Chapter 141: Run Away, Favoritism is Too Obvious

Chapter 141: The Favoritism Is Too Obvious

"I shouldn't have had so many children," Third Aunt Song said to Song Fenglan. "They're all such headaches. I used to think Tang Lu was better, but who would have guessed she'd turn out like this? Sure, it was her past words that got exposed, but she has a big mouth—she can't keep anything to herself."

"Auntie, this isn't your fault," Song Fenglan said.

"Of course it isn't. I came to check if you've been affected," Third Aunt Song replied. "Are your coworkers under the impression you're pulling strings?"

"Not at all. They just asked, and I said I didn't know the person and we weren't admitting that student," Song Fenglan said. "Sometimes these so-called smart folks pop up—they think dropping hints will make us bend the rules. What planet are they on? Our graduate program has limited slots and fierce competition. We're not desperate to take them."

"Glad it didn't blow back on you," Third Aunt Song said. "Tang Lu actually called me—said her colleague's brother and sister-in-law made a scene at her job, accusing her of taking bribes. Now the colleague has been transferred. That idiot took money, thinking that if their nephew got into your school, they wouldn't have to refund it. Who knows if they even tried to bribe anyone?"

"Don't worry about it," Song Fenglan said, meeting her aunt's gaze. "No big deal. He didn't make the cut anyway—his written exam score barely passed, and we had stronger candidates. Naturally, we admitted those with higher scores."

That candidate had barely scraped through and, feeling insecure, pulled this stunt.

Song Fenglan knew his type—people who don't care about fairness, only trying to cash in on connections because they "know someone."

With non-guaranteed admission and his mediocre undergraduate background, the interview panel would have rejected him anyway. Plus, his clumsy attempt at backdoor dealings—any real string-pullers would have quietly gotten the right people involved. Then his re-exam score would magically improve without him having to say a word.

"Auntie, how have you been?" Song Fenglan asked.

"Feeling quite energetic," Third Aunt Song said. "After finishing this series, I'm going to take a break from everything. Just want some quiet time to recharge."

"Aren't you still fine-tuning the script?"

"I will," Third Aunt Song nodded. "But let the younger ones take the first pass—they need the practice. After their draft, I'll review it. This franchise... who knows how far it'll go?"

She didn't flatter herself into thinking the show would fall apart without her. Others could take over—she wouldn't mind. Their competence? Not her problem.

The Tang Lu incident didn't spread to Song Fenglan; it was quickly contained.

After lunch at Song Fenglan's place, Third Aunt Song left. That afternoon, Song's mother visited. Learning about Tang Lu's visit didn't surprise her.

"Your aunt still has a soft spot for Tang Lu," Song's mother said. "Tang Lu is as stubborn as her—still single, no kids. Your aunt claims not to care, but deep down, she does."

Tang Lu is now a pilot, later becoming a [missing term]. She rarely troubled Third Aunt Song—the most manageable among her children.

Sure, Tang Lu has flaws, but she's only human with her own desires. Everyone messes up sometimes.

"Your aunt isn't seeking forgiveness for Tang Lu. She just regrets dragging you into her mess—Tang Lu is her flesh and blood," Song's mother said.

"What about Auntie and the Tangs...?"

"Still estranged," Song's mother said. "They keep sniffing around, hoping she'll give in. All your aunt's earnings go to state coffers—she avoids private foundations so those vultures can't hassle her. They wouldn't dare mess with the government."

"They don't suspect she's funneled things to us?" Song Fenglan smirked. The Tangs definitely would think that.

"They're terrified of crossing you," Song's mother said. "Our influence scares them. They only harass your aunt by hiding behind family ties. If Tang Qiming weren't her grandson, do you think he'd only get fifteen days' detention?"

The Tangs act like they own the place, knowing authorities will sweep things under the rug. Family drama? Perfect excuse to ignore it.

"That's true," Song Fenglan said.

"Don't mistake your aunt's patience for weakness—even a worm will turn," Song's mother said. "At her age, if pushed too hard, they'll just disrupt her peace with theatrics."

Third Aunt Song handled it perfectly—leaving the Tangs hanging, desperate yet powerless. They cling to illusions of inheritance, never realizing her resolve is unshakable.

