Political Commissar Zhao’s wife shot the four women a look of exasperation, as if they were hopeless cases.  

“Did you hear that? Comrade Lin pointed out your mistakes—you should accept it with humility. Look at how disgraceful you’re acting! Each of you will write me a self-criticism report. If it’s not well-written, you’ll have to reflect on it at next month’s democratic criticism meeting.”  

“If you don’t correct yourselves, it won’t just mean losing your year-end benefits—you’ll drag your husbands down with you!”  

Everyone could sense the weight behind the political commissar’s wife’s words. The women, who had been lounging around carefree just moments ago, could no longer maintain their composure. They glared at Lin Hongying with eyes full of fury.  

If looks could kill, Lin Hongying would have already been sliced into a million pieces by their dagger-like glares.  

In these times, people valued their reputations more than their lives. A single black mark could mean losing all chances of commendations and awards—something worse than death for many.  

Understanding the principle of leaving room for reconciliation, Lin Hongying smiled and added, “Let everyone bear witness—I’ve always been a magnanimous person. Unless pushed to the limit, I’d never tattle on anyone.”  

“Those who slandered me earlier, come find me before tonight and give me a sincere apology. I won’t mention you in my report—I keep my word. I believe everyone here is reasonable and civilized.”  

With that, Lin Hongying turned and left Commissar Zhao’s house.  

…  

The gathering at Commissar Zhao’s house ended on a sour note, and Lin Hongying didn’t even get a taste of the dumplings.  

She quickly experienced one of the defining hardships of this era—food shortages.  

The original host had been counting on a free meal at Commissar Zhao’s place, but Lin Hongying ended up with nothing. Once mealtime passed, her stomach growled loudly from hunger.  

Lin Hongying returned home and rummaged through the cabinets, searching for food ration coupons.  

Shao Qingfeng’s grandfather and her own grandfather had once arranged a verbal marriage agreement. At the time, Old Man Lin had agreed, treating it as little more than a joke, and soon forgot about it. But fate had other plans—the Lin family’s circumstances took a sharp downturn.  

The south had suffered from famine for the past two years, and life had become unbearable. Desperate, the Lin family remembered the old marriage pact and hesitantly reached out to the Shao family. To their surprise, Old Man Shao readily agreed.  

A month ago, the original host had set off for the capital with fifteen yuan in her pocket and a letter of introduction, intending to find Old Man Shao.  

But she ended up on the wrong train and went straight to the military base to look for her fiancé instead. Over that month, she had eaten grass roots, gnawed on tree bark, and endured every kind of hardship.  

Old Man Shao, who had originally planned to take her in and let the two spend time together to nurture their relationship, waited in vain at the capital’s train station. It wasn’t until his grandson called that he learned she had gone straight to the military base.  

That was how the original host, dressed in tattered clothes, ended up collapsing dramatically at the gates of the military compound.  

Soon, Lin Hongying found three ten-catty grain ration coupons and ten three-ounce meat coupons.  

Without hesitation, she grabbed the coupons and dashed to the canteen.  

The rich aroma of food wafted from the canteen—the fragrant scent of rice, the sweet and savory smell of braised pork, and the briny aroma of marinated eggs—all of it lured her in like a siren’s call.  

Having grown up in poverty, haunted by nightmares of never having enough to eat, Lin Hongying had never deprived herself as an adult. She despised hunger and always made sure to eat well.  

Yet here she was, in the 1960s, forced to relive the nightmare of starvation.  

Her mouth moved faster than her brain as she briskly ordered, “Two bowls of rice, five ounces of braised pork, a portion of salted fish, and some greens.”  

The canteen auntie had never seen anyone order like this before. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she glared at Lin Hongying, her expression screaming, “Are you dreaming?”

Without a word, she coldly pushed the coupons back with a wooden stick, taking only one.  

