Jing Shu's gaze drifted over to Su Meimei, who was sitting hunched in the corner in a genuinely pitiful state. Her hair was a complete bird's nest, tangled and matted with neglect. The wounds on her face had healed into faint, shiny scars, but it was obvious she hadn't bathed in a long time, a grimy film seemed to cling to her skin. Her clothes were filthy, covered with dark grease stains and ground-in dirt, so dirty that their original color could no longer be recognized, just a uniform shade of grime.
Su Meimei lifted her head just as her eyes met Jing Shu's. A raw, unguarded hatred burned in Su Meimei's gaze, sharp and immediate, unable to be hidden. Yet the moment she turned to face Su Lanzhi, Su Meimei's eyes instantly filled with misty tears, her expression melting into one of wounded vulnerability. Her voice carried a practiced grievance as she called out, "Sister, you're here."
Zhang Zhongyong, in contrast, looked much more presentable. His clothes, while not new, were clean and orderly. He stood up awkwardly, offering a stiff, formal nod. "Sister, brother in law," he greeted, his voice flat.
Su Lanzhi only gave a faint "hm" in reply and said nothing more, her lips pressed into a thin line. She deliberately dragged over a wooden chair to sit beside Jing Shu, turning her attention pointedly to the television. Jing An carefully perched on only a third of the sofa cushion, as if trying to minimize his presence, and didn't dare speak to Su Meimei's family, his eyes fixed on his own knees.
In Jing Shu's previous life, their family had also come to spend the Lantern Festival at her uncle's house. Back then, Zhang Hahan had been so excited that she threw herself at Jing Shu, crying, "I missed you so much," while casting Wang Can aside in a show of false intimacy. Su Meimei and Su Lanzhi had even sat together on this same sofa and chatted warmly, a performance of sisterly bond. In this lifetime, everything had changed. The cracks were out in the open, and the coldness was mutual.
On the coffee table sat small plates of fried mahua, sunflower seeds, and hard candy, a meager offering for the holiday. Su Long busily poured out cups of weak tea for everyone. Aunt Wang Fang and Uncle were still clattering away in the kitchen, preparing the late reunion dinner. Wang Gang chatted intermittently with Jing An about safe, mundane topics like the weather, while Liu Shufen cracked sunflower seeds with methodical precision, the click click sound just as she had done in the past life, a mindless, continuous rhythm.
From the corner, near the balcony, came Zhang Hahan's voice, deliberately pitched to carry:
"That's the one who slandered my mom and ruined my parents' relationship." Her tone was a sneer.
"Her whole family looks polished on the surface, but in reality it's all fake. Her parents even sold their house and car just to support her streaming, and borrowed money everywhere." She spoke as if reciting juicy gossip.
"I heard they spent over a million hiring internet trolls to hype her, and she still didn't get famous." A theatrical sigh followed.
"Now they're living thirty kilometers away in the mountains, in some godforsaken place where even birds won't poop and turtles won't lay eggs. Who knows how they're managing."
"Unlike her, I'll be taking acting roles next year. She couldn't even make it as an influencer. Just look at her, dressed like some mountain bumpkin in rubber boots. It's laughable."
Jing Shu listened clearly to every word of Zhang Hahan's malicious gossip. A wave of hot irritation rose in her chest, tightening her throat. What she hated most was people speaking badly about her behind her back. Either say it openly to her face, or if you're going to whisper, then at least don't let her hear it. This half hidden, half voiced provocation was cowardly.
Zhang Hahan's attitude was blatantly provocative, her smirk and sideways glances practically saying: "Yes, I'm talking bad about you. Come on then, hit me if you dare."
The sight made Jing Shu's fingers twitch with the visceral want to stride over and slap her a few times across the face, to feel the satisfying sting of impact, and to add the classic face slapping line: "So, what made you think you could look down on me?"
It took quite some time before dinner was finally ready. By seven o'clock, the temperature outside had plummeted to six degrees Celsius, a shocking drop from the daytime inferno. They turned off the air conditioning, and a damp chill began to seep into the room. Everyone scrambled to put on heavy coats and thick pants they had brought. Uncle moved the dining table into the center of the living room so they could all watch the Lantern Festival Gala while eating, a semblance of normal holiday routine.
