Let's talk about Lin Jiadong because this character is genuinely infuriating and the author knows exactly what they're doing. The stakes here are enormous and they're layered. On the surface: Qiaozhi wants to graduate early and enter the factory. Her brother failed the entrance exam and now their mother is asking Qiaozhi to help him. But the real conflict isn't about helping or not helping—it's about who gets to define reality in this family. Jiadong's accusation—that he failed 'because of her'—is a power move. He's trying to make Qiaozhi responsible for his failure so that the family's resources (mother's attention, father's prestige, tutoring time) get redirected to him. And Jiang Hongmei, bless her exhausted heart, immediately leans into it: 'Qiaozhi, Jiadong only failed because of you.' But Qiaozhi sees through it instantly. 'Good thing I never taught you.' The line is devastating in its simplicity. She realizes that even if she had taught him, he would have blamed her anyway. The black pot—the scapegoat role—was destined for her whether she earned it or not. What makes this conflict so tense is that Qiaozhi has everything to lose. If she helps Jiadong, she delays her own early graduation, which means delaying her factory placement, which in her 'previous life' meant everything fell apart. The Cultural Revolution context adds another layer: job assignments were stalled, positions were shrinking, and 'the number of available positions shrank dramatically.' Every month of delay is a real, tangible loss. The author never lets us forget that this family dynamic exists within a society where a girl's future is already precarious. Qiaozhi's refusal to carry her brother's failure isn't selfish—it's survival. And that's what makes the conflict so morally complex. There are no clean answers, only choices between different kinds of loss.
Okay so I need to talk about the pencil scene because honestly it is the single funniest and most devastating thing I have read all year. Xie Wenxing bends down to pick up a 2B pencil from under Xu Huai'an's desk and instead of handing it over he just... slips it into his own pocket. His hand trembles. His hair quivers. He is literally shaking with a mix of excitement and guilt and also satisfaction from touching something that belonged to the guy he likes. This is not a heist movie. This is a psychological thriller about a boy who just committed his first theft and the only victim is his own dignity. And then the absolute peak of this entire sequence: Xu Huai'an appears at the back door. Xie Wenxing's guilty conscience makes him feel like Xu Huai'an is staring right at his pocket. So what does he do? He YELLS at him. "What are you looking at?! What's so interesting?!" and then sprints away like his life depends on it. Meanwhile Xu Huai'an just texts Zhou Yuan: "Nothing. Just saw a funny little rabbit and played with it for a bit." PLAYED WITH IT. He knows. He absolutely knows something happened and he is treating Xie Wenxing like an actual pet. The plot structure here is genius because on the surface nothing is happening. No drama, no conflict, no big events. But underneath every single interaction is this massive tension between two boys who are completely different in how they process feelings. Xie Wenxing is chaos and panic and impulsive decisions. Xu Huai'an is stillness and observation and dry remarks that cut deeper than any shout ever could. The story doesn't need explosions when it has a stolen pencil and a text message.
The entire county hospital had only thirty beds. That line hit me like a brick. Thirty. Beds. For an entire county. And Doctor Jiang is responsible for four of them, one of which is Liang Youtian, a man whose stomach is eating him alive and whose diagnosis is still hanging in limbo. The plot here is doing something really smart—it's building tension through constraint. There's no grand conspiracy, no dramatic villain lurking in the shadows. The conflict is baked into the setting itself. Fang Yuan walks into a system where resources are razor-thin, where a misdiagnosis could mean the difference between life and death, and where she's expected to figure things out on the fly. What really got me though is the subplot threading through the family scenes. Fang Yuan pulling out that sandalwood box from under her bed, hiding it from her mother, the fact that her eldest aunt and mother got nothing from Grandpa's inheritance while she got everything—that's a plot bomb waiting to go off. I can already feel it simmering. And then there's the little sister situation. Fang Yuan begging to bring her four-year-old sister home, and her mother brushing her off with excuses about workload and daycare. Something's going to crack there. I just know it. The Liang Youtian case is the narrative spine right now, and it's handled with this quiet, mounting dread. The patient looks thirty-one but appears decades older. Sunken cheeks. Dull eyes. Drinking plain boiled water like it's a luxury. Doctor Jiang scolding him gently for eating porridge when he should be fasting. Every detail adds weight. The author isn't shouting—she's whispering, and that's somehow scarier.
