Reborn:1983

Chapter 4: Same Surname, Different Destiny!

Xia Xiaolan’s biological father, Xia Dajun, was a brute who preferred fists over words.

When it came to fighting over irrigation ditches or land, Xia Dajun, with his formidable strength, was the Old Xia family’s obedient weapon, pointed wherever they aimed.

Xia Xiaolan thought to herself: Xia Dajun, big body, no brain. Only cares about the big family, never the small one. Truly a giant blockhead—dumb as a post. Of the three Xia brothers, Xia Dajun was the second. He was also the only one who hadn’t managed to sire a son. Feeling disgraced and unable to hold his head high, Xia Dajun often cursed at Liu Fen and resorted to his fists when drunk.

Even his own daughter, Xia Xiaolan, was nothing but a “money-losing burden” in his eyes.

Don’t blame Xia Dajun for lacking the wild ambition to see his daughter as a “rare treasure.” The aesthetic standards of the era were limited. While Xia Xiaolan was undeniably beautiful, her fox-like charm only appealed to young men. Their elders, however, disliked her looks, deeming her “unlikely to stay contentedly at home” – the kind of daughter-in-law who would bring chaos to the whole family.

In contrast, her cousin Xia Ziyu had an oval face, thick eyebrows, and large eyes – an appearance radiating dignified grace. Who wouldn’t call that the face of a good girl?

Xia Xiaolan was considered useless, while Xia Ziyu hadn’t been particularly bright as a child either. But after finishing junior high, she suddenly blossomed intellectually. Her grades soared, and this year, she actually passed the entrance exam for a university in Beijing! – The Old Xia family had hatched a golden phoenix. Xia Dajun scorned his own daughter but doted on his niece.

The able-bodied men of the Xia family toiled on the river embankment precisely to earn Xia Ziyu’s living expenses… Xia Ziyu had gone to Beijing with over 500 yuan scraped together by the Xia family. Afraid she might struggle financially in the capital, the whole family labored like workhorses to support this university student.

Xia Xiaolan, however, had it rough. After hitting the pillar, she hadn’t even gone to the hospital. A barefoot doctor from the village clinic had just haphazardly bandaged her wound.

Truly, same surname, different destiny.

Thinking of the original owner of this body, President Xia (Xia Zong) couldn’t help but sigh.

That top-student cousin of mine is going to be a tough opponent. Country folk might be ignorant, but President Xia knew that in this era, university tuition was free. The state even provided a monthly living subsidy to each student – enough to cover basic personal expenses without issue… Going to school in 1983 with 500 yuan? That was absolutely a white-rich-beautiful treatment.

Xia Xiaolan had no objection to Xia Ziyu enjoying this privileged treatment.

But just now, looking at the group of Xia family members, none were as gaunt as Liu Fen – “so thin you couldn’t squeeze two ounces of oil out of her if you threw her in a pot.” Yet, Xia Ziyu’s own mother, also wearing patched clothes, had a ruddy complexion. Her hands weren’t bony and covered in tiny cracks like Liu Fen’s.

The ones being squeezed the hardest were undoubtedly Xia Xiaolan’s family.

Xia Dajun might be a willing workhorse, but Xia Xiaolan refused to accept this injustice for Liu Fen’s sake.

“When Dad gets back, let’s see what he chooses. His niece or his daughter.”

She didn’t know if Xia Dajun had heard about her hitting the pillar yet. The man would eventually return after finishing his work. Xia Xiaolan decided to give her original father one chance.

Liu Fen sensed something amiss in her daughter’s tone, worried she might confront her father. “Your dad… he does care for you! It’s just that your cousin, she’s…”

Xia Xiaolan just smiled. Liu Fen’s own voice trailed off, losing conviction.

It wasn’t uncommon in the countryside for men to favor nephews over daughters. But favoring a niece over one’s own flesh and blood? Liu Fen had never seen it. Xia Dajun genuinely disliked Xiaolan. Blaming the daughter for Liu Fen’s injury during childbirth that prevented her from having more children – especially the coveted son – he’d directed his resentment at Xiaolan.

