That meal had three meat dishes: chicken, spareribs, and pork. Yet she did not get a single bite of meat.
Every time she reached for a piece, her mother-in-law would snatch it up the very second and put it on Lu Qiming’s or Lu Lin’s plate.
Even Wang Siyu and Wenwen had heaps of meat piled in front of them.
Not a single person spoke up for Song Qinghuan.
Everyone in that household acted as if they were above her—even Wang Siyu and Wenwen seemed nobler by comparison. She was shut out, treated no better than a servant.
Worse than a servant, in fact.
For ten long years, this happened over and over again.
At first, Song Qinghuan would reflect, truly believing she was the one at fault.
With time, she realized: the problem was never her—it was that the family never wanted her there.
She had tried to push back, but in that house, money was the only thing that carried weight.
Her mother-in-law controlled every cent. Every expense Song Qinghuan made was questioned down to the last penny—never a coin for herself.
Thinking back on it now, Song Qinghuan could only laugh bitterly.
What else could she have done? In her past life, even her job was stolen from her, leaving her with no choice but to rely on them for food and shelter.
No work meant no money.
He who eats another’s bread calls the tune—so she had swallowed her pride and endured.
But now, she had been given a second chance. Song Qinghuan lowered her gaze to the tiny peach blossom mark that had been on her wrist since birth. She stroked it slowly, gently, with infinite tenderness.
It was the only thing her birth mother had left her.
At that moment, the little mark seemed to glow a brighter, more vivid pink.
Song Qinghuan’s heart swelled with emotion.
She remembered that it was the sudden heat from this very mark that had pulled her into this new life.
Could this space, too, be a gift from her mother?
After a long pause, she let out a soft breath and set aside her questions, then walked around the kitchen.
Every tool she could need—pots, pans, bowls, ladles—was there, even a working tap.
She turned on the faucet, cupped a handful of water, and tasted it. Sweetness spread across her tongue.
This was spiritual spring water!
Herbs nourished by this water were said to be unlike any other—she wondered if food cooked with it would taste just as extraordinary.
Curious, she explored further.
The kitchen was better stocked than any state-run restaurant she had ever seen.
Between the food, drink, and appliances, cooking would be easy. The only thing missing was fresh produce—only meat filled the refrigerator, no vegetables or fruits.
But that was a minor flaw; having all this was more than enough.
Times were hard and prices were high. She had worried that without a job, and estranged from her family, she would struggle to make a living if she were cast out.
Now she could finally breathe easy.
She had water, meat, a fully equipped kitchen, and even a plot of farmland.
If she wanted vegetables or fruit, she could grow them herself. She would never go hungry again.
And the spiritual spring water—already it seemed effective for minor ailments. As a trained doctor, she could tend to any serious illness herself.
As long as she had food and health, what was there to fear?
Peace settled deep in her heart, lifting her spirits.
Realizing she had not eaten lunch, she opened the refrigerator for eggs.
Just as the note had promised—no sooner had she taken one out than another appeared in its place.
Before, she had doubted the truth of that note; she had never seen anything replenish itself out of thin air. Now, seeing it for herself, her last doubts vanished, and she happily took a second egg.
These were free-range eggs—darker, thicker shells, uneven coloring, unlike the pale, uniform ones from farmed chickens. Even better, they were noticeably larger than the ones she was used to.
Holding them, she could already imagine how plump and fragrant her fried eggs would be.
Most of all—she could eat two whole eggs by herself!
A genuine smile spread across her face.
Even when she was old enough to marry, when meat finally made it to the table, she had never once gotten a whole egg.
Song Yunfei had always been picky—he loved the whites but hated the yolks. As a boy, his parents ate the discarded whites; only in recent years had they given them to her. Eating two whole eggs at once was something she had never dared to dream of.
Cheerfully humming to herself, she cracked both eggs into the pan.
After all, she had lived through this once already. Though she had gotten little good food at the Lu household, she had been the one to cook every feast they enjoyed.
She knew every way to prepare meat—fry, braise, roast, stew.
Frying perfect eggs was second nature to her.
Soft-yolk fried eggs were her favorite—crisp and golden on both sides, with a tender, runny center that oozed out when poked, rich and fragrant.
She set them on a plate, but two eggs alone were not enough. Her eyes drifted to the refrigerator packed full of meat, and she licked her lips.
In her past life, Lu Qiming had been obsessed with thick-cut pan-fried pork belly. Every time she made it, the scent made her mouth water—yet her mother-in-law watched her so closely that she never got so much as a taste.
Now she finally had the chance, and she would not let it slip away.
She pulled out a slab of pork belly and set it on the counter—clunk.
The sound told her just how rock-hard frozen it was.
Song Qinghuan frowned and sighed.
She had been so eager for meat that she had forgotten it needed thawing.
Well—she would eat her eggs first while she waited.
Drawing on her past experience, she held the meat under a thin stream of water.
She had expected to wait a while, but no sooner had she dried her hands than she looked back to see the frost melting away, the meat glistening fresh and soft.
She poked it gently—
It really was soft!
Could the spiritual spring water be responsible?