Here’s the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

"Life hasn’t been easy for Auntie," said Song Fenglan.

"Who has it easy?" replied Song’s mother. "Some things are just easier to handle than others."

In Nan City, Gao Xiuxiu’s second daughter had a big fight at home.

Fang Erniu loathed this family. These people always blamed her—if only she were a boy, her mother wouldn’t have taken that quack medicine and gotten sick. If she were a boy, she’d have been treated better. It was all her fault for not being one.

Fang Daniu, despite her poor grades, got to attend high school at great expense, yet she still did poorly. Fang Erniu believed her own grades were slightly better, yet she wasn’t allowed to go to school and had to find work. Being underage, even that was difficult.

Gao Xiuxiu even demanded her second daughter turn over her paycheck. How could Fang Erniu not be furious?

"I raised you," Gao Xiuxiu said. "If I hadn’t given birth to you or fed you, would you even be here talking back to us?"

She thought her second daughter so ungrateful. "Give me your wages—I’ll put it aside for you. You live and eat here—that costs money. You—"

"Then I won’t live or eat here anymore, okay?" Fang Erniu shouted.

"What about the past?" Gao Xiuxiu snapped. "Does all the food you ate before not count? Fang Erniu, looks like you need a good spanking!"

She grabbed a nearby broom, ready to strike. Fang’s grandmother watched but didn’t intervene. She disliked girls—she treated Fang Daniu well only because she’d wronged her before. What was Fang Erniu? Just a good-for-nothing.

"Go ahead, hit me!" Fang Erniu yelled. "All you ever do is hit and scold me. What else can you do? Did I ask to be your daughter? If I could choose, I’d never want to be!"

*Slap!* Gao Xiuxiu slapped her hard.

Clutching her cheek, Fang Erniu glared at her mother before turning and running out. Fang Xudong was at work, completely unaware of the incident. Fang Erniu spotted him from afar but didn’t approach. She knew her father didn’t have much say at home—after her mother’s severe illness years ago, he’d always given in to her. At most, he’d secretly slip Fang Erniu some money, telling her not to make trouble with her mother.

But was it really her fault for arguing with her own mother? It was her mother who had it out for her, who never intended to let her stay at home, who feared she might fight her sister over that stuff.

Fang Daniu had no love for Fang Erniu. When she was little, Gao Xiuxiu treated them differently, and later, she mostly only looked out for her own interests, never bothering about how Fang Erniu was doing. As long as she was doing well and getting more for herself, that was all that mattered.

When Fang Xudong returned home and didn’t see Second Girl, he asked, "Where’s Second Girl?"

"Oh, her? She ran off!" Gao Xiuxiu rolled her eyes. "She’s grown up, got a job, and doesn’t even respect her own mother anymore."

Granny Fang had already gone to her room after dinner—she didn’t bother with this nonsense.

Gao Xiuxiu complained about Fang Erniu in front of Fang Xudong, "Back then, we should’ve just given her away to someone else. We shouldn’t have raised her at all."

"What did you say to her?" Fang Xudong couldn’t believe his younger daughter would just run off for no reason.

"I just told her to fork over her paycheck. She lives and eats at home—that all costs money," Gao Xiuxiu said.

"You… why would you say that to her? She just started working and hardly has two pennies to rub together," Fang Xudong said. "A girl’s gotta have some spending money too."

"How old is she? She’s not even old enough to marry—what’s the point of dressing up?" Gao Xiuxiu scoffed.

"She’s working now," Fang Xudong said.

"Her sister’s schooling costs so much, and she doesn’t even think to help out," Gao Xiuxiu grumbled.

Fang Daniu’s grades were poor, but Gao Xiuxiu still insisted she retake the exams. If one year of retaking didn’t work, she’d keep at it for two or three years—eventually, she’d get into a vocational college. As long as she got in, Fang Daniu would go.

Gao Xiuxiu bet everything on Fang Daniu, never giving Second Girl a second thought.

"Second Girl shouldn’t have to earn money for her sister’s schooling," Fang Xudong said. "You’re being way too hard on her."

"They're sisters. If she supports her sister now, her sister will return the favor later. Why doesn’t she get that?" Gao Xiuxiu said. "In our family, siblings always help each other out. How can she act so selfishly?"

