Chapter 6: Going to Market

She slept through the night without dreaming.

Anran was woken by the noise outside. With no hope of falling back asleep, she got up and checked her watch—5:30 a.m.

One look at the sky outside, and she sighed. Wasn’t this the exact time she used to finally fall asleep after pulling all-nighters in her past life? It felt like jet lag. Still, she accepted her fate and got up.

Everyone else was waking too. Out in the yard stood the village chief’s wife.

“Everyone’s up? I’ve brought you breakfast,” she said briskly. “Have a bite. There’s a market today—meet at the village entrance in a bit. If you’re short on anything, go buy it. Starting today, you’ll be cooking for yourselves.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

Everyone began washing up and having breakfast. Nothing fancy—just coarse grain steamed buns. Well, call it a diet. In today’s world, coarse grains might even cost more than refined ones.

Anran ate like she was at an imperial banquet, leaving the others a little bewildered. Was it really that tasty?

After cleaning up, they made their way to the village entrance. By the time they arrived, quite a few middle-aged women were already waiting. The village chief’s wife had a basket on her back, with several more at her feet.

“Each of you, take one. You’ll need something to carry your things in. Just remember to return it when you’re back—these belong to the village. If you want your own, check the market later.”

After waiting a little longer, the group set off—on foot, of course. It would take about an hour. Anran hoisted a large basket onto her back, marching forward with the gusto of a soldier storming a bunker. No—off to the market!

She felt glorious.

Along the way, Anran fit right in with the older ladies, gossiping and exchanging stories like she’d always been part of the group. She’d successfully infiltrated management. Well, not the inner circle yet—still a work in progress.

Before she knew it, they’d arrived at the market. She was still wondering whether that Chen family daughter-in-law really had snuck off to the cornfield with that guy from the Wang family.

A shame to leave that mystery hanging.

The market was bustling. Stalls sold all kinds of things. This was a government-approved market, only held on fixed dates each month.

Anran felt like a fish back in water. This—this was shopping.

She had money, too. Between the compensation and what the original Anran’s parents had left behind, she had about 1,000 yuan, not to mention plenty of ration coupons. In this era, that was a fortune.

She decided to take her time and browse properly. At the very least, she needed a full set of obvious supplies—otherwise, she’d have no excuse for using anything from her hidden space.

Things like oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar were already assigned to be bought by Xu Zhaodi, and the cost would be split among everyone.

As she wandered the market, a bit of disappointment set in. There really wasn’t much she needed to buy. Everything they were selling, she already had in her space—and in better quality too. Nothing here was irreplaceable.

Still, she bought some grains and pastries. A few spices too—she’d mix them with the ones from her space. That way, no one could tell how much she’d actually purchased. Better safe than sorry.

She also picked up a few small baskets—the locals called them “boji.” They were quite pretty. She bought several, along with some larger baskets and some sewing supplies.

After leaving the market, she found a quiet spot to sort things. Into the basket went a lunchbox with chopsticks, some coarse grains, dried fruits, and canned food. The cans had been custom-ordered—no labels or production dates. She thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. Good enough. She’d deal with whatever came up.

She strolled back toward the meeting point. A few people were already waiting.

One middle-aged woman with prominent cheekbones eyed her basket and said in a shrill voice:

“Well, well, the new educated youth sure has money. That basket’s nearly full. Let me take a look—what did you buy?”

As she spoke, her hand reached out to lift the cloth covering Anran’s basket. But Anran wasn’t the kind to tolerate such behavior.

SLAP.

The sound was sharp and painful just to hear. The woman let out a yelp.

“What’s wrong with you?! It’s just a peek—what, are you that stingy?”

Anran smiled coolly.

“Oh, Auntie, stingy? Not at all. Why don’t you handle dinner tonight? Show me what generosity looks like in Qingshan Village. Let me learn from your fine example. How about that?”

It was the first time Anran had seen what people meant when they said someone’s facial features all had their own separate opinions.

The nosy aunt quickly dragged her basket far away from Anran, putting as much distance between them as possible—just in case Anran actually showed up at her door later for that dinner.

Anran thought to herself, “As long as I have no moral burden, no one can emotionally blackmail me.”

The other aunties she’d been gossiping with earlier gathered around and began filling her in.

“Her name’s Liu Zhaodi. Always looking to mooch something. Most of us just ignore her.”

“First time I’ve seen her eat humble pie,” one of them chuckled.

Anran just smiled.

In their minds, the aunties slapped a mental label on her: Not to Be Messed With.

Don’t let her gentle, quiet appearance fool you—this educated youth could strike hard, and without hesitation. That slap had been no joke.

These women had years of life experience. They could tell—Anran hadn’t even used full strength. But it had been enough to leave Liu Zhaodi nursing her hand, clearly too sore to use it properly.

The walk back to the village was uneventful.

But because of that earlier drama, Anran still hadn’t found out whether or not the Chen family daughter-in-law had really gone to the cornfield.

A true pity.

And that lingering regret stayed with her all the way back to the educated youth compound.