Chapter 45: The Third Party Is Despicable

Lin Zhao’s expression lit up with delight, “So fast!”

She usually had a detached expression, yet still radiated vibrant beauty; when she smiled, it was like warm sunlight blazing across radiant clouds.

The male comrade’s heart thudded wildly.

He quickly looked away, silently cursing himself inside.

Stop racing, Comrade Lin—your eldest child can already buy soy sauce! Calm down. Third parties are despicable.

This mental pep talk helped; the male comrade steadied himself and reminded her, “Comrade Lin, remember to register the bike and pay the taxes.”

“I know, thank you,” Lin Zhao replied with a smile.

“No need to thank me—it’s my duty.” Thinking it was still work hours and Comrade Lin wouldn’t have time to pick it up, the procurement department comrade added politely, “Come find me after work—I’ll hand you the bike. I’ll be here anytime.”

“Thank you.” Lin Zhao had no candy to offer, so she couldn’t thank this helpful comrade now—she’d thank him tomorrow.

She told her coworkers goodbye and walked briskly back to the counter.

Bicycles were scarce, high-value items; tickets were hard to get and prices were steep—any family that got one would be elated for days.

Lin Zhao’s mood was high, her smile lingering at the corners of her lips.

She became even more courteous to customers, smiling warmly, speaking softly and gently—so much so that customers, used to salesclerks’ sneers, were stunned and flattered.

The curtain was suddenly swept aside, and in shuffled an old man, hunched and ragged.

His rough, bark-like hands gripped an old bamboo basket tightly; sweat rolled down his deeply creased face as he stood hesitantly at the threshold, too afraid to step forward.

Liu Chunhong was in a foul mood, seeing everything as an affront; spotting a filthy, stinking old man loitering by the door, she snapped at him.

“What are you doing here? If you’ve got nothing to do, get out! Standing there stinks—how are we supposed to serve customers like this?”

In truth, it was nearly closing time and no one had come in. She was just venting, looking for someone to yell at.

Li Fen thought her words were cruel and frowned, pointing to the wall slogan, speaking bluntly:

“That huge sign on the wall says ‘No yelling or abusing customers’—are you blind or illiterate?”

She’d been humiliated at lunch and forgotten it by afternoon!

Fool.

Liu Chunhong flung her sweat-stained towel onto the counter, furious: “Who did I hit or yell at? We’ve worked together for years—I don’t want to fight with you, and don’t pick fights with me!”

“Pick fights with you?” Li Fen laughed bitterly. “Shall I call the director over to settle this?”

Liu Chunhong was livid. “Fine! Let the director settle it—I’m not afraid of you!”

The two erupted into a heated argument.

Wang Ju shrank back, tiptoeing nervously to hide behind Lin Zhao.

“...”

Lin Zhao watched the scene and suddenly remembered a line from the original novel—The world is just a giant amateur troupe.

The more she thought about it, the more true it seemed.

The old man trembled, wanting to retreat, but his eyes lingered on the eggs carefully cushioned in straw inside the basket—he couldn’t move.

He’d come to town once, and if he didn’t sell these eggs today, he’d have to come again tomorrow. It was hot; the eggs wouldn’t keep—they’d spoil.

At that moment, a clear voice rang out.

“Old man, come this way.”

The old man’s cloudy eyes brightened, and he shuffled over.

Before he could speak, the young salesclerk asked, “Old man, what are you buying?”

His hand tightened around the bamboo basket; dirt was caked under his nails, his knuckles split and raw.

“Young comrade, I’m not buying—I’m selling eggs. Does the supply and marketing cooperative buy them?” he asked nervously, thick with rural accent.

“We do. I need to inspect the goods,” Lin Zhao replied kindly.

She was a child of the countryside herself—she’d never look down on hardworking, humble laborers.

The old man relaxed, pulled out a scrap of cloth, wiped the bottom of the basket, then placed it on the counter. “Young comrade, they’re all fresh—no bad eggs. My wife washed each one in warm water—no chicken droppings at all.”

Afraid the salesclerk would refuse them, his eyes pleaded, humble, as if begging for mercy.

Yet he earned every penny through sweat.

Lin Zhao’s throat tightened with bitterness.

This generation suffered terribly—through war and famine, they worked relentlessly, all for two words: survival.

Admirable, and heartbreaking.

“They’re clean, and the eggs are large. Six fen each—does that price work?” Lin Zhao knew the supply and marketing cooperative’s standard for egg purchases and gave her quote swiftly.

Six fen?

The old man rubbed his hands excitedly.

His eldest son had sold here before—always four fen, sometimes five if lucky—never six.

“Yes, yes,” he nodded eagerly.

Worried Lin Zhao had misheard and quoted too high, he added, “Girl, my eldest son often sells here—the price used to be four or five fen. Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake?”

As he spoke, he stole a glance at Liu Chunhong.

