and the cicadas in the trees buzzed loudly—it was like a black-and-white old movie come to life.  

She was reminded of a line of poetry: “In the old days, the carriages were slow, the letters were far…”

“Make way! Make way!” A crowd of people charged past her like a tank, the gust of wind hitting her square in the face.  

Song Ruan: “…”  

The auntie next to her slapped her thigh. “Oh no! I forgot today’s the day they sell defect fabric without coupons! Those old hags got there first!”  

With agility that defied her age, she darted off like an arrow.  

It was like a rallying cry—waves of people suddenly emerged from all directions.  

Dazed, Song Ruan was swept along by the crowd. By the time they converged and stopped at the supply and marketing cooperative’s entrance, it was already packed to the brim.  

Even through the layers of people, the salesperson’s shouts were crystal clear: “Only three chi of defect fabric per person! Those who’ve bought theirs, move along—stop crowding the place!”  

Those who hadn’t gotten any grew even more frantic, jumping and squeezing forward in a frenzy. The aunties at the front were squished until their faces distorted, and shorter folks were nearly lifted off their feet. Shouts, arguments, and clamor filled the air, growing even more chaotic and intense in the sweltering heat.  

In such an environment, Song Ruan couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement, wriggling forward with the crowd.  

But she forgot she was still under the effects of the “Strength To Topple Mountains” buff. When she barged forward like a wild bull, the people in front were shoved aside in unison. Stumbling along the path she’d cleared, she crashed into the counter and slammed her hand down on the wooden clip the salesperson used for receipts.

With a loud bang, the clip was flattened beneath her hand.  

The salesperson, who had been leaning lazily against the counter, instinctively straightened up.  

In the dead silence, the crowd heard the salesperson speak in an uncharacteristically gentle tone: “Comrade, what would you like to buy?”  

“Three chi of defect fabric,” Song Ruan, who usually chose the corner seat when eating out, suddenly found herself the center of attention. Her ears burned red, but she forced calm as she brushed off a bit of wood dust. “Um… how much do I owe for this?”  

“Uh…” The salesperson had never encountered this situation before. After a quick discussion with the supervisor, she turned back. “It’s just a clip. Don’t worry about it.”  

“No!” Song Ruan’s head snapped up in alarm. Her history teacher used to love sharing anecdotes and unofficial stories during class, including ones about the ’70s and ’80s—like how even catching a wild chicken in the mountains counted as “undermining state property” and could land you in a struggle session. If she publicly smashed a supply and marketing cooperative’s clip, wouldn’t that count as smashing a brick of the nation itself?  

If they brushed it off now, what if some jerk reported her later? What if some idiot actually took it seriously? She’d just gotten money and was finally seeing a glimmer of a better life—she couldn’t afford to plant such a landmine for herself.  

“Though it’s just a small clip, it’s a tool for serving the people, a tiny screw in the grand machinery of socialist construction! I must support our nation’s progress—I have to pay for this!” Song Ruan rambled with her eyes shut.  

“Bravo!”  

“Well said!”  

“What a fine comrade!”  

The crowd erupted in cheers.  

Even the salesperson straightened with newfound respect. “Then… give us ten cents.”  

Cringing internally, Song Ruan handed over the money. After buying the defect fabric, she also grabbed work gloves and shoes, exhausting all the ration coupons from Song Li’s little cloth pouch. Hugging her haul, she hurriedly squeezed her way out of the textile section.  

The crowd surged back together, reigniting the fabric battle.  

With fewer prickling stares on her back, Song Ruan relaxed slightly and moved on to other counters. From snowflake cream to malted milk, she kept adding to her pile. When she bought a large thermos, the system couldn’t hold back anymore:  

[My mall has all this stuff. If you just roast more people, I can get you anything!]

Song Ruan explained, “I know, but I need a plausible origin for these things, right? If I mail a big package now, no one will question it later when I pull out more stuff.”  

Alright, that made sense.  

The system was convinced.  

After using up most of the coupons, Song Ruan bought a rope, tied everything together, and lifted the bundle effortlessly with one hand.  

“Whoa! That’s the girl from earlier—look at that strength! She could match three men!” A loud voice boomed beside her, drawing stares from all around.  

Song Ruan: “…”

She silently switched to holding the bundle with both hands.  

“Aw, she’s shy! I’m complimenting you, girl!” The auntie’s voice grew even louder. “Where I’m from, we love girls like you!”  

The crowd burst into good-natured laughter, and some even stepped forward as if to challenge her to an arm-wrestling match.  

Once again forced into the spotlight, Song Ruan: I want to crawl into a hole. Or hang myself. Either works.

Then, a snide voice drifted from the crowd: “A girl stronger than boys? Good luck finding a husband.”  

Song Ruan’s smile instantly dropped.  

Ugh, how annoying!

Her first instinct was to swallow it like she would’ve in her past life—but then her eyes landed on her still-insufficient stock of supplies for the countryside. She took a deep breath and fired back:  

“You’re the one who’s weak—you go marry a bunch of times, then!”  

Remembering the political climate, she quickly added: “What’s wrong with being stronger than boys? The Chairman said it himself—Women hold up half the sky! You got a problem with that?”  

That was a tough line to counter. The crowd fell silent.  

