Chapter 69: Rejecting Internal Consumption, Just Buy Buy Buy

Chapter 69: Reject Needless Overthinking—Focus on Solutions

"You’ve got the right idea—not looking inward for faults but checking the equipment first," Song Fenglan said as she inspected the device. Finding no issues with it, she decided to test it out herself.

Before completing the full test, however, Song Fenglan spotted an issue with one of the materials.

"This material has a problem. Check it," she instructed.

"A problem?" the graduate student asked. "We didn’t notice anything."

"Go test it," Song Fenglan replied.

Initially, she had also suspected the equipment might be faulty, but she had used it before. She conducted a thorough inspection, recalling an online post about a missing component in a device that had gone unnoticed for years—experiments still ran smoothly, and papers got published anyway. Some claimed people sweet-talked other labs with treats to use their instruments, while others accused them of falsifying data.

Song Fenglan didn’t want such careless mistakes in her workplace. If the equipment was fine, that was good—but a material defect was a serious problem.

The two graduate students quickly confirmed the material was flawed: the mix was wrong and didn’t meet specs.

Song Fenglan didn’t blame them. Nowadays, even getting into college is rare, let alone pursuing graduate studies. Students from other professors’ groups were also working diligently, so she had to keep an eye on things.

Once the problem was identified, it had to be fixed.

If the material was defective, it needed replacement—and likely not just this batch. The entire new shipment might be a bad batch. This was a major issue. When the Director learned of the material defect, he was furious.

How could such a mistake happen? If undetected, repeated failures—or even a lucky break—would still lead to high failure rates later. This would’ve set us back, and it had to be resolved properly.

By the time Song Fenglan returned home, it was already around 10 p.m.

Mom was up, though Qin Zihang had already gone to bed.

"Mom," Song Fenglan greeted her mother, who sat quietly in the living room without the TV on, accompanied by her father.

"You're back," her mother said.

"Yes, I’m back," Song Fenglan nodded. "Why aren’t you asleep yet?"

"Just resting here," her mother replied. "Wondering when you’d get back."

"Ran into some snags today, so I was late," Song Fenglan explained. "Sometimes things pile up like this. Just one of those weird coincidences."

"Alright, no need to explain," her mother said, understanding. "I’m not saying it’s wrong of you."

"Just more problems to fix," Song Fenglan sat beside her mother.

"Solve one problem, and another appears," her mother remarked.

"That’s how it is—constantly finding and fixing issues," Song Fenglan agreed. "That’s work. Nothing comes without effort. My job requires precision—‘good enough’ doesn’t fly here. One ‘good enough’ might be fine, but let them slide, and you’ve got big problems."

"You…" Her mother patted her hand gently. "We had you stay in the city by yourself to study and work. It wasn’t easy for you."

"At least I didn’t have to farm," Song Fenglan said. "Some criticism won’t kill me. If possible, I’d still choose city life—country life’s a grind. Look at Second Brother—his leg acts up if he walks too fast."

Song Fenglan felt she lived well enough. Comparing herself to others wasn’t practical—what mattered was playing the hand she was dealt. The real danger was wanting a life beyond her capabilities.

"Your Second Brother…" Her mother sighed at the mention of his leg. "That’s life. Can’t fight it."

"Second Brother is still doing well," Song Fenglan said.

"Yes, better than many," her mother agreed. "That’s what I tell him too. As long as our family is together and healthy, that’s what counts."

When they were at the rural farm, there were times they could barely endure, but they had to endure anyway—there was no choice but to push through.

Mother Song didn’t want to dwell too much on the past. Whether it was hard or not, that was no longer the present.

"There are steamed buns and mantou in the pot, still warm. Have a bite before you turn in," Mother Song said.

Just as Father Song was about to go to the kitchen to bring out the food, Qin Yizhou stepped in instead. Qin Yizhou hadn’t gone to bed yet—since his parents-in-law were still awake, he naturally stayed with them. Mother Song told Qin Yizhou to go rest, but he said he’d wait a little longer. That wait lasted until ten o’clock.

No one else touched the buns or mantou. Only Song Fenglan was eating, and Qin Yizhou poured her a glass of milk.

