Yang Dai remained standing at her parents’ door. Only when the room inside grew quiet did she finally raise her hand to knock.
Seeing her come in, her mother warmly beckoned and pulled out bundles from the corner.“These buttons are all for you. They suit a young girl like you best.”
One by one, she showed them to Yang Dai, even holding them against her clothes.“If you don’t like them, you can swap them with someone else for things you’ll need.”
“Mother, you’ve saved these for so long. You should keep them for yourself.”
“I still have more. If I give them to you, they’re yours. Don’t forget to take them when you leave.” Mother Yang patted her daughter’s hand firmly, refusing her refusal. Then she asked, “By the way, what’s with your room?”
Yang Dai paused, surprised, and glanced at her mother.
In preparing to be Crown Princess, she had been trained from childhood never to reveal emotions. As she grew older, she had perfected that discipline.
Yet her mother saw through her at a glance.
“I’m your mother. I can tell what you’re thinking instantly.” Affectionately, she tapped Yang Dai on the forehead and explained.
“Your sister-in-law’s two children are older now. They can’t keep sleeping with their parents. Since your room is empty, we agreed to divide it so the children can use it.” Her voice was gentle as she stroked Yang Dai’s hand, ending with a soft sigh.
“That’s only proper,” Yang Dai said with a smile, nodding without letting any emotion slip.
Her eldest sister-in-law had given birth to twins—a boy and a girl—now eight years old, still sleeping with their parents.
Last year, her sister-in-law had asked to let her daughter move into Yang Dai’s room to sleep together.
Yang Dai had agreed, but after just one night, she sent the girl back.
Her excuse: the child tossed about like a monkey in a heavenly uproar, kicking her several times and ruining her sleep.
Her mother and sister-in-law suggested putting another bed in the room so the two could sleep separately.
But Yang Dai had just quarreled fiercely with her sister-in-law—nearly to blows—and refused.
So she kept her room to herself until marriage.
And now, for the sake of pride back then, she had lost the room altogether.
Her mother, as if reading her thoughts, added, “Your father said once we save enough bricks, we’ll build two more rooms. Then your room will still be yours. You can come back anytime.
“Your sister-in-law likes to compete, but you’re grown now. Don’t stoop to her level.”
Yang Dai nodded and left her parents’ room.
She had inherited the original’s memories, but not her feelings. She didn’t feel the same attachment to her room.
Her surprise at the change had been out of habit, not sentiment.
In her own values, a family that truly cherished a daughter would preserve her courtyard after marriage, keeping it unchanged except for cleaning.
So hearing that her room was given away after only two days of marriage inevitably left her unsettled.
In the inherited memories, Yang Dai had been the treasured jewel of her parents, always receiving the best.
But today she had heard her father say she shouldn’t return home often, and seen her room handed to others.
It was far from the pampered image she remembered. The gap between memory and reality was stark.
Sitting at the bedside, watching Han Lin asleep, Yang Dai realized she could not rely on divorcing and moving back home.
For now, the best choice was to make do with Han Lin and plan later.
She looked around the room. It was not small, but empty—aside from a pile of bricks in the corner, there was only a bed, a table, and a cabinet.
The cabinet was bare; her clothes had already been moved to the Han household before the wedding.
On the table lay a few books, bearing her name.
With nothing else to do, Yang Dai picked one up and began reading.
From the original’s memory, she knew that in this New China, men and women were equal. Boys and girls could both attend school, take college entrance exams, graduate, and be assigned jobs. After retirement, they had pensions and care.
But in recent years, revolution had spread, and “criticism and struggle” had become the trend. Many university professors suffered, and universities closed.
Later, though reopened, they no longer admitted students by exam, but by recommendation. Admissions were few, and with Yang Dai’s poor reputation, she had no chance.
Moreover, during high school, she hadn’t studied seriously. Two years of school had left her books filled with nothing but her name—no notes at all.
Looking at the physics book, she shook her head. Yet as she read, she grew absorbed.
Then, flipping a page, she found a fresh book defaced—scrawled over with a single name.
“Lin Zhengyang.” Yang Dai read aloud, a vague image of a young man flickering in her mind.
“And which lover is Miss Yang thinking of now?”
A sudden voice behind her startled her into a shiver.
Already frustrated by her thwarted plans for divorce, and harboring old resentment toward Crown Prince Han Lin, she didn’t bother with politeness. She grabbed the book and hurled it at him.
But that only made his mocking tone continue.
“Our noble Miss Yang has quite the temper—can’t even hear a name spoken. I wonder if Comrade Lin Zhengyang could endure you.”
Yang Dai rolled her eyes again, refusing to answer, but the name stirred memories. She recalled what she had overheard from her father earlier, and at last understood his meaning.
Lin Zhengyang had been the original’s middle and high school classmate—in truth, her sweetheart.
The original was beautiful, from a well-off family, and her mother never let her do chores. She had attended commune primary school, then county middle school, where she started dating Lin Zhengyang.
She wasn’t a good student. After the first year, she wanted to quit, dreaming of lazing at home. But liking Lin Zhengyang, she forced herself to stay in school.
After middle school, she quit again and made a pact with him: once he finished high school, they would marry.
His family lived in the county. His parents were proper workers, his grandparents veterans who had served in the war and later worked in government. He was their only grandson, cherished by all.
Lin promised her: after marriage, if she wanted a job, he’d arrange one in a factory; if not, she could stay home in comfort.
Believing him, she even brought him to meet her parents. Though they dismissed it as childish talk, they humored her since she refused to continue schooling.
She stayed home for a year, visiting him often, discussing their future wedding. She dreamed of a grand affair, the most splendid in the brigade, envied by every girl.
But his tone soon changed. His family said a middle school graduate was too uneducated, unsuitable even for factory work.
So she demanded to return to school. Her parents, exasperated, paid again to send her to high school.
She believed once she graduated, they would marry. She didn’t study, but at least she behaved in class.
When she finally received her diploma, she rushed joyfully to him—only to be met by his mother’s cold face.
She had met Lin’s mother before, always greeted with smiles and kindness.
This time, the woman denied outright that her son had ever courted her. In public, she mocked her as delusional, accused her of flirting with boys in school just to marry into the county.
The young girl fled in tears.
Her father, furious, wanted to seek justice. But his superiors warned him: if he caused trouble in the county, he would lose his temporary job at the brick kiln.
He dared not act. His family depended on his work. Instead, he urged his daughter to forget Lin Zhengyang, arranging for her to work as a temp in the commune.
She agreed, but secretly still clung to him.
Through inquiries, she learned he had joined the army. She secretly bought a train ticket to find him.
But before departure, Lin’s mother caught her again, ridiculed her, and ruined her prospects. The job her father had secured was gone.
Her parents had no choice but to keep her at home, pushing her toward blind dates.
But she still pined for Lin, and her arrogance grew. At each matchmaking, she mocked the men from head to toe. After several attempts, even matchmakers avoided the family.
She wrote letters, sent through classmates, but the only reply from Lin was a breakup note.
Unwilling to accept it, she vowed to find someone even better. She sneaked off to the county to meet old classmates.
But in the rain, she slipped and fell into the river—only to be rescued by Han Lin.
And so, muddled and confused, they ended up married.