9
Why did Jiang Miaomiao have such a deep impression of Zhao Ruyan? Aside from being bombarded by her image everywhere—on TV, in malls, and by the roadside—the biggest reason was that man from her previous life!
She wouldn’t go so far as to envy a movie star, but the stark contrast in how that man treated them made her feel utterly wretched.
Zhao Ruyan was a goddess in his heart, held high on a pedestal. Meanwhile, Jiang Miaomiao was nothing but a sallow-faced, greasy-handed drudge, her face covered in cooking fumes, not worth a second glance.
Even that one time she had happened to turn on the TV and catch a glimpse of Song Weizheng, she had been immediately ordered by the man to change the channel, so as not to interfere with their viewing of Zhao Ruyan.
Jiang Miaomiao had long been accustomed to obedience, numb inside, and at the time, she hadn’t felt anything.
But now, reborn, when she saw Song Yuxue who looked almost exactly like Zhao Ruyan, the memories came flooding back. She finally realized just how deeply Zhao Ruyan was etched into her mind, even to the point of grinding her teeth.
Song Yuxue was only eight now, but she already had the bone structure and features of a budding beauty. In her previous life, Zhao Ruyan had remained youthful and radiant well into her thirties and forties. Jiang Miaomiao could tell at a glance that the two bore a striking resemblance—one was just the younger version, the other the adult.
In her past life, as she bustled about the restaurant, Jiang Miaomiao had vaguely overheard those men gossiping that Zhao Ruyan had enjoyed exceptionally good resources since her debut. Many believed she must have had a powerful backer—most likely a sugar daddy. When they talked about this, the men would inevitably curse and scold, feeling indignant on their goddess’s behalf. At the same time, they’d wear lecherous grins, fantasizing about her allure behind closed doors.
Jiang Miaomiao had once scoffed inwardly, thinking that a big star was nothing special. If someone were to promote her the same way, maybe she could be famous too!
Now, something dawned on her. Could Zhao Ruyan’s backer have been Song Weizheng?
Zhao Ruyan and Song Yuxue bore such a striking resemblance and seemed to be around the same age—if they weren’t sisters, then they were the same person! And if her brother, Song Weizheng, had backed her rise to stardom and supplied her with resources, that would make perfect sense.
Only one thing puzzled Jiang Miaomiao: Why was she called Zhao Ruyan back then instead of Song Yuxue? Could it be that she had simply adopted a stage name?
Jiang Miaomiao mulled over these thoughts as she walked, her steps dragging along. Just then, the work-point supervisor, Song Guoqiang, happened to pass by. His sharp eyes caught her strolling leisurely along the field ridge, and as if he had caught her red-handed, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Song Guoqiang pointed at Jiang Miaomiao as he strode toward her briskly. “Jiang Miaomiao? What are you loafing around for? Slacking off? I’m deducting work points!”
With that, he raised his pen and jotted down a few strokes in his little record book.
Startled by his shout, Jiang Miaomiao snapped back to her senses, frightened. In the past, she would have argued back—after all, if her mother found out her work points had been deducted, she’d grab her by the ear and scold her for ages.
But now, her mind was occupied with other matters, and she had indeed snuck away just now. Feeling a twinge of guilt, she didn’t talk back and scurried back to work sheepishly.
Meanwhile, Jiang Suisui, at her grandmother’s instruction, was to learn how to cook before getting married. Her grandmother, being considerate of her habit of sleeping in, decided that from then on, Jiang Suisui would be in charge of preparing lunch.
Jiang Suisui had no objection to cooking at all. In her previous life, when she was at home recovering, cooking had been one of her favorite pastimes. She could sauté, boil, steam, and braise with equal skill, and she was proficient in both Chinese and Western styles. If her parents hadn’t worried about her overexerting herself, she could have taken over all the household cooking from their live-in help.
But there was no helping it—because of her health, she had many dietary restrictions and couldn’t eat whatever she pleased. Jiang Suisui yearned for everything she couldn’t have: a healthy body, and the delicious foods she craved but couldn’t eat.
So whenever she was feeling well, she’d immerse herself in cooking. Even if she couldn’t eat the dishes herself, making them for her family was still a joy. Over time, she had developed some serious culinary skills.
Though she couldn’t compete with a professional chef, in a 1970s rural village where food was scarce, her skills would more than suffice. Jiang Suisui thought this with confidence.
Yet, when she stood in the kitchen, facing the cupboard and the stove, she silently froze.
She looked up at the sky in silent exasperation, never imagining that one day she would personally experience the truth of the saying: “Even the cleverest housewife can’t cook a meal without rice.”
The kitchen was very basic—Jiang Suisui had already gotten a feel for that when she had helped her grandmother tend the fire.
But when she opened the cupboard to look for ingredients, she truly came to understand just how sparse things were.
On the top shelf of the cupboard sat leftover pickled vegetables from yesterday, along with two cold, hard steamed buns. Below were bowls and chopsticks, a jar of salt, a small jar of lard, and a small packet of white sugar. There was also a basket of eggs—about a dozen or so. She also found a small bag of white flour and a small bag of rice.
Beside the cupboard were several sacks of cornmeal, a basket of potatoes and corn, a few heads of cabbage, and a jar of homemade pickled vegetables. These, piled outside, were the everyday staples of a rural household.
