Lin Ying remained silent for a long while, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected Shao Mingyuan to be so blunt, yet suddenly, every confusing detail from the original novel clicked into place.
In the book, it was mentioned they had an “arranged marriage” but nothing more. It explained why, after the wedding, Shao Mingyuan almost never set foot in their home, why they never had children, and why he had been so cold and insistent on a divorce the moment he lost his stable position.
The original “Lin Ying” had likely viewed him as her only lifeline in a crumbling world and clung to the marriage, leading to years of mutual resentment. But for this Lin Ying—a soul forged in the apocalypse—this wasn’t a tragedy. It was a perfect business deal.
To her, marriage was a shield against being sent to the ‘Great Wide Countryside’ (the ‘Shangshan Xiaxiang’ movement where urban youth were sent to rural areas for manual labor). If Shao Mingyuan provided the legal status of a ‘Factory Family’ spouse and even threw in living expenses, she was winning on every front.
“Okay,” Lin Ying said, her voice steady and direct.
Shao Mingyuan blinked, visibly startled. He had prepared himself for a slap, a tearful lecture on the sanctity of marriage, or at the very least, a look of disgusted horror. In an era where marriage was the “ultimate life goal” for most women, his proposal was borderline scandalous.
“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning forward. His gold-rimmed glasses caught the dim light of the cafeteria. “You won’t regret it? Three years is a long time to give up your ‘first marriage’ status.”
Lin Ying offered a small, knowing smile. “I won’t. To be honest, I didn’t tell you this, but my goal was also to find a marriage of convenience to avoid the rural relocation. We’re both just using this as a solution to a problem. You laid your cards on the table; I just hadn’t reached for mine yet.”
Shao Mingyuan felt a sudden, strange wave of relief, but beneath it, a tiny, inexplicable flicker of disappointment. He should have been thrilled to find such a rational partner, yet the coldness of the transaction felt… lonely. He pushed the thought aside. He was a man of science; logic should prevail.
“Then it’s settled,” he said, his professional mask sliding back into place. “I’ll tell Aunt Han that we hit it off. But we can’t just run to the Civil Affairs Bureau [the government office where marriage certificates (Jiehun Zheng) are issued] tomorrow. People will talk.”
“I graduate on June 20th,” Lin Ying noted. “We need the certificate before then to clear my name from the relocation list. We should meet three more times in public. On the third date, we’ll get the paperwork done. It’ll look like a whirlwind romance—fast, but not suspicious.”
“Agreed,” Shao Mingyuan said. He looked at the clock. It was 6:00 PM—the shift change. The cafeteria was starting to fill with hungry medical staff. “I should get you some food. The stir-fried dishes on the second floor are decent.”
They ate quickly. By 6:30 PM, just as Shao Mingyuan was about to discuss the financial logistics, a loud voice boomed across the room.
“Hey, kid! What are you doing hiding here? The ward is swamped, and I haven’t seen your shadow in an hour!”
A man slammed a hand onto Shao Mingyuan’s shoulder. Shao Mingyuan winced and tried to shake him off. “Go on ahead, Dahai. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The man finally noticed Lin Ying. “Oh! Hello, comrade! Forgive me, I’m blind. My name is Hai Changxing. I’m Shao Mingyuan’s colleague. You can call me Brother Hai!”
Shao Mingyuan shoved him toward the exit. “Go away! Don’t listen to him, he’s my age. He’s just trying to take advantage of the seniority.”
Once Dahai scurried off, Shao Mingyuan turned back to Lin Ying, looking truly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I wanted to say more, but duty calls.”
“I understand,” Lin Ying said, watching him adjust his white lab coat. “Go. I’ll go check on my grandfather also.”
As she walked back to the ward, her grandmother, Wang Guihua, was waiting by the bed, her face full of grandmotherly mischief. “So? How was he? Is he handsome? Is he kind?”
“He’s great, Grandma,” Lin Ying replied, packing the lunchboxes. “Very tall, very handsome, and very busy.”Wang Guihua laughed, slapping her knee. “Tall is good! Tall men are strong; they can protect the house!”
That night, after returning home and lying on her hard bunk, Lin Ying stared at the ceiling. Her heart was drumming against her ribs, a fast, frantic rhythm she couldn’t quite control.
