Father Song wasn’t home, so Song Can didn’t hold back. Before Ma Yingying’s hand even touched Song Can’s hair, she was shoved far away, slamming into the door with a bang, her whole back aching with pain.
“Mom!” Ma Yingying cried out from the floor.
Stepmother Song walked in right at that moment, and seeing her daughter beaten, she grew even angrier. “Fine! You jinx, I fed you for over ten years and raised an ungrateful wolf like you, you heartless thing. I’ll beat you to death!”
Stepmother Song rolled up her sleeves and lunged at Song Can, but Song Can threw a small stool at her knees, knocking her to the ground. “You rotten-hearted—” Before she could finish, Song Can flung the fire tongs at her.
Song Can tried to dodge but didn’t fully avoid it—it hit her ankle, hurting so much she couldn’t move. Seeing her chance, Ma Yingying pounced and grabbed at Song Can’s hair, but Song Can refused to back down and yanked at her hair in return.
Hearing her daughter wailing, Stepmother Song went up and pinched and hit Song Can.
Song Qi hadn’t even reached home when someone pulled him aside to tell him his stepmother was throwing a tantrum at home. He ran back and saw Song Can being bullied, his eyes red with rage. He kicked Ma Yingying directly. “Get lost! I told you not to hit my sister—”
When Stepmother Song saw her daughter kicked into the cabinet, she shrieked and rushed over to check on her. Song Can was freed and finally able to catch her breath.
“Let me tell you, I’m the one who registered Ma Yingying’s name with the Educated Youth Office. Come at me. She’s eaten and drunk her fill all these years—it’s time she contributed something. I haven’t even sent her to the Great Northwest yet.” The boy had grown tall, and this time he bravely stood in front of his sister.
Hearing this, Stepmother Song felt like tearing Song Qi apart. “You little brat, how dare you!” She hurled an enamel mug at Song Qi’s head but missed, and it rolled and clattered to a stop in front of a pair of large feet.
“So this is how you’ve been treating these two while I was away.” It was Father Song, his face livid, his eyes terrifyingly still, like two black holes, staring straight at the disheveled Stepmother Song.
“It… it wasn’t me, it was… her, it was them. They bullied Yingying. They signed Yingying up to go to the countryside. The child is still young and weak—what’s she supposed to do?”
With a crisp “smack,” a slap landed on Stepmother Song’s face—so loud that even Yang Yuan, just watching the spectacle, felt her own face sting.
“Going to the countryside is right and proper. Who doesn’t go? What an honor it is, you foolish thing. What use is raising a madwoman like you? Not a shred of contribution, no ambition, no drive. If I could get away, I’d go to the countryside myself. The up-to-the-mountains-and-down-to-the-countryside movement holds great promise, you freeloading thing. You can’t read a single character, all you know is how to carry on like a shrew.” With every sentence came another blow. Father Song’s voice carried far and wide, righteous and resounding, while Stepmother Song was beaten black and blue, with nowhere to hide.
Song Qi left with Song Can, packing up their only clothes and bedding. On this freezing, snowy winter day, a single thin quilt was bundled into a square. Song Can, holding her head, deliberately limped as she walked. At the gate, Father Song called her back and stuffed a ten-yuan note into her hand, still without saying a word.
The onlookers gradually dispersed. Yang Yuan leisurely prepared to light the fire and cook. With Song Can gone, the Song family’s fire still had to be tended—after all, there was still Song Qi to think of. Remembering the paranoid man who’d grown up like a wolf cub in the original story, Yang Yuan couldn’t help shivering. Madmen were truly terrifying.
She took out her little notebook and, under her requirements for a future partner, added another line beneath “can cook”: mentally sound, with a note in parentheses—preferably with both parents alive and lovingly married.
Yang Yuan was about to start work, and the Yang family, who already rose early, got up even earlier that day.
Mother Yang’s cold hands reached into the blankets, jolting Yang Yuan awake with a shiver, all her drowsiness gone. Her loud yelps made the whole family burst out laughing.
Despite the demonic-level resentment floating above her head, she really couldn’t laze in bed any longer. Sleepy-eyed, Yang Yuan enjoyed the VIP treatment.
