A loud thud came from outside the door, as if someone had been startled. Sang Zhi raised an eyebrow in satisfaction. People in the country were generally reserved and modest, and the cultural upheavals of the past few years had also affected fashion—clothing had regressed in style. There were underwear counters in department stores, but they were only three to five feet wide. Shoppers went in reluctantly, whispering, afraid of being noticed. Sang Zhi, on the other hand, was bold and unrestrained.
Jiang Yan had been following her to understand what she was doing, only to discover she was buying undergarments for a young girl. Nervousness, awkwardness, and hesitation all flashed across his face, and finally, he reluctantly took a few steps back. Even so, their conversation, carried by the afternoon breeze, drifted into his ears. Once the footsteps outside the curtain disappeared, Sang Zhi smiled triumphantly, thinking she was out of earshot and speaking without restraint.
At this time, most underwear was still the traditional cotton vest or unpadded bra. Only families with better means could afford styles imitating Soviet bras, which were clumsy in appearance. She had worn the old-fashioned ones for two days and felt very uncomfortable; the original character’s young age and heavy labor had preserved her figure from deformity. She didn’t want sagging breasts early. She had to be cautious until the family was out of the way.
She told the elder tailor lady her requirements. The woman’s eyes lit up.
“Little sister, I’ll take your measurements…”
At this hour, no one was outside. In the small room, as the tailor measured her, she kept talking.
“Oh my, how did you get such soft skin? You’re practically sweating from just a pinch.”
“Your waist is so slim, it’ll save fabric. I’ll make a fitted new jacket for you.”
“Oh my, the right places are thin, the right places are full…”
These days, life was hard for everyone. A family’s accumulated cloth tickets for a year might not even make one set of clothing. Usually, only young women about to marry would spare it. To make clothes, measurements were needed. Many girls, malnourished and skinny, had almost no curves. But this girl was different—though slim, her figure was full, and her small white “bunnies” were delightfully plump. Jiang Yan, a decent man, had never experienced such a shock and was almost ready to flee.
In modern towns, urban household registrations came with three types of supply books:
Today, the alleyways were blackened everywhere. Sang Zhi stomped into the courtyard and ran into a woman in a blue cloth jacket with short, ear-length hair. Her cheekbones were prominent, face long and thin, with sharp lower whites of her eyes, harsh and stern. She had the same distinctive protruding ears as her second uncle. Sang Zhi recognized her immediately—it was the original character’s young aunt, Sang Yanfeng.
She and Sang Jiqing were full siblings from the second wife. Under her mother’s long influence, she had no connection with her eldest brother and shared a close bond with her second brother. In the early years, the city revolutionary committee, based on the “three-in-one” principle, consisted of military, cadre, and rebel representatives. Those years were turbulent, and the committee ruled with an iron fist.
Sang Yanfeng was a formidable figure, not beautiful but aggressive, rising in status after marrying a second-time husband who admired her bravery as a rising young soldier. She was close to her second brother and naturally doted on his children. She had no affection for Sang Zhi.
Seeing her, Liu Meili hid her glee and pretended to be the wronged party, asking, “Sang Zhi’s back? Cold? Have you eaten?”
Before Sang Zhi could answer, a bowl flew at her. She dodged in time, but the hot water inside still splashed over her.
“Oh, so it’s the eldest Miss Sang back? Throwing your capitalist temper around outside isn’t enough, now you’re showing off at home too?” Sang Yanfeng’s frown deepened, her cold, angry voice full of rage. She had caused her eldest nephew’s imprisonment and wanted nothing more than to tear Sang Zhi limb from limb.
Liu Meili nodded as if emboldened, secretly waiting for her to beg. She should have brought her younger aunt earlier—she would have been more useful. Now, taking advantage of the moment, she inserted herself.
“It’s getting cold; our family needs to buy winter cabbage and coal briquettes. Don’t you think you should return the money for the purchases? If you’re late, there’ll be nothing left.”
Sang Zhi took in the scene calmly and smiled. “Aunt, if you want to buy it, go ahead. I’m a junior; no need to report to me.”