Okay so I need to talk about Su Jinle's family because honestly this is what made me actually emotional in this section. Her mom Lin Yun — I just, I love her. When Su Jinle comes home with the three yuan and says "we have money, let's eat meat" and her mom immediately starts crying? That hit me so hard. This woman has been carrying the weight of her daughter being called "useless" by everyone else, chasing away matchmakers who wanted to sell Lele off to older widowers, and she still treats her like a child even though Lele is out there doing business on her own. The scene where she pretends she already ate so Lele can have the meat buns — classic mom move, but written with so much restraint it just wrecked me. And then there's Su Yi'an. His line "Brother isn't your responsibility" followed by Lele's response "He isn't, but he's my family" — I literally gasped. That's the entire thesis of their relationship right there. In her past life he went far away and they barely saw each other, and now she's anchoring him to her with this quiet, unshakable devotion. The fact that he promises to stay after hearing her say it shows how much their bond has shifted. He's not just her brother anymore, he's her witness — the one who sees what she's capable of. But then Gu Jingxiu and Yang Muqing show up at her door and everything changes. The way Yang Muqing immediately grabs the dress and commands Gu Jingxiu to get it for her — she doesn't even ask Su Jinle. To her, this is just another thing to take. And Gu Jingxiu? He just... goes to do it. He doesn't even flinch. That's the moment where I realized this isn't just about a dress. It's about whether Su Jinle will let the ghost of her past life pull her back into old patterns. She pushed him away and shouted "Get lost!" — and I was so proud of her. She finally drew the line.
Let's talk about voice, because this author has one and it's immediately recognizable. The novel opens with "Heh. I want to die." That's it. Four words. And in those four words, we get Jiang Luokui's entire personality: self-deprecating, dramatic, darkly humorous, and completely unfiltered. This is a woman who survived a century of cultivation, died tragically, got reborn, and her first thought is a comedic sigh about wanting to end it all. The tone is set instantly. The dialogue between Jiang Luokui and Lin Zihan is natural in a way that's rare in this genre. They're both broke, both have low ability rankings, and they communicate with this quiet solidarity: "Why do you look so pale?" "Aren't you the same?" No drama, no exposition, just two people recognizing each other's suffering. And then their exchange about Li Jue Ming—"We might be witnessing the rise of a great agricultural scientist… too bad he's not from Class Two"—that's sharp, witty, and perfectly captures the bitter humor of two bottom-tier students watching a genius pass them by. Old Zhang's dialogue is equally distinct. "Perfect. They had already tested the machine's upper limit with Pu Qing—now they could test its lower limit." This is dry, almost cruel humor from a teacher who's seen too many students. And his line "The first result must've been chaotic because the ability activation was too slow"—the way he lies smoothly to cover up the anomaly shows a character who's pragmatic and experienced. The narrative voice itself is close third-person, staying tightly aligned with Jiang Luokui's perspective. Her internal monologue is where the real comedy lives: "Studying again was one thing—but repaying debts she had already paid once?!" The author lets her thoughts run wild while keeping the external dialogue lean and purposeful.
So this is more Netori The MC is the one taking other guys waifus and cucking people, but he isn’t getting cucked by anybody right?
It’s good just upload more chapters ……….
Nice book ?love the settings and character development of the MC.keep it up
This is interesting. Anticipating how she will revenge her grievances of the previous life and uplift her family status. What other features did this farming space possess?
Happy Writing, I am waiting to finish this story....
I read through the first 43 free chapters. The fights are Hype, the blend with crafting and fighting feels good and I have yet to see a bland character. I recommend this.
To be honest this the best Urban novel in this plateform Unique plot specialy development and clear world background Keep going author i will be the first fan here