Fang Xudong thought Gao Xiuxiu was the truly selfish one. What did their eldest daughter’s schooling have to do with the younger one? Fang Daniu’s grades were genuinely poor. Others had even told Fang Xudong that if a child’s grades weren’t good, they should just start working early. Or at least let the eldest attend a teacher training vocational school—why insist on high school?

Gao Xiuxiu wanted the eldest to attend high school at a better institution, so Fang Xudong had no choice but to foot the bill.

"Second Daughter just can’t do anything right," Gao Xiuxiu said. "I said a few harsh words, and she stormed off."

"I’ll go look for her," Fang Xudong said.

"No need. If she’s so tough, let her fend for herself—live on her own, eat on her own," Gao Xiuxiu retorted. "If you go after her, she’ll only make more demands. What kind of daughter acts like this? She clearly doesn’t respect us as parents. She’s got it out for us."

"Ease up on her. She’s grown now," Fang Xudong said. "If you keep talking to her like that, of course she’ll resent you. She’s not a three-year-old who’ll just take whatever you say."

"No matter how old she is, I’m still her mother. I went through hell carrying and birthing her," Gao Xiuxiu said. "Now that she’s working and has money, she acts like she doesn’t owe me any respect. Does she look down on me because I don’t work much and don’t have much?"

Deep down, Gao Xiuxiu felt insecure after losing her uterus, and she’d always disliked Second Daughter. Even if Fang Erniu didn’t mean it, Gao Xiuxiu would insist she did.

"She’s your own child. She couldn’t possibly think that way," Fang Xudong said. "Don’t overthink it."

Fang Xudong decided to search for Fang Erniu. It was late, and a young woman alone outside wasn’t safe. Fang Erniu had gone to a friend’s place. She called Fan Yani, who spotted Fang Xudong approaching.

"Your Second Daughter’s at a friend’s house," Fan Yani said.

Fang Erniu had asked that if her father came looking, Fan Yani should tell him.

Fan Yani guessed it was just another blow-up between Fang Erniu and Gao Xiuxiu. Gao Xiuxiu was awful to Fang Erniu.

"She mentioned renting her own place," Fan Yani added. "If you’ve got time, pack her clothes and take them to her workplace."

Fan Yani figured Fang Xudong, being a man, couldn’t possibly juggle all the family drama. Between work and household troubles, he was stretched too thin. Caught between his wife and daughter, it was an impossible position. Fang Erniu moving out might actually be for the best.

"Did she say anything else?" Fang Xudong asked.

"No. You’ll see when you talk to her," Fan Yani replied.

The next day, Fang Xudong packed Fang Erniu’s clothes to deliver. Gao Xiuxiu caught him and blocked his way.

"What are you doing?" Gao Xiuxiu yanked the bag from Fang Xudong’s hands. "You’re taking these to Second Daughter, aren’t you?"

"Yes," Fang Xudong said. "She’s renting a place and doesn’t have—"

"If she’s got money, she can damn well buy her own clothes!" Gao Xiuxiu snapped. "Didn’t you say she needs to dress up? Then she shouldn’t take these old rags."

She refused to let him take the clothes. To make matters worse, she went through his pockets, afraid he’d give Fang Erniu too much cash.

"Enough," Fang Xudong said irritably. "They’re just old clothes."

He shoved past Gao Xiuxiu, snatched the bag, and marched out. He’d had enough arguing. He barely had any cash—just a little borrowed from a coworker. Fang Erniu needed rent money, and a young woman living alone wasn’t safe. Fang Xudong planned to help her find a place—close enough to the neighborhood but far enough that Gao Xiuxiu wouldn’t be popping in all the time.

"Dad." Fang Erniu was waitressing at a diner. When she saw him, she hurried over.

"I’ll help you find a place," Fang Xudong said. "Somewhere safe."

"Nothing too pricey," Fang Erniu said. "And not right by home."

She was done with her mother and wanted to keep her distance.

"Got it," Fang Xudong replied.

Here’s the improved translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

Just like that, Fang Erniu moved out and no longer lived with Gao Xiuxiu and the others.

