What’s the point of exchanging eggs for work points? It’s much better to just satisfy one’s cravings. To Cheng Ying, the act of trading eggs for work points was utterly idiotic.

Cheng Ying smiled like a flower blossoming. “Grandma is truly the best. Grandma, teach me later, I’ll help you collect the eggs.”

It would be even better if she could sneak two out in the process.

The old woman washed her hands and hurried into the house; she had to get the rice cooking before the laborers returned from the fields.

She casually patted Yingzi’s head. “Does your head still hurt, my dear? Grandma wouldn't bear to let our Yingzi do this kind of work.”

She then turned toward Chi Wu, who was tending the fire inside, and her expression instantly hardened. “You little rascal destined to die, didn’t you gather the firewood? Can’t you be more frugal? You useless brat who doesn’t know how to run a household!”

Although the scolding wasn't directed at Cheng Ying, her heart still trembled along with it.

The old woman’s skill with curses was truly fearsome. Cheng Ying was terrified that one day the old woman would turn that same intensity upon her. After all, she had a guilty conscience.

It was rumored that no one in the village could rival the old woman’s mastery of those foul curses.

Chi Wu remained silent, continuing to stoke the fire with the stick—he was long accustomed to his grandmother’s tirades.

Cheng Ying continued to play the endearing role from behind. “Grandma, are we having congee?”

In her mind, she hoped the old woman would manage to change the menu today. Three meals of plain congee every day had left Cheng Ying’s insides feeling utterly bland.

Of course, those words also served as a way to bail Chi Wu out of the immediate crosshairs. Still, she was sure the boy wouldn't appreciate it.

The old woman declared, “There are still a few big gourds in the cellar. Grandma will dig out two sweet potatoes too. Today, we’ll have sweet potato congee!”

Cheng Ying was delighted. Finally, a change of flavor! After three days of pure white congee, morning till night, this was a welcome shift. “Grandma, I’ll go down to the cellar and get the sweet potatoes!” Though it was still congee, at least there was some variation.

Chi Wu’s expression also brightened considerably as he stood nearby. In those times, being able to eat something different was something everyone, young and old, cared deeply about; it felt like any hardship could be endured.

The old woman carefully unfolded the layers of her clothing front, pulled out a ring of keys from her waistband, and handed them to Cheng Ying.

A look of genuine conflict crossed Cheng Ying’s face. Didn't the old woman worry about them digging into her? Such a large cluster of keys, hanging from her waist day and night—it must be so uncomfortable for her.

Cheng Ying took the keys and immediately turned toward their own cellar, feeling rather excited.

The old woman called after her, “Pick the ones with nicks and bruises; save the good ones.”

Cheng Ying’s face darkened. That was just how the old woman was—hoarding the good things until they spoiled before eating them. Cheng Ying couldn't fathom the reasoning behind it. She called back clearly to the old woman, “I know!”

Then she heard the old woman unleash a tirade of curses at Chi Wu, pointing and sniping at him.

Why was this unlucky child like a little bok choy? It was fate.

Cheng Ying felt immensely comforted, comparing her lot to Chi Wu’s; her life was far better.

Cheng Ying opened their family’s cellar; it was pitch black inside. She carefully descended the wooden ladder.

Fortunately, after a moment for her eyes to adjust, she could make out the contents by the light filtering through the ventilation holes.

Cheng Ying selected a gourd that was neither too large nor too small and carried it up first.

Then she went back down to pick out the sweet potatoes. As she placed the sweet potatoes into her basket, Cheng Ying secretly slipped two into her spatial storage.

She really needed to test what the things grown inside the space looked like. This was the perfect opportunity.

Despite being in the countryside, Cheng Ying couldn't find anything edible, or even viable as seeds, for them to eat.

In this era, people hoarded even a single grain of rice or a seed; the phrase "every grain returned to the silo" wasn't just an empty boast.

It was truly not something a child like Cheng Ying would have access to.

Cheng Ying carried the basket of sweet potatoes and glanced around their cellar. It was truly poor—besides a few gourds, there was only this pile of sweet potatoes.

Nearby, there was a small stack of cabbages. Cheng Ying pulled out a small one and quietly tossed it into her space.

She suspected everything in the old woman’s cellar was carefully counted; Cheng Ying dared not make too many moves.

Next to the cabbages was a small pile of sand. Cheng Ying reached her hand into it.

Luckily, she managed to pull out a large radish. It seemed there weren't many radishes.

Cheng Ying covered the sand back up neatly, then slipped the radish into her space as well. Afterward, their cellar held nothing else of note.

So poor. So very poor. On second thought, even though there were vegetables in the cellar, why had she never seen any vegetables on the dining table? For three days, Cheng Ying had eaten only congee, pickles, and one bowl of soybean paste.

The old woman managed their household with meticulous care.

Cheng Ying climbed the ladder with the basket. Outside, Chi Wu was waiting to take it from her.

Without needing to be told, Cheng Ying knew Chi Wu must have been scolded out of the house by the old woman.

She probably wanted to retrieve grain from the cupboard and sent Chi Wu out to prevent him from peeking.

Cheng Ying thought the old woman was small-minded; it was such a small space, everyone knew where she kept the grain. What was the point of locking it up like that?

Chi Wu silently began washing the sweet potatoes in the basin—it was all cold water.

Even though the hands submerged in the basin weren't hers, Cheng Ying felt a shiver run through her.

She quickly fetched a ladle of hot water from the large tub nearby to mix in.

The old woman, carrying a ladle of coarse grain (bangzha zi), emerged and stared at Chi Wu with a stern face, then turned to Cheng Ying. “Our Yingzi is truly kind-hearted.”

Cheng Ying smiled rather awkwardly. She really didn’t deserve that compliment.

Her heart felt heavy with guilt; she had never considered herself a good person.

In her own grandmother’s view, Chi Wu and his father were delicate, ungrateful dependents.

Cheng Ying largely agreed with her grandmother’s assessment, believing the old woman had sharp judgment.

If nothing else, Cheng Ying knew that the most famous group of people in that era were the educated youth sent down to the countryside; the 1980s saw the mass return of these youths. And Cheng Ying had been reborn right in the middle of that transitional period—1978.

To return to the city, few of those educated youths possessed any real conscience. Eighty percent of those who formed families in the villages ended up separating, regardless of gender. These were a group of heartless wretches.

Of these youths, who considered themselves intellectuals, few remained with any shred of decency.

In Cheng Ying’s heart, she knew her stepfather and Chi Wu would eventually leave.

It was only her own mother she pitied—a widow in her first life, an abandoned woman in her second.

And Cheng Ying herself—the family upheaval had profoundly impacted her future.

For someone possessing a mature soul, even understanding the situation didn't alleviate the pain. Her prejudice against her stepfather had existed since the moment she learned of his true identity and had never faded.

Cheng Ying understood her stepfather’s desire to return to the city; given the chance, she too would want to go to the capital, as the material conditions in this small mountain village were severely lacking.

But she couldn't understand why, having decided to return to the city, he had to ruin her mother first before leaving. Did two years of restraint feel like it would kill him?

Therefore, just like her grandmother, Cheng Ying harbored immense hostility toward her stepfather.

It would be best if he left right now; the longer the association, the deeper the emotional investment. This way, when her mother faced the inevitable emotional fallout later, she wouldn't have to readapt to a new life from scratch.

As the saying went, a quick, sharp pain is better than a long, drawn-out one.

This was Cheng Ying’s private thought. Unfortunately, matters of the heart were for her own mother to decide; no one else could interfere.