In 1983, when fifty yuan could cover an adult’s monthly salary, this was undoubtedly an explosive matter.
The onlookers, who had initially been silent, could no longer hold back, each vying to offer their help.
It was Grandma Sun who finally spoke up, unable to bear the chaos: “Everyone, stop arguing. Xiao Jun, your family has a mule. Go call your mother to help her get there.”
The man called Xiao Jun immediately responded cheerfully and hurried out.
Soon, a mule-drawn cart stopped in front of Zhao Ran’s house. Before boarding, Zhao Ran took out thirty yuan from her hand and handed it to Grandma Sun: “Grandma, you know my family’s situation. We don’t know when Jianjun will return. Before I come back, I’d like to trouble you to look after my three children. This money is for their meals, and any extra is your reward.”
Grandma Sun’s hands trembled slightly at the sight of the thirty yuan: “What are you saying? It’s just looking after the children. You might be back tomorrow—how much can those little girls eat?”
Zhao Ran, however, spoke plainly: “My leaving will surely frighten the children. Not to mention, there’s still a little one who will need your care. I don’t trust my mother-in-law, and as for Jianjun, I can’t rely on him. Grandma, I beg you.”
Grandma Sun sighed: “Don’t worry, I’ll watch over the children until you return.”
Whether it was the intense pain in her abdomen or the lingering consciousness of the original host, tears streamed down Zhao Ran’s cheeks: “Thank you, Grandma.”
Zhao Ran sat in the mule-drawn cart. Perhaps because of the fifty yuan, Xiao Jun’s mother had thoughtfully spread two handfuls of wheat straw in the cart for her. At least lying on it wasn’t too uncomfortable.
Zhao Ran held on until she was taken into the emergency room. Whether it was signing as a family member or paying the surgery deposit, she handled everything alone. Only when she heard that the surgery could proceed did she finally allow herself to faint with relief.
When she woke again, she saw a man sitting before her—his posture straight, his appearance handsome, his brows furrowed as if deep in thought.
From the original host’s memories, Zhao Ran knew this man was her husband, the male lead of this novel, Yang Jianjun. Indeed, if he weren’t good-looking, he wouldn’t be the male lead of a novel.
However, she couldn’t tell whether his frown was for the original host or for his missing bankbook.
At the very least, in Zhao Ran’s eyes, Yang Jianjun’s credibility was zero.
As if sensing someone’s gaze upon him, Yang Jianjun looked up and met Zhao Ran’s eyes. Seeing her awake, he seemed genuinely relieved: “You’re awake? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”
Zhao Ran tried to sit up but was stopped by Yang Jianjun: “Don’t move. The doctor said the anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet, and moving around will make you nauseous. What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”
Zhao Ran’s voice was hoarse: “Water.”
Yang Jianjun didn’t move. Instead, he said: “You can’t drink water right now. The doctor said you need to pass gas before you can eat or drink. Please bear with it for now. Also, you have a catheter in, so don’t worry about using the bathroom.”
Zhao Ran fell silent and stopped moving.
She hadn’t wanted her first meeting with the male lead to be in such a wretched state. So, despite having many things she wanted to confront Yang Jianjun about, she had to set them aside for now.
However, while Zhao Ran remained silent, Yang Jianjun spoke up:
“So, Xiao Ran, you broke open the cabinet?”
Zhao Ran simply looked at Yang Jianjun. Logically, Yang Jianjun should have been furious the moment he learned Zhao Ran had smashed the cabinet open—angry that Zhao Ran had meddled with his belongings and invaded his privacy.
But seeing Zhao Ran stare at him so directly, with eyes that seemed to see right through him, noticing that Zhao Ran’s gaze no longer held any admiration, only cold detachment, Yang Jianjun instinctively felt a pang of guilt.
“Are you talking about the three thousand-some yuan?” Zhao Ran didn’t confront him, nor did she instinctively try to explain herself out of concern for Yang Jianjun’s opinion, afraid he might misunderstand, as the original host would have done.
The original host had no idea how much Yang Jianjun earned, but Zhao Ran, having read plenty of period novels, knew his monthly salary was at least around one hundred and fifty yuan. Judging from the deposit dates, this money had been saved after their marriage. Regardless of where Yang Jianjun had gotten it, she could treat it as their shared marital property.
Of course, Yang Jianjun could produce documents proving it was pre-marital property, in which case she would have every right to ask exactly where his post-marriage salary had gone.
It was out of love that one treaded carefully, but Zhao Ran wasn’t the original host. Why should she suffer for the sake of an outsider?
Yang Jianjun was clever enough to sense the change in Zhao Ran. Instead of making excuses, he straightforwardly admitted his mistake: “I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to hide this money from you. Since you’ve found it, it’s only right for you to manage the household finances.”
Hearing this, whether Yang Jianjun’s apology was sincere or merely lip service, Zhao Ran decided not to hold back since he had brought it up: “In that case, once I’m discharged from the hospital, I’ll open an account, and you can transfer the money over.”
Yang Jianjun was taken aback, clearly not expecting Zhao Ran to say this.
He wanted to ask what difference it made whether the money was in this passbook or hers, but facing Zhao Ran’s unwavering gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He knew that if he did, Zhao Ran would surely retort, “If it’s the same, why didn’t you tell me from the start?”
Perhaps unwilling to concede so easily, Yang Jianjun opened his mouth and said, “You seem different.”
What Yang Jianjun didn’t know was that on the way here, to keep herself from fainting, Zhao Ran had been thinking about the future—how she should act toward Yang Jianjun. Should she follow the original host’s example, putting him first in everything, and gradually bring about change? Or should she drop the act entirely from the start?
In the end, Zhao Ran chose the latter. The reason was simple: she wasn’t an actress, let alone one who could perform around the clock. Trying to imitate the original host would inevitably lead to slip-ups, especially since Yang Jianjun had earned so many military honors and wasn’t easily fooled.
It was better to change directly. As it happened, this situation provided the perfect excuse—her transformation and attitude could now be explained as regaining rationality after a near-death experience and seeing through Yang Jianjun’s charm.
So, the moment she saw Yang Jianjun, Zhao Ran made no attempt to hide her change. And clearly, Yang Jianjun was struggling to adjust to this new version of her.
Although she had prepared her explanation in advance, this matter represented the original host’s greatest resentment. Thus, when she finally spoke, Zhao Ran’s voice trembled slightly. Instead of explaining why she had changed, she turned the question back on him:
“You said you were going to borrow a cart from the brigade to take me to the hospital. While I was waiting at home, where did you go?”
Hearing Zhao Ran’s question, Yang Jianjun answered almost without thinking, “It’s just that Li Liang’s family urgently needed to deliver something, so I thought I’d go first…”
Before Yang Jianjun could finish, Zhao Ran coldly interrupted, “Will it kill you?”