Although the cafeteria food was mediocre, it was edible. Given that Song Xinran's body urgently needed energy replenishment, she made an effort to finish it.
She rinsed the heavily seasoned dishes in soup—the remnants of spiciness and numbness on her tongue were satisfying enough. This was far more flavorful than the hospital's nutritional meals.
However…
She took another bite of the fish. Over-seasoned and overcooked, the flesh had become tough and lost its original flavor beneath the heavy-handed preparation.
The fish itself was of decent quality. Having tasted countless dishes in her life, she could tell this wasn't factory-farmed fish bred in high-density, rapid-growth conditions. It was likely raised by local farmers in ponds or paddies.
Having just read the novel last night and feeling particularly fond of the male supporting character, Song Xinran clearly remembered that Song Yu had grown up in a small southwestern town.
It was the early 2000s—people had little money, and food safety issues weren't as severe. Most goods in town were sold by local farmers.
She ate another piece of fish and sighed at the waste of a good life.
After the meal, Song Xinran felt more alert and energetic. The original host's body was healthier than hers—after her car accident, her own body had become like a cracked jar: no matter how much water you poured in, it would always end up empty.
The original host was probably younger too…
With this thought, Song Xinran returned to the dormitory to search for the original host's belongings and gather more information.
Only Chen Jingfang was in the dorm. Song Xinran greeted her: "Where's Xiao Sha?"
Chen Jingfang replied, "Xiao Sha's showering. I'm heading to the baths too—want to join?"
Song Xinran shook her head. "I'll rest for a bit."
Chen Jingfang picked up her bucket and clothes. Pausing at the door, she glanced back at Song Xinran and smiled. "Xinran, this is good—greeting everyone openly. Xiao Sha doesn't dislike you; she's just sharp-tongued."
As if worried Song Xinran might feel embarrassed, she closed the door and left.
Song Xinran was taken aback. Had the original host been quiet and withdrawn?
She didn't dwell on it. With the dorm empty, she began rummaging through the original host's belongings.
The ID card showed the original host was born in 1980—22 years old now.
Song Yu's birthday was August 20, 1998, meaning the original host had given birth to him around 18 or 19.
Song Xinran fell silent. She knew that in remote rural areas during the 80s and 90s, impoverished families often married off their daughters young. They'd hold the wedding banquet first and register the marriage when the girl reached legal age. If a child came early, the household registration would be processed after marriage.
Only families struggling financially would marry off their daughters so young.
The novel had only briefly mentioned Song Yu's biological parents. It wasn't until Song Xinran arrived in this world that she understood how pitiful and harsh reality could be.
She then found July's pay stub: base wage 600 yuan, full-attendance bonus 50 yuan, plus 100 yuan for covering five night shifts—total 750 yuan.
The original host had kept accounts. Flipping open the coarse-paper notebook, clear entries appeared:
Sent home: 400 yuan
Shampoo: 2 yuan
Soap: 1 yuan
Toilet paper: 1 yuan
Round-trip bus fare: 2 yuan
…
Candy for Xiao Yu: 10 yuan
Xiao Yu's sandals: 8 yuan
…
Balance: 102 yuan.
Song Xinran stared silently at the original owner's somewhat blurry handwriting. The original owner had truly cherished Song Yu, always buying the cheapest daily necessities for herself yet willing to pool money with roommates to purchase candy to bring home for Song Yu to taste.
But this child, whom the original owner had so tenderly cared for, was treated harshly by relatives—deprived of both material comforts and emotional warmth, ultimately dying young to save the female lead.
In the novel, Song Yu was only 27 when he died. Though his life had been full of struggles, he worked hard to improve himself, graduating from a top-tier university, securing a respectable job, and regularly donating to help others.
A pang of sorrow struck Song Xinran's heart. She flipped to the original owner's passbook—after two years working at the glass factory, she had saved one thousand yuan.
She let out a deep sigh and returned everything to its original place.
With a loud "thud," the door was shoved open. A woman in her thirties or forties stood at the doorway holding a notebook: "Song Xinran, why are you still here? You're on night shift tonight!"
The sudden voice dispelled the melancholy in Song Xinran's heart. She looked at the newcomer—the work badge on her chest read "Team Leader Wang Ling, First Shift."
Song Xinran said, "Team Leader, I worked the day shift today."
She had just seen the original owner's shift schedule—she was on day shifts all week.
Wang Ling said, "This night shift is covering for Xiao Liu. She has something to do today."
Song Xinran shook her head. "I'm not doing it. Team Leader, you'll have to find someone else."
The original owner's health was already poor—how could she withstand working both day and night shifts? Her current priorities were to recover her own health and raise the original owner's child well. Everything else came second.
The original owner would work herself to death for 20 yuan in shift coverage pay, but Song Xinran had no such intention.
Wang Ling was shocked. "You're not doing it? You don't want the money?"
Song Xinran: "My body can't take it anymore."