His eldest had told him the egg buyer was the roundest salesclerk—the one as fierce as a goose.

Lin Zhao caught the old man’s glance at Liu Chunhong and immediately guessed the truth—her opinion of Liu Chunhong plummeted to rock bottom.

Stealing from laborers? What a heartless wretch!

“I didn’t make a mistake,” Lin Zhao said, recording the purchase.

“Old man, six fen per egg—you have twenty, so one yuan and twenty fen total.”

She pointed to the lower right corner of the purchase slip. “If there’s no problem, sign here. If you can’t sign, a fingerprint will do.”

The old man pressed his fingerprint without hesitation.

He trusted this girl.

Lin Zhao paused, a strange emotion rising in her chest.

She’d once thought being a salesclerk was respectable and easy—but now, under the old man’s trusting gaze, she felt the heavy weight of his trust upon her shoulders.

She took one yuan and twenty fen from the cash box and handed it to him.

The old man smiled, revealing a gumline missing several teeth.

“Thank you, thank you so much, girl,” he kept bowing, wrapping the money in layers of cloth before leaving the supply and marketing cooperative.

He’d earned so much more—he’d send his eldest here next time, to the prettiest girl.

Liu Chunhong saw Lin Zhao snatch away her exclusive privilege, her eyes bulging like a frog’s.

“Lin Zhao, don’t meddle where you shouldn’t—watch out, you’ll end up with broken eggs and flying chickens,” she warned coldly.

Lin Zhao looked puzzled, murmuring a soft “Hm?” before replying calmly, “Is collecting eggs the only duty assigned to Comrade Liu in the supply and marketing cooperative?”

Before Liu Chunhong could answer, she turned to Li Fen. “Sister Fen—is that true?”

Li Fen slapped her forehead in mock regret. “Director Jiang never said anything, and I never asked—I’m at fault. I’ll check after work so I don’t step on another landmine.”

Li Fen bit back a laugh.

Catching Liu Chunhong’s darkening face, she nearly burst out laughing.

Perfect!

“I’ve never heard of that,” she threw the boomerang straight into Liu Chunhong’s forehead.

“Sister Liu, where did you hear that? I’ve been here nearly five years—how come I never knew? Did I miss some important document?”

Ignoring Liu Chunhong’s increasingly black face, Li Fen smiled sweetly. “Oh, my memory’s getting worse—I should go through all the cooperative’s files, so I don’t make such a stupid mistake again.”

Liu Chunhong knew the truth about the eggs—this couldn’t see the light of day, or she’d lose her job.

Panic gripped her, but her face showed nothing. “No documents. I’ve been collecting eggs since I started—years now, it’s just habit.”

She added carelessly, “If you want to collect them, go ahead.”

As if she didn’t care at all about handing over the egg-collecting duty.

In truth, Liu Chunhong cared desperately.

Her heart was bleeding.

For years, she’d lived off kickbacks from egg purchases—embezzling at least a thousand yuan.

Suddenly losing this income—how could it not hurt?

Because of this, Liu Chunhong now harbored a deep, lasting hatred for Lin Zhao.

Ever since this country girl entered the cooperative, her dignity had been trampled underfoot—it made her furious.

“Ding ding ding—!!”

The end-of-work bell rang.

Liu Chunhong packed up and left, her back radiating fury.

The old employee who was close to her smiled at Lin Zhao and the others, then hurried after her.

Once they were gone, Li Fen burst out laughing.

“Hahahaha—so satisfying!!”

She gave Lin Zhao a thumbs-up. “Comrade Lin, you’re the best.”

Wang Ju stared at Lin Zhao with starry eyes—Comrade Lin was amazing.

Lin Zhao looked bewildered.

Why was she amazing?

Wasn’t this basic conduct? Speak up when you’re wrong, ask questions when you’re confused—what else is a mouth for?

Thinking of her new bicycle, Lin Zhao swiftly packed up and went to find the procurement department comrade.

"Comrade Lin, that bike outside is yours." The young man pointed outside.

A brand-new Phoenix-brand bicycle stood in the corner, a rare women’s model, not too conspicuous.

"Thank you so much—you’ve really gone out of your way today," Lin Zhao smiled.

"Comrade Lin, you’re too kind."

Daily question: Why do all the pretty female comrades get married so early?

Lin Zhao went to the public security office to register and pay the tax.

That’s settled.

She pedaled home.

The heavens smiled—the wind was at her back—and the time to reach the brigade shrank by more than half.

Lin Zhao rode into the village; before she even reached her gate, Yuan Bao shot toward her like a little firecracker.

"Auntie Lin, you bought a bicycle?!" the child exclaimed excitedly.

He wanted to reach out and touch it, but didn’t dare.

Lin Zhao’s expression twisted.

The kid’s crisp “auntie” turned her instantly from a graceful, professional supply store clerk into Village Cuihua—truthfully, if he’d called her “auntie,” she might’ve handed him two candies for free.

