Chapter Two: In Poverty, Rise Up

Ping'an Village.

All was silent.

Inside the damp, shadowy earthen house, the dim light filtering through the window cast a yellowish hue. Lu Kun gazed blankly at Liu Liping.

She was drenched in sweat, her slightly wavy hair tucked behind her ears. Her smooth forehead and delicate, fair neck were radiant with youthful vitality and confidence.

Liu Liping’s eyes shone brightly. In Lu Kun’s memory, since their younger son fell ill more than a year ago, such spirited light had almost never returned to her gaze.

Lu Kun reclined against the bed’s edge, pulling a rough, homemade cigarette from his pocket and rolling it with practiced hands.

With a sharp flick, the match struck the box, and a small flame flared—like a firefly’s glow, it briefly illuminated the dim room.

By the match’s feeble light, Lu Kun once again studied Liu Liping’s beautiful face. Every frown and smile rippled through his heart.

He couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn upward.

They had already passed the “seven-year itch,” yet the sweetness of their married life had never faded. Fortunately, they were both still young; neither had lost confidence in the future despite their present hardships.

“Everything will get better, little by little,” Lu Kun comforted Liu Liping, and perhaps himself as well.

In the darkness, Ms. Liu looked at her husband leaning against the bed. After a long while, Liping finally murmured her assent.

Lu Kun was only twenty-three this year, still in the prime of his life, with all the vigor and ambition of youth. His best years as a man were just beginning.

He still had plenty of time to fight and change their fate.

Lighting his crude cigarette, Lu Kun smoked in silence, his brow tightly furrowed as he pondered how they would get by in the days ahead.

Their family owned only two acres of poor land—feeding everyone was already a challenge, let alone paying back the debts owed to their fellow villagers.

He muttered to himself, “I can’t believe it—given a second chance at life, I’d end up just as useless as before.”

In his past life, Lu Kun had truly been a scoundrel. His family was torn apart, his debts piled into oblivion, and every friend and relative who had lent him money was left in utter despair.

“It was my skill that got me those loans—why should I pay them back?” he’d nearly roared at them, embodying the infamous “the debtor is king” philosophy.

Anyone who came to collect was met with such defiance that they left fuming and exasperated.

“But things can’t go on like that now—I need to think of a way to make money,” Lu Kun mused, dragging on his harsh tobacco, his mind spinning rapidly.

Farming was out of the question—it never had been, and never would be, an option for him. Having been reborn, Lu Kun knew all too well: neither labor nor cultivation offered a way out. Without finding another path, his family would starve.

He did have ways to earn money, if only he had some capital to start with. Right now, the most valuable thing in the house was probably the few tiles above their heads—there truly was nothing else worth mentioning.

“It seems I’ll have to do business without any capital.”

Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Lu Kun considered his options. Borrowing was out—he’d have to find another way.

Happy moments, as always, didn’t last long. After half an hour, Liu Liping lay spent on the bed, drifting into blissful sleep.

In Lu Kun’s memory, ever since their son’s passing, Liu Liping had barely known a full night’s rest. Each night, she either struggled to fall asleep or was tormented by nightmares, waking in tears and calling out for the child.

Lu Kun could hardly recall how long it had been; both of them had been punishing themselves over their son, and the sweetness of their days had been replaced with bitterness.

“The dead may rest, but the living must bear the burden and move forward. My son, your father failed you—I couldn’t save you. But I promise, from now on, I’ll make sure your mother and your two sisters live good lives.”

Murmuring softly, Lu Kun gently wiped away the tears at the corner of Liu Liping’s eyes, then staggered to his feet.

His legs felt weak and heavy as lead, his back and waist aching so much he grimaced with pain. This was the price a man paid for overexertion; indulgence always came at a cost.

Shakily, Lu Kun left the dark, nearly pitch-black room to check on his two daughters.

As he reached their door, before he could knock, he heard two angry, childish voices inside.

“Sis, Daddy is so bad! He bullies Mama. When I grow up, I’ll really teach him a lesson and stand up for Mama!”

“Me too, me too! We’ll join Mama and beat up Daddy, that big villain!”

Lu Kun stood outside the door, listening to his daughters’ animated plotting about how they’d stand up to their father for their mother’s sake. He couldn’t help but blush with embarrassment.

He cleared his throat loudly outside the door, startling the two girls into silence.

The elder daughter was named Lu Huimin—she was seven this year, old enough for school, but he and his wife had been too preoccupied with their son to focus on her education.

At that time, sending a child to public school was a heavy burden. Tuition and miscellaneous fees were one thing, but the building fund was the real expense.

The younger daughter, Lu Huiying, was still too young for school, so that was one less worry for now.

Lu Kun figured he’d send his elder daughter to the village school for a few years first; once the family’s finances improved, she could transfer to the public school. The village school didn’t charge a building fee—just tuition and incidentals. If they truly couldn’t pay, they could use rice, or even delay payment.

Night was falling fast—the sky was nearly black.

The village had no electricity; darkness swallowed the landscape, punctuated only by faint plumes of smoke rising from the rooftops.

Lu Kun scraped the bottom of the rice jar, collecting just enough for a thin porridge—enough to get them through the night.

He untied a bundle of dried greens, leftover from the New Year’s celebrations, tore off a third, washed it, and added it to the pot.

Days without meat were hard; days with nothing to fill your belly were even harder.

As the porridge boiled, Lu Kun’s tears began to fall. Their little son was gone, and his two daughters were frail and malnourished. Grief threatened to crush the entire family.

Given another chance at life, he couldn’t bear to live this way any longer.

If their poor household was to rise, then let it be amid the wind and rain.