Song Fenglan had had a busy day at work and had put in a lot of effort.

"Enough?" Mother Song asked.

"There are so many here—a whole plate. You all can have some too," Song Fenglan said. "I can’t eat all of this alone."

"Yi Zhou, have some," Mother Song said, looking at Qin Yizhou.

"I’m not hungry," Qin Yizhou replied. "I’ll just take one mantou."

Since his mother-in-law had insisted, Qin Yizhou decided to eat one mantou. He watched Song Fenglan eat. She had indeed been quite busy lately and was working hard. Qin Yizhou noticed it, but there wasn’t much he could do to help her—it wasn’t his area of expertise.

After Song Fenglan finished eating, Qin Yizhou tidied up the dishes.

"Dad, Mom, go rest in your room. I’ll head back to mine too," Song Fenglan said.

"Alright, we’ll go rest. You should rest early too," Mother Song said. "Don’t burn the midnight oil, and don’t sneak in any reading in your room."

"No, I won’t read. It’s time to sleep—I have to get up tomorrow," Song Fenglan said.

"Good that you know. What if you still have to go to work tomorrow?" Mother Song said. "Get some proper rest."

"I know, I know," Song Fenglan said, gently nudging her mother to go rest. She could handle her own affairs—there was no need for her mother to worry too much.

After returning to her room, Song Fenglan sat on the bed. Qin Yizhou brought her a basin of warm water to wash her feet, saving her the trip.

"You and my folks waited up for me?" Song Fenglan asked.

"I told them to go rest first, but they insisted on waiting," Qin Yizhou said. "I asked if they wanted to watch TV, so I turned it on. But they said no, not wanting to disturb Zi Hang’s sleep. I turned it on, but they shut it off."

The soundproofing in the room wasn’t great, so noises from outside were easily heard. But once you got used to it, it was no biggie—people stopped noticing and could still sleep fine.

"I wonder if my parents can get used to it—there are still chickens and ducks making noise outside," Song Fenglan said. "But they probably can. They had it way tougher back on the farm."

"Don’t worry. Mom and Dad are strong. They know how to adjust," Qin Yizhou said. "They’ve been through much harder times. Life’s good for them now."

"Yeah, it’s all a good life," Song Fenglan nodded.

Song Fenglan soaked her feet for a while, dried them with a cloth, and Qin Yizhou went to empty the basin. He’d done the same even before her parents came—it wasn’t just an act for their sake.

Qin Zihang was asleep, but Second Brother Song wasn’t. When Second Brother Song came out of his room, he happened to see Qin Yizhou emptying the foot-washing water.

"Second Brother," Qin Yizhou greeted him. "Want me to tell him to—"

"No," Second Brother Song said. "He didn’t bother me. Zi Hang sleeps pretty well—not as fidgety as you make him out to be. Hangbao’s a real sweetheart, honestly."

Second Brother Song doted on Qin Zihang more than his own nieces and nephews. Though his elder brother’s children had grown up around him, he had a soft spot for Qin Zihang. He believed that since he saw his nieces and nephews often, he could give them more, whereas he rarely saw Qin Zihang and thus gave him less.

At heart, Second Brother Song still felt he hadn’t done enough for Qin Zihang—that he hadn’t been good enough to him. He even planned to pick up some extra things for Qin Zihang the next day when he went out, along with something for his younger sister, Song Fenglan.

Whether people think they’re loaded down with packages or not, their family has been rehabilitated, and years’ worth of back pay and belongings were returned all at once. Of course, they can afford to buy more things now. If others want to buy a lot at once, they’d have to save up money and ration coupons first.

“Turn in early,” Second Brother Song said. “I’ll grab some water.”

“Alright,” Qin Yizhou nodded.

Early in the morning, Song Fenglan woke up just after seven. By then, Qin Yizhou had already prepared breakfast, so all Song Fenglan had to do was sit down and eat.

After breakfast, Song Fenglan said she’d take Mom and the others out to see the sights. They’d been here for a few days—surely they ought to get out and see the place.

“We can manage on our own,” Mom said. “A long time ago, way before you were born, I came to Nan City. The Nan City back then is very different from what it is now.”