She told herself it was just the nerves of a successful mission. She was a survivor of the apocalypse, after all; she didn’t do ‘crushes.’ But as she closed her eyes, the image of Shao Mingyuan in his white coat—aloof, brilliant, and ‘wickedly’ handsome—refused to fade. It was just a fake marriage… so why did her pulse feel so real?
As monday arrived with the kind of sweltering heat that made the morning air feel thick and heavy even the early sun was enough to leave everyone drenched in sweat. After the flag-raising ceremony, Lin Ying and Lü Xiaoju practically sprinted back to the classroom, desperate for even a sliver of shade.
As they walked, Lü Xiaoju couldn’t stop vibrating with excitement. She leaned in close, her eyes sparkling. “I didn’t even know I was such a good actress, Ying’er! I cried so hard at home this weekend I actually scared my mother. She thought I was having a nervous breakdown!”
She giggled, though there was a hint of relief in her voice. “My grandma was being stubborn about the money, but I did exactly what you said. I made sure the neighbors heard me talking about her ‘golden heart.’ Once everyone started praising her for being a ‘righteous and loving grandmother’ who would never let her granddaughter suffer in the countryside, she was trapped! She’s way too proud to let people think otherwise. She finally gave in and told my dad to pay for the job spot.”
Lin Ying felt a genuine wave of happiness. “That’s amazing. This means you don’t have to go to the countryside [a fate that often led to years of grueling labor and poverty]. We can actually enjoy our graduation summer now.”
“I owe you everything,” Lü Xiaoju said, pulling Lin Ying into a secluded corner of the hallway. “But listen, I have even better news. My dad is a quiet man, but he moves fast. He went to the Machinery Factory to ask about temporary positions, and it turns out they are hiring. It was a secret ‘internal’ leak—they weren’t going to announce it publicly. Since my parents have some savings, I won’t even have to spend as much as we thought!”
She grabbed Lin Ying’s hands. “Ying’er, why don’t you try too? You’re so smart. If we both get into the factory, we can be coworkers!”
Lin Ying gave her a sad, appreciative smile. She understood the implication: “internal hiring” meant you needed either a massive bribe or deep connections. Her family had neither.
Lin Ying couldn’t help but think of the original story. In the book, Su Beibei would soon find a rare Chinese herbal medicine (likely a wild ginseng or Ganoderma) and sell it on the black market. She would happen to save a powerful benefactor’s mother, who would then gift her a prestigious job at the very same Machinery Factory. Su Beibei had the ‘Protagonist Halo’ so money and opportunity literally fell into her lap.
Lin Ying had only read the novel once. She remembered the broad strokes, but the specific dates and locations of Su Beibei’s “lucky finds” were a blur. She couldn’t replicate that path. And with only two yuan in her savings, she didn’t even have the capital to start a small “speculation” business. In 1975, as “capitalist tendencies” [buying low and selling high] could land you in prison for years.
“I’ll find another way,” Lin Ying told her friend, steering them back toward class. “Let’s focus on getting through the day first.”
Back at home that evening, Lin Ying didn’t head inside immediately. Instead, she took her usual “tactical position” squatting under the large tree near the apartment building. Above her, on the second floor, the neighborhood’s most turbulent young couple was at it again.
This had become her “Daily Dungeon” for the Gossip System.
[Gossip Progress: 9/10 successful encounters logged.]
She was meticulously saving her rewards. Like the mobile games of her previous life, the Gossip System 777 featured a “Ten-Pull” mechanic: a batch of ten draws guaranteed a Rare ‘R’ card and significantly boosted the chances for an ‘SR’ or ‘SSR’ item.
Usually, she listened to the bride complain about the mother-in-law, or the mother-in-law criticize the bride’s cooking. But today was different. Today, for the first time in two weeks, the husband finally broke his silence.
“Enough!” his voice drifted down, cracked with exhaustion. “Both of you! Mother, your constant snooping is driving us apart. And you, my wifeyour lack of tolerance is making this house a battlefield. I work all day only to come home to a nest of hornets!”
Lin Ying held her breath. This was “New Content.”
The System’s Ping: > [A crisp ‘Ding!’ echoed in Lin Ying’s mind. A golden notification flashed: ‘New Perspective Unlocked: The Husband’s Lament. Gossip Task 10/10 Completed. Ten-Pull Reward Multiplier Activated!’]
Her heart began to race. She had finally reached the milestone. The transparent blue screen shimmered before her, showing ten glowing white boxes ready to be opened.
