"Qingqing, Qingqing, are you home? Open the door..."
Amidst this relentless knocking, Feng Qingqing clutched her head and struggled to open her eyes. Her vision was blurry at first, but after a few silent moments, she blinked again and the scene before her finally came into focus.
She was lying on a wooden bed, barely 1.3 meters wide. At the head of the bed stood a wardrobe, custom-built by her parents while they were still alive to store her clothes for every season. Beside the bed sat a desk, clearly designed as a vanity; it held a few notebooks, a glass bottle, and a bouquet of flowers fashioned from fabric scraps.
Seeing all this, Feng Qingqing finally realized: this was her room from her teenage years at home—small, cozy, and filled with memories of her parents.
Just as she prepared to sort out what had happened, a sharp pain shot through her brain. Countless memories flooded her mind. It took about ten seconds for the surge to subside, but by then, Qingqing had grasped her current situation.
She was back in the moment after her parents had both died in the line of duty, having sacrificed their lives trying to save factory supplies during a fire. She was an orphan now, and the overwhelming grief had caused her to faint.
As the memory crystallized, tears streamed down her face. She felt a profound sadness for not being able to return a few days earlier to prevent her parents' deaths, yet she was also overcome with relief that she had returned to a time when all the worst things had yet to occur—a time when she could still change their fate.
Qingqing composed her thoughts and slowly calmed down. After all, for her, her parents' deaths had happened over a decade ago in her previous life. She was no longer the naive teenage girl she once was.
Hearing the persistent knocking outside, a cold sneer tugged at the corners of her mouth.
The one knocking was her father's paternal half-sister, Feng Damei. Her grandfather had married twice. His first wife died shortly after giving birth to her father. Not long after, her grandfather married his second wife—Feng Damei’s mother.
Both were remarried, and her grandfather had a son from his first marriage, while her step-grandmother had a son of her own. Together, they had three more children, with Feng Damei being the eldest, followed by two younger brothers.
Her grandfather was the stereotypical henpecked husband. With her step-grandmother, Lin Xiaohua, being sharp-tongued and having given birth to three more children, she took control of the household shortly after the marriage. As a result, her father, Feng Shugen, grew up poorly fed and frequently beaten, never even dreaming of attending school.
It was only because the neighbors took pity on her father and occasionally gave him food that he managed to stumble his way into adulthood.
Later, when her father was older, Lin Xiaohua pulled some strings to get him a job as a manual laborer at the factory. Although it was only a temporary position, the work was grueling, and it paid nearly 30 yuan a month.
By the time Lin Xiaohua’s own children were married and having kids, her father was still a bachelor. Ignoring the judging looks of those around them, Lin Xiaohua simply treated her father as a money-making tool, never once considering helping him find a wife.
Though her father was honest, he wasn't completely foolish. Aside from secretly saving a little money, he began planning for his own future. At age 25, he met her mother, Huang Huiyun. To escape that household after marriage, the couple chose to cut ties with the family and paid a settlement of 500 yuan.
After the old man, her grandfather, passed away, the two families effectively stopped interacting.
But her aunt, Feng Damei, was not one to let things go. While her parents were alive, knowing they were a dual-income couple with only one daughter, she would often come by to beg for handouts. Although she was kicked out nine times out of ten, her persistence was, in its own way, remarkable.
In her previous life, Feng Qingqing was young, recently orphaned, and had no other relatives. Since her parents had sheltered her from the family feuds while they were alive, she hadn't known the full truth, only that they were relatives who didn't visit. This ignorance led her to trust Feng Damei and her daughter, Jiang Yun, easily after they spun a web of lies.
They had come now because representatives from the factory office had just left. The visitors hadn't just come to offer condolences; they had brought the death benefits and a job placement for her, as it was only fitting that the factory provide for the daughter of employees who had died for them.
The mechanical factory where her parents worked was well-known in the county, and their combined death benefit totaled 2,500 yuan—a massive sum at the time.
In her previous life, Feng Damei and her daughter had come at this exact moment. Qingqing had been drowned in grief, her mind unstable. She had treated them as her last remaining family and, in her vulnerability, answered every question they asked. That was how her family’s entire life savings had been stolen.
Thinking of this, Feng Qingqing’s eyes widened. She scrambled off the bed, not even bothering to put on her shoes, and raced like a gale into her parents' bedroom.
Their room was slightly larger than hers. Against the north wall was a large bed, opposite the door sat a large wardrobe, and against the south wall was a long desk covered with a patterned cloth.
Ignoring the pain of the memories, Qingqing thought back to where her mother used to hide her money. She opened the wardrobe, pulled out all the clothes, and felt along the back panel. After a moment, she finally pried out a small box.
Opening it, she saw rolls of ten-yuan notes filling most of the space. She counted them: 1,800 yuan in total.
Beside the cash was a small jewelry box. She opened it and froze. A flash of realization hit her—this was the necklace she had often seen around her cousin Jiang Yun’s neck in her previous life. It had been her mother’s all along.
Thinking of her cousin’s later success and the strange spatial dimension she had seen in Jiang Yun’s possession after her own death, she couldn't help but wonder: could the necklace be the source?
Her breath hitched at the thought. If it were true…
She didn't dwell on it. She tucked the necklace and the money away, deciding to test it tonight when the house was quiet. She searched other potential hiding spots in the room, finding another 228 yuan in assorted bills. Knowing her parents' wages and the family's expenses over the years, she knew this must be all they had left.
In her previous life, she hadn't seen a single cent of that money.
She stood up, took one last look around the room, and walked out, locking the door behind her and hiding the key in a small box in the kitchen.
Outside, she could still hear her dear aunt knocking away with tireless persistence.
She walked slowly toward the door, deep in thought. She knew exactly why her aunt was here. But if her aunt still thought she was as gullible as before, she was in for a rude awakening.
This time, she wouldn't let them take a single cent. She would make them taste the same grievances, persecution, and lifelong misery that she had suffered in her previous life.
As soon as Qingqing opened the door, Feng Damei, who was in the middle of knocking, stumbled and nearly fell. Seeing the look of fury in her aunt’s eyes, Feng Damei seemed to catch herself, forcing a stiff smile onto her face:
"Qingqing, what were you doing in there? Your aunt was worried you were mourning alone, so I came to check on you. But I’ve been knocking for ages with no reply! Oh, you nearly scared me to death—I thought something had happened!"
With that, she pushed her way inside, followed by Jiang Yun, who was wearing a look of feigned concern.
Anyone who didn't know the truth would have been easily deceived by their act.