RYEY – Chapter 6 No One Can Take Advantage of Me

Next to the counter were more than a dozen neatly arranged wooden barrels, each filled with something different—millet, cornmeal, red beans, soybeans, mung beans, coix seeds, dried black fungus, dried shiitake mushrooms, red dates, rock sugar, white sugar, brown sugar, and so on—all sold by weight.

This was every housewife’s favorite corner. Not only were the prices cheap, but the quality was excellent too. Beyond the barrels stood rows of open refrigerators and freezers. Inside the fridges, besides milk, yogurt, and cheese, there were also bacon and sausages.

The freezers were filled with processed chicken, duck, and fish, along with bags of beef rolls, mutton slices, beef chunks, frozen dumplings, and frozen sweet rice balls. There was even a huge freezer packed with all kinds of ice cream.

The large central area was filled with shelves. The first two rows held cooking essentials—various oils, soy sauce, vinegar, and dozens of ten-kilogram bags of rice, flour, and dried noodles.

The third and fourth rows displayed snacks, instant noodles, candies, packaged bread, and sodas like “Happy Fatty Water.” This section was especially popular with children—the brightly colored cotton candy and chocolate beans sold like hotcakes.

The fifth row was lined with toiletries—bottles of body wash, shampoo, soap, towels, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and laundry detergent. Cheng Qiao’s eyes immediately landed on her favorite body wash, shampoo, and a full set of skincare products.

Even her usual sanitary pads were there, along with men’s razors and toilet paper—everyday necessities no one could do without.

The last row was stacked with kitchenware—pots, bowls, and pans—as well as several rice cookers of different sizes, portable stoves, and their special small gas canisters.

Cheng Qiao frowned. Apart from the food, everything here was at least a decade ahead of its time. If she brought any of it out now, it would be far too conspicuous, and she might even be “invited for tea” to explain where these things came from.

Having good things but not being able to use them was a pity. Just then, a thought flashed through her mind. She hurried upstairs and pushed open the door to the small storage room.

The storeroom was about fifty square meters, filled with rows of shelves stacked full of goods: old men’s and women’s underwear, bedding, cotton shoes and slippers, and a few military coats.

There were also shoes, hats, scarves, knitting yarn, work gloves, rubber shoes, and rain boots—though the sizes weren’t complete. Fashion changed so quickly that these were leftover stock.

She remembered that all of this came from when she had first escaped her village with the funeral savings her mother-in-law had given her. She had gone to the wholesale market in Chuncheng, set up a stall, and slowly built up her business.

Originally, she thought these things would just sit here unused. She never expected that after being reborn, they would suddenly become so valuable.

Looking at the supplies, Cheng Qiao finally felt completely reassured. She slowly went downstairs and pushed open the door to the backyard.

The backyard was more than an acre, divided into plots where she had planted all kinds of crops.

Along the wall ran a row of pipes for watering the vegetables. Since water was often cut off here, she had even had a well dug.

She leaned over and peered into it. The water was crystal clear, cleaner than the well at the educated youth spot. Unable to resist, she scooped up a bucket, cupped some water in her hands, and took a sip.

It was sweet and refreshing. Her eyes lit up. From now on, she could drink this water directly, and if she wanted it hot, she could just boil it in a kettle.

Worried she’d stayed in the space too long, Cheng Qiao quickly stepped out and returned to the girls’ dormitory. Maybe everyone was exhausted from the day’s work—snores filled the room, even Xu Laidi, who had taken such a beating earlier, was snoring away.

Cheng Qiao tiptoed up to her bed, lay down, and the moment her head touched the pillow, she fell asleep. Soon, another snore joined the dormitory chorus.

The night passed without incident. The next morning, when Cheng Qiao woke up, the dormitory was already empty. In the kitchen, her rations had been left for her—a bowl of watery porridge with barely a few grains of rice, and two coarse grain buns.

She quickly put the rations into her space, then took out a big steamed bun and a bottle of milk for herself.

After eating her fill, she grabbed her washbasin and went to do laundry. The educated youth spot had a pulley well in the courtyard, which saved them from hauling water from the river—a great convenience provided by the villagers.

Cheng Qiao drew a bucket of water and was about to start washing when she opened her soapbox—and her expression immediately darkened.

The half bar of soap she had taken out just a few days ago was now reduced to a tiny nub. Obviously, the other educated youths had been treating her soap as communal property.

Heh. From today on, no one would be taking advantage of her for free. In her previous life, she had been so good to them, always thinking of their needs first. And how had they repaid her? By siding with Xu Laidi to bully her.

She pulled out some laundry detergent instead, soaked her clothes, and began scrubbing. When she reached her undergarments, her face flushed red at the stains, but she scrubbed them clean with extra force.

After hanging the clothes on the bamboo pole, she organized her cabinet, stashing away her money, ration tickets, and other valuables into her space. Only then did she take one yuan and head toward the village clinic.

The clinic was run by an old man in his fifties, surnamed Ye, with the given name Jun. His medical skills were exceptional—patients he treated were almost always cured.

Cheng Qiao also knew that Ye Jun had been sent down for labor reform, but because he had connections, he was allowed to continue practicing. A grand master from a prestigious family of traditional Chinese medicine had been reduced to a barefoot doctor.

Standing at the clinic door, she noticed it was open, but still politely knocked. Surprised, Ye Jun looked up. People with such manners were rare nowadays.

With a kindly smile, he waved her in. Limping, Cheng Qiao walked over. Seeing her disheveled state, Ye Jun shook his head and asked her to take off her shoes and socks for examination.

Her ankle was red and swollen, clearly injured. It would take at least a week to heal. Ye Jun pressed around the swelling and began setting the joint.

With a crisp “crack,” before Cheng Qiao could cry out, he had already released her ankle. Then he pulled out a set of silver needles from his medicine box and began acupuncture around the injury, stimulating the meridians to relieve the pain.

Instantly, the sharp ache in her ankle subsided, and a smile appeared on her face. Ye Jun washed his hands, then handed her some medicine for promoting circulation, reducing swelling, and easing pain. Cheng Qiao quickly accepted them.

“Your joint was dislocated. Normally, people wouldn’t be able to endure this kind of pain for even one night. You must have a strong tolerance.”