Traveling Through Those Years Of Farming (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 22

“Have you heard? Lady Hua donates a huge sum of money to the town’s primary and middle schools!”

It is the slack season, and a group of village women gathers to sew soles, knit sweaters, and chat about the latest gossip.

“I hear it’s five or six thousand yuan.”

“That much?!”

Gasps of surprise ripple through the group.

In the late 1980s, while wages are starting to rise, five or six thousand yuan is still an enormous sum. People usually save that kind of money to build a house or buy a motorcycle—not to donate to schools.

“My cousin’s son teaches at the town primary school. I know all about this,” a plump woman chimes in. She tosses her half-sewn sole into a basket, drags her stool to the center of the group, and eagerly begins her explanation.

“Lady Hua and her husband donate 2,000 yuan to the town primary school and 3,500 yuan to the town middle school. The money is specifically for families who can’t afford to send their children to school. But—” she pauses for effect “—Lady Hua makes one condition. The recipients must be girls.”

“Why just girls?” An older woman frowns. “It’s a good thing to donate money, but why only to girls? What’s the point of girls studying so much?”

“You don’t understand. Lady Hua is doing something truly kind.” The plump woman waves dismissively. She doesn’t understand it at first either, but her nephew, the teacher, explains everything.

“The government covers tuition now because of compulsory education, but families still have to pay for textbooks. And for kids who study in town and can’t go home for lunch, they have to bring or buy food. All of that costs money. My nephew says that every year, a lot of kids who should be in school are late to enroll because their families simply can’t afford it. Just look at our village. Aren’t there still families who don’t send their kids to school?”

The women fall silent.

She is right. Every year, town schoolteachers come to the countryside, going door to door to persuade parents to send their children to school. But it rarely works.

And among the children who never get to attend school, the majority are girls.

Lady Hua’s donation provides eight yuan per month for elementary school students and ten yuan per month for junior high students. It isn’t much, but it is enough to cover textbook costs and a simple daily lunch. If a child is frugal, they might even save up for extra learning materials.

“But if they’re poor, why only help the girls?” someone mutters. “Boys’ education is more important.”

The plump woman scoffs. “And that exact mindset is why Lady Hua sets this rule!” She turns to the group. “Be honest. If your family could only afford to send one child to school, would you send your son or your daughter?”

No one answers right away. But the truth is obvious. Most people choose to educate their sons. Only a handful might pick the child who performs better in school, regardless of gender.

“See? Most of you would prioritize your sons. But why? Aren’t daughters also your children? Why don’t girls deserve an education?” Her voice grows firmer. “The old chairman says men and women are equal. Women hold up half the sky! If a girl succeeds, she can bring honor to her family, just like a boy.”

She is one of the few women in the village who follows the family planning policy, raising only one daughter. She never sees anything wrong with it, but others never stop gossiping. They sneer, as if having only a daughter means she will starve to death in the future.

“Lady Hua’s money is meant for poor families. But since funds are limited, each family can only receive support for one child. If there were no conditions, every single family would pick their son over their daughter. Those poor girls would never get the chance to go to school.”

The women exchange uneasy glances.

She isn’t wrong.

They have all seen families who sell everything to send their sons or grandsons to school. But how many would do the same for a daughter or granddaughter?

Without Lady Hua’s rule, those girls would have no hope of ever getting an education.

If they never meet someone kind in the future, their lives will be set in stone—trapped in hardship, just like their mothers and grandmothers before them.

A long silence falls over the group.

Then, from the corner, the old woman mutters again.

“Still… what’s the point of a girl studying so much?”

Even after the fat woman’s explanation, some people still believe Lady Hua is wasting her money.

“How is it useless?” The fat woman sneers. “Take the Xu family, for example. Their daughter goes to college, and now she sends money home every month. When her parents are sick, she takes them to the big hospital in the city for treatment. She’s constantly running around, far more considerate than those sons who barely lift a finger.”

To her, filial piety is about character, not gender.

“Look at our own village. Some women cut ties with their birth families after marriage, but there are also men who forget their parents as soon as they have a wife and children. Having a son doesn’t guarantee anything.” She glances around at the women gathered. “We’re all women here. Lady Hua is helping us. If these sponsored girls make it to secondary school or even university, their futures will be completely different from ours. More and more women will become doctors, teachers, factory workers, and even scientists. Then people will finally understand—we women are just as capable as men. Our status will change.”

She has spoken so much that her mouth feels dry. Taking a deep breath, she continues, “And let’s be real. Even if you disagree, it’s her money. If she wants to donate to girls, she can donate to girls. If you don’t like it, then why don’t you donate for the boys yourselves?”

With that, she picks up her bamboo basket, tucks her sewing supplies away, and dusts off her skirt, ready to go home.

Some of the women who question Lady Hua’s decision turn pale. The fat woman doesn’t call anyone out directly, but they can’t help feeling as if they have been personally scolded.

Others, however, quickly gather their things and hurry after her.

