Chapter 2

Zhang Hongying was born in 1973 in a small village in Jiangnan called Yawan Village. Her younger brother, Zhang Hongxing, was born in 1976.

Their father was Zhang Xiaoshu, and their mother, Li Xiaofang.

Both parents were quite good-looking, with thick eyebrows and large eyes, and their two children, Zhang Hongying and Zhang Hongxing, turned out to be attractive as well.

However, Zhang Hongying wasn’t very good at school—she spent three years in first grade, and two years in fourth grade. By the time she was supposed to enter fifth grade, the village school had been merged and students now had to attend school in the neighboring village.

The road was too far, which got in the way of doing farm work. On top of that, she was already getting older. So Li Xiaofang decided to have Zhang Hongying quit school and stay home to work on the farm.

Zhang Hongying had long since lost interest in school anyway.

After repeating grades three times, she was three or four years older than her classmates. While she was already going through puberty, the others were still little kids. Every time the teacher called on her to answer a question, she stood out like a crane among chickens—and often couldn’t answer—making for very awkward moments.

She had long wanted to stop studying, but since her parents insisted, she kept going.

Now that Li Xiaofang told her to come home, she was more than happy to return.

After all, this was the life of many girls in the Jiangnan countryside.

From the age of three or four, girls were expected to help with chores, and by five or six, they could already take care of the cooking and laundry entirely on their own.

When Zhang Hongxing was born, Zhang Hongying had just turned three. As soon as he started toddling, he became her little shadow, always following behind her.

He had been quite adorable as a child—fair-skinned, soft-featured, with big black eyes, always stumbling along behind her, calling “Sister” nonstop.

Zhang Hongying had always believed their sibling relationship was a good one.

But after everything that happened today, Zhang Hongying started piecing things together and felt something was off.

When did Zhang Hongxing stop calling her “Sister” and start using her name instead?

Day in and day out, it was “Hongying this” and “Hongying that,” as if he were the older one. But Zhang Hongying couldn’t even remember if she had ever objected to that.

She didn’t have a good memory to begin with. She would forget what the teacher said right after class, which was a big part of why she didn’t do well in school. So she couldn’t recall exactly when her younger brother had stopped calling her “Sister.”

Handling funeral matters was exhausting. After a week of nonstop work, and getting so angry and upset today, Zhang Hongying quickly fell into a dazed sleep.

Even in her sleep, she was grinding her teeth, thinking, If only I had known how biased my parents really were…

But after a while, she realized—Even if I had known earlier, what could I have done?

Zhang Xiaoshu and Li Xiaofang, up until the day they died, had always been good parents in every sense.

They never beat their kids, and barely ever scolded them.

In Jiangnan, things were different from other places—women held relatively high status.

Men and women worked equally hard. Growing three rice crops a year only ensured there was food on the table.

Women not only labored in the fields during busy seasons, but also handled silk farming, weaving, raising sheep—tasks that brought in real income. Making clothes and shoes, mending—these too fell on women’s shoulders.

Economic power rested with the women. Women were the main breadwinners. If a woman was capable, the family prospered. If she wasn’t, the family struggled.

Li Xiaofang was the very definition of a capable woman. She had brought a sewing machine as dowry, and her sewing skills were renowned for miles around.

Her family always looked neat and clean when they went out. Even patched clothes were beautifully done.

Li Xiaofang treated both children equally. When she saw others favoring sons over daughters, she’d even criticize them—“They’re both your children, how can you be biased?”

She often said, “Both my children are equally zhidian.” Especially Hongying—she would say, “So obedient and hardworking. Worth even more than Hongxing.”

Zhidian in the local dialect meant “precious” or “dear to the heart.”

Zhang Hongying wholeheartedly believed this. Li Xiaofang really had cherished her. When good food was made at home, both parents barely ate any themselves. Only after the kids had eaten their fill would they have a few bites. If there were ten pieces of dried tofu, the siblings would get three pieces each, and the parents only two each.

This was completely different from her friend Shen Jianzhen’s family in Hedong.

Shen Jianzhen also had a younger brother, Shen Jianxin.

In their household, whenever food was bought, it was the father, Shen Dalin, who distributed it.

If there were ten pieces of dried tofu, he’d first give one piece each to the kids and one to his wife, Wu Xiaohong, then pull the rest in front of himself and eat happily. After eating a few, if the kids still looked longingly at him, he might give each another half piece.

Wu Xiaohong was from out of town and not very capable—bad at farm work, bad at housework, and clueless about raising children. Shen Jianzhen often wore rags. In summer she ran around the village in just shorts. In winter, she had only one piece of clothing she wore for months, taking it off only when the weather turned warm. Her hair was matted and clumped together from filth—people avoided her when they saw her.

Wu Xiaohong couldn’t manage her kids. But when people criticized her for letting the child get so dirty, she would beat Shen Jianzhen. Afterward, Shen Jianzhen remained just as dirty.

Compared to that, Zhang Hongying felt her life was heaven. Her mother never hit her, rarely even scolded her. Her clothes and hair were washed every few days.

Though it was mostly Zhang Hongying herself who washed them.

Li Xiaofang doted on Zhang Hongying for good reason. Even if she wasn’t good at school, she was a brilliant worker. Before land was contracted to households, everyone earned work points in the fields. At the age of six (by traditional Chinese counting), Zhang Hongying was already out transplanting rice seedlings.

She was fast—swish swish swish—planting neat, orderly rows. The scorekeeper looked and said she deserved six work points. That was the same as Wu Xiaohong, a woman in her twenties with two children. And even she only started getting eight work points after her brother-in-law became the team leader.

In her dreams, Zhang Hongying wanted to ask her parents:

Why did you treat me this way?

She had managed the household for over forty years and cared for them until their final days—what more did they want?

Hadn’t Zhang Hongxing been given enough? Word was, his house in Suzhou and villa by Lake Tai were now worth millions. The house she had built with the savings of her entire family—her, her husband, and her son—was now being taken to give to her brother?

Didn’t you say you loved me just the same? Were you lying to me?

Mother, you lied to me my whole life, and it hurts so much now.

Maybe it would’ve been better… better to be like Shen Jianzhen!

At least Shen Jianzhen’s mother was openly cruel.

Wu Xiaohong, being from another province and heavily biased toward sons, faced pushback from her daughter early on. Once Shen Jianzhen reached high school, she started openly rebelling. Whenever Wu Xiaohong acted unreasonably, Shen Jianzhen would raise her voice and call others over to judge for themselves. Over time, Wu Xiaohong grew wary of her and didn’t dare mistreat her anymore.

You’re not even as good as Wu Xiaohong! Zhang Hongying mumbled in her sleep.