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Chapter 9 – Qin Yajuan’s Provocation

Qin Yajuan quickly blended in with the group, laughing and playing happily. By noon, they even had lunch together.

Though the food wasn’t as good as what she ate at the Lin family’s, Qin Yajuan was glad she didn’t have to go back and eat Xu Jingchu’s cooking.

If she could just eat in the canteen at the Lin family’s, she wouldn’t feel any burden at all. But eating Xu Jingchu’s food meant Xu Jingchu might make her wash the dishes again.

No one forced Xu Jingchu to cook, yet she insisted on dragging others into it. Serves her right! Two lifetimes and she’s still just as unlikable as ever.

The summer heat was stifling. When Zhang Qiuyun left in the morning, she had specially reminded Xu Jingchu not to cook during the hottest part of the day—she could just grab something casual from the canteen.

But Xu Jingchu still went into the kitchen, making two cold dishes and reheating the leftover flatbreads from yesterday. Lin Tingyu was still growing, and Lin Tingjun… well, never mind. He was destined to be an important scientific researcher for the country.

Xu Jingchu silently told herself: I’m not being nice to Lin Tingjun—I’m contributing to the country, to the building of socialism, to the realization of the Four Modernizations.

As for Qin Yajuan, Xu Jingchu didn’t bother with her.

The sewing process was tough. After all, before her rebirth, she hadn’t made clothes in a long time. She only managed to finish one blouse by noon. After her afternoon nap, she still needed to shop and cook, which meant studying had to be pushed to the evening.

Xu Jingchu comforted herself: It’s always hard at the start. Once I settle into a rhythm, it’ll be fine.
She planned carefully—finish housework by nine in the morning, study until eleven, then cook lunch. After eating and napping, she’d resume studying for another hour at two, then go buy groceries and cook dinner. At night, she’d still have at least two hours left to study.

Five hours of study per day, if done with focus, could still get her far.

It was June now. The college entrance exam was more than a year away in July next year. If she studied every day, bit by bit, she would definitely get into university.

Even though she technically only had a primary school diploma across both lifetimes, her last life gave her a slight foundation in English from her time doing business. In the 1980s, that was already a big advantage.

She had flipped through the textbooks and practice books yesterday. She could self-study literature, history, politics, geography, and biology. But math, physics, and chemistry weren’t her strength. In the end… she might have to bite the bullet and ask Lin Tingjun.

Having mapped out her study plan, Xu Jingchu kneaded the dough and then grabbed a cloth bag to buy vegetables.

Today, she planned to steam two kinds of stuffed buns: zucchini and vermicelli, and fennel with pork.

Lin Jianbai and Zhang Qiuyun might not care about saving money, but Xu Jingchu was used to frugal living.

She bought half a jin of fatty pork. Back home, she could render oil from it, and the crispy bits made the buns taste even better.

Lin Jianbai walked home especially fast today, eager for dinner. From afar, he caught a whiff of bun fragrance. “Old Hao’s family is steaming buns again today,” he said to Zhang Qiuyun.

The Hao family’s buns were famous throughout the military compound.
“No way. Tomorrow I’ll have Jingchu stew some meat. I refuse to believe our food can’t outshine theirs,” he muttered, a sudden competitive streak rising in him.

But when they reached their own door, his pride swelled—the fragrance wasn’t from Old Hao’s house at all, but from his own.

People around were surprised too. “Old Lin, your family doesn’t cook often, but when you do—wow! These buns smell amazing.”

Lin Jianbai pretended modesty, though his pride showed. “They’re all right. Jingchu made them. Her cooking’s really good.”

“Jingchu? One of the girls you brought from the countryside?”

“Yes,” Zhang Qiuyun cut in, her own stomach growling as the aroma teased her. She couldn’t wait to get inside and eat.

The vegetarian buns were snowy white and fluffy. One bite, and the fresh, sweet flavor spread across the tongue—simple, yet anything but bland. The meat buns were even better: rich with meaty flavor, balanced perfectly by the sharp freshness of fennel.