Mother Yang folded her quilt and combed her hair, Yang Wenping brought her warm water and handed her a toothbrush, and Father Yang lavishly cooked a pot of millet porridge, its golden yellow radiating the fragrance of rice.
Only belatedly did Yang Yuan realize how happy she actually was. In her past life, she had been an only child for over twenty years—her mother didn’t conceive her little brother until after she’d graduated from college. She’d been spoiled rotten by four adults.
After arriving here, although the general conditions were poor, the family still gave her the best they could manage. Apart from Mother Yang’s nagging, the whole family doted on her.
“Don’t smile like that in the future. People will think you’re an idiot.” Yang Wenping delivered the merciless blow. Yang Yuan nearly coughed up blood in exasperation and decided to take back what she’d just thought—this fourth brother of hers really deserved a beating sometimes.
The steel factory where Father and Mother Yang worked was still ahead. Along the way, Mother Yang’s endless chattering was practically deafening. Father Yang gave her two yuan, and Yang Wenping walked her to the textile factory gate, slipped her one yuan, and repeatedly gave instructions to his second brother-in-law.
The Yang family’s behavior reminded her of her first days of kindergarten in her past life. Her parents and grandparents had held her hands as they handed her over to the teacher, still not at ease—her grandfather had even stayed outside with her for a whole day. It was both funny and heartwarming.
Second brother-in-law Meng Quan was equally astounded. He’d heard from his wife that the youngest sister-in-law was the most pampered at home, but he hadn’t imagined she was this pampered—a grown woman with the whole family escorting her to work, and her younger brother still trying to follow her inside. When he learned he couldn’t get in, he kept tugging at Meng Quan’s arm.
In this era, children were raised free-range—as long as they were fed enough not to starve and could find their way home, that was enough. Even the most beloved children went short on food and clothing; at most, they were held a little closer in their parents’ hearts. Someone like Yang Yuan was exceedingly rare, practically unheard of. It was truly an eye-opener.
Meng Quan handed her over to the Personnel Section, shook hands with everyone in the office asking them to look after her, then turned to tell Yang Yuan to come find him if she got hungry or thirsty before leaving, looking back every few steps. Wiping his sweat, he felt he could answer to his parents-in-law now.
Facing everyone’s gazes, Yang Yuan gave a kindly smile. Ah, what a sweet burden this was.
After finishing her onboarding procedures, Yang Yuan headed to the printing and dyeing factory next door.
People called the textile factory the Textile Compound. Within the compound, Cotton Mill No. 1 and No. 2 had been built one after another, with Cotton Mill No. 3 under construction. Once the layout was complete, the printing and dyeing factory would border Cotton Mills No. 1 and No. 2 to the east and Cotton Mill No. 3 to the west.
Yang Yuan was assigned under Officer Wei, managing personnel affairs together.
On her first day of work, there wasn’t much to do—just getting familiar with the job. Aside from the office being a bit cold, the biggest downside was how idle it was. Yang Yuan read newspapers all morning until she was nearly dozing off, and decided to go take a look around the workshops.
Unlike the small office building, the factory buildings were tall and spacious, the tallest reaching nine meters. The temperature was decent, quite warm actually, just humid. The workshops were divided left and right with a very wide main aisle down the middle, plus many separately enclosed isolation workshops. This was because some dyes were harmful to the human body, and isolating them offered workers a degree of protection.
The factory buildings roared with machinery. Coming and going were all female workers—aside from operating the big machines, male workers were rarely seen.
The floor was cement, but wet, with plenty of water around. Yang Yuan was wearing cloth-soled cotton shoes, so she didn’t venture too far in.
The newly built printing and dyeing plant currently has two large workshops with around two hundred workers. The machinery and staff for water, electricity, and boilers had only recently been transferred over from the No. 1 Cotton Mill, and from now on it could no longer rely on the No. 1 Cotton Mill—it would have to account for everything on its own.
Yang Yuan then went over to the warehouse. The warehouse was built on a large scale, constructed to the standards of the Shanghai Printing and Dyeing Plant, with moisture-proofing, mold prevention, and fire safety all done in a very standardized manner.