She ate slowly, savoring each bite as though tasting more than just the food.
After returning to her rented apartment the night before, she had barely slept.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t sleep.
She simply didn’t want to.
She was afraid that the moment she closed her eyes, she would find herself back on that rooftop—back in the moment when all hope had died.
Her old-fashioned feature phone rested beside the bowl, its screen still displaying her bank balance.
2.848 million yuan.
Not enough.
Nowhere near enough.
What did 1970 represent?
It was the era of communal dining halls and severe material shortages. Pork cost only seventy-three fen per jin, a Forever-brand bicycle sold for 150 yuan, and an ordinary factory worker earned just over thirty yuan a month.
But she wasn’t planning to stockpile goods from that era.
She wanted modern supplies.
Grain.
Medicine.
Fabric.
Tools.
Seeds.
Seasonings.
Everything that would allow her to live like royalty after returning to 1970.
And every single item had to be purchased with modern money.
Besides, her interdimensional space had unlimited storage, and time inside it stood completely still.
Which meant there was no such thing as buying too much.
Su Jinxiu quickly finished the last of her wontons, wiped her mouth, and crossed the street.
The internet café she’d used yesterday was too close to the main road. If someone connected to Zhao Mingyuan happened to spot her there, it could become troublesome.
Today, she deliberately chose a much more secluded place.
Hidden deep inside an urban village alley was Starlight Internet Café. Half the neon tubing on its sign had burned out, and several empty beer crates were stacked by the entrance.
The moment she stepped inside, the air hit her with the familiar mixture of cigarette smoke and instant noodles.
A handful of young people who had stayed up all night gaming were scattered around the room. Some had fallen asleep on their keyboards, while others continued clicking their mice mechanically.
No one paid any attention to the gray-haired old woman quietly taking a seat in the corner.
Su Jinxiu chose the innermost computer against the wall, her back facing everyone else.
She powered on the computer and began the second day’s work.
After ten straight hours of practice yesterday, she had thoroughly mastered the tricks of online lending platforms.
She now knew which companies approved loans based solely on credit reports and released funds within ten minutes.
Which offered higher limits but required proof of property ownership.
Which demanded live video verification.
She understood every one of their procedures.
Her first target was Huimin Loan.
Maximum limit: 150,000 yuan.
Fully online.
No video verification.
Using Zhao Mingyuan’s identity, she completed the application in five minutes.
Ding! Deposit received: 150,000 yuan.
The second platform was Golden Bridge Credit.
Maximum limit: 80,000 yuan.
Employment verification required.
Su Jinxiu let out a cold laugh.
She opened her phone’s photo gallery and found a picture of Zhao Mingyuan’s employee ID from the state-owned enterprise where he had worked before retirement.
She had casually photographed it years ago while organizing old belongings.
She never imagined it would become useful today.
Another 80,000 yuan arrived.
Third platform.
Fourth.
Fifth.
She operated like a precision machine—calm, efficient, and utterly decisive.
Until she reached the sixth platform—
Xin’an Loan.
This one required live video verification.
Su Jinxiu paused only briefly.
Then she calmly removed her baseball cap, smoothed her gray hair with her fingers, pointed the phone’s front camera at herself, and tapped Start Verification.
A young female loan officer, barely in her twenties, appeared on the screen.
The moment she saw Su Jinxiu, she visibly hesitated.
“Ma’am… hello. I’m Xiao Wang from Xin’an Loan’s verification department.”
There was uncertainty in the girl’s voice.
“Are you sure you want to apply for this loan of 200,000 yuan?”
Without changing her expression, Su Jinxiu smiled gently.
“Yes.”
“I’m old, but I receive a monthly pension of 6,800 yuan. I own a three-bedroom apartment, and you’ve already checked my credit history.”
“It’s spotless.”
“I’ve never missed a payment in my life.”
It was only half true.
The pension existed—though it had already been frozen.
The apartment also existed—though Zhao Mingyuan had secretly transferred it into his own name.
But credit databases weren’t updated instantly.
For the time being, all of that information still appeared perfectly normal.
The loan officer remained silent for three seconds.
Sensing her hesitation, Su Jinxiu immediately added,
“My grandson is going overseas for graduate school. He’s just short on tuition.”
“As his grandmother, how could I bear to watch him give up his education?”
As she spoke, her eyes reddened slightly, and her voice carried the warmth and quiet helplessness unique to an elderly grandmother.
Her performance was flawless.
The young loan officer was clearly moved.
Keyboard clicks sounded from the other side of the call.
“Very well, ma’am. Your application has been approved. The funds should arrive within ten minutes.”
“I wish your grandson every success in his studies.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Su Jinxiu smiled warmly as she ended the video call.
The instant the screen went dark, every trace of that smile vanished.
Another 200,000 yuan was deposited.
Time passed minute by minute.
Groups of young gamers came and went throughout the day.
Not a single one noticed that the elderly woman in the corner had never left her seat.
At eleven o’clock that morning, Su Jinxiu encountered the biggest prize of the day.
Ronglian Credit.
A platform specializing in large unsecured loans.
Maximum limit:
500,000 yuan.
Naturally, its requirements were the strictest.
Applicants had to submit:
A photo of the original property ownership certificate.
Six months of bank statements.
A selfie holding their ID card.
Su Jinxiu’s fingers paused over the keyboard.
The property certificate…
The original deed to her luxury river-view penthouse had long since been taken by Zhao Mingyuan.
