"They say it was embezzlement of public funds!"
He Chengfang took the towel her brother had used and draped it over the rope by the window. "I think there must be some misunderstanding. It’s not like Sutan just started working; if there were going to be an issue, it would have happened sooner or later—why would it happen right after she got married?"
"And that Zhou Jianfeng is no good, either. He's a deputy director, for heaven's sake! He didn't come home at all on his wedding night, and the first thing he did when he got back was beat Sutan up!"
"A woman only has two chances at a 'second life.' One is birth—which you can't change—and the other is marriage. Sutan is well and truly drowning in misery now."
He Chengfang prattled on incessantly. Seeing her brother frowning in a daze, she pulled up a chair and sat opposite him.
While snapping beans, she asked, "I heard your regiment commander introduced his sister to you a while back. Not interested?"
"Hmm." Hechengming helped snap the beans, his stern face as cold as the weather outside.
There wasn't a hint of warmth in him.
He Chengfang grew annoyed at the sight. "You'll be twenty-five after the New Year. Look around the cannery's family quarters—how many men your age aren't married yet?"
"I know you want to find someone you like, but don't be too picky. Find someone decent and just get married. Married life is all about the mundane—oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar—it’s all the same with whoever you're with!"
"Your commander's sister is about your age, I hear she works at the hospital. If you marry her, it would be good for your career. I think you should seriously consider it."
Hechengming’s slender fingers pinched a bean. "Zhou Jianfeng didn't come home on their wedding night, and Sutan was sent to prison as soon as he returned. Does that mean Sutan and he never even shared a bed?"
"Exactly!"
He Chengfang, remembering that her brother and Sutan had been middle school classmates, felt her heart tighten. "You don't have a thing for Sutan, do you?"
Before Hechengming could reply, He Chengfang anxiously grabbed the beans from his hand. "The two of you are impossible!"
"Sutan might be smart, but she's a married woman. Whether she shared a bed with Zhou Jianfeng or not, she's still a divorcee in the eyes of others!"
"She's been inside now, and everywhere she goes, people will say she's an ex-convict. Neither Mom nor I will ever agree to you being with her. You absolutely cannot let her ruin your future!"
"Get that idea out of your head right now!"
Hechengming stood up, his chapped lips coldly spitting out two words: "You're overthinking it."
He Chengfang let out a sigh of relief. "Better that I'm overthinking it. Don't come by my place so often anymore!"
Before she even finished speaking, Hechengming picked up the umbrella he’d left by the door and walked out.
He Chengfang chased after him, but Hechengming was already gone.
She glanced at the tightly shut door of the Zhou household, then returned inside and grabbed her son. "How was your Uncle looking at Aunt Sutan just now?"
Shitou climbed onto a tall chair, his small fist unfurling. "Give me a White Rabbit candy and I'll tell you!"
He Chengfang fetched a candy, quickly peeled back the white paper, and shoved it into her son's mouth.
Shitou happily munched on the creamy candy and, standing on the chair, mimicked his uncle: "Just like this—Uncle was like a wooden post!"
"Uncle's face was as foul as a rock in a latrine. Aunt Sutan glanced at him, then ran into the courtyard. She nearly tripped over the threshold on her way in!"
"Mom, you can set your heart at ease. Aunt Sutan would have to be blind to fancy Uncle!"
He Chengfang gave her son's bottom two sharp slaps. "What kind of way is that to talk about your uncle? He’s a squadron leader, he flies planes—any girl would be lucky to have him!"
Sutan didn't know Hechengming recognized her. Back inside, she hurriedly stripped off her wet clothes and changed into dry ones.
It was mid-October, and with the torrential rain outside, the room felt eerily cold.
Sutan's teeth were chattering. Seeing that the stove in the living room seemed to be lit, she removed the lid and a sweet, toasted scent of roasted sweet potato wafted out.
Sutan warmed her hands over the stove, feeling a bit better, and used the tongs to retrieve the roasted sweet potato from inside.
The charred potato was much larger than her palm, its skin cracked open to reveal the yellow flesh within.
Sutan was starving. Ignoring the heat, she rolled the potato back and forth on the stove surface before breaking it in half.
She took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.
With the hot potato in her stomach, she didn't feel quite so cold anymore.
Just as she was about to survey the room, she suddenly remembered the certificate of innocence was still in the clothes she had changed out of. She wondered if it had soaked through.
Sutan ran into the bedroom and gingerly pulled the document from the inner pocket, only to see the ink running on the back.
Her heart, which had been hanging by a thread, sank.
This certificate was proof of her innocence; only with it could she return to the factory and get her job back.
Clinging to a final shred of hope, Sutan carefully unfolded it, seeing the vague outline of the word "innocence" still visible.
She quickly placed the document on the stove to dry.
Ten minutes later, the paper was dry, but only the character for "innocence" was barely legible.
Sutan laughed out of sheer frustration.
She curled her lips in silence.
Talk about starting the game on "hard mode"—this was going to be quite the challenge.
But who was she?
In the twenty-first century, she was an actor in minor web dramas; she had been in hundreds of them. This little hurdle wouldn't stop her.
Sutan cheered herself on while examining the house.
It was exactly as described in the script: three rooms facing south, with the kitchen near the gate. Her room was a small suite—a living room leading into a bedroom.
The bedroom contained a metal-framed bed, roughly five feet wide, with a neat blue-and-white checkered sheet and a solitary quilt and pillow.
At the foot of the bed stood a double-door wardrobe.
By the window sat a Shanghai-brand sewing machine, covered with a red scarf.
The large red "Double Happiness" character on the glass had been torn in half, and now, soaked by the rain, it looked ready to fall at any moment.
Just as Sutan was about to look away, a gust of wind blew, and the dying character peeled off completely.
She pursed her lips; that falling character was an omen of the end for her and Zhou Jianfeng.
She found a piece of wood in the kitchen and wedged it against the window she had broken earlier.
She filled the stove, wrapped herself in the quilt, and went to sleep.
This body had suffered enough, and after the recent mental torment, she was completely exhausted.
She needed a good night's sleep to recover her strength and deal with whatever came next.
Sutan slept deeply, only to be awakened by a heavy slamming of the door.
"What time is it? Still sleeping? Get up and get ready to eat!"
Being jolted awake left Sutan fuming.
Hearing Zhou Jianfeng’s voice, she laughed in disbelief.
"After we eat, I'll go with you to your unit. You and Hongmei can hand over the work."