Qin Ye pushed open the door to his home and saw his father sprawled asleep on the bed, snoring, the room reeking of alcohol.

He frowned, picked up the clothes on the floor, and draped them over the bed frame.

Then he pulled some money out of his pants pocket and hid it under the slats of the small bed where he slept.

That money was next month’s rent—they couldn’t afford for his father to sneak it again to buy alcohol.

Yesterday, he’d hidden the money under his pillow, but somehow his dad had found it and tried to use it for booze.

When he took it back, his dad had even hit him.

Not wanting to fight, Qin Ye had grabbed the money and run out.

“Xiao Ye, Xiao Ye…”

Qin Ye turned around, thinking his father had woken up, but saw that the man was still asleep, mumbling with his mouth open, “I’m sorry, I won’t drink anymore, I won’t hit you anymore…”

“I won’t drink again… Yuanyuan, don’t go… come back…”

Qin Ye’s long lashes trembled.

He knew his dad meant those words in that moment—but it didn’t change the fact that once he sobered up, he’d go looking for money to drink again.

And drunk, he’d hit him all over again.

That’s how life had always been. It’s how his mother had been beaten away too.

..

Zhang Jiao rushed into Courtyard No. 23 with her son Junjun in her arms.

She didn’t know which room her mother-in-law lived in, so she stood in the yard and called out, “Mom, Mom…”

Liu Mingxiang was doing laundry in the courtyard and looked up when she heard someone calling “Mom” while holding a child.

She asked, “Who are you calling Mom?”

Zhang Jiao replied quickly, “My mom is Li Shuping, she just moved in yesterday.”

Li Shuping heard Zhang Jiao’s voice and walked out of her room.

Seeing her holding Junjun, she immediately knew what she was up to.

“Mom.” Zhang Jiao walked over with Junjun in her arms.

“Mom, can you watch Junjun for a bit? I’m running late for work.” As she spoke, she set Junjun down and nudged him toward Li Shuping.

Li Shuping took a step back. “He’s your child. You raise him. Don’t try to dump him on me.”

Zhang Jiao looked at her in disbelief. “Mom, Junjun is your grandson.”

Li Shuping replied, “First and foremost, he’s your son. Only secondly is he my grandson. As his grandma, helping to care for him is a favor, not a duty.”

In her previous life, she had raised Junjun single-handedly.

When he hit his rebellious teen years and wouldn’t listen, Zhang Jiao blamed her for raising him poorly—said she had ruined Junjun.

When Junjun failed his high school entrance exam, she was blamed.

When he failed to get into college, she was blamed.

When he married someone Zhang Jiao didn’t like, she was still blamed.

Liu Mingxiang, hearing all this, raised her voice sharply, “What kind of grandma doesn’t take care of her own grandson? Auntie Li, you’re not doing your duty!”

Zhang Jiao looked at her mother-in-law with reproach, as if to say, “See? Even outsiders think you’re wrong!”

Li Shuping snapped at Liu Mingxiang, “If you’re so eager to take care of him, go ahead and do it.”

That was a ridiculous comment. “Why would I? He’s not my kid!”

“Exactly. He’s not your kid. So what business is it of yours? Why are you meddling like a nosy dog?” Li Shuping shot back without hesitation.

She’d sensed Liu Mingxiang’s hostility from the moment she rented Room No. 5, so she didn’t bother being polite.

“I’m just speaking up because I can’t stand by and watch. I’m trying to be fair!” Liu Mingxiang protested.

“If you can’t stand it, close your eyes. Are you a judge? Since when are you qualified to speak on fairness?”

“…!” It was the first time in her life Liu Mingxiang had been left speechless from being put in her place.

Zhang Jiao looked at her mother-in-law in shock—was she always this sharp-tongued?

Li Shuping herself felt like she’d unlocked a new ability after reincarnating.

The sharp comebacks just came naturally, and most people couldn’t even respond.

She figured it had something to do with watching too many family dramas in her past life.

“Your child is your responsibility. Don’t think about dumping him on me. I’ve got my own life.”

Zhang Jiao snapped her mouth shut. “You don’t even have a job anymore. What could you possibly have to do?”

She thought it was just an excuse not to babysit.

When Junjun was born, Li Shuping doted on him like crazy—even insisted on sleeping with him at night. So now all that love for her grandson was fake?

If she wasn’t going to help with the child, then she shouldn’t expect to be taken care of in old age either.

She wasn’t even her real mother.

If she refused to help when Zhang Jiao needed her, then why should she expect anything in return?

“I may not have a job now, but I still need to find something to do. I have to earn money to support Xiaoyu and myself.” She wasn’t about to sit around doing nothing.

“…?” Zhang Jiao looked at her in confusion.

She still wanted to support Xiaoyu and herself?

Wasn’t she just trying to make her husband beg her to come back after he hit her at the wedding?

But from the sound of it, she was planning to live with Xiaoyu and move on completely?

Zhang Jiao ended up leaving with Junjun.

The daycare at her cotton factory had been shut down due to poor company performance, so she had to take him to Lin Guodong’s factory instead.

By the time she got back to her own workplace, she was nearly an hour late—and got caught by the deputy director during a site inspection.

With the factory under pressure and everyone in a bad mood, Zhang Jiao got a public scolding in front of the whole workshop.

She had never been so humiliated in her life and burst into tears on the spot.

Her eyes were swollen from crying—and she blamed it all on her mother-in-law.

If she had helped with Junjun, she wouldn’t have been late and gotten chewed out.

That morning, Li Shuping went out for a walk, also taking time to think about what she should do with her life.

In this era, if you wanted to make money, the answer was clear: do business.

Official policies had already been issued in many areas allowing private businesses, but most people were still hesitant, unsure if the policy would change again.

Because so many educated youths were returning from the countryside without jobs, the government also allowed them to start small businesses to support themselves.

At the mouth of the alley, Li Shuping saw a little stall selling tea eggs—a coal stove, a pot, and a batch of eggs made for a day’s business.

It seemed humble, but she remembered clearly: the woman who sold those tea eggs, once looked down on by everyone, was the first person in Lihua Alley to move out and buy a commercial apartment.

Back then, everyone believed a steady job with the state was the only respectable way to live.

Street vending was considered shameful.

Li Shuping had believed the same in her past life—thought having a secure job was what gave you dignity.

Selling on the street?

Too disgraceful.

But after living a whole other lifetime and returning to this era, she realized: dignity didn’t matter. Making money was what counted.

Face was just an illusion.

Once you had money, even the people who mocked you for selling things would come crawling to you.

It’s the same now and always: only the poor get looked down on.

“Sister Li, want a tea egg?” the vendor, Zhou Cuilan, smiled and called out to her.

They were both from Lihua Alley. Zhou sold eggs at the entrance, so she knew many neighbors.

“I’ll take one,” Li Shuping replied, handing over a dime.

She cracked and peeled the hot tea egg right at the stall and started eating.

“Sister Li, I heard you divorced your husband?”

Li Shuping and Lin Yongnian’s divorce had become the biggest news in the alley, replacing the previous gossip of her being beaten at her son’s wedding.

“Yeah, I did.”

“But why? The kids are all grown…”

“I’ve had enough. I just didn’t want to live that life anymore.”

Zhou Cuilan sighed, “But your man was doing well, had a good income. Once the kids were married, you’d be able to enjoy life. Isn’t it a shame to split now?”