With a huff, Song Ruan turned on her heel and marched off, arms full of her purchases.  

Only after turning the corner and leaving the supply and marketing cooperative behind did she slump against a wall and exhale heavily.  

The system, flipping through How to Turn a Timid Child into a Savage, gave her a round of enthusiastic mental applause.  

[Not bad, not bad! Progress!]

Song Ruan fidgeted. “Was that… too much?”  

—When a child doubts themselves, promptly correct them and affirm their actions to boost their self-confidence.

The system, nodding along with its parenting guide, replied fervently:  

[Nonsense! What’s ‘too much’ about it? That’s exactly what you should’ve done!] 

“But… isn’t it, y’know, lacking in… tolerance and magnanimity?”  

—When necessary, correct a child’s excessive tendency to prioritize others’ feelings.  

[What’s ‘tolerance and magnanimity’? When others take advantage of you and you let it slide, they call you ‘tolerant.’ They wipe you clean, toss you a compliment to keep you from revolting, and you actually think you’ve gained something. Pah! Don’t fall for that crap—it’s all a scam.] 

—Using hypothetical comparisons can make the child more convinced. 

[The original host gave in all the time—so ‘tolerant,’ so ‘magnanimous,’ so *kind.* And where did that get her? You wanna copy her personality and retrace her tragic life?]  

Song Ruan shook her head violently.  

[So why feel guilty? Roast them, punch them, who cares? The original host already paid your karmic dues in her past life. If you ever hesitate, just think:

The original host would’ve been gentle with you… but you drove her to her death. Every action has consequences—and I’m your karma now.]  

Song Ruan nodded hesitantly. “That… makes sense.”  

[Good people die young; troublemakers live forever. So our motto is: Be shameless, savage, and ruthless—slap every jerk’s face till it’s swollen!

Song Ruan, who’d been raised on mantras like “We’re poor, don’t provoke anyone” and “Endure a little for peace,” felt like a whole new world had opened before her—a dazzling, lawless world that made her blood pump faster. Only a shred of lingering shame made her stammer: “S-Shameless?!”  

[No shame, no game! Besides, you’re a transmigrator—no one here knows you. Technically, you’re not even embarrassing yourself. And you’re about to move to the countryside! It’s not like anyone there knows the original host’s personality—go wild, who’s gonna call you out?]  

Song Ruan had an epiphany and clapped excitedly.

The system smugly snapped its parenting guide shut. As expected of me—even winging it works perfectly.

Puffed up like a battle-ready chick, Song Ruan marched to the post office counter to mail her package. Her combative aura made the clerk think twice about small talk, and even their wrapping movements became noticeably quicker. The clerk grabbed an abacus, beads clacking furiously:  

“Under 214 kilometers, 15 cents per kilo; beyond that, an extra 5 cents per 142 kilometers. You’re mailing to the Northeast, right? That’s over 2,000 kilometers—whew, this heavy cotton quilt…”  

With every word, Song Ruan’s eyes grew greener. The flying abacus beads might as well have been knives—each one stabbing straight into her wallet! Might as well stab me instead!  

Damn you, Song Li! Picking somewhere so far away, making me waste all this money!

I barely have any to begin with!

The fighting spirit the system had just stoked now burned through her nerves like wildfire. Gritting her teeth, Song Ruan paid the fee, then spun around and stormed toward the Educated Youth Office. She walked faster and faster, until she was practically sprinting.  

Barging in, she slammed the household register onto the clerk’s desk:  

“Comrade, I’m here to sign my sister up for the rural assignment!”  

The clerk blinked. “…Huh?”  

Faced with Song Ruan’s thunderous aura, he hesitated to make any sudden moves.  

Forcing out a strained smile, Song Ruan explained:  

“Even though I’m a permanent worker, my sister believes the countryside is a vast world where one can better temper themselves and contribute to the nation—so she signed me up a few days ago. Watching me pack these past few days, she’s had an epiphany too! Even though she’s unemployed, she can still do her part for rural construction, just like me! So she asked me to sign her up—for the Southwest!”  

She enunciated those last words extra clearly.  

I’m a permanent worker, and my sister still got me signed up. Now I’m signing up my jobless sister for the Southwest—got it?  

The clerk got it. After years in this job, he’d seen it all—this was clearly a case of “my sister screwed me over, and now I’m dragging her down with me.” 

And dragging her down was great! Nowadays, no one wanted to go to the countryside—he’d been worried about filling quotas. As for whether it was voluntary… They’re family; what’s it got to do with me?

He patted the household register’s cover, flipped through the pages to confirm they were indeed siblings, then cheerfully pulled out a registration form and began scribbling: “Southwest, you said…?”  

“Yes! My sister insisted on going to the harshest place—to build the motherland’s frontiers, to shine in the rural fields! Vast world, great achievements!”  

The clerk’s lip twitched. Wow, someone’s really salty.

Even better—those remote spots were even harder to fill.  

“Perfect timing. There’s a dedicated train heading there the day after tomorrow. Tell your sister to pack quickly—we’ll deliver the ticket and notice together. The settlement allowance…”  

“I’ll take it for her now, so she can buy supplies!”  

“Sure.” With a thunk, the clerk stamped the form.  

Done and dusted.