Song Qiuya had assumed that any man with a conscience would feel guilty hearing her words.
She had forgotten that the mind of an abusive husband could never be guessed by common sense.
The moment He Junbo heard that Song Qiuya actually wanted to go home, he flew into a rage. He pinned her down and beat her brutally without a second thought.
Drunk as he was, he laid his hands on her with no restraint. When he felt it still wasn’t enough, he even picked up a brick.
Only when he finally tired himself out did he stop, panting heavily, the bloodied brick still in his hand.
Looking up, he saw Song Qiuya lying on the ground with her eyes wide open, her breath already faint.
Fishy-smelling blood kept seeping out from the hem of her dress, filling the air with a sharp, pungent stench.
It was then that He Junbo realized—Song Qiuya had been pregnant, and he had beaten her to death with his own hands.
Terrified, he threw the brick aside and fled far away, never daring to return.
Song Qiuya lay alone on the cold ground, dragging her fingers across the surface to leave trails of blood. She struggled for a long time before drawing her last breath.
She had thought she would die consumed by grievance—but heaven took pity on her suffering, and gave her a second chance at life, sending her back to the past.
She had returned to the perfect moment—before Song Qinghuan had officially married Lu Qiming.
Song Qiuya remembered clearly: back when they had gone to the countryside, Lu Qiming had just been promoted to Battalion Commander, and his entire family had risen to power and status along with him.
The memory filled her with bitter hatred.
Song Qinghuan had always had it far too easy—she never had to work for anything, yet got to enjoy all the glory and wealth in the world.
All of that should have been hers.
Lu Qiming, too, should have been her husband!
Since heaven had been kind enough to give her another chance, Song Qiuya swore she would never make the same mistakes again. No matter what it cost, she would take back the life that rightfully belonged to her!
Ye Juncai and Yang Chunhua stood at the alley entrance, neither daring to speak. They exchanged a look, their faces as dark as soot from the stove, awkward and uneasy.
They had never imagined that Song Qinghuan—once so obedient and quiet—would suddenly change so much, becoming so bold and overbearing. She was far too formidable to provoke.
The couple had never had a daughter of their own. When they had taken in Qiuya all those years ago, she had immediately told them the truth about Song Qinghuan.
Song Qiuya had laid out her plan: let Song Qinghuan stay with the Song family for now, so she could marry into the Lu family as arranged. When the wedding day drew near, Qiuya would bring Ye Juncai, Yang Chunhua, and their whole family to claim kinship.
She would make everyone believe Song Qinghuan was Ye Juncai’s real daughter.
Once the whole neighborhood knew Song Qinghuan’s background was not what everyone thought it was, her reputation would be ruined—and the Lu family would never accept her.
That was when Song Qiuya would step forward.
She would have Ye Juncai tell Song Shouyang that she, Song Qiuya, was his true biological daughter.
The engagement between the Song and Lu families was for the Song family’s daughter. If Song Qinghuan was not one of them, the right to marry Lu Qiming would naturally fall to her.
The Lu family were wealthy, prominent townsfolk—life with them would be nothing short of good.
Song Qiuya had promised Ye Juncai and Yang Chunhua that once she married Lu Qiming and became an officer’s wife, she would never be ungrateful like Song Qinghuan. She would see to it that they all lived comfortably. They would never want for food or clothing again.
She had also promised to get their only son, Ye Yong, a steady, well-paid job at the factory—so he could earn good money for years to come.
That was what had convinced Ye Juncai and Yang Chunhua.
Ye Yong was their only child, and a source of endless heartache. Even as a boy he had been lazy and good-for-nothing, always sneaking around stealing and causing trouble—so much so that neighbors did their best to avoid him. The couple had disciplined him time and again, but nothing changed. Now he was fully grown, with neither a wife nor a proper job to his name.
They knew Song Qiuya was striking a bargain with them—but they had no other choice. They did not expect her to treat them like family; all they wanted was for her to keep her word about their son’s job. Factory work was stable and paid well—if their son settled there, their old age would be secure.
But now, nothing was going according to plan.
Yang Chunhua felt a headache coming on just thinking about it. She twisted the hem of her faded clothing over and over, her palms slick with cold sweat. She had thought it would be so simple—but now it seemed far more complicated than they had imagined.
The sharp, resounding slaps Song Qinghuan had landed earlier had instantly swollen Li Qing’e and Lu Qiming’s faces—puffed up like they had stuffed steamed buns in their mouths. It had been terrifying… especially the five clear handprints left behind.
Song Qinghuan looked so gentle and fragile—how could she be so fierce?
The memory sent shivers down Ye Juncai and Yang Chunhua’s spines, raising goosebumps all over their skin. If they really went along with Song Qiuya’s scheme to ruin Song Qinghuan’s name, what if she turned around and slapped them just as hard?
The thought alone made them wilt with fear, and they instinctively raised their hands to cover their faces.
Yang Chunhua swallowed hard, clutching Ye Juncai’s arm as she whispered: “She hits so hard… what if she does the same to us if we cross her?”
Ye Juncai rubbed his jaw, his teeth aching with unease. “Did you see the way she carried herself? Do we really stand a chance against her?”
Song Qiuya stood nearby, rolling her eyes at their cowardice. She planted her hands on her hips and shot them a cold, mocking look. “You’re already scared?”
Ye Juncai and Yang Chunhua exchanged a guilty glance and said nothing.
Song Qiuya pursed her lips, her voice calm and steady: “Don’t you worry. If you do exactly as I say, nothing will go wrong. Once I’m an officer’s wife, all of us will live the good life together.”
Her words helped steady their racing hearts. Once Qiuya was an officer’s wife, there would be endless blessings to share. Their son would work at the factory earning good money, and their own life would only get better and better.
They would tear down their tiny run-down home and build a grand new one. If all went well, they would move to the city—they would be townsfolk too, at last.
The more Yang Chunhua thought about it, the sweeter the prospect felt, like honey in her heart. She had suffered for decades—now, finally, it was their turn to be happy.
Meanwhile, back at the Song family home, chaos had erupted.