Mom wasn’t keen on sightseeing—“It’s all the same,” she said.

“You’ve been here, but Second Brother hasn’t, right?” Song Fenglan looked at Second Brother Song.

“No hurry—we’ve got time,” Second Brother Song said. “You’re so busy—shouldn’t you take some time to rest?”

“I’m fine,” Song Fenglan replied. “I also want to spend time with you all.”

“Staying at home is fine too,” Second Brother Song said. “We don’t necessarily have to go out.”

“Whatever you prefer,” Song Fenglan said.

Song Fenglan had no preference—whether they went out or stayed in, it was all the same to her.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Qin Zihang started calling for his uncle again.

Since Second Brother Song arrived, Qin Zihang had taken quite a liking to calling him. He’d start hollering “Uncle!” the second he woke up. And Second Brother Song would respond every time, never finding Qin Zihang annoying.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Second Brother Song answered.

“Let’s go play outside,” Qin Zihang said. “There’s a park and lots of places to have fun.”

“Alright,” Second Brother Song said. “Let our Hangbao take us out to play.”

“Uncle, you have to stay close to me and not lose me. There are people outside who like to snatch kids and sell them,” Qin Zihang emphasized. “I can’t be taken away and sold—Mom would cry her eyes out.”

“No one’s selling you, kid,” Second Brother Song said. “Not just your mom—none of us could bear it.”

“Zihang’s quite the chatterbox,” Mom observed, looking at Qin Zihang. She thought of her grandchildren in the capital, who had grown up in the countryside. Because of the Song family’s circumstances, the grandchildren had faced criticism at times. The Song family always taught the kids to be cautious and avoid provoking others. “After they moved to the capital, your elder brother and sister-in-law didn’t dare let their guard down. They couldn’t let the kids run wild.”

“Mhm,” Song Fenglan understood her elder brother and sister-in-law’s concerns. “They’re still spooked things might change back. Tell them not to worry—even if policies change, it won’t go back to how it was before. They ought to face the future head-on. Who knows? In a little while, folks might even get to run their own shops.”

“Running their own shops?” Second Brother Song looked at Song Fenglan.

“Yes,” Song Fenglan nodded. “That’s definitely the trend. We’ve all had enough of that ‘collective pot’ nonsense, haven’t we? If the benefits outweighed the drawbacks, fine—but they don’t. With so many people sharing the same pot, some become lazy, refusing to work and just waiting to be fed, thinking others won’t let them starve. Others don’t want to work harder because they’ll earn the same work points either way. It has to change—you should get what you work for.”

“If it really turns out that way, that’d be great,” Second Brother Song said.

Before the Song family was sent to the farm, they had hidden some belongings. Now, they’ve retrieved them. Those things belong to them, and they no longer have to worry about them being taken away.

Second Brother Song didn’t want to stay confined to a workplace forever. Even if the job seemed decent, it wasn’t free—it was restrictive. He’d rather start his own business, enjoy more freedom, and earn more money. It wasn’t that the family lacked money, but the rush of building something was something an ordinary job couldn’t provide.

“It’s right around the corner,” Song Fenglan said. This year would mark the beginning of reform and opening up. By next year, individuals would be granted licenses, and by the 1980s, private business registrations would officially open nationwide.

When Song Fenglan read novels, she’d come across descriptions of this era—a very special time. Many period novels and dramas loved to focus on this decade. She had taken note of some details and knew the Song family wouldn’t stay idle. None of them were cut out for factory work or being chained to a desk forever.

Elder Brother Song wasn’t interested in starting a business—he was happy enough teaching. After all they’d been through, he wanted to play it safe, and there was nothing wrong with that. But Second Brother still had that fire in him—to make something of himself.

"It's just a matter of one or two years," said Song Fenglan.

"That really is soon," said Second Brother Song.

"Running your own business isn’t wrong, and even big companies aren’t wrong. As long as the money is earned through legitimate means, there’s no problem," Song Fenglan said. "Just avoid monopolies, tax evasion, or breaking the law—then nothing will go wrong."

But back when the rules were still unclear, many industries boomed unchecked.

