Shen Zhihuan sent the two little girls off to Li Qiuhua’s room for a nap while she and Shen Zhimei began cleaning out the empty room next to the kitchen.

The room had once belonged to Li Qiuhua’s parents. After they passed away, it had been left vacant, mostly used to store baskets, backpacks, and hoes.

The two of them moved the miscellaneous items to a corner where the firewood was kept and began sweeping out cobwebs from the ceiling.

By the time the room was thoroughly cleaned, it had taken them an hour or two.

Looking at the clean and tidy room, with the bunk bed covered with sheets and quilts, Shen Zhihuan couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Little Sister, take a break. I’ll unpack the bundles myself,” Shen Zhimei said, placing the bags she had brought back on a peeling wooden cabinet in the corner.

“Alright, I’ll rest for a bit. Call me if you need anything,” Shen Zhihuan said as she stretched her sore shoulders and returned to her room.

After locking the door, she went to the resort for a quick shower, then jumped onto her bed for a rest.

Perhaps due to her body’s frailty, Shen Zhihuan fell asleep almost instantly after lying down.

She found it strange. In her past life, though she slept well, falling asleep always took some time. Now, it was as if her body shut down like a television—no buffer needed.

When she awoke, night had already fallen.

From the courtyard, she could hear the faint sounds of Xiao Weidong talking with Da Ya and Er Ya, accompanied by Li Qiuhua’s soft reprimands.

Rising from her bed, Shen Zhihuan took advantage of the last bit of daylight from the window to get dressed.

Hearing the door open, Li Qiuhua, who was standing by the kitchen holding a large white radish, glanced at Xiao Weidong before turning to Shen Zhihuan.
“The rice just started cooking. If you’re still tired, go lie down for a while longer.”

“No, I’ve already slept enough. If I sleep any more, I won’t be able to sleep tonight,” Shen Zhihuan said with a smile, shaking her head.

“Third Sister, Teacher Lin gave me a new book!” Xiao Weidong exclaimed excitedly as he ran over to Shen Zhihuan, opening his schoolbag to show her.

The two little girls followed, their eyes sparkling with envy as they stared at his new schoolbag.

“What did you learn in school today?” Shen Zhihuan asked with a smile, amused by Xiao Weidong’s excitement.

“Teacher Lin taught us how to read characters, and Teacher Chu taught us how to write numbers from 1 to 10!”

Xiao Weidong eagerly pulled out his writing and exercise books to show her.
“Third Sister, look at my handwriting! Is it good?”

“It’s great!” Shen Zhihuan said, her lips twitching slightly as she forced out the words, glancing at the wobbly, worm-like Arabic numerals in his notebook.

“But with more practice, you could make it even better,” she added after a pause.

“I’ll go practice more!” Xiao Weidong exclaimed happily, running into the main hall with his notebook.

The two little girls followed closely behind, their curiosity piqued.

Shen Zhihuan went to Li Qiuhua’s room, retrieved two sharpened pencils and two exercise books, and handed them to the little girls watching Xiao Weidong write.

“Auntie, are these for us?”

Da Ya and Er Ya’s eyes lit up as they looked at her, their voices trembling with excitement.

Even Qian Dabao didn’t have notebooks and pencils…

“From now on, your little uncle will teach you how to read and write,” Shen Zhihuan said, gently tapping each of their noses with a smile.

“Me? Teach them?” Xiao Weidong paused mid-writing and looked up at Shen Zhihuan, uncertainty in his eyes.
“Why not?” Shen Zhihuan replied with a smile.

“But I’m not a teacher…” Xiao Weidong said, his cheeks turning red.

“If you seriously teach Da Ya and Er Ya, then you’re their little teacher,” Shen Zhihuan said, lightly tapping his nose.

“I’ll teach them well!” Xiao Weidong promised, raising his hand earnestly.

Once all three children were seated at the table, diligently practicing their “worm-like” writing, Shen Zhihuan left the room, smiling, and headed to the kitchen.

“Little Sister, how could you give them such nice things to waste?” Shen Zhimei complained from her spot by the stove, where she was tending the fire.

In their village, even older boys reused their notebooks multiple times, erasing and rewriting to save money. Some teachers even corrected assignments with pencils so the pages could be reused.

Giving such precious notebooks to two young girls who can’t even recognize a single word seemed like a waste.

“Elder Sister, kids wanting to learn is a good thing. Don’t discourage them,” Shen Zhihuan said firmly.

“They’re so young. What can they possibly learn?” Shen Zhimei sighed, poking a small branch into the stove.

“If they’re old enough to help with chores, they’re old enough to learn to read and write,” Shen Zhihuan replied. If they were old enough, she would have already sent them to school.

While she didn’t believe in forcing education, she firmly supported children who showed an interest in learning.

“Elder Sister, from now on, those two girls are my responsibility. Don’t go behind my back telling them to work more and eat less. Understood?” Shen Zhihuan said seriously, sitting beside Shen Zhimei by the stove.

“Little Sister…”

“Your sister is right. If Da Ya and Er Ya want to learn, don’t hold them back,” Li Qiuhua said, setting a plate of radish strips mixed with chili oil on the stove.

Li Qiuhua often regretted not sending her eldest daughter to school. Perhaps if she had, Shen Zhimei wouldn’t be suffering so much under Old Lady Qian’s oppression.

Faced with her mother’s words, Shen Zhimei had no choice but to nod obediently.

“Elder Sister, I ran into an old classmate when I took Little Brother to school today. She told me the college entrance exams are about to start,” Shen Zhihuan said in a low voice, glancing at the courtyard gate.

“You’re going to take the exams?” Shen Zhimei asked in a hushed tone.

“I’m not, but I hope Little Brother, Da Ya, and Er Ya will in the future,” Shen Zhihuan said, giving her a meaningful look.

“Elder Sister, times are changing. Even factories are starting to require at least a middle school education for temporary workers. The standards will only get stricter. Do you really want Da Ya and Er Ya to end up like you—spending their days bent over in the fields, digging for food?”

“Your sister’s right. You need to think about their future,” Li Qiuhua chimed in.

She had come to realize that her lack of education condemned her to a life of hard labor under the sun. Meanwhile, her youngest daughter made more money scribbling a few articles than she could earn in a year of back-breaking work.

If she had known earlier how valuable education was, she would have done whatever it took to send all three of her daughters to school.

But there was no turning back now. There was no remedy for regret.