RBI1960 Chapter 22 V1

The person who had just entered was none other than Jiang Dazhen’s stepdaughter, the youngest granddaughter of the Meng family—Meng Xiangwen.

She was dressed in the latest fashion. In the county town, families with even a bit of means would have at least one set of these clothes. It was the equivalent of chasing name brands in the modern day. For this era, men wore Zhongshan suits and women wore Lenin jackets—outfits that gave one a great deal of face when worn outside.

Meng Xiangwen was sporting the current trend: a faux military-style green uniform. Green fabric was in high demand at the county supply and marketing cooperative, so scarce that even with ration coupons, you might not be able to buy any.

Jiang Dahai glanced at her with a hint of envy, then turned to look at his precious son. He thought to himself that their family had managed to save up quite a bit of fabric this year. Maybe he could make a trip to the county and get enough for his son to have a set just like that—how dashing he would look.

“Hillbillies,” Meng Xiangwen muttered under her breath. Though it wasn’t exactly a whisper, everyone in the living room heard her.

Jiang Dazhen’s face immediately darkened. She could tolerate this stepdaughter’s petty antics on most days, but now, to insult her family right in front of her? If it were just her, she might have swallowed it, but what had her older brother or her little nephew done to deserve such scorn? The Meng family claimed they would take good care of Wenqin’s daughter, but this was what they raised? Someone so rude and ungracious?

Jiang Dahai reached out to press his sister back into her seat. Though he wasn’t pleased with the attitude of this young girl, he was aware of her status. Jiang Dazhen may be her mother, but she was still a stepmother—it was already a difficult position. If he and his son made a scene over this, it would only create more trouble.

Jiang Dahai figured it wasn’t often he came into town—better not to cause more issues for his sister.

Jiang Yiliu, on the other hand, gave that spoiled little girl across from him a long, deep look. To him, she was just an ignorant child being used by others. He was in his forties—he wasn’t about to argue with a girl like that.

He lowered his gaze, thinking of Meng Xiangwen’s fate in his past life. She was, after all, a pitiful soul. But his heart belonged to his aunt, and he had no sympathy for this girl who delighted in stirring up trouble and driving a wedge between his aunt and her husband and son.

Seeing the three of them holding back their anger and saying nothing, Meng Xiangwen snorted smugly. She tugged at her brand-new clothes, swaggered into the living room, and plopped herself down on the sofa without even a greeting.

The tension in the air was finally broken when Old Lady Qu brought out a tray of drinks.

She had gone into the kitchen earlier and taken a careful look at what the Jiang family had brought with them. To her surprise, they had been extremely generous—the wild goods were of high quality. The dried mushrooms gave off a rich aroma, and the black fungus was large and perfectly intact. You wouldn’t find products this good at the county’s supply store. And the quantity? More than enough to last them a good while.

Old Lady Qu hid the goods away carefully, then took out a tin of malted milk powder from the cupboard. She made a cup for Jiang Yiliu, generously adding two heaping spoonfuls. She brewed a cup of green tea for Jiang Dahai and piled a plate high with sesame biscuits and peach crisps before walking out with a satisfied smile.

“Wenwen’s home!” Old Lady Qu exclaimed happily. Though she resented how her granddaughter always seemed to side with her maternal family, she had still missed the girl dearly.

Meng Xiangwen lay sprawled across the sofa and lazily greeted her grandmother with a weak “Hi.” But her eyes lit up when she saw the malted milk powder in Qu Ying’s hands. She immediately reached out, took the cup, and drained it in one gulp.

After finishing, she placed the cup on the coffee table and stared at the pile of pastries with dissatisfaction. She shot a dark look at Jiang Dahai and Jiang Yiliu and began muttering again. But with Qu Ying present, she held herself back and didn’t say anything too harsh, at least not out loud.

Still, even without her saying it, Jiang Yiliu could guess what she was thinking: to her, they were nothing more than poor relatives come to mooch. Maybe she even thought they were here to help her stepmother steal from the Meng family.

Qu Ying noticed that her granddaughter had gulped down the cup meant for her daughter-in-law and little grandson. She glared at her and turned back to the kitchen to prepare another.

“Big Brother, Xiaobao, have some pastries,” Jiang Dazhen offered with a smile. “These peach crisps may be pricey, but they’re really tasty. You came a long way to pick us up, and it’s already getting late—eat something to fill your stomachs. I’ll pack some for you to take on the road.”

Jiang Dahai had already said they couldn’t stay for dinner, fearing they’d upset the Revolutionary Committee if they returned too late. So all she could do was get them to eat more now.

At the time, peach crisps were considered luxury items—ideal gifts for holidays or family visits.

The supply store sold boxed sets, though “boxed” really meant carefully wrapped in layers of paper. The innermost layer was dried lotus leaf, followed by thick craft paper, and finally wrapped in either yellow or white paper, tied with twine. A red label on the outside bore the name of the food factory—essentially, the brand.

One box weighed about a jin (500g). Buying one required not only cash but also ration coupons. Though the Jiang family was doing better financially in recent years, they still only bought peach crisps during the holidays.

Typically, the whole box would be reserved for Jiang Yiliu, who then gave most of it to his four older sisters. He barely got any himself.

The main ingredients in peach crisps were eggs and flour, but flour was precious then. Often, coarse grains were mixed in. Unlike the creamy, buttery versions of later years, Jiang Yiliu preferred these simpler, more traditional treats.

Crispy, fragrant, and topped with a layer of toasted sesame seeds—they were delicious.

Jiang Dahai opted for the sesame biscuits instead, which were much cheaper. He didn’t hold back either—better to eat now than go hungry on the road.

Jiang Yiliu happily picked up a peach crisp and began munching away.

“Hmph, like starving ghosts reborn,” Meng Xiangwen muttered again. Now that Qu Ying was gone, she no longer held back. Watching the two eat “her” family’s food, her face twisted with contempt.

Jiang Yiliu, having suffered far worse in his past life, had heard every insult imaginable. Compared to those, Meng Xiangwen’s remarks barely registered. He focused on enjoying his peach crisp, letting her words drift past like wind.

Jiang Dahai, however, couldn’t pretend so easily. He didn’t even know whether to keep eating or put the pastry down. His expression soured, and whatever goodwill he had for the girl vanished.

They hadn’t provoked her, so why was this little girl so nasty? He couldn’t imagine how much grief Dazhen must have suffered from her daily.

Thinking of his sister again, the anger that had flared up earlier dimmed. So what if a kid said a few mean things? His sister still had to live with the Meng family. No daughter-in-law could compete with a biological granddaughter. If Old Lady Qu ended up resenting Dazhen, that would be far worse. So he forced himself to keep eating, pretending he hadn’t heard anything.

Seeing them silently stuffing their faces, Meng Xiangwen looked down on them even more. Just as her aunt had said, Jiang Dazhen pretended to be kind, but she only cared about her poor relatives. Now that the accountant job had fallen into her hands, it might never come back.