“Exchange for what?” The female doctor paused, her hand counting money stopping mid-motion.
Money was precious these days, but supplies were even more so. She had several children at home, and recently her youngest daughter had fallen ill and kept asking for plain rice porridge. Both she and her husband worked and had no time to line up at the grain station, so they hadn’t been able to buy white rice. Today, she happened to hear an old woman in the courtyard mention it while she stepped out, so she hurried over.
What rural people usually wanted to exchange for were necessities like soap and fabric—things they couldn’t buy. Though she and her husband were both doctors, those items were barely enough for their own use, with nothing extra to spare.
“Can you exchange two bottles of cod liver oil with me, sister?” Qin Laidi’s request surprised her.
“What do you need that medicine for?” Nowadays, unlike the early years after the founding of the country, many domestic factories could produce cod liver oil, so it wasn’t as expensive as before. Still, it was medicine and not cheap.
“My younger sister is sick. The doctor said she needs this.”
Pandi’s night blindness and her short, rickets-like stature were actually symptoms of vitamin A and D deficiency, and cod liver oil was the most suitable supplement.
“I don’t want it, I’m fine, sister!” Pandi’s face turned red with anxiety. This was their only food—how could they use it on her?
Laidi smiled reassuringly. “Listen to me.”
The young girl’s repeated “sister” softened the doctor’s heart. Looking at the younger one, she judged from experience that they weren’t lying and weren’t misusing medicine.
“But two bottles aren’t possible. Our hospital’s supply is also very limited.”
Malnutrition was widespread in this era.
“Then can you exchange one bottle first? I can make up the difference with money.”
Soon, the doctor returned with a bottle of white-labeled cod liver oil, carefully explained how to take it and the precautions, and even kindly gave them fifty cents in change.
Only after they had walked far enough that the hospital was out of sight did Pandi speak, her voice choked. “Five jin of white rice, Third Sister—you only exchanged it for this one bottle of medicine. We’re going to starve…”
She truly felt the loss. She didn’t think she was sick, but hunger was real. Medicine could be skipped, but rice could save lives.
“Silly girl, we can get more food later. In a couple of months, the autumn harvest will come. But you only have one pair of eyes.”
Pandi lowered her head, silent, her footsteps growing heavier.
“And another thing—why didn’t you tell me or Grandma earlier that you couldn’t see at night? If you had, we could’ve treated it sooner. Maybe you’d already be better. From now on, don’t read or write under the sun or at night. Sit properly too. Don’t fix your night blindness only to end up nearsighted.”
“Hey, Qin Pandi, did you hear me?”
“…Mm.”
They didn’t go home right away. Instead, they wandered back to the black market. The national grain coupons He Liansheng had given before leaving were for fine grain. Qin Laidi exchanged them for local coarse-grain coupons and even made a profit. Combined with the two yuan fifty cents from selling the white rice, she bought coarse grain—sixty jin in total.
Pandi, the studious one, felt her brain couldn’t keep up.
If her third sister hadn’t asked for fine grain yesterday, the production team would’ve given them at most forty-five jin of coarse grain. But after this exchange, they ended up with sixty jin! The extra fifteen jin would last them a long time. The cod liver oil and yesterday’s rice porridge were basically a gain.
Her third sister was really cunning!
When they got home, Qin Guihua had been furious seeing that all the white rice was gone. But when she saw how much they brought back—and that they had even exchanged medicine for Pandi—she beamed with joy.
This cleverness—that was her blood.
In the following days, Laidi didn’t go out again. She lived and worked in the pigsty, diligently fulfilling her duties. The production team noticed and officially assigned her as the breeder of Wuli Tun, earning full work points like everyone else, with one rest day a week.
Hard work paid off. After more than half a month, the piglets grew fatter day by day—round, pink, and thriving.
The production team hadn’t raised piglets for years. Watching them now was like looking at little golden ingots. Nearby families even ate better just by seeing them.
“So many piglets—eighteen in total! Yesterday I told Old Wang from the neighboring team we had ten in the first litter, and he didn’t believe me!”
“If those two hadn’t been crushed that day, we’d have twenty now…” Everyone sighed in regret.
“I say, Laidi is really capable—she learned real skills from Doctor He.”
“That’s right, she’s Doctor He’s… what was it again?”
“Closed-door disciple.”
“Ah yes, yes!”
Qin Laidi: “…” Why did this sound like a martial arts novel?
