Chapter 42: Leave the Rest to Retribution

Do your part well and leave the rest to karma—Lin Jingyue shamelessly muttered to herself, then put the matter out of her mind.

That day, after gathering pigweed, she strolled around the mountain as usual, returning with a wild pheasant and a bundle of firewood. The other members of the educated youth point eyed her spoils with envy, but dared not say a word. Lin Jingyue was more than happy to enjoy the peace.

“Hmph, eating alone—aren’t you afraid of getting a stomach ache?” Chen Chunlan sneered.

“It’s those who can’t eat alone who get stomach aches,” Lin Jingyue retorted. “Comrade Chen, isn’t it just wonderful having not a drop of oil in your belly?”

She smiled sweetly as she looked over. Chen Chunlan was sharp-tongued, and this kind of exchange happened nearly every day. It was remarkable—she was rebuffed every time, yet never tired of it.

“Hmph.” Chen Chunlan, busy simmering corn porridge, pursed her lips.

After getting married, she and Sun Liangdong started eating separately from the others. Their meals hadn’t improved much; with the autumn harvest still some time away, their food stores were meager to begin with.

“Hurry up and cook! I’m exhausted and you’re still picking fights,” Sun Liangdong barked as he lounged, acting every bit the lord of the manor.

“It’ll be ready soon,” Chen Chunlan replied, her face instantly breaking into a smile.

She served him with obvious pleasure. She liked him, after all—being good to the one she loved, Chen Chunlan never found it a hardship, no matter how weary she herself might be.

Seeing her like this, Sun Liangdong’s expression softened. He’d been forced into this marriage, but after the wedding, Chen Chunlan took good care of him.

Nearby, Yang Ming and Wang Xueping, another newlywed couple, had built their own stove and managed to get a pot, so they also ate separately. They cooked together, making decisions as a pair; Yang Ming, unlike Sun Liangdong, never just sat idly by.

In the glow of their new marriage, sweetness seemed to infuse their days.

“Xueping, take a rest—I’ll serve the food,” Yang Ming said as he set down the water bucket.

“I’m not tired,” Wang Xueping replied, her eyes sparkling with a smile.

Suddenly, she realized Yang Ming was so much better than Sun Zhiyuan. No matter how good Sun Zhiyuan had been to her in her last life, he’d never once set foot in the kitchen.

Hearing their exchange, Chen Chunlan pursed her lips. “Shameless.”

“Chen Chunlan, what are you spouting? We’re a proper married couple—how is a little conversation shameless?” Wang Xueping had no patience for her anymore.

She found herself admiring how Lin Jingyue handled things—being a bit fierce, no one dared provoke her.

Wang Xueping’s sudden outburst startled not only Chen Chunlan, but also Lin Jingyue and the other educated youth cooking nearby. Wang Xueping had never raised her voice before; if anything bothered her, she always kept it inside.

“Tsk, even a sickly cat can bare its claws,” Lin Jingyue muttered under her breath.

Wang Xueping’s face darkened, but she said nothing. She simply glared murderously at Chen Chunlan. That wretched woman had harmed her in her past life, and in this one, had even switched her drinking water. If not for her luck, she’d have fallen into Lin Xinyou’s trap by now.

“Seems the real shameless one is you,” she said meaningfully, glancing at Sun Liangdong.

Sun Liangdong’s face turned black.

Satisfied, Wang Xueping withdrew her gaze. “Let’s go inside and eat.”

Yang Ming smiled. “Alright.”

Both Yang Ming and Wang Xueping came from decent families. Their relatives, upon learning of their marriage, had sent money and supplies, so their days were better than most.

“Chunlan, are you done cooking? I need to make dinner,” Xie Wenjuan complained, rubbing her stomach.

Taking turns in the kitchen had this one drawback—if others weren’t finished, you had to wait.

Chen Chunlan was in a foul mood, but didn’t dare take it out on Xie Wenjuan. Her smile was stiff. “Almost done.”