Wang Ling persuaded, "Your family situation is so poor. If you don't work more now, what will you do when you're old? I specifically saved this shift for you—others who want this money don't get the chance."
Song Xinran thought to herself that if she worked more now, she might not even live to see old age. That was exactly how the original owner died.
She still refused.
Wang Ling's expression turned somewhat unpleasant. At the glass factory, day and night shifts paid the same, so nobody wanted night shifts. Those with good connections to leadership would make excuses to have others cover for them.
Wang Ling used to find this annoying and hard to manage, but ever since Song Xinran came to the factory, she had been quiet, hardworking, and particularly obedient to leadership arrangements—especially since her family was poor, making her an ideal candidate for covering night shifts.
But today Song Xinran had actually refused.
Song Xinran: "Then I'll resign."
Wang Ling looked at her in astonishment. "What?"
Song Xinran: "I want to resign. Today happens to be the last day of the month, so I won't be coming tomorrow."
Their glass factory didn't have a rule requiring thirty days' notice for resignation—just informing the leadership was enough. After all, labor was plentiful, and new workers could be found quickly.
Wang Ling immediately became unsteady, softening her voice to persuade: "Xiao Song, I know your family situation. Our factory pays the highest wages in town—what else can you do after resigning? What about the child at home? If you're tired today, I'll arrange for someone else to cover the night shift."
There wasn't a second worker in the factory as diligent and compliant as Song Xinran.
Song Xinran: "The factory hasn't paid our wages for two months."
When money was mentioned, Wang Ling knew Song Xinran was determined. Her expression darkened: "You want to resign over some wages? Have you forgotten how the factory supported you all before? Fine, resign if you want, just don't regret it later!"
Just then, Chen Jingfang and Xu Sha returned. Seeing Wang Ling, they greeted: "Monitor, what did you need us for?"
Wang Ling shot a glare at Song Xinran and didn't answer them, only saying: "Since you're resigning, pack your things and move out quickly. New workers need to be arranged to move in tomorrow."
With that, she left with her notebook.
"Xinran, you're resigning?" Chen Jingfang said incredulously, "Did you misspeak? Go apologize to the monitor quickly. There are plenty of people wanting to work at the glass factory now – it's easy to leave but hard to get back in. The factory provides food and accommodation, and your family burden is so heavy."
Song Xinran knew Chen Jingfang meant well and patiently explained: "The factory hasn't paid wages for two months already."
Xu Sha snorted lightly: "So what? Our factory has been operating for over ten years. Wages were never late before. It's just these two months when business hasn't been good. The factory director said wages will be paid once this batch of goods is shipped out."
Song Xinran explained: "Long operation doesn't guarantee wage payment. If the factory goes bankrupt, workers have nowhere to appeal. The delayed wages are already a warning sign."
Being contradicted made Xu Sha annoyed. She said sarcastically: "Who knows where you heard these nonsense ideas. Resign if you want, just don't regret it later. Jingfang, stop persuading her. Usually so quiet, but now she's full of ideas."
Chen Jingfang, still concerned, continued persuading Song Xinran, asking if she had any backup plan, emphasizing how children need money most.
Chen Jingfang was two years older than them and had just had a baby last year. Knowing how hard it was to raise a child, she often looked out for Song Xinran.
Song Xinran nodded: "I have plans. Thank you, Sister Fang."
Chen Jingfang sighed. Seeing Song Xinran's determined expression, she knew persuasion was useless: "What do you need to pack? I'll help you."
Song Xinran didn't have much in the dormitory. She was always frugal, mending worn clothes to continue wearing them. She didn't dress up, and one large backpack could hold all her belongings.
"I'll leave my things in the dorm first. I'm going out to buy some things before going home to see Xiao Yu." Song Xinran had already planned her next steps – go home first, then take her child out to make a living. With her cooking skills and some savings, she definitely wouldn't starve.
Chen Jingfang responded: "Go ahead. I'll watch your things."
Song Xinran thought for a moment, took one yuan from her pocket and placed it on Xu Sha's desk: "For your candy."
Xu Sha glanced at it but didn't take it: "Forget it. Pretending to be generous when you have no money yourself? Better buy more things for your child back home."
Chen Jingfang promptly put the money back into Song Xinran's pocket: "What payment? We're roommates. Don't be so distant."
As she spoke, she pushed Song Xinran out, telling her to go buy things quickly.
Song Xinran thought about it – if she went to buy things now, she could still catch the bus home. Thanking Chen Jingfang, she went out.
The things needed to pick up her child from home were nothing special – food, clothes, toys, daily necessities. But now Song Yu was just over three years old, not yet in school, so stationery wasn't needed.
When it came to clothing, Song Xinran didn't know the child's size and was afraid of wasting money on ill-fitting items.