The Lin family devoured them. Even Qin Yajuan, who tried to keep her composure, ended up eating six.

Lin Tingjun didn’t say a word, but he didn’t fight his appetite either—he downed ten in a row.

Lin Jianbai and Lin Tingyu ate heartily too.

Since buns made dishwashing easy, Qin Yajuan volunteered to wash up after. Xu Jingchu went off to wash up herself. It was only six-thirty, leaving her plenty of time to catch up on the studies she had missed earlier in the day.

“Old Lin, I really think Jingchu’s an impressive girl. This afternoon I saw her in a shirt without any patches—she said she made it herself this morning. Looked no different from store-bought,” Zhang Qiuyun praised without thinking.

She had originally assumed both girls would be like Qin Yajuan, playing around every day—or even worse, messing up the household with their poor hygiene.

“To admit mistakes and change is the mark of a good comrade,” Lin Jianbai said, rubbing his full belly and pacing around to ease the discomfort.

“Fine, I didn’t mean anything else. But you really should think about arranging something for the two girls. It’s summer vacation now, so it doesn’t show. But once school starts, if they’re just staying home all day, people will gossip. Especially since they’re both good-looking, Jingchu in particular,” Zhang Qiuyun added thoughtfully.

“Jingchu, how’s it going today?” Qin Yajuan, finished washing up, returned to see Xu Jingchu studying, and immediately felt annoyed. She looked so diligent and capable—it only made Qin Yajuan feel left behind.

“Looks like you had plenty of free time, since you even have the leisure to check on me,” Xu Jingchu replied without looking up.

“Who are you calling lazy, living off others? Uncle and Auntie never said a word, so who are you to judge?” Qin Yajuan flared up like a hen whose tail had been stepped on.

“I didn’t say anything,” Xu Jingchu didn’t want to argue.

But Qin Yajuan wouldn’t let her off. “I deliberately went out to give you space with Lin Tingjun. I’m even giving him up for you, and you don’t know how to be grateful.”

“I told you before—I don’t want him. Don’t act like you’re bestowing favors on me and expect me to thank you.” Xu Jingchu’s face turned frosty.

Qin Yajuan froze. Last time, she thought Xu Jingchu’s refusal was just angry words. But she hadn’t expected her to be this resolute. That’s Lin Tingjun!

If she had any sense at all, she would choose him—he had family background, looks, height, and a future as an important scientific researcher.

If Xu Jingchu didn’t want Lin Tingjun, yet still willingly played maid for the Lin family, maybe she was aiming for something even better. Panic flickered in Qin Yajuan’s eyes. “Xu Jingchu, I’m warning you—don’t covet what’s mine.”

Xu Jingchu finally set her pen down and turned to stare straight at her, unblinking, until Qin Yajuan’s heart started pounding. Then she spoke: “Qin Yajuan, tell me—what exactly is yours? The bed in this room? The desk? The clothes on your back? Which of these doesn’t belong to the Lin family?”

“You know perfectly well!” Qin Yajuan couldn’t say it outright.

Xu Jingchu knew she was referring to the job opportunity Lin Jianbai was trying to secure. But she deliberately played dumb. “I don’t know. But I do know this—if something really belongs to you, I won’t touch it. I’d find it dirty. But if it’s something you’ve seized for yourself, I’ll fight you for it.”

Her tone was casual, but it carried sharp menace. After all, in her previous life in business, Xu Jingchu had seen everything. Qin Yajuan, though never rich, had always been sheltered by the Lin family.

“I’ll tell Uncle Lin and Aunt Zhang everything—expose your fake act,” Qin Yajuan threatened, trying to steady her nerves. After all, her opponent was just a seventeen-year-old girl. Surely, she’d be frightened.

“Oh, go ahead. Door’s on your left. And don’t forget to close it behind you,” Xu Jingchu replied calmly, almost lazily.

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