Quick Transmigration: Don't Let That Cannon Fodder Go

The second daughter in the 367th year of the article is 62.

After traveling for more than a day, Fu Zhiyi finally arrived in Linghai City. Her legs were weak when she got off the bus.

It's raining today, and many stalls on the street haven't been set up; it's deserted.

Fu Zhiyi was carrying large bags and small packages upstairs when she suddenly bumped into a strange man.

She glanced at the men in suits with some curiosity. Were these people newcomers?

The man was also taken aback when he saw her.

He looked at the package she was carrying on her shoulder and smiled, "Little Fu, did you just get back? Let me help you carry it up."

Fu Zhiyi shook her head: "No need, I can carry it up myself."

Mr. Liang smiled and took the luggage from her hands: "I know you are Miss Song's daughter. I ran into her this morning, and she said you won't be home until tomorrow."

Fu Zhiyi wasn't used to chatting with strangers, so she awkwardly replied, "I had something to do at home, so I went home a day early."

"Uncle, let me take them." Fu Zhiyi was a little embarrassed because her hands were empty.

"No need, no need, Uncle can carry this."

Mr. Liang lowered his voice: "The main purpose of my visit is to ask everyone's opinions on the dormitory building."

“I only realized how humid this place is after I came to Linhai City. The ceiling in this stairwell is even moldy.” He frowned deeply. “Living in a place like this for a long time will make you sick.”

Fu Zhiyi replied dryly, "Indeed, and the clothes never seem to dry."

Finally arriving at Fu Zhiyi's doorstep, Mr. Liang put his things on the ground and said, "Little Fu, I'll be going now. You'll have to trouble yourself to carry these inside."

Fu Zhiyi nodded and thanked her.

According to what Song Qin had taught her before, she should have invited Mr. Liang in for a cup of tea, but perhaps she was a little afraid, and in the end she didn't say anything.

Song Qin wasn't home. The floor was piled with fabric and boxes. Fu Zhiyi flipped through the fabric and found many identical dresses.

Fu Zhiyi suddenly remembered that Song Qin had told her before that she wanted to start her own business.

Linhai City belongs to Wang Songqin, Fu Zhiyi firmly believes.

When Song Qin returned, she was startled to see Fu Zhiyi sitting on the sofa.

"Didn't you say you'd be back tomorrow?" Song Qin was overjoyed and looked at Fu Zhiyi over and over again.

"How come you've lost so much weight in such a short time?"

Fu Zhiyi looked at her helplessly; her face was clearly rounder.

Song Qin pulled Fu Zhiyi into the room and took out several dresses from the wardrobe.

"Wear this from now on, don't always wear those clothes that fade, little girl like you."

Fu Zhiyi was stunned when she saw the dresses on the bed.

"Mom, this..."

Song Qin smiled with a hint of pride: "Mother started a small business. Although we don't earn much now, it's just the beginning. We'll earn a lot more in the future."

She said that Song Qin wasn't that stupid. Old Fu used to say that she was stupid and couldn't do anything, but now she's almost done it.

"How was your time at home? You didn't have any arguments, did you?"

Fu Zhiyi shook her head, and Song Qin finally felt relieved.

She held Fu Zhiyi's hand and said, "When it's Chinese New Year, Mom will take you home to celebrate with them."

Fu Zhiyi's eyes lit up, and she nodded emphatically.

The mother and daughter cooked dinner together that evening.

"Eat more meat tonight, make sure you have some nourishment. I didn't even get to carry those bags back for you, you must be exhausted."

Song Qin cooked several meat dishes, and the kitchen was filled with the aroma of vegetables.

Since Lao Fu left, they've been using far less chili in their cooking.

Fu Zhiyi smiled and said, "Mom, an uncle helped me carry it upstairs today?"

"Uncle? Is that Li Jun upstairs?"

Fu Zhiyi shook her head: "It wasn't him. It was a man in a suit and glasses who said he was here to ask for my opinion."

"Then I understand. It's probably that Boss Liang from our factory. He's the one who got you into the affiliated high school back then."

"That's amazing?" Fu Zhiyi was somewhat surprised.

Song Qin smiled and said, "You're amazing too. No matter how amazing he is, you definitely wouldn't have gotten in if you didn't have good grades."

She always believed in Fu Zhiyi's grades. Although her midterm score was a bit weak, she still got into the top class in the final exam. Her homeroom teacher told her this good news.

That evening, Fu Zhiyi told Song Qin about her father, thinking that her mother would be angry again.

She just sighed and didn't say anything.

"Mom, are you sad?" Fu Zhiyi asked, somewhat at a loss.

Song Qinfan's smile was somewhat forced: "We've lived together for so long, it would be a lie to say I'm not sad."

I originally thought that after Lao Fu left, he would be able to take good care of himself.

After all, when he left, he said that all the care she gave him was a burden and completely useless.

But when Song Qin heard Fu Zhiyi say that no one at home paid attention to him, and that Song Xianyin and Lao Fu were always arguing, and that Lao Fu often couldn't win the argument, Song Qin still felt a little sorry for him.

She sighed deeply. He always said things that made people angry, and Song Xianyin couldn't stand it, so she always had to talk back.

"They're all so old, yet they don't know how to give way to their own children."

Fu Zhiyi stared blankly at Song Qin's departing figure; this reaction was completely unexpected.

She had prepared herself to spend a long time comforting Song Qin, but to her surprise, Song Qin just sighed and turned to leave, not as vulnerable as before.

Fu Zhiyi was very happy. His mother should have been like this, she should have been like this a long time ago.

At this point, only Lao Fu was left at home.

He sat alone in the bright room, half-reclining in a rocking chair, listening to the radio.

He had listened to those old tunes countless times, and he knew them so well that he could follow along with every single line.

But you get tired of listening to the same tunes eventually. Old Fu's interest in the radio also waned.

Seeing his neighbor surrounded by his children and grandchildren, and with his wife by his side, Lao Fu suddenly felt a pang of sadness.

He began to miss the past, that era when, though poor, people were sincere.

Just then, the old lady from next door arrived carrying several jars of pickled vegetables.

She said her son was going to take her to live in the city, and since she couldn't finish the pickled vegetables, she just grabbed them and gave them to her.

"Old Fu, do you eat pickled vegetables? I see you don't cook much, you usually just cook some rice, and these pickled vegetables are enough to fill your stomach." The old lady chattered on and on, handing the jar to Old Fu.

Old Fu accepted it with a smile, thinking that this would really save him trouble. He could just take some pickled vegetables out of the jar every day and that would be enough for a meal. He wouldn't even have to cook any other dishes.

Looking at his lonely figure, the old lady couldn't help but think, "This man is hated by his son, hated by his daughter, and now hated by his wife. What future can such a person have?"

If she were his phone number, he'd rather be dead than be gossiped about by the villagers.