But her phone still contained a photograph she’d taken of it two years earlier—back when she had no idea the property had already been secretly transferred away.
The owner listed in the photo was still her.
As for bank statements, those were even easier.
She had once been the true owner of Jinxiu Trading Group. The transaction history of her accounts was so impressive that any loan officer would be dazzled.
Although the accounts had since been emptied, she had saved screenshots of her statements from six months earlier in cloud storage.
Originally, she had preserved them as evidence for a lawsuit.
Now they served another purpose.
Taking a deep breath, Su Jinxiu uploaded every required document.
Then she waited.
Two full hours passed.
During that time, she went to the restroom once, bought a bottle of mineral water, and returned to stare silently at the screen.
At 1:17 p.m., her phone vibrated.
[Dear Customer, your application for a 500,000 yuan loan through Ronglian Credit has been approved. The funds will be transferred within thirty minutes.]
Su Jinxiu clenched her fists.
Half a million yuan.
The largest single loan so far.
She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled, unable to suppress the smile spreading across her face.
Thirty minutes later—
Ding! Your bank card ending in 6688 has received a deposit of RMB 500,000 at 1:47 p.m.
Her eyes shone with frightening intensity.
Over the next two hours, she successfully secured loans from another five platforms, ranging from 30,000 to 150,000 yuan each.
At exactly three o’clock in the afternoon, she finally stopped.
Not because she wanted to.
She had already exhausted nearly every worthwhile platform.
The few remaining either offered limits too small to justify the effort or required approval periods that were far too long.
She took out her notebook and calculated the day’s results.
Today’s total:
Eleven lending platforms.
1.76 million yuan.
Added to yesterday’s 2.848 million yuan…
Her total funds now stood at—
4.608 million yuan.
Su Jinxiu stared at the number for a long time.
Four and a half million yuan.
In modern times, it wasn’t even enough to buy a decent apartment in a first-tier city.
But if she converted every cent into supplies, stored them inside her interdimensional space, and brought them back to 1970…
It would be the equivalent of possessing a mountain of gold.
Even so…
She still wasn’t satisfied.
Everything was scarce in 1970.
Food.
Fabric.
Medicine.
Seeds.
Tools.
The list of necessities was endless.
Four and a half million yuan sounded like a fortune, but once she truly began purchasing supplies, it would disappear far faster than anyone imagined.
Besides…
She had other plans for the money.
Closing her notebook, Su Jinxiu leaned back in her chair and rubbed her aching temples.
She picked up her phone and absentmindedly swiped through the screen.
Suddenly, her finger stopped.
Without realizing it, she had opened Zhao Shiyu’s Moments.
The latest post had been uploaded at 2:15 p.m. that afternoon.
In the photo, Zhao Shiyu wore an elegant cream-colored Chanel tweed jacket.
She was linking arms affectionately with Liu Wanqing as the two sat beside the floor-to-ceiling windows of an upscale Western restaurant.
An exquisite afternoon tea spread filled the table before them.
The caption contained only a few words:
“Afternoon tea with Mommy. So happy~ ❤️”
Su Jinxiu’s pupils contracted violently.
Mommy.
She was calling Liu Wanqing…
Mommy.
Her hands began trembling.
Not from anger.
But because a memory she could never erase surged back like a tidal wave.
Twenty-four years ago.
The day Zhao Shiyu was born.
She had spent fourteen agonizing hours on the operating table.
The natural delivery had failed.
The baby was too large.
The fetal position was wrong.
In the end, they had rushed her into an emergency cesarean section.
The anesthesia hadn’t worked properly.
She could actually feel the scalpel slicing through her abdomen.
She bit down on a towel with all her strength and never cried out.
When Zhao Shiyu was finally born, she weighed seven and a half pounds, her cries loud and vigorous.
The nurse carried the baby over.
Though she was nearly unconscious from pain, Su Jinxiu gathered every ounce of strength she had left and reached out to touch her daughter’s wrinkled little face.
“My baby…”
“Mommy’s precious little baby…”
It had been the happiest moment of her entire life.
And now…
The child she had nearly died to bring into this world called another woman Mommy.
With such a radiant smile.
Without the slightest trace of guilt.
Slowly, Su Jinxiu lowered the phone and closed her eyes.
She didn’t cry.
She had shed every tear she possessed in her previous life.
In this life…
She would never waste another one on those people.
Three seconds later, she opened her eyes again.
Every trace of warmth had disappeared from them.
They were colder than ice.
She exited Moments, opened her contacts, scrolled past Zhao Shiyu’s name, and stopped at Zhao Zixuan’s.
Their ID numbers.
Bank accounts.
Employers.
Social insurance records.
She remembered every single detail perfectly.
After all…
She had been the “money-making machine” they mocked.
She was the one who had personally handled all of their paperwork.
Registered all of their insurance.
Even paid the down payment on Zhao Shiyu’s apartment.
Su Jinxiu stood up, pulled her baseball cap back on, and walked out of the internet café.
The afternoon sunlight was so bright that she instinctively narrowed her eyes.
Raising a hand to shield them, she quietly murmured a few words.
They were so soft they sounded almost like a whisper to herself.
Yet as cold as a death sentence.
“Zhao Shiyu… Zhao Zixuan…”
“It would be a waste not to make good use of your identities as well.”
Her gaze drifted beyond the crowded street toward a distant residential complex—
the direction of Zhao Shiyu’s apartment.
“Tonight…”
“Mother is coming to see you.”