Song Fenglan believed Second Brother Song had his own judgment and didn’t need her to say much.

Second Brother Song was deep in thought. If things really turned out that way, he would definitely start his own factory or company—he couldn’t stay stuck in his unit forever on a fixed salary. He wasn’t exactly happy working there either.

"The vegetables in your yard are all messy—haven’t you tidied them up?" asked the Song mother.

"They’re fine like that," Song Fenglan replied. "No need to tidy them. Zi Hang wants to raise chickens—we’re waiting for the chicks from next door."

"Next door?" the Song mother asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, Auntie Fatty’s got a brood hatching, and Zi Hang already reserved some," Song Fenglan explained. "I heard the chicks have already hatched. Once they’re a little bigger, we’ll take three. The messy vegetables in the yard will mostly be for the chicks to eat."

"Chicks eat worms and bugs too," Qin Zihang added. "And when they grow up, they taste especially good. Chicks are cute when they’re little, but when they grow up, they’re delicious."

Chicks are pets when they’re little, food when they’re grown.

To Zi Hang, chicks were just perfect—couldn’t get any better.

"True," Second Brother Song nodded.

"Dad, Mom, Second Brother—fruit’s ready," Qin Yizhou said, placing the sliced fruit on the coffee table.

"So according to you, the yard should just stay like this, no need to tidy up?" the Song mother asked.

"No need," Song Fenglan said. "Even if we clean it up, it’ll just get messy again. Besides, the greens out back are already growing—it’s not like we can just pull them all out.

But since you’re here, you can pick and eat them. The greens out back are actually pretty good."

Pesticide-free veggies had more bug bites, but overall, they were still great.

Song Fenglan loved those veggies herself—she just usually ate at the work canteen.

"It’s fine, we’ll tidy it up slowly over the next few days," the Song mother said. "Later, we’ll go to the mall and buy you some clothes."

"The closet’s already full of clothes," Song Fenglan said, thinking of Qin Zihang’s actions. "Before you arrived, Zi Hang even cleaned the room—he gave his old toys to Xiao Hu and said he wanted to check the wardrobe. If his clothes fit Xiao Hu, he’d have handed those over too. Zi Hang’s just counting on you to spoil him."

"No way!" Qin Zihang protested. "I was just tidying up to make space for Second Uncle’s clothes."

"Right, right, you were tidying up for your Second Uncle," Song Fenglan chuckled.

"Who knows when we’ll be back after this," the Song mother said. "Might as well get Zi Hang some extra clothes."

"Sure, that’s fine. You buy them for him—we won’t say no," Song Fenglan said.

After hanging around the house a bit, the group headed to the mall. This time, Cao Fang tagged along too. Being Song Fenglan’s bodyguard, Cao Fang needed to come along outside the compound—even if Qin Yizhou was around, it wasn’t enough. With so many members of the Song family present, Qin Yizhou might not be able to keep an eye on everything.

Second Brother Song noticed Cao Fang—the woman soldier had a real commanding presence. After a glance, he didn’t look again. No reason for a grown man to stare at a woman—it might lead to misunderstandings.

Cao Fang also noticed Second Brother Song. She spotted his limp right away, but didn’t look down on him. She stayed quiet, blending in with the Song family without saying much.

At the mall, the group shopped for clothes. Some off-the-rack stuff looked decent, others were just cheap.

Mother Song wanted to wait until she returned to the capital another day, when she could make some clothes for Zi Hang and Feng Lan herself. Handmade clothes looked nicer and allowed for fun designs. But the store-bought ones seemed old-fashioned and plain.

Even though Mother Song didn’t think these clothes were nice, she still let Qin Zihang and the others try them on.

"Mom, do you want to buy anything to take back?" Song Fenglan asked. "Something for the older nephews and nieces?"

"No need to worry about that," Mother Song replied. "We’ll buy whatever we need ourselves."

Zi Hang was especially happy—shopping with so many people and walking around together just felt great.

"I want this one—it’s cute!" Zi Hang spotted a shirt with a little dog printed on it. He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

Mother Song touched the fabric. It wasn’t the best quality, but since her grandson liked it, she bought it.