It had been several days since Jiang Suisui had come here. Apart from the first two days when she was resting in bed after falling into the water—when she had been given two soft-boiled eggs in sugar water and a bowl of thick corn grits porridge mixed with rice—the rest of the days had been nothing but steamed buns with pickled vegetables, cornmeal porridge, and the occasional wild vegetable soup.
She didn’t even need to diet or exercise to lose weight. After eating like this for a few days, she could already feel herself getting thinner.
Jiang Suisui touched her gradually flattening belly and gave a wry smile. She really couldn’t figure out how the original owner had managed to fatten herself up in such conditions. She had found things novel for the first couple of days and her appetite had been decent, but as time went on, she began to struggle.
The steamed buns and cornmeal porridge weren’t just unpalatable—they were downright rough on the throat. And there was barely any oil or fat in the meals, with fresh vegetables being a rare treat.
In this era, people’s only requirement for food was simply to have enough to fill their stomachs.
Want something good to eat? That would have to wait until the New Year!
As someone who loved food, Jiang Suisui began to feel hopeless. Which was more painful—seeing food you couldn’t eat, or having nothing to eat at all?
She sighed and silently repeated to herself: Take things as they come, take things as they come. It’ll be fine once I get into college next year.
That’s right—college!
The point in time Jiang Suisui had traveled to was the early autumn of 1976. At this time, the college entrance exams had already been suspended for ten years. According to the normal timeline, in about a year, the exams would be reinstated.
That would be a college entrance exam of immense historical significance. It would abolish restrictions based on identity, age, class, and marital status. Whether worker or peasant, urban or rural, unmarried or married—whether a teenager in their teens or a middle-aged person in their thirties—anyone could take part.
It was also a chance to change one’s fate. Countless educated youth who had spent years in the countryside would use this opportunity to return to the cities.
Jiang Suisui counted herself fortunate that she had arrived at just about the right time. As long as she seized next year’s opportunity and got into college, she would find a way forward.
College students in this era were highly valued. Upon graduation, they were assigned jobs—most of which were in the public sector, secure “iron rice bowls” with state-provided grain rations.
Even if the assigned job wasn’t ideal, there would be plenty of other opportunities in the cities. Around that time, reform and opening-up would be underway, and people would be free to engage in commerce.
This was a poor and obscure era, but it was also an era full of opportunity. If you seized the chance and dared to act, you could rise to prominence in one leap. Wasn’t that exactly what the male lead, Song Weizheng, had done?
Jiang Suisui didn’t have much ambition, though. As long as she had a decent job and could buy herself a small house to live a comfortable and contented life, that would be perfect. If possible, she would also bring her grandparents over to enjoy their twilight years.
As for the present—engaging in speculative trading or profiteering? She hadn’t considered that at all. Dawn was about to break; wouldn’t it be better to play it safe? What if she got caught for speculation and profiteering? That would be a loss not worth taking.
Making money was certainly important, but Jiang Suisui felt that her little heart couldn’t handle the tension and excitement of engaging in speculation and profiteering.
Besides, from what she had observed, going down that path really wasn’t easy. The village only went to the town market about once a month, and the only option was to take an ox cart, packed tightly with people sitting shoulder to shoulder. The ox cart didn’t wait for anyone—you had to be there on time to leave and on time to return. Everything you brought or bought was out in the open for everyone to see.
Unless you walked the dozen-plus miles to town on your own, it was almost impossible to do anything on the sly.
And on top of that, she was a cannon-fodder supporting character who had inadvertently “snatched” the male lead, with the female lead watching her like a hawk from the sidelines. Jiang Suisui felt the pressure was truly immense. So it was better to play it safe and not make any reckless moves.
She would focus on preparing for the college entrance exams in peace. Jiang Suisui silently clenched her fists.
In her previous life, she had had to drop out of high school and go home due to her health. Although she had continued studying at home with tutors, she still felt uncertain about the college entrance exams. Plus, the textbooks and exam content of this era were probably different from those of later times, so she needed to adapt and prepare in advance.
The original owner had almost made it through high school, too. But in this era, the college entrance exams had been abolished, and the prevailing sentiment among the common folk was that studying was useless. Since the original owner wasn’t someone who liked learning anyway, she had simply given up after finishing middle school.
Fortunately, the original owner had kept her elementary and middle school textbooks. Though they only covered Chinese and arithmetic, Jiang Suisui dug them out anyway, planning to go through them carefully.
As for high school textbooks, Jiang Suisui planned to wait until the village went to the town market and see if she could buy some there.
With the thought of getting into college comforting her slightly, Jiang Suisui no longer looked so grim-faced at the sparse ingredients before her.
Ah well, she’d just treat it as a diet. It was a shame, though, that she had no opportunity to show off her cooking skills.
Oil was extremely scarce in these times, and lard was especially precious—it was practically only used during festivals and special occasions. There was no way she could use that small jar of lard for stir-frying; her grandmother would be heartbroken.
Rice and flour weren’t to be eaten casually either.
White sugar was even rarer—it was reserved for entertaining guests.
The family didn’t have many vegetables either, and without her grandmother’s permission, Jiang Suisui didn’t feel right about being wasteful.
After looking around, Jiang Suisui shrugged helplessly and scooped out a bowl of cornmeal to cook later.
What cooking skills? Just boil water and toss in the cornmeal. Done.
**