“Wait, what are the requirements for the donation?” one woman asks. “My second brother has three daughters and a son. They are caught for having too many kids, so he and his wife save everything to put their son through school, treating the girls like livestock. My nieces are really suffering. Do you think Lady Hua would sponsor one of them? If it’s truly free, my brother might not refuse to send at least one of his daughters to school.”

“My mother’s village has children like that too…”

“So does my husband’s family…”

Almost everyone has a struggling relative. Seeing how much the fat woman knows, they crowd around, eager to learn more.

A similar scene plays out at the orphanage.

Hua Yingpo personally delivers a batch of rice and cooking oil, promising to provide supplies every quarter. Additionally, every martyr’s family in the city receives a red envelope with fifty yuan, two twenty-kilogram bags of flour, and a pot of rapeseed oil. She declares that these donations will continue every year—until the parents of fallen soldiers pass away and their children reach adulthood.

By the time all the donations are made, she and her husband have spent nearly all the money they have saved over the years. And with their new commitments, their annual expenses won’t be less than two thousand yuan moving forward.

Because of this massive act of generosity, Lady Hua’s name begins to spread. More and more people take notice.

“How is that possible?!”

Jiang Runzhu has only just heard about the donations from her parents, and the news hits her like a slap. She slams her chopsticks onto the table, eyes wide with disbelief.

In her past life, Hua Yingpo and her husband always complained about being poor. Yet they somehow managed to swindle their way into a fortune, amassing a net worth of over a million yuan by the late 1990s.

How could someone like that suddenly turn into a saint, giving away all their money?

Her parents, Jiang Sanshui and Hua Yingxiu, share her skepticism. They know exactly what kind of person Hua Yingpo is—or at least, they think they do. Jiang Runzhu’s reaction doesn’t surprise them in the slightest.

“That’s what I said!” Hua Yingxiu scoffs. “We know her better than anyone.”

She can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

Based on rough estimates, Hua Yingpo has donated at least ten thousand yuan. That should be enough to drain her savings completely. But Hua Yingxiu doesn’t believe it for a second.

“She must have way more money than she’s letting on,” she mutters, her eyes narrowing. “If she can afford to donate ten thousand, then she must have fifty thousand—maybe even a hundred thousand—hidden away.”

And that makes her furious.

After all, if Hua Yingpo really has that kind of money, why isn’t she taking care of her own family first? If it weren’t for her cousin, she wouldn’t have survived at all. Yet now that she’s wealthy, she doesn’t even think about repaying her elders?

Hua Yingxiu clenches her teeth. “If my uncle were still alive, he wouldn’t have let her ignore her family like this.”

When they were young, the two cousins—similar in age—were constantly compared. However, Hua Yingpo is only an adopted child, raised by a widowed foster father. In the eyes of outsiders, Hua Yingxiu is always the better one.

When Hua Yingxiu comes of age, her parents arrange for her to marry Jiang Sanshui, a man from a wealthy family. Within a year, she gives birth to a son, Jiang Runtu, securing her status in the household. Her mother-in-law holds her in high regard.

Hua Yingpo, on the other hand, has no elders to support her. As a fortune-teller, she is seen as undesirable, and no respectable family would take her as a daughter-in-law. In the end, she marries a man with neither parents nor family background. After many years of marriage, she gives birth to only one child—a daughter—who is cherished dearly.

For years, Hua Yingxiu is satisfied with her life.

But everything changes in the 1980s.

With the end of the work points system, families begin contracting their own land, and those with ambition start seeking new opportunities. The gap between her and Hua Yingpo grows increasingly obvious.

Jiang Sanshui is the head of their household, which means that whenever conflicts arise, arguments turn into physical fights. Hua Yingpo, however, can make her own decisions without interference. Unlike them, she and her husband never quarrel in public.

With the introduction of the household contract responsibility system, people have more disposable income—and naturally, more fools willing to pay for Hua Yingpo’s fortune-telling. While Hua Yingxiu’s family is just happy to have enough rice to eat every day, others are already enjoying fish, meat, and even imported canned food from the Third Grandma’s shop.

Hua Yingpo, being a fortune-teller, doesn’t need to toil in the fields. As the years pass, women younger than her walk alongside her and are mistaken for her aunt.

Over time, resentment festers in Hua Yingxiu’s heart.

“She’s only had a few good years.”

Jiang Sanshui is just as bitter. “Ten thousand yuan is enough to build a three-story house in the countryside, with all the appliances—refrigerator, television, everything. If I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t have to worry about Runtu’s marriage at all.”

His expression darkens with jealousy, but his voice carries a trace of smugness. “And for what? A girl? No matter how much money she spends, in the end, she’s just raising a daughter for another family.”

Jiang Runzhu, who has been in full agreement with her parents, suddenly freezes. A strange discomfort settles in her chest.

Daughters are always considered outsiders. Only sons are seen as the closest and most reliable children.

Hadn’t she been “sold” into her first marriage just so her brother could secure a better future?

Jiang Runzhu still dislikes Hua Yingpo’s family, but now, for the first time, she finds herself envying Sheng Baobao.

From the very beginning, Hua Yingpo and her husband have never resented their daughter’s gender. Even after her death in their past life, they had desperately sought out mystical means to resurrect her.

