The Zhou family’s faces twisted in awkwardness, a trace of guilt flickering in their eyes as they stood facing the Zhangs. Truth be told, the bride price they’d demanded was outrageous—enough to buy not one, but two wives.
“Stop talking nonsense!” Mother Zhou snapped, her eyes sharp as she raised her chin defiantly. Her gaze swept over her plain, simple daughter, and her lips tightened. “Listen here—if you really want to marry my daughter, then bring me two hundred yuan. That’s the bride price.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, like a stone thrown into still water.
Zhang Guoguo didn’t even hesitate. His lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes suddenly clear as day. “Two hundred yuan?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Forget it.”
At that moment, he saw the Zhou family’s greed for what it truly was—naked, shameless, and bottomless.
They’d never be satisfied, he realized.
Two hundred? Soon they’d want three. Then five. And even if he agreed, they’d find ways to bleed him dry after the wedding.
He didn’t want to give them even fifty.
Without another word, Zhang Guoguo turned on his heel and strode into the courtyard, leaving the Zhou family sputtering behind him.
Inside, Grandma Zhang had woken up from her nap. Hearing her son’s refusal to marry, her heart twisted in panic. “Oh, my precious boy,” she sighed, worry creasing her wrinkled face. “If you won’t marry a girl from the Zhou family… then who will you marry? How long must we wait?”
Zhang Guoguo lowered his head solemnly. “Ma, the Zhou family is a bottomless pit. Today they ask for five hundred yuan. If I give it, tomorrow they’ll want a thousand. How are we supposed to live like that?” His voice hardened. “With that kind of money, I could find someone a hundred times better. Don’t worry about me, Ma. I’ll figure it out.”
Mother Zhou hadn’t expected him to give up so easily. She’d thought she could string him along, squeeze more out of him. Now, watching her plan collapse before her eyes, regret clawed at her chest.
If I’d known they’d back out so quickly, I wouldn’t have pushed so far… But it was too late.
On the other side, Xu Ying couldn’t help but smile when she heard the news—the marriage had fallen through. A quiet relief bloomed in her chest.
Strangely enough, her parents, Xu Jiangmin and his wife, also seemed secretly pleased. There was a glimmer of satisfaction in their eyes.
Xu Ying stared at them, a little speechless. You’re… happy about this?
The next morning dawned bright and early. It was Xu Sheng’s first day of work. He’d risen before the sun, dressed in the freshly tailored clothes his mother had made him, and stood tall in front of the mirror. His eyes shone with excitement and determination.
At breakfast, he barely touched his food before hurrying off.
“I’m setting a goal,” he’d announced proudly. “I’ll save up for a bicycle. Then I won’t have to walk everywhere anymore.”
Meanwhile, the Lu family was equally abuzz with excitement. Lu Daya had officially become a teacher. Mother Lu’s gaze toward her daughter had changed overnight—softened, glowing with pride. Without hesitation, she’d splurged on two brand-new outfits for her daughter, so she could alternate between them for work.
The Lu family basked in their joy. In their eyes, having a teacher in the family was like having a scholar in ancient times—a mark of prestige.
Mother Lu’s grin nearly split her face as she thought smugly: Look at us! We’re something now. My daughter’s practically the wife of an academic official!
She was so delighted that she personally escorted Lu Daya to school on her first day.
“Morning, sister!” she chirped brightly to a passing neighbor.
“Where are you off to?” the neighbor asked curiously.
“My daughter’s a teacher now! I’m sending her to work!” Mother Lu declared, her voice loud and proud, making sure everyone within earshot heard.
Xu’s mother, overhearing this, felt a flicker of disdain. Hmph. My son’s a teacher too, and I’m not out here flaunting it like a rooster crowing at dawn.
That evening, Xu Sheng returned home, his steps light, his smile gentle. Xu’s mother was already waiting by the village entrance, craning her neck eagerly.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, rushing to greet him. “How was it, son? Your first day?”