Song Fenglan, of course, was unaware of these matters. She had a few days off but didn’t plan to travel—just staying around the capital would do. She could browse the internet, scroll through forums, read novels, or play some mini-games.

When Qin Yizhou heard Song Fenglan say she wasn’t going to other cities, he knew it was for safety reasons. If she had wanted to go, it wouldn’t have been impossible, but extra security would have been necessary. Song Fenglan understood this well—she preferred not to trouble others too much. In her past life, she had traveled extensively, and in this life, she’d seen plenty through work exchanges to other cities.

"Try this," Qin Yizhou said, bringing Song Fenglan a small cake he had made. "I made it. The cherries on top were bought fresh today—I washed some, and we can have them later."

"Mm," Song Fenglan nodded, shifting her gaze from the TV to Qin Yizhou. "You’ve gotten quite good at making these."

"Picked it up from Mom," Qin Yizhou replied. "Go on, try it."

Since Song Fenglan was on leave, Qin Yizhou didn’t need to go to work either. He stayed by her side. Qin Yizhou was a couple decades older than Song Fenglan, nearly fifty.

The years had flown by. When they first got together, Song Fenglan had been around twenty, and Qin Yizhou only three to five years older.

"These cherries taste good," Qin Yizhou remarked. "Not too sour."

He had tried them and found them slightly tart, but Song Fenglan had a higher tolerance for sourness. To her, the cherries were quite sweet—a sweet-tart balance with sweetness dominating.

"Let’s send some to Zihang and the others," Song Fenglan suggested.

"No need. They can buy their own," Qin Yizhou said. "They live close by—it’s not for us to keep delivering food to them. As the younger generation, they should be the ones sending things to us."

Just then, Xu Yan arrived with homemade free-range chicken soup she had specially prepared. Xu Yan was always thoughtful about showing respect to Song Fenglan. Whenever she had something good, she would bring it over.

"Mom, I made chicken soup for you and Dad," Xu Yan said, then noticed Qin Yizhou. "Oh, Dad’s home too. Perfect—you can both have some."

The chicken had been gotten from Xu Yan’s mother, who had arranged to buy it. Seeing how good the chicken was, Xu Yan made sure to pay for it herself, though her mother refused. Still, Xu Yan gave her the money.

Xu Yan wasn’t her mother’s only daughter—she had other siblings. By paying, and even a little extra, Xu Yan ensured no one could accuse her of taking advantage, to avoid any talk.

Among the Xu sisters, Xu Yan had made the best marriage. She didn’t spend recklessly—she knew when to splurge and when to save. If her siblings borrowed money, she made them sign promissory notes to keep things clear. Qin Zihang didn’t care much about such formalities, but Xu Yan insisted. Keeping things clear among siblings prevented future conflicts.

The food container held two large chicken drumsticks—Xu Yan had brought both. It was just one chicken, after all. If they wanted drumsticks at home, they could always buy more—simple as that.

Xu Yan ladled out the soup, making sure her parents-in-law each got a drumstick. She glanced at Song Fenglan, most concerned about her mother-in-law’s opinion.

"Try it and see if it’s too salty or too bland. I’ll know for next time," Xu Yan said with a smile.

"Good," Song Fenglan said after a sip.

"My friend suggested using less salt for a more natural taste, but I thought a little salt was necessary—not everyone likes things too light," Xu Yan explained.

"A bit of salt is essential—it can’t be left out," Song Fenglan agreed.

"Right. My friend initially said no salt at all," Xu Yan said. "She doesn’t even salt her boiled cabbage. I suppose tastes differ."

Qin Yizhou felt he was just along for the ride—their daughter-in-law had mainly prepared the meal for Song Fenglan.

"You two should eat too—don’t worry too much about us," Song Fenglan said.

"We have—we’ve already eaten," Xu Yan assured her. "The flavor turned out well, so I brought some over. I’ll head back soon—still have to do lesson prep."

"Alright, that works," Song Fenglan nodded.

"I heard you’re on leave these few days—" "Your mother and I are resting together, so no need to stop by," Qin Yizhou quickly interjected, worried Qin Zihang and his wife might show up. He and his wife wanted some time to themselves without their son and daughter-in-law tagging along.

