Chapter 3

“Ahhh!!”

Zhao Wanmiao screamed and trembled when she heard what Song Chunzhi said, remembering the ghost incident in the kitchen before lunch. Afraid of waking Song Xingguo, who was napping in the east room, she quickly covered her mouth and looked at Song Chunzhi with frightened eyes.

The more she looked at that delicate face, the more terrifying it seemed. Could that wretched girl really be a ghost? After all, only ghosts could see other ghosts. Zhao Wanmiao curled up toward the wall, scared out of her wits.

“You… stop talking nonsense. That’s feudal superstition,” Zhao Wanmiao insisted stubbornly. But she no longer dared to scold Song Chunzhi. She could only watch helplessly as the girl took the food she had saved for Song Chunhua and carried it away to eat, not daring to utter another word. She feared being haunted.

Song Chunzhi had never dared raise her voice before. One glare from Zhao Wanmiao and she would jump up to do chores. The person in front of her now didn’t act like Song Chunzhi at all. If she wasn’t Song Chunzhi, then what was she?

A ghost?

The thought made Zhao Wanmiao break out in a cold sweat. She glanced toward the stove where Song Chunzhi was eating with satisfaction and nervously called out, “Chun… Chunzhi?”

Having wolfed down two coarse grain buns, Song Chunzhi finally felt her stomach quiet down. Though the buns were dry and tough, there was nothing good to eat in this house. All the good stuff had been hoarded by the old woman. She sipped a bowl of noodle soup with pickled vegetables and put down her bowl, feeling full for the first time in two lifetimes. It felt wonderful.

“Was there really a ghost in the kitchen?” Zhao Wanmiao asked, watching her eat food meant for two adults. Seeing that Song Chunzhi could eat normally made her relax a bit. Maybe she wasn’t a ghost after all. Still, she glanced around the kitchen anxiously and asked cautiously.

“Yes, it’s right next to you. Right now, it’s tugging at your arm,” Song Chunzhi said, sweeping her eyes toward Zhao Wanmiao. She could tell from the woman’s twitching gaze that she was up to something. Clearly, she had gone too easy on her at noon. A real beating from a ghost was the kind of lesson one wouldn’t forget.

“What!?” Zhao Wanmiao flinched and nearly dropped the basin in her hands. Luckily, Song Chunzhi caught it in time. She wasn’t being kind. The basin was expensive. If it broke, the Song family wouldn’t buy a new one anytime soon. Without it, there’d be no way to knead dough, and no dough meant no steamed buns. She had no intention of going hungry.

“My arm’s injured. I need medicine, and medicine costs money,” Song Chunzhi said with a light smile, holding out her hand to Zhao Wanmiao. She had no intention of going to work. The exhausting labor only earned work points that were always given to Song Chunhua and Song Jiawang. Besides, her injury needed proper care. She wasn’t going to let it fester for four or five days like in her previous life, when she nearly died from a fever.

“I don’t have any money,” Zhao Wanmiao replied immediately. She glanced at Song Chunzhi’s arm. The girl had seemed perfectly fine when she was eating earlier. Where was the injury? But Zhao Wanmiao, still uncertain about Song Chunzhi’s identity, didn’t dare question her further. She just didn’t want to give her money.

“Wanna see if I’ll have a ghost beat you up? If you wake up Dad, you’re the one getting another beating,” Song Chunzhi said with a cold smile. She glanced at the space beside Zhao Wanmiao, which made the woman panic. The girl was acting so eerily that Zhao Wanmiao didn’t dare take the risk.

“Last time I went to my mother’s house, your Grandma gave me one yuan. I didn’t spend it. I hid it under a rock in the main room’s corner. Your arm needs to be treated properly, or you’ll have lasting damage,” Zhao Wanmiao said quickly.

Not a word of it sounded believable to Song Chunzhi. That so-called grandmother was the kind who believed if you didn’t pick up money on the street, it meant losing money. She would never give Zhao Wanmiao a single cent. Still, now that she had the money, Song Chunzhi didn’t respond or acknowledge Zhao Wanmiao’s sudden concern.

After tidying herself up a bit, she prepared to change clothes and visit the barefoot doctor for treatment. But she quickly realized she didn’t own a single decent piece of clothing. Even the faded blue blouse she was wearing now was a hand-me-down from Song Chunhua.

Song Chunhua was a year younger, born prematurely, and spoiled by Zhao Wanmiao. Though not treated as well as Song Jiawang, she still received special treatment. She was stronger and healthier than Song Chunzhi.

But the current Chunzhi had no intention of tolerating this injustice. She got up and went to Song Chunhua’s room.

The moment she walked in, she saw how clean and cozy the room was. There was even a curtain made from an old bedsheet on the window. In the 1970s, when most people couldn’t even dress warmly, this was considered luxury. The room had a table, chairs, and even a dressing table. Compared to her own shabby little room, this was heaven.

She didn’t waste time being upset about the room. Treating her injury was more urgent. She opened the wooden chest at the end of the bed and saw neatly folded clothes inside. Her lips twitched. What a blatant display of favoritism. Many of these clothes were made from fabric earned through her own work points. She hadn’t fought over them before, but now she would wear them without guilt. After all, they came from her labor.

She pulled out a nearly new floral blouse and a pair of brand-new black trousers. Though the blouse was slightly used, it was still far better than the faded, patched-up one she had on.

“You…” Zhao Wanmiao had just finished cleaning the kitchen when she saw Song Chunzhi walk out of Song Chunhua’s room. She was wearing the floral blouse Zhao Wanmiao had just made last month for Chunhua, along with newly bought trousers. No one else in the family knew yet, but this dead girl actually put them on.

