Chapter 10: You've got some nerve, slapping her

The family dormitory building.

Just as Leng Hui reached her front door, she noticed the coal basket sitting there. It was empty, save for a few black coal ashes, and Leng Mei was nowhere to be seen inside.

Catching the scent of steamed sweet potatoes, Leng Hui went to the cramped kitchen to take a look; the iron pot on the stove was emitting steam.

"Sister, why are you back? If you’re back, who’s taking care of Auntie at the hospital?"

A voice came from behind her. Leng Hui turned around to see Leng Mei entering from outside, carrying a washbasin.

Leng Hui sat down and poured herself a glass of water. "There’s no food at the hospital, so naturally, I came home to eat."

Leng Mei hung up her washcloth, returned the basin to the second branch’s partition, and pushed aside the curtain to walk out. Seeing Leng Hui sitting at the table examining the matchboxes she had been gluing, she said, "These are the paper boxes Grandma and I picked up yesterday. From last night until now, we’ve only managed to glue two hundred or so. Grandma went to Little Aunt’s house again today; I don’t know when she’ll be back. Sister, why don’t you help me glue some matchboxes since you’re free?"

Leng Hui tossed the matchbox onto the table, clapped her hands, and raised her eyes to size up the heroine before her.

In the original book, this heroine was described as beautiful, kind-hearted, diligent, and capable. Given that she had managed to bring back coal from outside today, she was at least somewhat diligent and capable.

As for being beautiful and kind-hearted, Leng Hui could only say that time reveals a person’s true colors.

"What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?" Leng Mei felt a tightness in her chest under the stare. She touched her face, thinking there might still be black coal smudges on it.

She had just washed her face, so it shouldn't be possible.

Leng Hui stood up. "You keep gluing. I’m going to wipe myself down and change clothes."

Living in a dormitory building meant no bathhouse, let alone a private bathroom; a shower was a luxury. While taking care of Tang Lin at the hospital, being able to wipe down and change into clean clothes every day or two was already considered good.

"Sister, you wipe yourself down so often? Did the clothes you washed yesterday or the day before even dry yet?"

Leng Mei felt uncomfortable. When she asked for help with the matchboxes, Leng Hui made excuses; the old Leng Hui would never have refused her.

She was still young and couldn't hide her feelings; her displeasure was written all over her face, making her thoughts immediately obvious.

However, Leng Hui was not the original owner of the body and didn't care about her thoughts.

Leng Hui curled her lips slightly. "I wipe down often so that, at the very least, I stay clean, fresh, and comfortable every day. And what would I get out of helping you glue matchboxes? You get the money for the work, and you’re the one getting credit in front of the elders. What do I get? Can you split the money you earn from the task with me?"

If she could, then helping wouldn't be an issue.

"Sister!" Leng Mei’s face showed timely shock and disbelief, as if she hadn't expected Leng Hui to say such hurtful things.

"Neither of us was assigned a job after leaving school. Isn't helping me glue matchboxes the same as helping the family reduce its burden? The money is earned for our own home anyway; it’s not like it’s going to outsiders."

"My parents both have jobs. The money they earn is enough to support me, unlike your second branch, where only your father works but has to support your mother and the four of you siblings."

Leng Hui’s words were like sharp arrows, striking the bullseye with pinpoint accuracy.

Hmph, what she didn't say was that, as far as she was concerned, everyone except her mother, Tang Lin, was an outsider.

Leng Mei’s expression turned ugly, and the jealousy in her eyes was almost impossible to hide. "Sister, to use Grandma’s words, you’re just being pointlessly fastidious. Washing clothes every two days—the more you wash, the faster they wear out. Don't come crying when the clothes Auntie made for you are worn out before you’ve even worn them a few times. When you have to put patches on them, don't go around telling people that your parents' earnings are all being used to subsidize our second branch, as if everything we eat and use was provided by you."

Don't forget, her father had a job too.

Leng Hui looked down and smoothed her hem. The jacket and trousers she was wearing were made by Tang Lin before the New Year. Because they were intended to be worn over cotton-padded clothes, they had been made in a larger size.

Wearing them in the spring, they felt like loose casual wear, and Leng Hui quite liked the loose fit.

In this era, fabrics didn't have so much "technology and harsh additives." They were either pure cotton, cashmere, wool, or at worst, linen. The once-popular "Dacron" synthetic fiber had already been introduced to the country—known abroad as "Terylene"—and was considered a high-end fabric.

Domestic production wouldn't begin on a large scale for a few more years.

The Leng parents were both working-class; their first priority was feeding the family. No matter how much they doted on their children, they wouldn't buy high-end fabrics for clothes. For a family to have ordinary cotton cloth to keep warm was already considered a very well-off condition.

Cotton fabric would fade and look old after many washes, but so what?

Leng Hui hadn't had the luxury of being clean in the apocalypse. Now that she had an endless supply of clean, radiation-free water, there was no way she would force herself to walk through this world smelling foul.

"You don't need to worry about that. If the clothes wear out, the worst that happens is I’ll have my mom make me new ones."

When it came to provoking others, Leng Hui had never been inferior.

Leng Mei was so angry her face turned red. Her head was buzzing, and two words floated before her eyes: "Arrogant."

Yes!

It was arrogance. Leng Mei felt that Leng Hui’s face at this very moment was extremely arrogant.

She was just relying on the fact that her parents both had jobs. If her mother could snatch that job away, she’d see how long she could stay so arrogant.

Leng Hui didn't care what Leng Mei was thinking. There was still half a pot of hot water in the pot used for boiling water; she poured it into a basin and carried it into their first branch’s partition.

At this time of day, Leng Yongkang was at the factory, so she didn't have to worry about any awkward encounters.

The first branch’s partition was at the very back and had a window about 1.5 meters wide. Compared to the middle partition of the second branch, this innermost room had better ventilation and lighting.

However, the area was smaller than the middle room. The room was L-shaped, with one large and one small bed separated by cardboard, creating a small, enclosed space.

The rest of the room was piled with a few wooden crates and a small desk.

When Leng Hui was in school, she used to study at this small desk. The tiny wooden furniture had accompanied her for over a decade, and one could still see the marks she had accidentally carved into the desk back then.

Aside from the space taken up by stored items, the cramped room had less than one square meter of floor space to stand on.

If she wasn't careful while wiping down in the room, water would splash onto the bed next to her.

After wiping down and changing clothes, Leng Hui packed her dirty clothes into the basin, planning to go to the washroom to scrub them clean later.

Coming out of the partition, she found that Sun Xiaojuan, who hadn't been there earlier, had returned.

As the saying goes, when there is no tiger in the mountains, the monkey becomes the king.

That saying was perfectly apt for describing Sun Xiaojuan right now.

Fitting and accurate.

Sun Xiaojuan already knew from Leng Mei that Leng Hui was home, but thinking about how her schemes that morning had fallen through, she couldn't suppress the hatred in her heart.

Therefore, when she saw Leng Hui come out of the partition, she only gave her a glance.

She continued eating her sweet potatoes and pickled vegetables with Leng Mei, ignoring Leng Hui as if she were air.

Leng Hui tried to recall if this counted as domestic cold violence against her.

Leng Hui took a bowl from the kitchen and picked four or five sweet potatoes from the basin on the table into her bowl.

"Smack!"

The back of Leng Hui’s hand, which was reaching for a sweet potato, was struck, leaving a red mark.