"Alright." Xu Yan understood that since her parents-in-law had a good relationship, she didn't need to come over and intrude.

After a while, Xu Yan returned with the food container just as Qin Zihang arrived home.

"Been to Mom and Dad's place?" Qin Zihang knew how well his wife could win over his parents. She often prepared food and brought it over, saying it was homemade, which made it special.

"Yes, I’ll get you some chicken soup," Xu Yan said.

Qin Zihang noticed the missing chicken legs. "Did you give Mom and Dad all the drumsticks?"

"Of course, who else should get them?" Xu Yan replied. "If we want any, we can buy another chicken tomorrow and stew it."

Back in her parents' home, her own parents never ate the drumsticks—they always saved them for the children. Xu Yan knew it wasn’t that elders didn’t eat drumsticks; it was just that resources were scarce, so they saved them for the kids.

"No problem," Qin Zihang said. "I’m not competing with Mom and Dad. Honestly, you seem more like their biological daughter than I do as their son."

"You’re busy with research and publishing—how could you compare to me?" Xu Yan said. "The school wanted me to be a class advisor, but I refused. I’d rather take a pay cut. Luckily, they didn’t force me, and my workload isn’t heavy. That gives me more time for other things—my cooking has improved a lot, hasn’t it?"

"It really has," Qin Zihang nodded.

"With just the two of us, we don’t need a live-in maid for now. At most, we’ll hire a cleaning service," Xu Yan said. "I’ve thought about it—we’ll hire a nanny once we have kids."

"You’ll need to go to the hospital for appointments, and having a car would make it easier," Qin Zihang remarked.

"It’s not like I’ll be going every day. Besides, Mom and Dad have a car too," Xu Yan said. "No big deal—we can always buy one if we need to. Later, I’ll learn to drive."

Xu Yan thought these were all minor issues she could handle.

"My sister is so envious of me," Xu Yan said. Her sister’s mother-in-law was controlling, even asking them for money. Meanwhile, her own mother-in-law had given them several property deeds and savings accounts, letting them handle their own money without requiring them to contribute their salaries. "My sister said her sister-in-law could help out, but I wouldn’t allow it. Hiring relatives is tricky—if you’re too strict, it’s bad; if you’re too soft, they don’t work hard."

Xu Yan thought that would be a disaster. It was better not to involve relatives—just hire outsiders, pay them, and keep things simple.

"Up to you," Qin Zihang had no objections. He left all household matters to Xu Yan.

Song Fenglan and Qin Yizhou went shopping and then to the cinema. As they bought tickets and waited to enter, someone called out Song Fenglan’s name.

"Feng Lan, it really is you!" Xing Baozhu was working as a cleaner at the cinema, making some extra money for the family.

Xing Baozhu and her husband were crammed into a one-bedroom apartment with their son. They wanted a bigger place but couldn’t afford it. Unable to bear seeing their son shoulder the financial burden alone, both she and her husband had found side jobs.

"Here to watch a movie?" Xing Baozhu asked.

"Yes, just seeing a film," Song Fenglan noticed the broom in Xing Baozhu’s hand.

"I work here as a cleaner," Xing Baozhu smiled. "I won’t keep you—got to keep cleaning."

With so many people around, Xing Baozhu couldn’t stand there chatting. She had to keep working—more people meant more trash.

Song Fenglan and her husband bought popcorn and drinks before heading into the theater.

Xing Baozhu thought to herself that Song Fenglan was the most successful of their old group. Recently, some classmates had talked about organizing a reunion. Xing Baozhu had overheard and wondered how many of them were still in the capital. Many had gone to the countryside as educated youth, and even after returning, few had come back to the city.

A reunion would barely gather anyone—everyone was spread out in different jobs and locations. At most, it’d just be those still in the capital meeting up.

Xing Baozhu looked down at her calloused hands and wasn’t keen on attending. Those who had stayed or returned to the capital were doing alright—few were worse off than her. She wished she could be like Song Fenglan, who looked so youthful that people might think she’s under thirty. Meanwhile, Xing Baozhu felt like people would assume she was fifty.

"Ma’am, can you clean here?" someone called out.

"Alright, I'm coming," Xing Baozhu said.