Mother and daughter fell into silence.

Xia Xiaolan glanced around the dilapidated shack. “I’ll go gather some firewood.”

She intended to scout Great River Village (Dahe Cun) while she was at it, looking for any opportunity to earn some money. With empty pockets, she had no leverage; the best plans were useless without capital.

Great River Village was poor.

Of course, in 1983, there weren’t many villages in the whole country that weren’t poor.

Poverty was deeply rooted in geography, history, and the limitations of the times. Scraping a living from the soil, filling their bellies was already an achievement.

As the sun set, several women washed clothes by the river.

True to its name, Great River Village sat beside a large river. As for resources, the fish in the river were technically unowned – catch them and you could sell them for cash. But the villagers didn’t dare sell fish in the city… While the fish were wild, that stretch of river belonged to the village, part of the collective property. Catching a few for a meal was fine; selling them was f*******n.

Xia Xiaolan felt no moral qualms about poaching fish to sell. Her and Liu Fen’s entire worldly possessions amounted to those 20 pounds of sweet potatoes. When you’re starving to death, what room is there for ethical purity?

Unfortunately, she had no tools and lacked the skill to catch fish barehanded.

The riverbanks were thick with tall, sturdy reeds (baihua wei). If it were May, Xia Xiaolan might have been able to pick reed leaves to sell to city dwellers for wrapping zongzi (sticky rice dumplings). But the Dragon Boat Festival was long past. These weren’t items people urgently needed; she couldn’t even earn a pittance for the labor.

Weaving mats or baskets to sell?

In the original owner’s memory, many in Great River Village possessed this skill. During the agricultural off-season, every household would weave some straw mats or baskets. They wouldn’t fetch much in the countryside. In the city, these items lacked competitiveness too. This era wasn’t interested in folk crafts; city folk craved agricultural products like meat, eggs, and dairy.

Xia Xiaolan stared at the river, lost in thought. Could I, who once managed executives in a major corporation, really starve to death here in 1983? If she wanted to break free from the Xia family, she needed the ability to support herself and Liu Fen. Before those 20 pounds of sweet potatoes ran out, she had to secure some seed money.

The countryside offered no hope. She needed to seek opportunities in the city.

Profit came from the flow of goods. But rural folk had little purchasing power. Apart from industrial products like matches, soap, and fertilizer, villagers in 1983 were largely self-sufficient… The women by the river pointed fingers and whispered about Xia Xiaolan.

Preoccupied with survival strategies while gathering dry branches along the bank, Xia Xiaolan had no time for gossips. Unwilling to waste energy on arguments, she walked further downstream to a reed bed near the cattle pen. The stench here was overwhelming, deterring even villagers who came to cut reeds.

Venturing deeper into the reeds, two wild ducks suddenly burst into flight.

Flapping and quacking, they seemed to be trying to lure her away. Xia Xiaolan’s eyes lit up. Hah! Trying to fool me? That’s a classic decoy maneuver!

Sure enough, searching carefully through the reeds, she discovered a well-hidden duck nest.

Inside the nest, made of soft grass, lay a pile of greenish duck eggs. President Xia, who had signed billion-dollar contracts in her past life, grinned foolishly at the clutch of wild duck eggs. She picked them up one by one, holding them up to the light – all were fresh, with no sign of embryo development.

Twelve eggs in total!

The saying was right: Those living by the mountain live off the mountain; those living by the water live off the water. Relying on these riverbank reeds, she would survive in 1983. Resisting the urge to sweep the entire reed bed for more nests, she carefully bundled the twelve precious eggs into her skirt, gathered her firewood, and headed back to the dilapidated shack.

“Mom, let’s roast some sweet potatoes?”

She needed to eat her fill first. Only then would she have the strength to work!