Lin Ying knew that a ‘Common’ card gave her buns or lotion. But what would a ‘Super Rare’ card hold in an era where meat was a luxury and jobs were life-lines?
When Lin Ying finally returned home, the evening light was softening. Her mother, Su Yulan, was still out, but her grandfather, Su Youfu, was resting in his room. Her grandmother, Wang Guihua, was busy picking through a bundle of chives. Seeing her granddaughter, she gestured for her to sit and help.
These chives weren’t the pampered, store-bought variety; Wang Guihua had grew them out of a small patch of open land nearby. In this era, before the city became a desert of reinforced concrete, small pockets of earth still existed. To save a few pennies, the elderly woman tended this secret garden, providing the family with fresh greens they otherwise couldn’t afford.
Today was a celebration of sorts. After days of injections and bitter medicine, Su Youfu was finally feeling better, and these chives were meant to nourish his recovery. Lin Ying worked meticulously, trimming away only the truly wilted bits. She knew that in this world, every leaf was precious as her grandmother spent her days guarding that patch from thieves; wasting even a stalk would be a sin.
For dinner, to further bolster her father’s health, Su Yulan had carefully cracked two eggs into a bowl, whisked them with a splash of water to make them go further, and scrambled them. With so little oil in the pan, they were more toasted than fried, but the fragrance was intoxicating. The whole family ate with rare smiles. Lin Ying only got two small bites, and though they were delicious, they vanished in an instant.
Lin Ying chewed slowly, trying to memorize the taste. Two bites of egg were a luxury, but they only served to wake up the ‘glutton’ inside her. Since the xiaolongbao (soup dumplings) she’d drawn from her system, she hadn’t tasted meat since. Her body was practically screaming for protein.
Humans are never satisfied. The eggs had only made her crave meat even more. After dinner, she hurried to the washroom to scrub her hands, her heart hammering against her ribs. It was time for her first Ten-Draw in the Gossip System.
When she triggered the draw, the cards materialized one by one. She was stunned by her own luck—no “Special” cards, but she had scored seven N (Normal) cards, two R (Rare) cards, and one shimmering SR (Super Rare) card.
“Is this the ‘Beginner’s Luck’ I’ve heard about?” she whispered to herself.
She decided to save the SR for the very end, like a dessert. She started with the N cards. The first three were food and drink, and they were breathtaking:
Braised Pork with Preserved Mustard Greens: A substantial plate of twelve thick, glistening slices of pork belly [Mei Cai Kou Rou]. Lin Ying did the math instantly—one slice a day meant her school lunches were settled for the next two weeks.
Two Bottles of Cola: She nearly gasped. In this era, cola hadn’t even entered the Chinese market yet. The last time she’d tasted that carbonated fizz was five years before her death in the apocalypse, and it had been expired. These were before her were fresh, bubbly, and cold.
Five Jin (2.5 kg) of Fresh Pork: The description promised it was fresh from Ping An Supermarket, never frozen.
Her excitement was so intense she felt she might never sleep again. But then, a cold splash of reality hit her. How could she “withdraw” five jin of pork? If she just walked into the kitchen with it, her mother would think she’d turned to a life of crime. She needed a legitimate way to make money, a cover for her newfound bounty. She refused to go back to the days of drinking muddy water and eating wild weeds.
The next four N cards were daily necessities:
Large-capacity Facial Cleanser (200ml): The same ‘Meili’ brand as her lotion.
A Crisp White Shirt: Perfect for a university graduate or someone looking for a job. Lin Ying had so few clothes that a clean, new shirt felt like a treasure.
Dr. Martens Boots: Sturdy, leather boots. Compared to the handmade cloth shoes her grandmother made—which had soles painted with a stiff, waterproof coating that made them feel like bricks—these were a dream.
Ten Packs of Sanitary Napkins: This was the biggest surprise. Last month had been a nightmare of using “menstrual belts” [thick cloth strips with absorbent cotton] and rough, pink toilet paper that chafed her skin raw. Now, she had comfort and dignity.
“I love you, System!” she thought. The Gossip System 777 remained silent, its lack of emotional intelligence preventing a reply, but Lin Ying didn’t care.
With the ordinary cards out of the way, her eyes fixed on the two R cards and the glowing SR. What could possibly be better than five jin of pork?
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