She was about to rush over and scold her, telling her to take them off immediately, but the moment she met Song Chunzhi’s cold black eyes, her heart sank and she swallowed her words.

Song Chunzhi’s knee still hurt, so she walked slowly. By the time she arrived at the barefoot doctor’s clinic, she was soaked in sweat under the scorching sun. She pulled a floral handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her face, and stepped inside.

“Chun… Chunzhi?”

Wang Guihua, the doctor’s wife, had just stepped out of the house and didn’t recognize her at first. Once the girl came closer, she finally dared to speak. Before, Song Chunzhi had always looked like a ragpicker. But now, in her floral shirt and black trousers, she looked like a completely different girl. Her pretty face hadn’t changed, but now it carried a quiet toughness.

“Auntie Guihua, is Uncle Ye home?”

Although a soft smile played on Chunzhi’s delicate face, her brows were drawn together in pain. “I fell on the mountain. My arm and leg hurt badly. I think I might’ve injured a bone.”

“Old Ye! Someone’s here, come out!”

Wang Guihua quickly stepped forward to support the girl. So that was why she had been walking so slowly. Although the village doctor was technically paid through collective work points, he also earned a little extra by selling medicine. It was a small benefit, but during hard times, few people were willing to spend money on medical care. Seeing the eldest Song girl come in for treatment was rare. Could it be that Zhao Wanmiao had finally grown a conscience?

“Chunzhi, your arm’s fine. I’ll give you some medicine to apply,” said Doctor Ye.

He was a short, honest-looking man in his forties, and he gave her a kind smile. “For your leg as well, just apply the medicine. If you were able to walk here by yourself, the bones aren’t broken. It’s just a sprain. Rest for a few days and you’ll be fine.”

“My hand’s too weak to use. It really hurts when I put pressure on it.”

Chunzhi looked up at the doctor with her round eyes. Of course she was fine. What she really wanted was a medical excuse so she could rest. She had been working since she could walk, and her body was worn out. Now that she had a second chance at life, she was determined to take care of herself. There was no way she was going to work herself to death again.

“I’ll write you a note,” the doctor said. “Take it to the brigade and have it recorded. You’re allowed to skip work.”

Doctor Ye stared at her for a while. A fall wasn’t a big deal. Most people would rub it with alcohol and be done. But he understood what she meant. If it were anyone else, he might scold them. But Chunzhi had worked herself to the bone for years. It was only fair that she rest. He had seen her hardships growing up.

“Thank you, Uncle Ye.”

Chunzhi quickly thanked him and paid for the medicine. It cost one yuan. Doctor Ye was surprised. Song Xingguo, the village miser, was suddenly willing to spend money? Maybe the Song family had finally turned over a new leaf.

Wang Guihua watched the girl limp away, clutching the doctor’s note. She assumed the injury must be serious, perhaps even a fracture. Poor child. She probably still had to work once she got home.

Realizing it was almost time to head to the fields, Wang Guihua took a few sips of water before rushing toward the irrigation ditch. She had a juicy story to share: Song Chunzhi had broken a bone.

The three Song children were nothing alike. The eldest, Chunzhi, had been born so tiny she could fit inside an adult’s shoe. They hadn’t even given her milk. The fact that she had survived at all was pure luck. Before she turned one, the second child, Chunhua, was born a month premature. Though also unwanted, Zhao Wanmiao doted on her. People often said eight-month babies rarely survived, yet Chunhua grew up stronger than her older sister.

The youngest, Song Jiawang, was a boy and had been cherished from birth. Because of him, Zhao Wanmiao was allowed to remain in the family. A woman who couldn’t bear sons would have been sent back to her parents’ home without hesitation.

Back at the house, Chunzhi returned with the medicine. It had only cost 18 cents. Naturally, she kept the rest of the money. She had eaten less than anyone, worked more than everyone, and was still beaten from time to time. Other girls who worked at least got proper meals. She had been treated worse than a beast of burden.

“Song Chunzhi! Who said you could steal my clothes? Take them off!”

Song Chunhua had just come back. She was hungry and irritable, having found no lunch waiting for her. She chewed on a few pieces of cake she had secretly bought with money from Zhao Wanmiao. Egg cakes were a rare treat, and she had planned to save them. But the sound of the door opening caught her attention, and what she saw filled her with rage.

“My new pants…”

Song Chunzhi glanced at her, unimpressed by the girl’s whining. As Chunhua reached out to tug at her shirt, Chunzhi sneered, raised her hand, and slapped her across the face.

“I’m wearing clothes made from fabric bought with my work points. How is that stealing? And if we want to get technical, the clothes you’re wearing now were also bought with my points. Take them off. As a younger sister, you don’t even know how to respect your elder. Instead, you accuse your own sister of theft. Let me teach you a lesson today.”

Her arm still ached, but just seeing Chunhua reminded her of how she had stolen her place at university in her last life. The anger surged again. This was the perfect chance to vent.

“You… you actually hit me…”

Chunhua was stunned. Her delicate face burned. She touched her cheek, staring at her sister in disbelief. This older sister had always protected her and worked in her place… now she had struck her?

“You stole my things and hit me! I’ll fight you!”

But she was no match for Chunzhi, who had done hard labor for years. Chunhua’s flailing fists never landed before she was slapped repeatedly and kicked to the ground. Her pink shirt was torn, and she burst into tears, her face red and swollen.

She watched Chunzhi walk back into the house, dazed and confused. How had her sister changed so much?

Grinding her teeth in hatred, Chunhua desperately wished she could tear Chunzhi apart but she knew she couldn’t win. Her only hope was Zhao Wanmiao. She wanted her mother to come back and beat Chunzhi to death.

But when she saw what Chunzhi was doing next, she jumped up in pain and shouted, “What are you doing?! Stop right there!”