Chapter 2 — Divorced and Reborn: My New Beginning

His name was Zhao Weidong, a company commander serving under Lu Zheng. After hesitating for a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

Sister-in-law, the commander is not a bad man. Over the past few years, his duties have been incredibly demanding, and he truly has been unaware of what has been happening at home.

I looked up at him, my expression unreadable.

If he was unaware, does that mean he bears no responsibility?

Zhao Weidong was instantly silenced, his tongue tied by the weight of my words. I did not continue. Lu Zheng might not be an evil man, but his absence was an undeniable reality. His cold indifference was equally true. A single marriage certificate had bound the original owner of this body to the Lu household for six long years, years during which he had shown neither interest nor concern. Now, with a flippant "you have caused enough trouble," he had sent over a divorce agreement. I felt a deep sense of injustice for the woman who had lived here before me, but what mattered more to me now was carving out a good life for myself and for Tang Tang.

By the next day, Tang Tang’s fever had finally broken. I took the child to town. I sold a silver bracelet for forty-five yuan and rented a tiny room facing the main street. The room was cramped, the walls peeling and grey, with a small, makeshift kitchen space squeezed into the back. The landlady, Mrs. Feng, saw me with a young child in tow and asked in a low voice, Where is your husband?

Divorced, I replied.

Her gaze faltered. In this era, a divorced woman was rarely met with respect. I had braced myself for harsh judgment or biting remarks, but Mrs. Feng merely sighed and said, Raising a child alone is no easy task. Pay for the first month of rent now. If you ever find yourself struggling to make ends meet in the future, just speak to me in advance.

A sudden, sharp sting pricked at my nose. Thank you, I whispered.

Once we were settled, I scouted the vegetable market. Pig offal went unwanted by most, making it incredibly cheap. People in this time despised the smell, and if one didn’t know how to prepare it properly, it would be tough and rubbery. But I possessed the knowledge to turn it into something else entirely. I purchased two sets of intestines and a pig’s liver, along with a handful of spices. Upon returning, I scrubbed the meat until my fingertips were pruned and pale. Tang Tang sat on a small stool, watching me work with wide, obedient eyes. Mother, can we really eat this? she asked.

I laughed softly. Not only can we eat it, but we can sell it for money.

The child’s eyes brightened instantly. That night, I cooked the first batch of braised intestines and liver. The aroma drifted from the kitchen and out into the hallway, so tempting that the neighbor’s child laid flat against the door gap, peering inside. The next morning, I carried an enamel basin to the factory gate. At first, no one dared to approach. Someone pinched their nose and laughed, Are you selling offal? Have you gone mad from poverty?

I did not lose my temper. I cut a small piece of liver and offered it to a worker who had just finished his night shift. Try it for free. If you like the taste, then buy it.

He hesitated, then popped it into his mouth. After chewing twice, his eyes widened in surprise. How much?

Three cents for a portion, five for the intestines, I answered.

He immediately bought two portions. Once the first customer broke the ice, the rest followed. In less than an hour, everything was sold out. I held the eight yuan and three cents I had earned, my hands trembling uncontrollably. It was not fear that shook me, but an overwhelming rush of excitement. Tang Tang hugged my legs and looked up, asking, Mother, does this mean we have enough to eat now?

I crouched down, meeting her eyes with firm resolve. Yes. Not just today, but every single day from now on.

She bit her lip, and tears began to fall steadily. I pulled her into my arms. In that moment, I knew there was no turning back. I had to raise this child well. And I had to clear away, once and for all, the suffocating grievances that had weighed down the heart of the woman who came before me.

My stall of braised delicacies quickly gained a reputation. By the third day, workers were lining up early in the morning. By the fifth day, even the staff from the supply store were queuing for a taste. By the seventh day, jealousy began to take root in the hearts of others. A hoodlum named Ma San blocked my stall, propping one foot up on my stool.

Newcomer, he sneered, do you even understand the rules around here?