Now, they are donating money to schools and advocating for the education of underprivileged girls.

Jiang Runzhu remains silent. She picks up her chopsticks and focuses on eating, choosing not to participate in the conversation any further.

Her last failed attempt at exposing Hua Yingpo still haunts her. Something is different about the couple in this life. If they are still frauds, they will eventually slip up—and when they do, they will have no one to blame but themselves.

As for her, she needs to focus on her own life first. This time, she will face the man she had once wronged with the best version of herself.

Two months after his departure, the old monk Jikong returns earlier than expected.

After Jixing escapes that day, Jikong searches for him, but the man is too cunning, leaving no trace behind. With no other choice, Jikong returns to make arrangements to bring back Chunming, the apprentice staying with the Hua family.

On his first day back, Jikong learns about the ghost child Lingling. Examining the broken wooden plaque his apprentice hands him, he realizes they have unknowingly helped him during the previous battle.

Because of this, he can’t leave just yet.

Jikong knows his senior brother’s temperament—narrow-minded, vengeful, and capable of holding grudges for a lifetime. Now, after practicing dark magic, he has become even more extreme. Once he recovers from his injuries, he will undoubtedly seek revenge on those who have disrupted his plans.

The incident with Lingling is a serious matter. Anyone who investigates carefully could uncover the truth, and eventually, Jixing will trace it all back to Hua Yingpo’s family.

Jikong doesn’t doubt Benefactor Hua and her husband’s abilities (cough magical prowess cough), and he suspects his senior brother won’t be able to do much to them. However, given their past ties, Jikong feels a responsibility to stay and deal with Jixing himself.

Thus, he decides to remain.

Since he can’t leave, he calls the abbot—who is thousands of miles away—and requests that his nephew return the beads he took and send over some funds.

Jikong is poor. He can’t just continue freeloading at the Hua residence. Instead, he applies for money to build a small house near their home—officially becoming their neighbor.

By the way, he also has to pay off the debt he previously owed for the talismans.

After learning about the master’s plan, Chunming feels the most conflicted. He realizes that he has grown to enjoy going to school with Baobao. The classmates are friendly and interesting.

His once-steadfast Buddhist heart no longer seems as firm. Chunming feels a tinge of sadness and shame, thinking about the master’s teachings over the years.

“Finally, another sum of money has arrived.”

Hua Yingpo happily counts the money brought by the old monk’s nephew. Once isn’t enough—she counts it over and over again.

This money isn’t swindled but earned through her daughter’s own ability. After some thought, the couple decides to keep half and donate the other half, believing it will balance out their merits and demerits.

“If I had known this, I wouldn’t have announced in advance that I was retiring.” Hua Yingpo sighs. Can she take back what she said? Wouldn’t that make her, Lady Hua, seem untrustworthy?

Now, with their limited savings and no real skills beyond deception, the couple has no idea how to make a living.

In truth, they do own some land, but they have rented it out to families with little land but plenty of labor. The rent is only enough to sustain their family of three for a few months—far from the comfortable life they once enjoyed.

The couple doesn’t mind hardship; they have endured tough times before. But they don’t want their daughter to suffer along with them.

“Who says you can’t take back your words?” Sheng Wukun picks up a pen, making revisions in his notebook.

Inspiration strikes once again—it’s time to share a new story with everyone.

A few days later, another piece of news spreads.

Rumor has it that Huang Xian has sent a dream to Lady Hua. Although it has ascended to immortality and now resides far away, it still cares for its believers.

Huang Xian reveals that Lady Hua can continue offering help, though not as frequently as before. It also states that it will personally select the believers she can assist. Furthermore, half of the incense money donated by believers will go toward accumulating merits, while the rest will be kept for offerings to Huang Xian.

The spirits of the earthly realm are different from the demons and fairies in the heavens. If the cost is too low, can one truly afford the aid of a celestial being?

Although Lady Hua never explicitly raises the price, everyone understands—her services will no longer come cheap.

Sure enough, the first peace amulet she sells upon returning to the mountains is priced at 80 yuan—more than ten times the original cost of four or five yuan.

The buyer is a businessman from the county who has earned a fortune working in the south. Upon hearing the price, he purchases seven amulets without hesitation—one for each family member.

People of his status are well-informed. Those who have witnessed Lady Hua’s previous miracles have long since recognized her power.

Of course, Hua Yingpo also makes a public announcement: aside from the last batch of talismans she sells, the spiritual energy in all previous talismans has likely dissipated, making them ineffective.

The last batch has been drawn by Baobao, whereas the earlier ones were drawn by the couple. They worry that if people continue to rely on those old talismans, any misfortune will not only affect them but also tarnish their own merits.

Some buyers regret their past purchases, but they understand—no talisman is meant to last a lifetime. When they first sought talismans, it had been more for psychological comfort than anything else.

As for the most recent batch, those who have acquired them treat them like treasures, carefully safeguarding them from water and dust, fearful that any damage might weaken their power.

Jiang Runzhu is lost in thought as she listens to the rumors.

For some reason, she recalls what the emergency operator said when she reported to the police that day.

Is she the crazy one, or has the whole world gone mad?