“Hurry up—you’re so slow just making a meal,” Sun Liangdong snapped as he stormed into the house.

Chen Chunlan’s face grew even more rigid.

“Tsk, bringing this on herself,” Lin Jingyue whispered as she scooped out some flour, ready to roll out noodles.

There truly was no shortage of eccentrics around.

Her hands moved deftly as she kneaded the dough and rolled out noodles. For the sauce, she stir-fried minced meat—a three-pepper minced meat to top the noodles, spicy, appetizing, and refreshing.

Sizzle—the minced meat hit the hot pan, and instantly, the savory aroma filled the air. Lin Jingyue quickly stirred, evaporating the moisture, then set the meat aside and continued stir-frying with chili.

“Cough, cough…” The educated youth’s communal stove wasn’t far from Lin Jingyue’s, and Xie Wenjuan, just starting to cook, was choked by the pepper fumes, coughing uncontrollably.

She was from a coastal province and couldn’t handle spicy food.

“Sorry about that!” Lin Jingyue apologized quickly when she saw tears welling up in Xie Wenjuan’s eyes.

Annoyed inside, Xie Wenjuan kept her feelings off her face. “It’s fine, just give me a moment to recover.”

Lin Jingyue nodded and sped up her cooking.

Soon, the sauce was done. She scrubbed the pot, and the scent of chili faded. She cooked noodles, tossing in a handful of tender greens just before they were done.

These greens came from her secret stash, smuggled from Jiang Xun’s vegetable plot. She could never eat much on her own anyway.

Bright green vegetables lay atop the noodles, crowned with two spoonfuls of three-pepper minced meat, a ladle of chili oil, a sprinkle of chopped scallions, and a fragrant fried egg—perfection!

Sated, Lin Jingyue read for a while, then lay down on the kang for an afternoon nap. Life was quite pleasant.

The afternoon sun still blazed, but it was already a little cooler than the previous month. Lin Jingyue wore a large straw hat as always.

The other educated youth eyed her fair skin, secretly grumbling. They’d all been tanned to charcoal, yet Lin Jingyue not only hadn’t darkened, but was fairer than when she’d first arrived.

“Tsk, if I skipped work every day like her, I’d be that pale too,” Chen Chunlan scoffed.

“Typical hedonism.”

But she only dared to mutter behind Lin Jingyue’s back—never to her face.

Truth be told, Lin Jingyue couldn’t be called a hedonist. She was a bit pampered, but never missed her daily quota of two baskets of pigweed—sometimes even more. Every time she climbed the mountain, she brought back firewood, and her stockpile was considerable. She cooked and washed her own clothes; though she often ate fine food, she didn’t shy from coarse grains either.

So, though others grumbled, none echoed Chen Chunlan’s words.

Carrying her basket, Lin Jingyue munched on a cornbread bun, its sweet flavor spreading through her mouth. Her eyes narrowed contentedly.

“Sister Lin!” From afar, Zhao Di spotted Lin Jingyue and waved excitedly.

“Zhao Di, what are you up to?” Lin Jingyue ruffled the girl’s dry, yellowing hair.

“Roasting sparrows! Sister Lin, I caught two today—wait for me, I’ll share them with you.” She looked up, seeking praise.

“Zhao Di, you’re amazing—you can even catch sparrows!”

“But you don’t have to give me any. I can’t finish them. See, I still have half a bun—here, you take it.” She pressed the remaining half of her cornbread into Zhao Di’s hand.

This coarse cornbread was pure, without any wheat flour or additives.

“No, Sister Lin, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, come now, I really can’t finish it. Don’t waste it. Just do me this favor, alright?” Lin Jingyue insisted, leaving no room for refusal.

“Better head home—I’ve got things to do,” she said as she left.

Watching Lin Jingyue’s departing figure, Zhao Di’s eyes reddened. She wiped them fiercely, vowing silently that one day, she would repay Sister Lin—no matter what.