"Hangbao really likes dogs?" Mother Song asked.

"Dogs are humans' most loyal friends," Zi Hang said. "Fu Wangwang's great."

"Yeah, when we first got here he probably saw us as strangers and started barking," Second Brother Song remarked.

"But he doesn’t bark now," Zi Hang said. "Fu Wangwang knows you’re family, so he behaves and doesn’t bark randomly. Fu Wangwang’s sharp, just like Hangbao."

"Fu Wangwang’s good," Second Brother Song said. "As soon as he starts barking, you know something’s wrong."

"Fu Wangwang loves bones," Zi Hang added. "When I go to the bathroom, he waits at the door trying to follow me in. But I don’t let him. Fu Wangwang’s so clever."

Zi Hang, being a kid, loved all kinds of small animals—on clothes, backpacks, even in his room. He loved being surrounded by little animals, though of course they were mostly toys and patterns. If they were real, he wouldn’t be able to handle so many.

The Song family came prepared, buying plenty of things, including a new outfit for Yi Zhou. Yi Zhou felt a bit awkward but couldn’t refuse their insistence, so he accepted. They arrived empty-handed but went home loaded with stuff.

Back at home, Mother Song took out the new clothes to wash them. Yi Zhou grabbed them to wash himself—he couldn’t let Mother Song do it.

Watching Yi Zhou wash clothes with such efficiency, Mother Song figured he’d done this plenty before.

"Mom, what are you looking at?" Song Fenglan walked over and followed her mother’s gaze. "Yi Zhou knows how to do laundry. He washes his and Zi Hang’s clothes, and sometimes even mine."

"You don’t wash them?" Mother Song asked.

"I’m busy, and washing hurts my hands," Song Fenglan said. "If he wants to do it, why stop him? If I insisted on doing it myself, wouldn’t that discourage him?"

That’s how men should be—don’t spoil them too much, or they won’t bother doing these things.

Song Fenglan naturally hoped her husband would take on more tasks and that Yi Zhou would handle many things. She thought Yi Zhou was doing well—he never complained about her working late or overtime and always supported her. At home, he even gave her shoulder massages and made midnight snacks.

On the surface, their married life seemed ordinary—no big fights or crazy ups and downs—but Song Fenglan preferred this kind of simplicity. She disliked turbulent relationships full of conflicts where even small matters dragged on forever. That would make her feel like she was nuts—why avoid communication when they could just talk?

They had been together for years; they weren’t newlyweds anymore.

"Let him wash!" Song Fenglan didn’t want her mom butting in.

"Of course, let him wash. Why wouldn’t we?" Mother Song didn’t insist on doing it herself or making Yi Zhou sit aside. She hardly ever saw Yi Zhou, and whenever she did, she wondered if he treated Fenglan well. She wanted to observe more.

If their family could provide more for their daughter, making life easier for her, that would be great. And if Yi Zhou performed well, even better.

Yi Zhou didn’t mind. These clothes hadn’t even been worn yet—they weren’t dirty. The real messy ones were his and Zi Hang’s: he sweated a lot during training, and Zi Hang, being a kid, always played around and got his clothes filthy.

Mother Song glanced at her daughter, who acted like this was totally normal. That was fine. As long as Yi Zhou was willing to do these things without badmouthing Song Fenglan, it was perfect. The worst thing was when men did a little extra and then bragged about it, claiming those tasks were originally women’s jobs.

"He’s always like this, not just when you’re around," Song Fenglan said. "Mom, even his military superiors tell him to be diligent and do more."

Mother Song smiled. Her daughter had married a decent man, though the Qins had their share of headaches. But hey, what family doesn’t have a few troublemakers? The Song family had their own issues too—they just didn’t keep in touch much.

After the Song family’s rehabilitation, some relatives who had distanced themselves tried to come back for favors. They claimed they couldn't be blamed—it was the era's fault. They insisted they had always cared about the Song family and wanted to help but were powerless. As for joining others in criticizing them back then, that was just survival under pressure.

Money attracts long-lost kin; poverty leaves you unnoticed even in a bustling city—their actions proved this saying true.

