WBSGVS Chapter 103

In this era of poverty and scarcity, selling or transferring children was a common occurrence in rural areas.

Especially for girls. In the eyes of Tang’s grandparents, the family didn’t lack daughters. The fact that she wasn’t killed at birth was already a blessing. Raising her for so many years and then using her to bring some benefits to the family seemed only natural to them.

Their daughter, of course, was different. She deserved all their love and care, unlike these “money-losing goods.”

The original host was the only child of her parents. Both of her parents were in poor health. While it was commonly said that boys fared slightly better, Tang’s grandparents had several sons. Her father, being the second son, wasn’t the eldest or the youngest and thus wasn’t particularly cherished.

He had worked hard since childhood but was often underfed. Having the original host as his only child was already a small miracle. However, after many years, they hadn’t been able to have a second child. In a place like the countryside, they were ridiculed for being “doomed to die childless” and for having no one to care for them in their old age.

When the original host’s grandmother tearfully declared that the family was too poor to afford medical treatment for her youngest daughter and that they had to sell a child, no one spoke up.

Although Tang’s father’s brothers had multiple children, none of them were willing to sell their daughters. After all, a daughter could one day bring in a dowry.

Only the original host, with no brothers to advocate for her, was chosen to be sold.

At first, Tang’s father was reluctant, but his thinking was shaped by the values of the time. His parents persuaded him, saying that if he followed their wishes and sold his daughter, they would ensure he could adopt a nephew to carry on the family name and care for him in his old age.

Tang’s father, a dutiful and simple man, was eager to gain his parents’ favor. Despite his reluctance, he eventually agreed, convincing himself that it was for the best. The only thing he could do for his daughter was to fight for her to have a boiled egg on the day she left. He told her, “San Ya, it’s my fault for being useless. If you marry, you’ll have a better life.”

The original host was sold. Aside from her mother, who was heartbroken and fought bitterly against it—only to be beaten so badly she fractured her bones—no one else in the family seemed to care. At most, they sighed briefly before moving on.

She watched as she was sold for ten yuan—a high price at the time.

Afterward, she became a child bride for a mentally challenged man in another village.

In her new home, she still worked tirelessly, but it was slightly better than her old one. At least with the communal meals provided by the brigade, she could eat her full share.

After communal meals were abolished, she could still manage to eat just enough to survive, though far from well.

Her in-laws weren’t being kind by keeping her alive; they were waiting for her to grow up and bear children for their mentally challenged son.

At the age of thirteen, they eagerly arranged for her to consummate the marriage. She became pregnant soon after but tragically died in childbirth, taking the child with her.

Even in death, her soul lingered, unwilling to move on. At first, she was trapped in confusion and despair, her thoughts murky, her presence tethered to the place where she had died.

Over the years, she witnessed the world around her slowly change. The darkness gave way to light, and the times became more open, progressive, and beautiful.

One day, she suddenly gained clarity. She realized how wonderful, free, and vibrant the world had become—a world she had never had the chance to experience.

That realization brought an overwhelming desire: she wanted to live again, to truly experience the beauty of this new era.

Qing Li blinked her eyes, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. She wiped them away, her hands soaked with moisture.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to sit up, instinctively wanting to test the limits of her new body.

But as soon as she propped herself up, her arms gave out.

Though the original host had survived on communal meals for the past two years, the little aunt always took the lion’s share of the food. The original host and her two younger sisters had to divide what was left, often giving a portion to the aunt as well. As a result, her body was severely malnourished and weak.

Qing Li frowned, a wave of frustration washing over her. Her fists itched with the urge to punch something.

The Tang family was truly outrageous!

Even in difficult times, with collective effort, it was possible to scrape by.

But the original host’s grandparents, as the heads of the household, controlled all the resources and hoarded them for their youngest daughter.

It wasn’t just favoritism—it was extreme and disgusting.

They treated their youngest daughter like a treasure while viewing the rest of the family as disposable.

Heavy favoritism toward daughters was just as revolting as the patriarchal bias it mirrored. In this case, their “favoritism” extended only to their child, not to their granddaughters, who were treated worse than the family’s boys.

Grinding her teeth, Qing Li pushed herself to sit up despite her weakness, breaking into a cold sweat in the process.

The original host had been beaten at noon, causing her to miss the communal lunch. Her mother had brought home two cornbread buns but was forced to give one to the grandmother, leaving the original host with too little food to stave off hunger, which led to her debilitating stomach pain.

The Tang family hadn’t yet split up, so everyone lived together in a simple farmhouse. In the courtyard were two chickens, though Qing Li knew there were secretly two more hidden in the grandparents’ room so they could sell the extra eggs for money.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, Qing Li headed for the chicken coop. The chickens were well-fed, thanks to the children who scavenged insects from the nearby hills. They laid eggs almost daily.

Luckily, today’s egg was still there!

Delighted, Qing Li quickly grabbed the egg and ate it raw. Her aching stomach finally had something to work with and began to settle.

She crushed the eggshell, hid the pieces, and restored everything to its original state before returning to her bed to conserve energy.

Before long, she dozed off.

