That latrine, just two planks braced over a cesspit—the sheer difficulty of even daring to use it, the consequence of falling in—Cheng Ying couldn't even bear to think about it.

She feared slamming into the wall and losing this newly acquired body.

With a grim look, she surveyed the space, casually scooping up a handful of earth. What terrible soil.

Cheng Ying strained her ears, listening for movement outside, guessing that Chi Wu had been caught by his stepfather and wouldn't be back anytime soon.

It was the perfect chance to sneak two buckets of water in while the house was empty.

Speaking of which, getting water here was an even greater hardship.

The entire production team had only two deep wells, and neither was particularly close to their house.

The water jars at home were always filled by her stepfather first thing in the morning.

Never mind that Cheng Ying didn't know how to use the winch to draw water; even if she did, she lacked the strength to pull a single bucket out of the well. Cheng Ying often suspected the only reason her biological mother remarried was because the household lacked a water-carrier.

So, apologies, but she’d have to steal water from their own jars.

Cheng Ying used a half-cracked ladle to fill the small pit she had just dug.

Moving in and out like this was not easy at all.

At Cheng Ying’s current size, scooping water from the jar meant half her body had to be practically inside it.

No wonder her cheap grandmother warned her to stay away from the water jars, telling tales of children falling in and drowning.

She managed to get half a jar of water collected.

If she stole any more, her stepfather would surely be cursed by his own mother again—accused of being lazy because he hadn't kept the water jars full.

Cheng Ying set down the ladle and turned, slipping back into the inner room, vanishing instantly into the space.

She meticulously examined the small pit she’d dug and the water within it. Surprisingly, very little seemed to have seeped away.

Cheng Ying stared closely at the water, clear and bright, definitely not muddy—that was completely unscientific. This was just an earthen pit!

Never mind. Science? Could science allow her to possess another person's body? Could science explain this 'space' she possessed?

Cheng Ying grabbed the cloth sack nearby and dumped the stolen wool, lock, stock, and barrel, into the water pit.

The smell was foul, purely the rank odor of sheep.

It needed soaking first. Too bad she didn't have any deodorizing detergent.

Just as Cheng Ying managed to dampen the wool, she heard the sharp, clear chime of the bell outside.

In a flash, she was out. That bell meant the adults were done with work for the day.

The only thing Cheng Ying could manage was to light the big cooking pot to heat some water.

As for cooking, Cheng Ying couldn't do it—it was a case of a clever housewife unable to cook without rice; all their grain was locked away in the cabinet by their grandmother. Cheng Ying couldn't access it.

She’d never seen such stinginess over a bit of coarse cornmeal.

The moment Cheng Ying opened the door, Chi Wu entered, carrying an armload of straw, his expression distinctly unhappy. He didn't spare Cheng Ying a single glance.

There was no helping it; who would enjoy being forced by a girl to steal state-owned wool? Moreover, this was property of the nation; people of this era held such fervent patriotism for the state.

Cheng Ying simply couldn't comprehend their burning zeal.

From the elders to the children, their thoughts and spirit belonged entirely to the state, to the production team.

Cheng Ying looked at Chi Wu, deciding not to force him to agree with her—they simply had different philosophies. As long as he complied with her threats, that was enough.

Cheng Ying picked up a matchbox and squatted by the stove. She did know how to use these; after all, she came from a rural background in her past life, having lived through hard times too.

Chi Wu, face dark, snapped, "Move aside. I don't need your help. That old woman will scold me again."

Cheng Ying conceded the point; this was about putting the child on the defensive. "Then let me help you light it. I owe you a lot for today's trouble."

Chi Wu's eyes reddened. "You still say that! Your thinking is flawed. You are undermining socialism; you are reactionary! And they blame my class background! Even those with good backgrounds have people like you!"

Cheng Ying closed her eyes. This child was backed into a corner. "Alright, alright, shut up! Do you want everyone to know? Do you want your dad paraded around with a newspaper hat? If this gets out, no one will blame me; I’ll just be an accomplice at worst. The people in the team will certainly say it was your father and you, two middle peasants, who instigated and guided this."

Chi Wu’s face was a picture of suppressed grievance and distress, so painfully conflicted to watch. The way the child held back his tears was unbearable. Chi Wu clenched his fists, crouched down sullenly, and refused to look at Cheng Ying again.

Cheng Ying felt a twinge of deep guilt; she was bullying a child. She watched Chi Wu, who, while feeding the fire, was silently weeping.

In fact, this boy wasn't half bad; look at his ideological level—it was unusually high. He just had terrible luck.

Forget it. When life gets better later, she would compensate this child properly.

The relationship between Chi Wu and Cheng Ying was rather complicated in this remote village setting.

Cheng Ying's mother had formed a new family with Chi Wu's father.

And it was Chi Wu’s father who had married into Cheng Ying’s family—a form of in-marriage that was rarely considered honorable in rural areas, especially since Chi Wu’s father had a poor political background.

In Cheng Ying’s estimation, Chi Wu’s father was one of those who hadn't been rehabilitated in time after the smashing of the Gang of Four.

So, the two of them had poor fates. If they had just held on a little longer, perhaps he wouldn't have had to marry a rural widow, enduring humiliation by marrying in and being looked down upon.

A gust of cold wind snaked up under her trouser legs, making Cheng Ying shiver. Why worry about others? She had her own path to walk, and right now, she was still struggling to find enough to eat or wear. Huddling on the threshold, she watched the outside, her mind constantly churning over her current life.

In the distance, Cheng Ying spotted an old woman approaching the yard, dressed entirely in dark clothing with her hair pulled up into a tight bun.

The old woman had distinctive features: triangular eyes, thin lips, and high cheekbones—it was her own paternal grandmother. Though her face didn't look particularly benevolent, she treated Cheng Ying very well.

After getting to know this old woman, Cheng Ying decided she would never judge people by their appearance again.

Cheng Ying brought out a large, bright red enamel basin from the house, scooping hot water from the pot.

Carrying it outside, she said, "Grandma, you’re back. Wash your hands."

The timing was perfect. The old woman pushed open the picket gate just as Cheng Ying called out her greeting.

Chi Wu stirred the fire in the stove with his poking stick, making little scraping sounds. He was trying too hard to curry favor.

The old woman narrowed her triangular eyes to slits. "Only my Yingzi is sensible. Hurry inside, it’s cold out here."

Cheng Ying asked, "Grandma, can the eggs be exchanged for common work points?"

The old woman’s expression brightened further. "Of course. The chickens I raised—I won't brag, but no one else's compare. Look which other hen is laying eggs at this time of year? Seven points! That’s not less than what your sickly old man gets!"

As the old woman elevated herself, she made sure to disparage Cheng Ying’s stepfather.

Chi Wu stood by with his head down, not uttering a word.

Cheng Ying quickly calculated: ten chickens raised, seven eggs laid, exchanged for seven common work points.

Seven points couldn't buy seven eggs. A loss, a huge loss.

For more novels, visit storyread.net.