Once Qin Yizhou had done the laundry, he hung it out to dry. They had lunch outside, and after returning, they tidied up. Before long, evening came, and it was time to cook dinner.

Mother Song headed to the kitchen, with Qin Yizhou helping out. Song Fenglan stayed out, letting them handle things.

Second Brother Song bought Hangbao more toys, which thrilled the boy.

"His room is already full of toys," Song Fenglan remarked. "All from you guys."

"Let him enjoy it—kids deserve a happy childhood," Second Brother said. "Hangbao’s young—the past didn’t hit him as hard."

"Yes, not nearly as hard," she agreed. "I moved him here so he could leave the past behind. If we’d stayed, Zi Hang might still face unfair treatment."

She focused on giving Hangbao the best upbringing possible, making others think their family was doing well. Adults can do a lot—if they're willing. Of course, if it becomes too exhausting, there's no need to push. It all depends on personal choice.

That’s why Song Fenglan never judged parents struggling financially for not trying harder. Parents are people too—they need breaks. They’re not pack mules, expected to sacrifice endlessly for their children.

"Just seeing Hangbao happy makes everything worth it," Song Fenglan said.

"You don’t spend as much time with him now, do you?" Second Brother asked.

"Not as much, but I’m doing more to protect him," she replied.

From her past-life memories, she knew how volatile international tensions once were—how close the world had come to war. Even without open conflict, lives were lost. She'd never let her son end up a casualty. Protecting Hangbao—and other children—was her mission.

Fortunately, her past-life knowledge guided her research. At one point, she considered abandoning this path, but realized it was necessary. Tough as it was, making the country stronger—reducing its vulnerability—made it worthwhile.

She wasn’t cut out for combat—she’d just be cannon fodder. But in research, she could lead the charge.

"Hangbao gets it. And it’s not like I’m always stuck late—I usually finish on time, maybe a little later sometimes," Song Fenglan said. "I still get home to be with him."

"Uncle Second!" Hangbao yelled again.

"Coming!" Second Brother went to Hangbao’s room to see what he needed.

It turned out Hangbao couldn’t open a toy and had called his uncle for help. With Uncle Second around, he didn’t bother his parents.

Song Fenglan stood at the doorway watching, teasing, "Hangbao, you only care about your second uncle now."

"Uncle Second’s stronger. Dad’s busy cooking," Hangbao reasoned. "Let Mom rest."

His logic was simple: the tough stuff should go to the guys, not his mom. Fenglan hadn’t drilled this into him—Yizhou had. He told Hangbao not to trouble his mother, and the boy remembered every word.

"Yeah, give Mom a break. Don’t bug her," Second Brother wholeheartedly agreed.

Meanwhile, Tang Lu was on the phone with Third Aunt Song, who had hesitated before picking up.

"Earlier, I ran into Cousin," Tang Lu said. "She really does work at the aircraft research institute. Someone from her unit even gave us a lecture."

"Hmm," Auntie Song snapped. "She’s not your cousin. Your Tang clan has no right to claim her."

Tang Lu took a deep breath. She had expected this reaction. "I didn’t act like we were related. My colleagues have no clue we’re connected."

"It's no use even if they know," Aunt Song (the third sister) said. "I've told your uncle and aunt: you are you, and Fenglan is Fenglan. What cousins? Your Tang family doesn't acknowledge the Song family as relatives. Pilot or not, it's the same."

"Yes." Tang Lu, seeing how resolute her aunt was, didn’t dare to disagree.

"Your uncle and aunt have gone to Nan City. If you have any self-respect, don’t go there," the aunt warned Tang Lu.

Among the Tang children, Aunt Song’s attitude toward Tang Lu was relatively mild. Toward the others, it was far worse.

"No, I haven’t gone," Tang Lu replied. "We can’t just leave the training base. We study and train here. There’s a cafeteria for meals, and we don’t need to go out—we’re taken care of."

"You're from the Tang family. I just worry you’ll act recklessly," Aunt Song said. "No matter how Song-like you seem, you’re still a Tang."

"Yes, I’m a Tang," Tang Lu said. Her mother always emphasized this. She knew her mother wanted her to face facts—to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself in front of Song Fenglan and the Song family.