In the military canteen, meals only required grain and meat ration coupons—a privilege for military families. But to prevent waste (like during the communal dining era), the canteen charged a nominal fee, though the prices were much lower than state-run restaurants.  

Lin Hongying stared at the sumptuous dishes and instinctively swallowed. “Can’t I get five ounces?”  

The canteen auntie raised her voice and snapped, “Are you new here? Eating that much meat—are you trying to burst? Family members are limited to one ounce of meat per day. If you want more, have your husband come get it. There’s only one ounce of braised pork left—do you want that or the salted fish?”  

“Also, you’ll need to give me five cents for the cooking fee.”  

Who does this spoiled wife think she is, demanding half a catty of meat out of season, and two meat dishes in one meal?

You have to understand—in these times, some regions had a monthly pork ration of less than one catty per person. Only a resource-rich province like Heilongjiang could manage daily pork supplies, and even then, only well-off work units enjoyed such benefits. This was considered top-tier treatment nationwide.

“I’ll take the braised pork,” Lin Hongying said obediently.  

Disappointed to learn she could only get one ounce of meat, she took her portion and two bowls of rice and left the serving window.  

To Lin Hongying, one ounce of meat wasn’t even enough to fill the gaps between her teeth. Just as she started tasting the meat, it was already gone.  

The woman behind her in line was practically drooling. Reluctantly, she asked, “I—I don’t want meat, but… can I borrow that meat-serving spoon?”  

The canteen auntie gave her a sidelong glance but handed over the spoon.  

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was getting late, the auntie started packing up to close.  

The woman accepted the spoon with reverence, opened her canteen, and repeatedly rinsed it with water—the same spoon that had just served Lin Hongying’s braised pork.  

Tiny flecks of meat and a thin layer of oil washed into her bowl as she painstakingly rinsed the spoon three or four times. Her meticulousness would have put even Scrooge to shame.  

If not for the canteen auntie’s icy stare, Lin Hongying suspected the woman might have licked the spoon clean.  

But judging by the auntie’s unblinking vigilance, such incidents had probably happened before.  

The woman ended up with a bowl of spoon-rinsing water, its surface dotted with sparse oil droplets and a few meager specks of meat. Delighted, she poured it over her rice and ate with relish.  

Lin Hongying’s frustration vanished, replaced by a different, more complicated emotion.  

Having something is still better than nothing.

Happiness really does come from comparison.

The braised pork was fragrant and sweet, and every cell in her body craved the carbs and fats that brought ultimate satisfaction, soothing her hungry and exhausted body.  

Yet suddenly, she found it hard to swallow.  

Lin Hongying noticed the woman’s damp chest—she was a nursing mother.  

Silently, Lin Hongying ate two pieces of meat, then left the remaining two on the table in a clean spoon. After placing her spotless bowls in the designated return area, she left the canteen.  

The sallow-faced woman, seated nearby, craned her neck to look.  

Seeing that Lin Hongying had abandoned the meat, she snatched it up in a flash—so fast that no one around her could react.  

She didn’t mind that it was someone else’s leftovers, eating it with pure delight.  

Spoon-rinsing water couldn’t compare to braised pork!

So good, so delicious!

……  

Lin Hongying returned to her dorm.  

She pondered the purpose of the [3,040 Resentment Points] she had accumulated. Was it just to help her distinguish friend from foe?  

This golden finger seemed rather useless—Lin Hongying had no interest in tracking who disliked her.  

But… she was wrong.  

Suddenly, a pound of pork belly and a pound of high-grade flour appeared before her. The pork belly was priced at 0.70 yuan per catty, the flour at 0.16 yuan per catty, totaling 0.86 yuan.  

The pork belly and flour deducted 860 Resentment Points from her account. Lin Hongying deduced the exchange rate: 1,000 Resentment Points equaled 1 yuan.  

Astonishment flashed through her mind—Resentment Points could be exchanged for food! 

Those gossipy women were actually this valuable?  

If she’d known, she would’ve pissed them off even more.