Volume One, Chapter One: She Returned from the Apocalypse

A cellar so dark you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face, rancid and rock-hard cornbread that sent a stab of pain through her teeth with every bite, the ache from fists slamming into her body, and the taste of blood constantly welling up in her mouth—Su Jin Xia’s head throbbed with pain, her lips parched and cracked. Dazed, she heard voices drifting through the haze, and a sudden impulse brought her back to clarity. Her eyelids fluttered.

“Mingyue, do you like this fabric? I’ll find a tailor to make you a floral dress. You’ll look beautiful in it! I traded food coupons for this, so you mustn’t tell your father.”

“It’s so pretty! Really pretty! Sister doesn’t have one, right?”

Xiao Ying glanced at the tightly closed door of the small room and, reassured, continued in a low voice, “Of course not. Why would I ever buy fabric for her? Everything is for my dear Mingyue.”

Su Mingyue was delighted, linking her arm through her mother’s and resting her head on her shoulder. “Mommy is the best. I love you and you love me!”

Su Mingyue laughed triumphantly, then suddenly remembered, “Sister’s had a fever for two days now… will she be alright?”

“She’ll be fine. Just needs to tough it out.” Xiao Ying’s tone was dismissive; the sight of her eldest daughter’s face always brought back memories of her late mother-in-law.

That woman, Su Jin, gentle as a chrysanthemum, beautiful, always seemed untouched by the world’s troubles. But what right did a country woman have to carry herself with such airs? Yet both her father-in-law and husband had doted on her, forbidding her to cook or even wash clothes.

She had lived exactly the life Xiao Ying had always dreamed of, leaving all the chores to her daughter-in-law, as if Xiao Ying had married into the family solely to serve her. Remembering her mother-in-law’s fate, Xiao Ying’s lips curled into a cold smile.

Though the woman was long gone, her eldest daughter grew more and more like her with each passing year, fueling a growing hatred that naturally shifted onto the child. No matter how obedient or clever the girl was, or how well she performed at school, it could never outweigh Xiao Ying’s resentment toward her mother-in-law.

This time, after two days and two nights of fever, even if she didn’t end up an idiot, she’d surely be left crippled. She could only blame her own bad luck.

Inside the room, Su Jin Xia slowly opened her eyes. The darkness around her was thick, the air heavy with the scent of mildew. She reached out and found something familiar by her side.

It was the rag doll her grandmother had left her. She sat up abruptly, almost fainting again from the effort.

Outside, she heard her mother and sister talking. She’d thought she was dreaming, but now she realized she had truly returned: three years of endless darkness, imprisonment, and the fists of an abusive man! A fierce hatred blazed in Su Jin Xia’s eyes. She had been reborn—at last, it was time for revenge. Driven by this powerful resolve, she climbed out of bed.

“Mom, I want noodles. Can you cook that half bundle of noodles in the cupboard for me? Dad said we should save them for Sister’s birthday, but I want them now! What should I do?”

“What else? Of course, I’ll make them for you, my precious! If your dad asks, just say it was your sister who ate them—tell him you gave them to her when she had a fever. If she claims she doesn’t remember, you’ll back me up!” Xiao Ying said smugly, already pulling the noodles from the cupboard with practiced ease.

Then, from her waistband, she took a key, opened the top cabinet, and pulled out two eggs—the last two in the house.

“I want eggs!” Su Mingyue almost grabbed for them, then remembered raw eggs couldn’t be eaten and pulled her hands back, watching eagerly as her mother cracked the eggs into a bowl, the golden yolks shining.

“Mom, I want both a fried egg and a boiled egg!”

“You’re so picky! Normally you get all the eggs, but today I want one for myself. You can’t have everything!” Xiao Ying doted on her younger daughter, even though she was dark and plain, and, on closer inspection, had a trace of resemblance to someone else.

But what did it matter? This girl was her own flesh and blood. As for the one lying in the other room, she was nothing but a bane, a constant reminder of that insipid mother-in-law.

Su Mingyue grinned as her mother prodded the stove and added more wood, and soon the fire roared to life. The water in the pot began to bubble, and the noodles went in.

Xiao Ying felt a pang of guilt and glanced toward the small room, then nearly jumped out of her skin.

Su Jin Xia was standing there, pale as a ghost, lips bloodless, but her eyes bright and sharp.

“You little wretch, what are you standing there for?”

“Good, good. At last, I see you both.” Su Jin Xia looked at the mother and daughter before her, wishing she could tear into their flesh and drink their blood. On the wall, the calendar read May 6, 1978!

“Sister, what are you doing? Your stare is creepy!” Su Mingyue felt a chill. Her sister’s gaze was strange and unsettling.

Su Jin Xia took a few steps forward, her legs as weak as if she were walking on clouds, her illness having drained her strength after two days and nights of fever. In her delirium, no one had cared for her; she remembered drinking water but hadn’t eaten a single grain of rice.

Now, as she looked at her mother and sister, there was not a word of apology—only curses, as if she were no more than a stranger.

Xiao Ying watched her daughter approach, suddenly unnerved, instinctively retreating step by step.

Su Jin Xia walked right up to them, lifted the pot lid, and, in front of their eyes, poured the eggs into the boiling noodles, stirring with her chopsticks. Then she turned and opened the cupboard, took out the salt jar, and dumped a heaping spoonful into the pot.

Xiao Ying finally snapped out of it, “What are you doing, you little brat? Why so much salt?”

“Get out,” Su Jin Xia replied, her voice icy.

All she wanted was to fill her belly, then deal with these two.

Xiao Ying reached out to shove her aside, but her wrist was caught in an unyielding grip she couldn’t break free from. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Out!” Su Jin Xia flung her out, then pushed Su Mingyue from the kitchen as well, slammed the door, and shot the bolt tight. Only then did she turn to the stove, dump the noodles into a bowl, and gaze at the gleaming, white strands. Tears welled in her eyes.

The bitter taste in her mouth didn’t stop her from eating; noodles with salt never tasted so good.

The door rattled under relentless pounding.

“Su Jin Xia! You damned girl, get out here!” Xiao Ying banged on the door with her fists, kicked it with her feet, but the battered old door held firm.

She regretted not replacing that door sooner!

“Sis, come out! Look what you’ve done to Mom!” Su Mingyue added fuel to the fire, jealous as ever.

Why did two daughters from the same mother turn out so different? Her sister had always been beautiful, her delicate face radiant even in shabby clothes. With such a comparison, Su Mingyue only felt plainer and uglier.

If her sister was the blossom, she herself was just a leaf. At school, the boys’ eyes never left her sister, while she was always in the background.

Su Jin Xia wiped her mouth and stood up; with a full bowl of noodles inside her, she felt stronger. Truthfully, she had always been strong—they just never realized.

She went to the door, opened it, and slipped aside.

Xiao Ying rushed in headlong, nearly falling face-first onto the stove.

Clutching her scalded hand, Xiao Ying shrieked, “You wretched girl, are you trying to kill me?!”

Su Mingyue froze in shock, hands covering her mouth, watching as the boiling pot threatened to tip onto her mother. She dared not touch it, but let go and screamed at her sister, “Help Mom! The pot’s about to fall on her!”

Su Jin Xia grabbed her hand. “Dear sister, aren’t you and Mother always of one heart? Well, then, share your blessings and your misfortunes together.”

She pressed her hand down onto the rim of the boiling pot, where the scalding water burned at the touch.

“Ah!”