Xu Sheng nodded. “It went really well.”
“Sister-in-law! Dinner’s ready!” someone called from the courtyard.
“Coming!” Xu’s mother replied, then turned back to her son, eyes sparkling. “I just had to walk out and meet you. I couldn’t sit still, thinking about your first day.”
As they walked back, whispers spread among the villagers: Xu Sheng, the second son of the Xu family, had become a teacher, just like Lu Daya.
Farther down the road, Chen Yanran trudged home, her body aching with exhaustion. When she caught sight of Xu’s mother’s beaming smile, bitterness surged inside her like bile.
That should’ve been me, she thought darkly. That position—
Her gaze sharpened, cold as a knife. I won’t let Xu Ying live an easy life either.
Inside the Xu house, Xu Ying poured a glass of water and handed it to her brother. “Second brother, how was it? Tired?”
“No. It went pretty well,” Xu Sheng said, his lips curving into a tired but content smile.
Xu Ying breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She hadn’t told her brother everything Accountant Xu had warned her about. No—she hadn’t wanted to dampen his spirits.
“Second brother,” she said softly, “I heard the commune gives out recommendation spots every year. If you work hard, maybe you could be recommended to teach in the county. Then you’d be closer to Sister Qiuye, and Accountant Xu wouldn’t dare look down on you anymore.”
Xu Sheng’s eyes lit up, a flicker of hope and determination igniting within. Quietly, he made a vow: I’ll work hard. I’ll earn that recommendation. I’ll go to the county… and prove myself.
Right now, he was still a probationary teacher, earning less than fifteen yuan a month. But if he secured a permanent position, his salary would rise to twenty yuan. And in the county? Even more.
A dream began to take shape in his heart.
That night, Xu Ying ate a bit too much at dinner. Feeling bloated, she decided to take a walk outside, thinking she’d drop by and check on Lu Daya.
But as she stepped into the cool night air, she spotted a familiar figure standing under the tree by the roadside.
It was Dong Wenzhong.
He stood there in the shadows, glasses glinting faintly, his eyes fixed on her—filled with a strange, wounded longing.
In these past days without Xu Ying’s help, Dong Wenzhong had suffered. Gone were the easy tasks and light work. He’d been thrown back into the fields, his hands blistered and raw.
He thought—surely she’ll pity me when she sees me like this.
Surely she’d come running.
But Xu Ying didn’t even pause. Her footsteps remained steady, her gaze cold, as she walked straight past him.
Dong Wenzhong’s chest tightened. His face turned pale. His fists clenched until fresh pain bloomed from the torn skin on his palms.
“Xu Ying!” he finally shouted. “Xu Ying, wait!”
Still, she didn’t stop.
Frustrated, he chased after her, cutting her off. “Xu Ying!” he cried. “Even if your father’s the captain, he can’t use his position for personal revenge!”
Xu Ying turned to him, her expression icy as a winter’s night. “Personal revenge?” she repeated, her voice sharp. “What personal revenge?”
Dong Wenzhong straightened, thinking she’d defend him. “He’s making me work in the fields!” he accused.
Xu Ying stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “And where else would you work if not the fields?”
Dong Wenzhong’s face flushed. “I used to do the records in the shed! Why does your sister-in-law get to do it now? He’s punishing me!”
Xu Ying let out a low, bitter laugh. “Dong Zhiqing,” she said coldly, “you really are an ungrateful fool.”
Dong Wenzhong’s face paled at her words.
“That job always belonged to my sister-in-law,” Xu Ying said, her voice hard as iron. “At the start, you and Chen Zhiqing were too weak for fieldwork, so my father let you take over temporarily. But you’ve only done it a short while, and now you think it’s yours?”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re not satisfied, feel free to report it to the commune. But don’t forget—my sister-in-law’s family pulled strings and spent money for that position. It was never yours.”