When she woke again, her body was still weak but no longer as feeble as before. Glancing outside, she saw the sun setting—it was time for the communal dinner.

Finally, there would be food to eat!

Qingli finally felt a bit excited. While no one had returned yet, she quickly ran out to grab some food.

In the village, meals were prepared collectively. Each household would send bowls to the cooking area based on their family size. When it was time to eat, people would simply fetch their bowl and get their share. Meals were prepared exactly according to the headcount. Since no one had finished work yet, Qingli was the first to arrive.

The woman in charge of serving food noticed Qingli and smiled. “You’re here pretty early.”

Qingli gave a shy smile. “I didn’t eat lunch, so I came early.”

“Alright, since you’re here early, I’ll give you a bit more,” the woman said sympathetically, noticing how frail Qingli looked. She added two extra spoonfuls of food to her portion.

Children were usually given only half a bowl, but Qingli’s serving was almost three-quarters of a bowl this time.

Qingli took her food and squatted nearby, eating quickly in big bites. Though the portion was small, it filled her up, leaving her with a sense of satisfaction. This body had been starved for far too long.

Just as Qingli finished her meal and returned home, the Tang family finally arrived, fashionably late.

A full stomach made Qingli drowsy. She had only been asleep for a short while when she heard a noise outside—the Tang family had finished eating and returned home.

Lying there with her eyes half-closed, Qingli overheard her grandmother’s sharp voice shouting outside. “Damn it, where’s the egg?”

“Did one of you sneak off and eat it?” she demanded.

Her fierce tone terrified the children, especially the girls, who shrank like quails and shook their heads timidly.

Seeing their frightened expressions, Tang Grandmother’s sharp eyes scanned each of them closely, as if searching for a lie. Convinced they were telling the truth, she let out a cold snort and turned her attention to the room where Qingli’s family lived. “Where’s San Ya? Was it her?”

Qingli opened her eyes just as her father, Tang Ersong, responded hastily. “Mom, it couldn’t have been San Ya. She wouldn’t dare.”

Grandmother Tang snorted. “What wouldn’t she dare? She even snatched her auntie’s soda!”

Deep down, she knew San Ya had cried and explained at noon that it wasn’t her who took the soda. But as an adult, she couldn’t possibly be wrong—it had to be San Ya’s fault for not clarifying earlier. Although she felt a little guilty now, she wasn’t about to admit it. San Ya was timid by nature and, indeed, unlikely to steal an egg.

At this time, everyone could only eat half a meal. The chickens and ducks were underfed, so it wasn’t unusual for them to skip laying eggs for a day or two.

Still, Tang Grandmother continued to complain, but she let the matter drop when Tang Ersong offered, “I’ll fetch water, Mom. The water tank’s empty.”

“Good,” Tang Grandmother said, satisfied. “Boil another pot, too. Your sister worked hard today, sweating while helping us. She needs a hot bath.”

“Got it,” Tang Ersong agreed readily, energized by the meal he’d just eaten.

Meanwhile, Qingli’s mother, Li Lanhua, returned to their room after cleaning the courtyard. The first thing she did was check on her daughter. Seeing she was okay, Li Lanhua pulled a small steamed bun from her pocket and whispered, “Mom saved this for you. Want to eat it?”

Qingli shook her head. “Mom, you eat it. I had something to eat this afternoon.”

Hearing this, Li Lanhua set the bun down. “Then I’ll give it to your dad.”

But Qingli quickly grabbed the bun and pushed it toward her mother’s mouth. “Mom, you eat it!”

Women of this time had an alarming tendency for self-sacrifice. Despite doing grueling labor, they often gave all the good food to the men and deprived themselves.

With the bun right in front of her mouth, Li Lanhua tried to refuse, but Qingli didn’t give her a chance. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the bun was shoved in. She had no choice but to take a bite. “You’re such a stubborn kid,” she scolded gently.

She planned to eat only a couple of bites and save the rest, but Qingli insisted she finish it. Left with no other choice, Li Lanhua ate the whole bun.

Afterward, the two of them lay down to rest. They had been transplanting rice seedlings in the fields recently, which was backbreaking work, and Li Lanhua soon fell asleep.

About an hour later, Tang Ersong entered the room. Thin and plain-looking, he wore a simple, honest smile. Qingli, still awake, opened her eyes as soon as he walked in. He gestured for her to come over. “I boiled some water for you. Go take a bath.”

Qingli gazed at him with a complicated expression.

It wasn’t that this father didn’t love the original Qingli. He did, but his blind devotion to his parents often made him prioritize their wishes over his daughter’s well-being. In his heart, Qingli ranked lower than even a nephew.

“What’s wrong? Did you just wake up all groggy?” Tang Ersong joked, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Qingli shook her head and accepted his offer. She needed the bath after sweating earlier. The warm water felt soothing and left her feeling refreshed.

After pouring out the used water, she returned to find her younger aunt, Tang Tiantian, standing in the main room. Freshly bathed, the girl was dressed neatly and looked at Qingli with an air of entitlement. “San Ya, come here and pour out my bathwater!”

Qingli gritted her teeth. Her fists clenched tightly. This brat knew how to push her buttons!