Chapter 4: Spending Money on Oneself

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In the past, Wang Peng was the pillar of the family at home, and Wang Xia had never cooked a meal in her life. Now that her eldest brother had run away, the unpleasant chores fell to her. How could the beloved, delicate second brother possibly cook?

She was chopping spinach with a kitchen knife when she accidentally cut her finger, fresh blood gushing out.

Li Guifen cursed loudly as she bandaged her wound, “Why did I give birth to such an idiot? Even the pigs in the sty aren’t as dumb as you.”

Her curses were harsh and vulgar through and through.

While scolding, she finished chopping the spinach and then taught her eldest daughter how to cook; she didn’t want to take on household chores herself.

Wang Xia cooked with tears in her eyes but ended up making the spinach overly salty.

“Does our family get salt for free or what?” Li Guifen slapped her on the head and launched into another tirade.

“Alright, next time be more careful,” Wang Song knocked on his tobacco pipe at the dining table. “Da Ya, come with me to the pig market tomorrow to sell piglets.”

Wang Xia cursed Wang Peng quietly in her heart, “It’s all your fault. If you hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t have to cook or get scolded and beaten. I hope you starve to death out there.”

Ping’an County, pig market.

After eating two baked flatbreads, a large bowl of chicken blood soup, and a pound of braised beef, Wang Peng rubbed his stomach and burped contentedly.

His stomach ached from overeating; in his previous life, he had been too frugal to indulge in even a bite of beef, but in this life, he was determined to eat well and drink well.

One’s body belongs to oneself; eating heartily and living well is the true way.

At this moment, he agreed even more with what the beef seller had said—spending money on oneself truly feels wonderful.

Someone once said that the most important thing in life is to love yourself. He had once scoffed at this, but now he realized it was a profound truth.

“Hey, young man,” the old man selling baked flatbreads, Old Duan, sat opposite him. “You have a scale on your cart; what kind of business are you in?”

“I sell watermelons. I’ll save you two for tomorrow,” Wang Peng chatted with him.

Old Duan scratched his head with a smile and pointed toward the residential area beside the pig market. “That’s the textile factory’s staff quarters—lots of people there. You could sell your melons there.”

“Thanks for the tip, big brother,” Wang Peng thought it was a good idea.

The textile factory’s staff quarters were quite large—definitely bigger than the railway quarters, so sales should be considerable.

The key was, after selling watermelons, he could come straight over to enjoy the baked flatbreads, beef, and chicken blood soup.

Seeing Wang Peng’s frail body, Old Duan reminded him, “Road bandits are fierce around here. With your little build, they’ll probably charge you more tolls, right?”

Wang Peng smiled. He traveled through secret passages and didn’t have to pay tolls.

Someone came over to buy baked flatbreads, and Old Duan stood up to serve them.

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