As for toys, their family circumstances didn't permit such luxuries yet…
That left only food. Song Xinran was quite knowledgeable about cooking, but it was already nearly 2 PM. Many snack stalls in the market had closed, and supermarket snacks were limited to cheap options like spicy sticks, biscuits, and candies—all rather mediocre in taste.
Song Xinran decided to buy ingredients and cook at home!
Counting from her previous life, it had been a full six months since she last cooked. The thought of the bustling atmosphere in the kitchen made her hands itch with excitement.
First, scrambled eggs with tomatoes—a simple, child-friendly dish. The version she'd eaten in the cafeteria today had been particularly underwhelming.
Next, steamed fish. The book mentioned Song Yu had been frail as a child, and gently steamed fish would be both mild and nutritious for building health.
Sea bass would be the ideal choice—classic and affordable—but after asking around the market, she found none available. The vendors mainly sold grass carp and crucian carp. Settling for second best, Song Xinran bought a grass carp to make fish congee, which would be equally delicious.
She also bought a cheap block of tofu to make mapo tofu the next day. Just imagining the silky texture and numbing-spicy aroma made her mouth water.
Finally, Song Xinran decided to buy some meat. Her eyes scanned the market—it was late afternoon, and many meat stalls had already closed. The remaining ones had only few cuts left.
Soon, her gaze landed on a stall in the corner, and she walked over.
The vendor was packing up.
Approaching the stall, Song Xinran smiled warmly. "Boss, how much for the meat per jin?"
The vendor glanced up. "Five kuai for pork belly, five mao more for hind leg."
Having checked prices elsewhere, Song Xinran knew this was standard. "I'll take one jin of pork belly," she said.
The vendor acknowledged. As Song Xinran's eyes swept over the stall, she noticed pig's blood and offal in a bucket. She added, "Boss, you just slaughtered this pig, right? From afar, I could see how neatly everything was arranged. Up close, the meat looks especially fresh and vibrant—clearly high quality."
The vendor, who had been reaching for his knife, broke into a slight smile. "That's right. This is free-range pork I just bought from the village—nearly three hundred jin."
Song Xinran exclaimed with exaggerated admiration, "Such a heavy pig is rare! The meat must be delicious, especially from free-range ones—the flavor must be exceptional. You've got great judgment and luck, boss. With pork this good, I came to the right place!"
She lavished praise until the vendor grew somewhat embarrassed, thinking how unusually articulate this young woman was—most customers tried to talk down the quality to haggle.
Selecting another cut of pork belly with his knife, the vendor chuckled. "The pork is indeed good. I arrived late today, so there's some left. Young lady, I'll pick you a better piece."
"Thank you so much, boss! You're so efficient, and your stall is so clean—unlike others with flies buzzing around," Song Xinran replied.
Beaming, the vendor weighed the meat. "One jin and one liang—five kuai and five mao."
Song Xinran said, "Alright, boss, please pack it up for me. Your hand is really accurate, boss. When I used to buy from other places, if I wasn't careful, I'd end up with half a jin extra."
The stall owner packed the pork belly while saying, "I've been selling for over ten years, so I've long mastered it."
He then casually picked up a piece of blood curd from the bucket nearby, put it in another bag, and handed it to Song Xinran: "Little girl, I'll give you a piece of blood curd for free. You can make soup with it when you get home."
Song Xinran pretended to be pleasantly surprised: "Thank you, boss! With such generosity, your business is bound to get better and better!"
The stall owner grinned from ear to ear and modestly replied, "Oh, it's nothing, nothing."
Song Xinran's gaze fell on the pig lungs on the stall and asked, "Boss, how much for that pair of pig lungs? I'll take them as well."
The stall owner took a look and said, "Little girl, pig lungs aren't easy to clean. They usually sell for eight mao, but since you want them, I'll give them to you for five mao. Altogether, it'll be six kuai."
Song Xinran smiled and said, "Thank you, boss. I figured since your pork is so good, the pig lungs probably aren't bad either. Since I've come across them, I might as well buy a bit more."
The stall owner couldn't hide his smile anymore. As he packed the pig lungs for Song Xinran, he said, "You really know how to talk, little girl."
After saying that, he stuffed another piece of blood curd into Song Xinran's bag.
Song Xinran paid, took the items, and said cheerfully, "Thank you, boss. I'll come back to buy from you again next time."
The boss responded with an "okay," grinning from ear to ear.
Carrying a large bag of items she had bought for only six kuai, Song Xinran left the meat stall with light, brisk steps.
She knew that in the countryside, when someone slaughtered a pig, close acquaintances who came to buy meat would usually be given a few pieces of blood curd for free.
But that was a privilege reserved for regular customers. Today, she had gotten a bargain.
Afterward, Song Xinran bought some seasonings. When she returned to the dormitory carrying bags of various sizes, she calculated in her mind: she had spent a total of 25 yuan today.
The original owner had saved 80 yuan for miscellaneous expenses, and now 55 yuan remained. If she budgeted carefully, it could last a long time.
Now, it was time for her to go home.