Even without being told, Tang Lu wouldn’t have gone. A moment’s thought made it obvious.

"Just remember that," her aunt said. "Anything else? If not, I’m hanging up."

Then Tang Lu heard the dial tone—her mother had hung up. She wanted to talk more, but her mother clearly had no patience for them.

Tang Lu felt down. She’d been old enough to remember when her parents divorced. She remembered the arguments, how quickly her father remarried, and how his family cut off contact with their mother.

Now he wanted them to reconnect, but too much had happened. Things would never go back to how they were.

"Nothing… it’s nothing…" Tang Lu muttered. What could she say? Just petty stuff. If she did, her mother would snap, "It’s your choice. If you couldn’t stick to it, what’s the point telling me?"

That was her mother’s attitude. Tang Lu wished her mother would be kinder, but it was useless.

She looked up and saw Jian Lili, who noticed her low spirits.

"Your cousin… your mom…" Jian Lili saw Tang Lu’s eyes reddening.

"My birth mother. After my dad divorced her, he didn’t let us see her much, or my cousin’s family either," Tang Lu said. "Now that my cousin’s family’s name is cleared, my mom says not to reach out—they don’t owe us anything."

"Well… your mom isn’t wrong," Jian Lili said.

"She’s absolutely right—not a flaw," Tang Lu said. "We were all forced to choose. We had to listen to them."

Tang Lu thought about how, growing up, they never got to decide. It’d be funny if it weren’t sad. At heart, they all wanted more.

It wasn’t like Tang Lu hadn’t wanted to get close to Song Fenglan. She had eyes—she could see how well-regarded Fenglan was at the institute. Maybe Fenglan was important. If they had a good relationship, maybe she could hook her up with extra help.

But they were on bad terms. If she approached now, Fenglan wouldn’t help.

In the end, her family started it. She couldn’t blame them for clapping back.

"Your cousin is here. Do you want to mend things? That was the older generation’s baggage. Maybe bring some fruit over?" Jian Lili suggested. "You and her—you’re different from them."

"No," Tang Lu shook her head. "Back then, I didn’t try to connect. How can I say it was their fault, when I followed their orders? I can’t claim I was just a kid obeying them then, and now suddenly act like it’s just between our generations. No one’s that dumb!"

Tang Lu knew if someone treated her that way, she’d find it disgusting.

The hypocrisy!

Why should everything be on their terms while others had to comply?

People weren’t mindless dolls. They had minds of their own.

"My mom says I’m her wife’s family through and through," Tang Lu said. "So I have to own it. I can’t give her more reason to hate me."

"This... isn't easy," Jian Lili asked, "Who's your cousin?"

So far, Jian Lili still didn’t know who Tang Lu’s cousin was.

"Who she is doesn’t matter. What’s important is that our families are done with each other—not enemies, but not family either," Tang Lu said. "I can’t go bothering her just to improve my own situation."

"She works at the research institute, right? Have I seen her before?" Jian Lili asked. "Hardly any women work there. They—"

"Let’s not talk about it," Tang Lu interrupted. "We’re not strangers, but we might as well be. Bringing it up would just make things awkward for her. You don’t need to know who she is. She’s decent—hasn’t given me any trouble. If she wanted to cause problems, I probably wouldn’t even be allowed to stay here."

Song Fenglan worked at the research institute herself, and Qin Yizhou was still a regiment commander. Tang Lu knew that if they wanted to deal with her, it would be very easy. This was Nan City, not the capital. Qin Yizhou had way more pull in Nan City than back in the capital.

"You... yeah... better not say more," Jian Lili muttered.

"Best you don’t know too much," Tang Lu replied. "When someone else is doing well and you’re not, people like to blame them. Others around might wonder why the one who’s doing fine doesn’t help out their relatives."

Jian Lili stayed silent, thinking Tang Lu was damn right.

That evening, the Song family had dinner with Qin Yizhou and others. They didn’t mention looking for Tang Lu—they acted like she didn’t even exist.

Zhang Xiaohu had already eaten. Leaning on his crutch, he peeked over and muttered quietly, "Still not done eating yet?"