At home, dinner was a fragrant pot of sweet potato porridge mixed with corn grits, masking the moldy taste and making it soft and sweet. Paired with a plate of salty, crunchy dried radish, it was incredibly appetizing.
Laidi and Pandi each drank two bowls and instinctively looked at Qin Guihua.
“If you want more, eat. You won’t starve.”
The sisters happily served themselves another bowl.
“By the way, do you know who Zhao Third is planning to marry now?” Qin Guihua asked.
They blinked.
She pointed toward the neighboring courtyard.
“Sister Baozhu?”
Qin Laidi froze. Liu Baozhu had been visiting her frequently these days but never mentioned agreeing to Zhao Qingsong’s proposal. Instead, she probed about Laidi’s future—whether she would go to the city, when she’d join He Liansheng in Haicheng, why he left alone… So this was her plan.
Everyone except Laidi thought He Liansheng had left because he disliked being entangled by the Qin family.
Objectively speaking, Zhao Qingsong’s conditions were good. For a woman willing to be a stepmother, give up having her own children, balance career and family, ignore his cunning ways, and even save some money for old age, marrying him wasn’t bad. His early career advancement made him a shortcut for rural girls to change their fate.
But how many such perfect women existed?
Qin Laidi sighed inwardly. If Liu Baozhu wanted to marry him, so be it. She wouldn’t interfere. Between the two of them, who would suffer more was yet to be seen.
Seeing that she wasn’t upset, Qin Guihua dropped the topic and instead asked Pandi whether the cod liver oil was helping.
Pandi squinted thoughtfully. “It helps. Before, I couldn’t see after sunset. Now I can still see until it’s fully dark.”
“Grandma, if we can get pig liver or sheep liver, it would help too.”
“You and your fussiness.” But she silently made a note to ask about it during the year-end pig slaughter.
“I heard someone mention pig liver—is that you, Laidi, you little glutton?” A thin woman entered through the gate, short-haired, her smiling eyes resembling Laidi’s.
“Big Sister!” Qin Laidi stared at her.
Qin Ailan was only twenty-four, but her complexion was sallow, her eye sockets sunken, cheekbones pronounced, and lips dry. She looked over thirty.
Before marriage, she had been plump and radiant, known as a beauty in the area. Now, this appearance came from worry.
The Liu family had good conditions—everyone had jobs. Her husband, Liu Jiawei, worked at a steel factory. Back then, only her looks allowed her to marry into such a family. But as the only one with a rural household registration, she relied on shared rations, which inevitably led to gossip.
Worse, after six years of marriage, she still had no children. The family’s attitude grew colder.
Even with Liu Jiawei being kind, she couldn’t stay cheerful.
From her previous life as a doctor, Qin Laidi knew infertility wasn’t always physical—it could be psychological.
The more anxious one became, the harder it was to conceive, creating a vicious cycle. In her previous life, her sister changed drastically in the tenth year of marriage and disappeared on a rainy night. When found, she had lost her sanity.
In modern times, this wouldn’t be such a big issue, and some people even chose not to marry or have children. But Qin Laidi still felt heartache—how did such a good person end up like that?
“What, don’t recognize me anymore?” Qin Ailan laughed, patting her shoulder.
“I do… I just missed you.”
Ailan smiled. “Did you miss me, or the food I bring?”
She opened her cloth bag. “I made roasted soybean flour. Add sugar and hot water—it’s good for breakfast. You’re still growing, you can’t go hungry.” The sugar was something she had secretly saved.
“And two jin of roasted broad beans. Try them.”
They were crispy, salty, spicy, and fragrant—irresistible.
As the younger ones ate happily, Qin Guihua stared at Ailan’s belly. “Still no news?”
Ailan shook her head bitterly.
“The traditional doctor I told you about—no use?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes.
Not wanting her granddaughter to feel worse, Qin Guihua changed the subject. “Why bring so much again? Just take care of yourself. We have enough to eat.”
“It’s fine. They don’t know. I saved this from helping with banquet cooking.”
Qin Guihua didn’t quite believe it but didn’t press further.
Ailan hesitated, then said, “Grandma, I came today to ask for your advice.”
“My mother-in-law is retiring next month. One person in the family can take over her job. Everyone else already has work… only me. Grandma, do you think I should take it?”
“You should—of course you should,” Laidi suddenly chimed in.