Song Fenglan and Xing Baozhu lived in the same city but rarely spoke. Song Fenglan saw Xing Baozhu as a tenacious weed, forever searching for a way to survive. Like many educated youth, Xing Baozhu had fought for a chance to return to the city, only to struggle just to make ends meet. Yet they were likely happier deep down—at least they’d escaped the backwater villages.

Back then, the gap between rural and urban life was vast. The city offered far better prospects, and few educated youth wanted to remain in the countryside indefinitely.

After the movie, Song Fenglan and Qin Yizhou exited the theater but didn’t spot Xing Baozhu. She’d probably moved on to clean another screening room by now, so the couple didn’t stick around and went to find dinner instead.

Song Fenglan thought of Xing Baozhu and their old classmates—she herself had fared relatively well. The memory of Xing Baozhu’s smile surfaced in her mind. She must be content enough these days.

"What about your classmates?" Song Fenglan asked.

"Middle school, high school, or university?" Qin Yizhou countered. "Most from middle and high school were sent to the countryside as educated youth. I enlisted before college—military academy. Everyone got scattered across different units; some may have been discharged by now."

He occasionally met up with old classmates, though rarely—everyone was preoccupied with their own lives.

"Not all the money I lent out has been repaid," Qin Yizhou mused.

"Who’d you lend to?" Song Fenglan knew he wasn’t one to hand out loans lightly—only when someone was truly desperate. She didn’t mind the lending, but couldn’t shake the thought: "It’s just... so many of our peers aren’t even here anymore."

"Nothing to be done about that," Qin Yizhou said. "Some who returned had no home or job—how would they live? The countryside at least offered land to farm. But with a wife, kids, and a full household? City life would bleed them dry."

Not everyone earned decent wages. Some worked as street sweepers, barely earning enough. When younger, they’d had school fees to pay; now older, city jobs were even harder to land. Many chose to stay put.

"The costs crush you," Song Fenglan agreed. Side by side, she and Xing Baozhu looked worlds apart now.

That night, Xing Baozhu returned late and told her husband about encountering Song Fenglan.

"Fenglan looks so youthful—her husband even joined her for the film," Xing Baozhu sighed. Meanwhile, she worked at the cinema, but only after screenings ended, sweeping up. No chance to sit and watch.

Sometimes, if tickets went unsold, she’d snatch a quick breather in an empty seat. But breaks were brief—work always called.

"Fenglan topped our middle school class—always in the top three, usually first," Xing Baozhu said. "I couldn’t compete. If only I’d studied harder, maybe I could’ve passed the Gaokao when it resumed. Life might’ve been different."

Regret gnawed at her. With better grades, she might’ve gotten into college, lifted her family’s prospects. Instead, her poor marks mirrored her son’s, condemning them all to backbreaking jobs that paid pennies.

The educated class had cushier jobs—less strain, better pay.

"Every time I see her, envy eats at me," Xing Baozhu admitted. "Today, I worried she’d pretend not to know me. But she didn’t."

Her janitor’s outfit embarrassed certain relatives, who’d ignore her. Yet she took pride in the work—it put food on the table. With three incomes, they could build savings quicker.

If she and her husband slacked off, their son would bear the burden alone.

"Life’s been hard on you since we married," Xu Feng murmured.

"Marrying out was my only ticket back," Xing Baozhu said. "Otherwise, I’d have been stuck forever."

Without marriage, the farm labor would’ve broken her—days of toil, nights weeping into her blistered hands. Even the men among the educated youth cracked under the strain, scheming for any escape. When return quotas favored singles, some pretended to divorce—often for real—abandoning spouses without a backward glance.

"I was luckier. Some classmates never made it back," Xing Baozhu said. "Their parents’ homes had no space left. The men got preferential treatment, of course."

For women, return was thornier. Many couldn’t abandon husbands and children, while others found their own families unwilling to take them in. Women clung to their kids; their families often didn’t cling back.

"A male classmate married and had kids in the countryside, then remarried in the city," Xing Baozhu said. "His ex-wife kicked up a fuss—useless. She begged to keep their child, but he refused. Later, his city-born son died sickly, and now he came crawling back for his firstborn. His current wife won’t allow it—they’re locked in a nasty feud."

"How’d that mess end up?" Xu Feng asked, startled.

