The backroom storage space was dimly lit, the air thick with the musty stench of decaying plant ash.
Lin Wanshuang stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her, cutting off most of the voices of Zhao Cuifeng and Lin Baozong in the outer room.
Walking over to a dilapidated wooden shelf against the wall, her gaze landed on the bottom tier, where a dust-covered medical kit sat. It was the barefoot doctor’s kit her late father had left behind.
She opened the kit, her fingertips sweeping precisely over a row of bottles and jars before stopping at an old bottle of iodine with a faded red label.
Uncorking it, she brought it close to smell. Most of the alcohol had evaporated, leaving behind a deep reddish-brown iodine solution that looked almost pitch-black.
“Dead girl! Did you drop dead in there?!”
Zhao Cuifeng’s screech pierced through the door, laced with uncontrollable impatience.
“Grab the pen and get out here! Stop slacking on me!”
Lin Wanshuang didn’t answer.
With a calm demeanor, she scraped a small piece of dried, clumped starch paste from the corner of the medical kit.
Everything she needed was ready.
As a chief researcher at a national pharmaceutical research institute in her past life, executing a crude chemical reaction like this was as natural as breathing.
Starch turns deep blue upon contact with iodine, but this complex is extremely unstable. By controlling the proportions and utilizing ambient temperature and moisture evaporation in the air, elemental iodine sublime rapidly—causing the blue color to fade away completely within two hours, leaving behind not a single trace.
Lin Wanshuang pulled out a discarded glass penicillin vial.
Using her fingernail, she scooped a thumbnail-sized piece of the dried paste, dropped it into the vial, and added a few drops of clean water.
Then, holding a washed bamboo stick, she stirred rhythmically. Her hands were perfectly steady, without a hint of trembling.
“Sister! Hurry up!”
Outside, Lin Baozong kicked the table leg impatiently, the dull thud of wood colliding sounding sharp and grating.
“The Commune’s Youth Office is supposed to lock up at three-thirty! If you delay my important business, I’ll smash your damn head in!”
Lin Wanshuang remained completely deaf to his threats.
Staring at the dissolving starch paste in the vial, she poured in three drops of the aged iodine.
The milky-white liquid instantly turned an eerie, deep blue-black, almost indistinguishable from black ink.
She picked up a scattered box of matches from the corner of the table, using her fingertips to nudge the edges until it aligned perfectly parallel with the edge of the desk.
This was a habit she had developed in her past life while conducting high-precision experiments: absolute calm, absolute control.
She pulled out her old Hero fountain pen, flushed the ink sac clean with water, and drew the custom-made ink into the reservoir.
Outside the window, snowflakes beat against the lattice, making a soft rustling sound.
Shen Qian stood in the wind and snow, stomping his feet from the freezing cold. Yet, his eyes remained glued to the newspaper-covered window of the backroom.
He exhaled a puff of white vapor, his eyes brimming with malicious delight.
Lin Wanshuang, oh Lin Wanshuang… Weren’t you so aloof and proud in your past life?
In this life, you can’t even hold onto a job.
Once you become a jobless country bumpkin, this family of bloodsuckers will bleed you dry right down to the bone.
When the time comes, even if you beg to marry me, I won’t give you a second glance.
Shen Qian thought triumphantly, feeling as though the resentment of being suppressed by Lin Wanshuang for a lifetime in his past life was finally dissolving.
All he wanted now was to see Lin Wanshuang sign the paper as soon as possible so he could go find Lin Xiawei.
Lin Xiawei was his future virtuous wife—she would bear him sons and serve him submissively.
As for Lin Wanshuang? She could just stay in this mud pit and rot.
Inside the room, Lin Wanshuang had already stowed her pen away.
She slipped the penicillin vial into her pocket and restored the medical kit to its original state.
“Mom, what’s the rush? The pen dried up, so I had to mix in some water.”
Lin Wanshuang pulled back the door curtain and walked out, her face once again wearing that timid, helpless mask streaked with tears. She kept her head down, her shoulders trembling slightly as if desperately suppressing her grievances.
The moment Zhao Cuifeng saw her come out, she snatched the pen from her hands.
“Taking this long just to find a pen! I thought you had kicked the bucket in there!”
Zhao Cuifeng thrust the pen back into Lin Wanshuang’s hand and pointed at the job transfer agreement on the table.
“Hurry up and write! Name goes here, thumbprint goes here!”
Lin Baozong leaned in as well, his small eyes gleaming with greed.
“Write faster! Once you’re done, this job is mine!”
“Sister, don’t you dare write the wrong character. If you ruin this, you’ll pay for it!”
Lin Wanshuang gripped the fountain pen, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.
She stared at the rough, yellow straw paper and took a deep breath.
“Mom… if I sign this, will Baozong really become an official?”
Her voice trembled slightly, sounding like a final, desperate struggle.
Zhao Cuifeng slapped her thigh, spit flying everywhere.
“Could that be false?! What kind of place is the Supply and Marketing Cooperative? It’s the place with the most perks!”
“Once Baozong gets in, he’ll be a director within two years!”
“What does a foolish girl like you know anyway? Hurry up and write!”
Lin Wanshuang closed her eyes, letting two lines of clear tears slide down her cheeks at just the right moment.
“Fine. I’ll sign.”
She bent over, her hand holding the pen trembling slightly as the tip touched the paper.
The deep blue-black ink flowed from the nib.
Lin.
Wan.
Shuang.
The three characters were written crookedly, looking immensely reluctant.
Yet, the moment the pen tip swept across the rough paper, the deep blue characters flickered with a faint glow in the dim light—a nuance virtually imperceptible to the naked eye.
It was the sign that the elemental iodine and starch had begun to react within the paper’s fibers.
“It’s signed.”
Lin Wanshuang set down the pen, her voice dropping low.
Zhao Cuifeng snatched the paper away, her eyes fixed on the signature as she broke into a wide, cackling laugh.
“Haha! Signed! Baozong, look, quick! Your sister signed it!”
Lin Baozong yanked the paper into his hands, flipping it over again and again. His face flushed red with excitement.
“Mom! It’s real! This iron rice bowl is mine!”
He shot a sideways glance at Lin Wanshuang and let out a cold snort.
“At least you know what’s good for you. Keep your head down at home from now on, and I might just spare you a meal.”
Outside the window, Shen Qian witnessed the scene. The corner of his mouth curled into a cold, triumphant smile.
He turned around and strode quickly into the wind and snow.
The dust had settled.
Lin Wanshuang’s life was officially ruined.
Inside the house, Lin Wanshuang quietly watched the ecstatic mother and son, a flash of coldness buried deep within her eyes.
“Mom, I’m going back to my room to lie down for a bit. My head hurts.”
Zhao Cuifeng found her much less repulsive now that she had complied, so she waved her off dismissively.
“Go on, go on! Stop being an eyesore here. Baozong and I have to rush to the commune to get it stamped!”
Lin Wanshuang turned around and walked toward her room in the west wing.
She walked slowly, every step remarkably steady.
There were still two and a half hours before the commune office closed for the day.
And the characters on that piece of paper had a lifespan of only two hours left.
She was eager to see what kind of expressions this family would make when the official seal was pressed onto the document—only for it to turn into a blank piece of paper.
“Mom, let’s go, quickly! Don’t waste any time!”
Lin Baozong’s impatient urges rang out from the outer room.
“Right, right, right! Let’s go! This is the lifeblood of our Lin family!”
Zhao Cuifeng’s voice resounded with an uncontrollable, frantic joy.