“Wake up, Shen Zhiyi, it’s time to get to work.”
A rough female voice sounded in her ear. Shen Zhiyi’s eyes snapped open, and all she saw was a mottled cement ceiling, the air filled with a musty smell.
She froze for a few seconds, then abruptly sat up.
This was a small dormitory with four bunk beds. A slogan reading “Labor is glorious” was plastered on the wall.
“What are you spacing out for?” A woman in a gray work uniform pushed her. “Hurry up, we have to dig a ditch today. If we’re late, we’ll be criticized again.”
Shen Zhiyi looked down at her clothes: coarse cloth overalls, the cuffs already worn white. She touched her face rough, dry, with a few small scars.
This was not her body.
Unfamiliar memories surged like a tide. She remembered, she was still Shen Zhiyi, just not a food blogger from the new century, but Shen Zhiyi from “Life in the Seventies.”
She had transmigrated into a book.
Three days later, Nancheng Prison.
“Shen Zhiyi, be a good person after you get out.”
With a clang, the iron gate slammed shut behind her. The dazzling sunlight made Shen Zhiyi squint.
Three years.
Finally out of prison.
Shen Zhiyi sneered. Just as she took a step, a police sidecar motorcycle screeched to a halt in front of her.
A man dismounted, removed his peaked cap, revealing a handsome face with sharp contours, a scar on his brow, and eyes as cold as a knife.
Zhou Muchuan?
The police officer who had personally handcuffed the original owner three years ago.
“Get on,” his voice was low and left no room for refusal.
Shen Zhiyi didn’t move, a half-smile on her lips. “Officer Zhou, are you afraid I’ll cause trouble?”
Zhou Muchuan’s jaw tightened. He took out a yellowed letter from his pocket and handed it to her.
It was a handwritten divorce agreement.
Written by Lu Yusheng himself.
Lu Yusheng had excellent handwriting. Back then, when the village matchmaker introduced them, the original owner had first been attracted to Lu Yusheng’s handwriting before she was attracted to him.
“Lu Yusheng has signed it,” Zhou Muchuan said calmly. “He’s waiting for you at the Civil Affairs Bureau. If you go now, you’ll be free today.”
Shen Zhiyi raised an eyebrow, took the letter, and read a few lines from top to bottom. She suddenly laughed.
The first clause of the agreement stated that Lu Yusheng wanted her to leave with nothing, not taking a single item belonging to the Lu family.
The Lu family’s things?
What about the original owner’s dowry?
Was that also considered the Lu family’s?
Had Zhou Muchuan read this agreement?
If he had, how could he have the nerve to run this errand for Lu Yusheng and be his tool?
“Officer Zhou, you don’t actually think that after being wrongly imprisoned for three years, I’m here to sign such an unfair divorce agreement and then slink away from the Lu family, do you?” Shen Zhiyi raised her hand and, in front of Zhou Muchuan, slowly tore the divorce agreement in half, then into quarters, and finally, in a fit of frustration, tore it to shreds, then tossed it into the air.
The torn pieces fluttered down to Zhou Muchuan’s feet.
“Tell Lu Yusheng, if he wants a divorce? Let him come and… beg me!”
With that, Shen Zhiyi turned and walked away.
Zhou Muchuan stared at her retreating back, his eyes deep. He suddenly spoke.
“Shen Zhiyi.”
She turned back.
His voice was low, and he spoke word by word: “Arresting you back then was my duty, but now”
“You still won’t admit that you pushed Tongtong into the water?”
Tongtong, the daughter of Jiang Ruochu and her ex-husband.
Back then, the little girl was less than two years old, having only recently learned to walk.
Even if the original owner, a village school teacher, had a heart as black as pitch, she wouldn’t have done such a cruel thing to such an innocent little girl.
Yet, many people believed that the original owner had done it.
From one person to ten, then to a hundred, the entire Lu family village declared Shen Zhiyi a demon.
Just as Shen Zhiyi was about to answer that she hadn’t pushed Tongtong into the water, and that she hadn’t even been to the reservoir that day, a harsh bicycle bell interrupted her.
Lu Yusheng rode over on a Phoenix brand “Erba Dagang” bicycle. Jiang Ruochu, wearing a brand-new Dacron dress, was on the back seat, her slender arms wrapped tightly around Lu Yusheng’s waist.
This scene caused Shen Zhiyi’s blood to instantly freeze. Anxious and agitated, her blood surged.
This was not Shen Zhiyi’s intention, but the instinctive reaction of the original owner’s body.
“Shen Zhiyi, you actually tore up the divorce agreement?” Lu Yusheng propped up the bicycle, carefully helped Jiang Ruochu down from the back seat, and then looked at the scattered torn paper, questioning her in disbelief.
“Lu Yusheng, you still remember me?” Shen Zhiyi’s voice was as cold as ice, her eyes fixed on Lu Yusheng, as if trying to pierce him.
During her three years of reform through labor, Lu Yusheng, as the original owner’s husband, had never once visited her. She thought he had long forgotten that he had a wife named Shen Zhiyi.
Then, her gaze shifted to Jiang Ruochu, the woman who had acted so pitiful in front of the original owner. Now, she stood gently beside Lu Yusheng, her face devoid of any guilt.
Jiang Ruochu lowered her head slightly, but a faint smile played at the corners of her eyes, as if mocking Shen Zhiyi’s current dishevelment and pathetic state.
Look at what she was wearing.
Three years ago, this Shen Zhiyi was no match for her, let alone now?
“It’s just a useless piece of paper, why can’t I tear it?” Shen Zhiyi looked back at Lu Yusheng and retorted with a raised eyebrow.
“Shen Zhiyi, you call it waste paper?” Lu Yusheng was shocked again, his face as dark as charcoal.
That was the divorce agreement he had written himself, his own handwriting. He didn’t believe Shen Zhiyi wouldn’t recognize it.
In the past, she had admired his beautiful handwriting. When they were first married, she would often playfully ask him to copy love poems for her. As long as he copied them himself, she would treasure them like jewels.
Now, she was disgusted by it?
And called it waste paper?
“Nonsense written on paper naturally becomes waste paper, doesn’t it?”
Lu Yusheng was so angry his face turned ashen. He had a thousand words in his belly, but they got stuck in his throat as if sealed.
“Zhiyi, it’s great that you’re out,” Jiang Ruochu suddenly said softly.
She walked towards Shen Zhiyi, wanting to take her hand, but Shen Zhiyi pulled her hand away and dodged.
Jiang Ruochu paused slightly, her eyes reddening, and said pitifully, “Zhiyi, I’m so sorry for making you suffer all these years.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Lu Yusheng, who had reacted, rushed over, grabbed Jiang Ruochu, and shielded the frail woman behind him. “Ruochu, why are you apologizing to a murderer? It was her who pushed Tongtong into the reservoir. If Tongtong hadn’t been lucky, she would have…”
“Brother Yusheng, don’t say anymore, and don’t be angry. You and Zhiyi are still husband and wife. A husband and wife share a deep bond. You’re not divorced yet.” Jiang Ruochu seemed to be persuading Lu Yusheng, but in reality, she was fanning the flames.
At the same time, she reminded Lu Yusheng that the main purpose of coming here today was to get Shen Zhiyi to sign the divorce agreement, otherwise…
However, Shen Zhiyi had already torn up the divorce agreement.
Lu Yusheng stopped. He slowly turned and looked at Shen Zhiyi, saying word by word, “Shen Zhiyi, what exactly do you want before you’ll divorce?”
“You, and her, kneel down and beg me…”
Shen Zhiyi crossed her arms, the sunlight falling on her, as if gilding her entire body.