"What can you do? If they can’t make it work, they’ll just divorce," Xing Baozhu said. "Without a son, the marriage is disposable. As long as there’s a son, that’s all that matters, right? He’ll have his son to fall back on later."

The whole thing gave Xing Baozhu chills—it was unfair to both the ex-wife and the current wife.

"What about the ex-wife’s son?" Xu Feng asked.

"He stayed," Xing Baozhu replied. "Staying means he’ll get a cut of his dad’s place. If he leaves, who knows where those assets will end up? Of course he’d rather stay in the city than stick around the countryside."

The son his ex-wife slaved to raise now called his father "Dad" with such warmth, like he’d grown up by his side all along.

"Who knows if he’s just putting on a show of being the dutiful son? I’m afraid he’ll only care about his dad later and ditch his birth mother," Xing Baozhu sighed. "If that’s how it plays out, it’d be downright awful."

"His father did hook him up," Xu Feng said.

"That’s just how you men are," Xing Baozhu retorted. "Throw you men a bone, and suddenly it’s the greatest thing ever, like no one else ever lifted a finger. Never mind how rotten that person was before. ‘A prodigal who returns is more precious than gold,’ huh?"

Xing Baozhu burned with indignation for the ex-wife of that male classmate. After all her sweat and tears, she still got outshined by his empty promises.

"Maybe he’s just securing the bag first and will still take care of his birth mother later," Xu Feng suggested.

"Don’t count on it," Xing Baozhu shook her head. "He’ll probably blame his birth mother for not giving him a better life."

A son like that’s worse than useless.

Xing Baozhu had only heard bits and pieces through the grapevine.

"With his dad setting him up in the city—house, wife, the works—you think he’ll spare a thought for his birth mother?" Xing Baozhu scoffed. "No way his wife’s gonna bother with some country bumpkin mother-in-law."

Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law never get along anyway, and some city girl sure won’t cozy up to a village elder.

In the room, Song Fenglan smoothed on moisturizer and switched off the computer’s music.

"This computer’s handy—packed with stuff," Qin Yizhou remarked.

"Yeah, you can even find love online," Song Fenglan said.

"You mean like, dating through the computer?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"Why not? People fell for pen pals through letters back in the day. The internet’s even easier," Song Fenglan said. "With chat apps, you can shoot the breeze in real time—no waiting around. Send a message, get an instant reply."

Qin Yizhou stared at Song Fenglan for a solid beat. She turned to him. "What?"

"You’re a real whiz with this thing," Qin Yizhou said. He couldn’t navigate it half as well.

"Eh, just the basics," Song Fenglan replied.

"You been chatting people up online?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"Some, but not much. You think I go around adding randos to chat with? I’m not out here chasing thrills on the internet."

"Same. I’m good with just watching TV. That online stuff’s not all that."

Song Fenglan got it. You’re stuck in one spot with a computer, but a smartphone? That’d be different—videos, news, shows, all in your pocket.

Computers were everywhere now, but the real game-changer would come when everyone’s got laptops and smartphones. They’d be ancient by then—better hope they live long enough to see it.

"These days, it’s all sappy dramas," Song Fenglan said. Every channel was wall-to-wall misery—heroines getting put through the wringer, couples with perfectly good mouths refusing to talk things out.

Just seeing those soap operas made Song Fenglan feel miserable. She would immediately change the channel whenever one came on—she couldn’t stand watching them. Others in this era might love those tearjerkers because they’d endured plenty of hardship themselves. Though Song Fenglan had suffered too, she had no desire to relive that pain through TV or put herself in the heroine’s shoes.

"Watch a martial arts series instead," Qin Yizhou suggested.

"Martial arts dramas usually have several women chasing one guy," Song Fenglan said. "Not much better either."

She still preferred reading novels—single-volume books with straightforward romances that moved quickly. As long as she avoided tragic love stories, everything was fine.

Gao Xiuxiu’s daughter, Second Girl, moved out on her own, with Fang Xudong covering part of the rent. When Gao Xiuxiu found out, she blew up.

"Is this all you earn? Why give money to Second Girl?" Gao Xiuxiu snapped. "She’s working now—she can support herself. Why even give her anything?"