It was almost noon. Even before getting close, people outside could already hear bursts of shouting and cursing coming from the home of Lin Dayong, the production team leader of Linjia Village. A shrill female voice rang out, mixed with the sharp clatter of things being smashed, along with angry roars.
Two scrawny village women passing by exchanged a glance. A spark of curiosity flickered in their dull eyes. They casually dusted off their patch-covered clothes, sending up little clouds of dirt, spat twice, and hurried over. But just as they approached, the noise inside abruptly died down.
Unwilling to give up, they crept closer and peeked through a half-covered crack in the door. In the courtyard, shattered porcelain bowls lay scattered across the ground. Just as they leaned in to look further, a shadow suddenly loomed over them—it was a plump woman.
With a broad smile plastered on her face, she said,
“Aunt Dahua, Aunt Cui’e, shouldn’t you be heading home to cook? It’s almost mealtime. Don’t delay your men from going back to work this afternoon, or you’ll end up arguing again.”
Aunt Dahua craned her neck, trying to sneak another look, but the woman’s tall, sturdy frame completely blocked her view.
Aunt yudo forced a wrinkled smile.
“We were just worried something might’ve happened at your place. Since everything’s fine, we’ll head back to cook.”
She tugged at Aunt Dahua, whose eyes were still darting around, and the two left. As they walked, they muttered under their breath:
“Are you stupid? Still trying to peek? Careful you don’t offend her—she might deduct your work points.”
“Relax. The team leader has always been fair. I’m just curious—what could’ve made such a peaceful household argue like that?”
Then her tone shifted, tinged with envy:
“Zhang Xiaoyun really has it good. Her father-in-law is the team leader, her eldest son works in the county, her second son is the village record keeper, and I heard her youngest daughter even got into high school. Tsk, tsk…”
“Enough with the sour grapes. Next time you see her, don’t end up smiling while sounding bitter—that’d just be awkward.”
…
As the two women left, the commotion in the Lin household had already subsided, leaving behind only a mess of debris and heavy silence.
In a room on the east side of the western courtyard, a thin figure lay on the bed. Her eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed, lips murmuring faintly—too softly to make out.
Suddenly, veins bulged on her forehead. Her hands clenched the bedsheet tightly as she gritted her teeth, letting out a low groan. The pain coursed through her body, forcing her to twist and turn uncontrollably.
The pain came quickly—and left just as fast. By the time a small figure entered the room, the movement on the bed had mostly calmed, though her brows were still tightly knit.
Soon after, a worried-looking woman entered. Seeing the two figures—one big, one small—she sighed softly, set down the bowl in her hands, and quietly led the child out.
As the sun dipped westward, the men returned carrying iron shovels, dressed in short jackets, while the women came back with baskets and sickles, chatting and laughing.
They removed the blue-and-white cloths wrapped around their heads, wiped the sweat from their faces and necks, then used the cloths to pat dust off their clothes. Though their garments were full of patches, they still took care of them—washing less meant the clothes would last longer.
Once the tools were stored away, the day’s work officially ended.
At that moment, the figure on the bed slowly woke.
She sat up, her head still heavy from the earlier pain, and rubbed her temples with a small, dirt-stained hand.
When she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, the girl—Lin Erxia—let out a long sigh.
By some strange twist of fate, she had regained the memories of her previous life.
Though her past life hadn’t been particularly remarkable, she had at least grown up safely, supported herself after starting work, and lived without worrying about food or clothing.
Yet now, she had somehow transmigrated back to the 1970s—a time when seeing meat even once a month was rare.
Even worse… she might have transmigrated into a novel.
A novel she had read long ago. She couldn’t even remember the title anymore, and most of the plot had faded from her mind. If not for her own name—and the familiar names of the people around her—she wouldn’t have recalled it at all.
It was a parallel-era story.
The female lead, though born in the countryside, was doted on by her parents and cherished by her brothers. Gentle and well-behaved, she also excelled academically, living a relatively comfortable life even in the 60s and 70s.
After graduating from high school, she married a military officer with a high rank and moved to live with him. Two years later, she gave birth to twins—a boy and a girl—and devoted herself to family life, enjoying a sweet marriage.
When the college entrance exam resumed, she got into university, and with the wave of economic reform, she started a business.
As her career flourished, so did her husband’s. With a successful business, obedient children, and a harmonious family, she had it all.
But in the story, there was a female supporting character—a stark contrast to the heroine.
Though they were cousins, this supporting character was inferior in looks, temperament, and material conditions. Arrogant and prideful, she constantly competed with the heroine.
She performed poorly in school, yet out of jealousy, she stubbornly demanded to continue her education. When she failed to qualify for high school, she caused endless trouble at home.
Later, she married, but her fiery temper filled her household with constant quarrels, damaging her relationships with her husband and in-laws.
When the college entrance exam resumed, she insisted on taking it despite never attending high school, even going so far as to buy a fake diploma. She failed repeatedly—three attempts, three failures—wasting time and money.
Her actions dragged her family down. Watching others prosper while they struggled, resentment grew.
In the end, her in-laws blamed her, her husband distanced himself, her children became estranged, and she lived a bitter, lonely life.
And that tragic supporting character…
was her.
Lin Erxia.
The heroine, meanwhile, was her cousin—Lin Zhuer.
Though both were granddaughters of the Lin family, their treatment couldn’t have been more different.
Her uncle, Lin Yongfeng, was a team leader. His eldest son worked as a driver in the county, and his second son was a work-point recorder in the village.
As for her own father, Lin Yongshun—just an ordinary farmer. Though the youngest son, he wasn’t particularly favored by the elders. Lazy by nature, working inconsistently, he earned fewer work points than others.
Her mother, Zhao Lanhua, was gentle and submissive. Having given birth to three daughters before finally having a son, she couldn’t hold her head high in front of her mother-in-law.
Her elder sister and younger sister were just like their mother—quiet, hardworking, and submissive. Her little brother was still young.
Compared to her uncle’s family, they simply couldn’t compete.
Even before regaining her memories, traces of her past life seemed to influence her. From a young age, she had been fiery and competitive, working hard in her studies. She was one of the few students in the commune middle school who managed to pass into high school—even if just barely.
And perhaps due to the story’s influence, she had always been at odds with Lin Zhuer, secretly competing with her.
This time, both of them passed the high school entrance exam.
But her family refused to let her attend—while Lin Zhuer was allowed.
Their reason?
Lin Zhuer had better grades.
The moment she heard that, she exploded.
So what if Lin Zhuer had better grades? She had worked just as hard to get in—why should she be denied?
Why should she be inferior to Lin Zhuer for no reason?
If they wouldn’t let her live well, then no one in the family would.
In a frenzy, she lashed out—smashing things wildly, eyes red, like a madwoman. Nothing could stop her—god or Buddha alike.
At one point, she even grabbed a kitchen knife.
But just as she raised it, overwhelmed by rage…
She fainted from sheer anger.
And in that moment—
her memories of her previous life awakened.