"Yes, I bought a bicycle."

Yuan Bao remembered his purpose, slapped his forehead, and shouted: "Auntie Lin, the twins’ grandma bled a lot—the twins cried for hours!"

Lin Zhao’s smile vanished instantly. She gave the message-delivering child a candy, leapt onto her bicycle, and raced toward the old house.

A crowd had gathered at the Gu family gate.

They murmured among themselves.

Seeing Lin Zhao, they all called out.

"Whoa! Chenghuai’s wife, you bought a bicycle?!"

"Big Cai’s mom, you’re finally back—your mother suffered terribly."

"Your two boys’ eyes are swollen from crying—go see them quick."

…

After listening for a moment, Lin Zhao pieced together what had happened.

She pushed her bike through the crowd and hurried into the old house gate.

The courtyard was empty; faint sounds drifted from the main room.

"Big Cai! Second Cai!" Lin Zhao parked her bike and called out.

Inside, Big Cai and Second Cai stood guard over Gu Mu. The twin boys who had been bright as little suns that morning now drooped like wilted eggplants, curled listlessly at the bed’s edge.

Suddenly, they heard their mother’s voice.

The twins sprang up in unison and ran outside.

"Mom!" Big Cai cried, throwing himself into Lin Zhao’s arms, tears falling like broken beads. "Mom, Grandma bled so much!"

At noon, Gu Mu had stepped into the Lu family’s kitchen when her foot caught on something and she fell straight forward. In panic, she reached for support and grabbed the elmwood bench beside the door.

The bench leg jerked violently; the stack of coarse porcelain bowls and plates on top crashed down, shattering into shards. She landed hard in the broken pottery, her body sliced open in multiple places, her clothes soaked red.

Because of this, those who had come to help at the Lu house carried Gu Mu home—she returned drenched in blood, witnessed by Big Cai and the other children playing in the courtyard.

The mischievous children were terrified, still dazed and unable to recover.

So when Big Cai and Second Cai saw their mother, they finally let out the fear they’d held back all day.

Lin Zhao hugged the two boys, patted their shoulders, and said softly: "Don’t be afraid—Mom’s back. Come, take me to see your grandma."

The twins’ eyelashes were damp; they wiped their faces with their hands, sniffled, and led their mother to the main room.

The room was packed: Gu Fu, his sons and daughters-in-law, even Bang Bang and his little sisters were there.

Gu Mu lay on the bed, eyes closed, expression unreadable.

Lin Zhao could only ask: "How is Mother?"

"She’s fine," Gu Fu sighed. "The physician says she lost blood, but she just needs rest."

Seeing Gu Fu looked worn out, Lin Zhao didn’t press further. When he stepped out to fetch water, she approached Zhao Liuniang. "Second sister, what exactly happened? How did Mother get so badly hurt?"

The incident happened at the Lu house—she couldn’t help but suspect.

Lu Baozhen!!

Zhao Liuniang shook her head. "I don’t know the details."

She lowered her voice: "I heard from the brigade chief’s wife that Mother slipped the moment she stepped into the Lu kitchen. She accidentally bumped the bench, which had bowls and plates stacked on it—the bench tipped, the dishes shattered, and Mother fell right onto the shards."

"When she was first brought back, she was covered in blood."

Lin Zhao’s gaze turned cool, her tone heavy with implication: "That’s too convenient."

"Yes, it’s just bad luck—and she’s the one who suffered," Zhao Liuniang sighed.

"Did Mother encounter anything strange before she fell?"

Zhao Liuniang didn’t understand her meaning.

"Strange?" She thought, then shook her head. "I haven’t heard anything."

A hoarse voice came from the bed: "…Nothing."

Hearing Gu Mu’s voice, Gu Fu rushed to the bedside, worried: "How are you?"

"I’m fine, just rest and I’ll be better," Gu Mu smiled weakly, her lips pale.

She waved at Lin Zhao and the others. "I’m fine—go rest, all of you."

Gu Fu added: "Go on. I’ll take care of your mother. I’ll call if anything happens."

With both heads of the household saying so, Lin Zhao and the others left.

Because Gu Mu was injured, the family’s new bicycle brought no joy.

Lin Zhao took the four children back to their own home.

Seeing Big Cai and Second Cai listless, she settled the Long Fengtai, then returned to her room to organize supplies.

She packed twenty eggs, two pounds of pork, a packet of brown sugar, and a jar of wheat milk powder into a bamboo basket and handed it to the two boys.

"Big Cai, Second Cai, take these to the old house. Say they’re for Grandma—to help her recover."

Before the boys could respond, Lin Zhao pressed on without pause: "With these good things to nourish her, Grandma will surely get better fast. If she doesn’t, I’ll take her to the county hospital."

Once her mother-in-law recovered, she would ask carefully—was Lu Baozhen involved?