Liu Meili’s cheeks twitched in anger. Was that what she meant? Sang Yanfeng’s face darkened; she slammed the table.
“Don’t play dumb. Your uncle and aunt’s savings and wages—hand them over. Don’t think that just because you’re my niece, I won’t punish you. You know the revolutionary committee’s methods!”
This was a blatant threat. She had always relied on such methods and never failed. Sang Zhi, always perceptive, restrained herself. Though her palms itched to slap, she stayed rational and didn’t confront her directly.
“Aunt, you’re just mad because I sent someone to the police station. That’s why you can’t stand me?”
But there was no helping it—her brother had broken the law. Her righteous fury made it seem as if she were dissatisfied with the factory or unconvinced by the police verdict. If she couldn’t find an outlet, she could hit or scold her instead—she would take it as the junior.
Earlier, Sang Yanfeng had said her sister-in-law was growing more and more spineless, unable to deal with a helpless orphaned girl. Only after crossing swords with her did she realize her sister-in-law hadn’t exaggerated. To outsiders, their family looked glamorous, but lately her father-in-law had repeatedly stressed keeping a low profile and avoiding enemies, lest they be settled with in the end. That warning was for the outside world. Being challenged in her own natal home was something she could not accept.
“Your brother was framed. Digging up the past is meaningless. I’ll ask you again—where did you hide your uncle and aunt’s money? And the things that barefoot doctor in the countryside left you—hand them all over. Since your surname is Sang, you should have the awareness to sacrifice for the Sang family. Turn everything in, hand over the money from selling the job, kneel and apologize to your uncle and aunt, and this will be over.”
While she was out, the two of them had turned the house upside down, but found nothing. Otherwise they wouldn’t be this passive.
Sang Zhi didn’t play riddles. She stared straight at her and said, word by word, “In your dreams.”
Sang Yanfeng’s temples throbbed; blood rushed to her head in an instant. Catching her off guard, she grabbed a fire poker and swung it at her head. Enough was enough—Sang Zhi bent to dodge, clamped both of her hands with one hand, yanked her hair with the other, and smashed her head into the wall.
“Merit points +50…”
“Merit points +50…”
Well now—hit different people, and different amounts of coins dropped. Looks like her little aunt hadn’t done few bad things over the years.
Sang Yanfeng felt like her head was splitting with pain and screamed hoarsely, “Sang Zhi, are you crazy? I’m your aunt! Stop!”
“So you still remember you’re my aunt? Then you should act like one. Have you looked in a mirror—do you think you deserve it?”
Even after the coins stopped dropping, she didn’t stop. The beating was utterly satisfying. She only quit when her hand hurt. But she underestimated a woman’s capacity for revenge. After being brutally beaten, her aunt wasn’t about to let it go. She launched a sneak attack from behind; Sang Zhi heard the wind, tilted her head to avoid it, and kicked her into the wall. This time she clutched her waist and curled up on the ground, finally subdued.
Seeing things go south, Liu Meili tried to slink away, but it was doomed to fail. In one go, Sang Zhi stripped off the outer coats of both aunt and sister-in-law and tied them up in the courtyard. They cursed nonstop, every filthy word spilling out. Sang Zhi impatiently dug at her ear.
“Aunt, save your swagger for your in-laws’ place. What skill is it to bully me? But look—your thermal sleeves are worn through, your shoes are patched. Life at your in-laws’ isn’t easy either, is it? Know why I didn’t hit your face? If they knew you get beaten even back at your natal home, they’d treat you even less like a person.”
Sang Yanfeng glared at her—what, she was supposed to thank her? Then she lowered her head dejectedly. Her marriage was a shell; her husband used her wages to chase women outside and beat her at home. Her in-laws, knowing it, didn’t scold the husband—they told her to look for the problem in herself. For the sake of the prestige outsiders saw and her natal family’s face, she swallowed her broken teeth and endured it. Just like the little wretch said, if her in-laws found out about this, not only would they not stand up for her, they’d mock and despise her even more. Beaten and unable to complain.
That little wretch’s move—so vicious.