Since Jing Shu's house, thanks to her Cube Space's climate control, always stayed at a constant 26℃, her family hadn't brought any extra clothes. Su Lanzhi felt a little awkward when she saw that Liu Shufen and Su Meimei's families had come prepared, wrapped in puffy coats and scarves.
"I'll get you two some clothes," Uncle offered first, already starting to rise.
"No need, big brother, it's not too cold. Once we eat, we'll warm up from the inside," Su Lanzhi quickly declined, forcing a smile. She had already noticed the dark oil stains and the distinct, pungent body odor clinging to their spare clothes, clearly unwashed for over a month. She wanted no part of wearing them. In the past life, no one was this picky, survival overriding fastidiousness, but Jing Shu thought with a quiet fierceness, "So what? I'm more than happy to spoil my mom. She doesn't have to put up with that."
The reunion dinner was laid out on the crowded table. The dishes made from Su Lanzhi's dried goods included wood ear fungus with slivers of pork, a bright stir fry of tomato and egg, fragrant garlic shoots with salty cured meat, crisp stir fried bean sprouts, and a comforting bowl of cabbage stewed with vermicelli. Uncle had prepared his contributions: braised spare ribs in a dark sauce, a braised fish that lacked scallions or ginger, making it taste faintly muddy, plain stir fried mushrooms, stir fried leeks with scrambled eggs, and a large pot of frozen tangyuan bobbing in sweet soup.
Jing Shu poured everyone a paper cup of the precious Sprite. The fizzy sound was a cheerful anomaly in the tense room. The 2L bottle was quickly drained, with the last bit snatched up and hidden by Su Long under the table when he thought no one was looking.
For a group that hadn't eaten a proper, varied meal in over a month, this spread was a veritable feast. Uncle raised his paper cup, the Sprite inside barely fizzing, and said, "Today's reception was modest. Once the Dark Days end, we'll host another, proper one and put all grudges aside. For now, let's enjoy this meal!" His words were clearly, pointedly directed at the estranged sisters, Su Meimei and Su Lanzhi.
Everyone touched their paper cups together in a silent, half hearted clink. The meal officially began.
The differences in quality and scarcity soon showed. The dishes Su Lanzhi had brought were the most popular, disappearing within minutes, chopsticks clashing over the last bits. Uncle's dishes, however, were barely touched, the braised fish and plain mushrooms looking forlorn on their plates.
"Lao Jing, where did you get those fresh ingredients? I'll trade you some mineral water for a few," Wang Gang said, still staring at the empty tomato and egg plate, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
Jing An smiled sheepishly and shook his head, refusing. "We grew a bit in the house, with plant lights, you know? But it's not much. Barely enough for ourselves." He downplayed it instinctively.
Aunt Wang Fang patted Jing An's arm and pointed a finger upward, implying high connections. "My brother has inside information. He says the Dark Days will last at least another month. Water is so tight right now, mineral water is hard to get. Only my brother has ways to get a steady supply. You really won't trade a little? For family?"
Jing An thought to himself, a private smugness warming him: "My so called prodigal daughter has stockpiled four entire pools of water, tens of thousands of liters, and I still haven't bragged about it." But when he caught sight of Su Lanzhi's dark, warning expression from across the table, he immediately shook his head more firmly. "It's not that I won't, but we really don't have any to spare. What we eat is all we have."
At this, Wang Fang smoothly pivoted, beginning to sing the praises of her niece, Wang Can. She was still young, Wang Fang exclaimed, yet had already secured a stable civil service post. In a few years, she might climb even higher, following smoothly in her father's political footsteps. The flattery was thick.
Wang Fang rarely praised anyone so effusively. If she did, it invariably meant she wanted a favor. Sure enough, she soon turned her smiling face to Wang Gang and asked, in a wheedling tone, if he could share some of his water with her brother in law's family, since times were so hard.
This scene was completely opposite from the previous life. Back then, Aunt Wang Fang had showered Jing Shu with compliments, begging Su Lanzhi to spare some water, and even Su Meimei had freeloaded successfully. Jing An, soft hearted, had given both families 200 bottles each, a generosity that left their own household perilously short later on.
This time, under the expectant gaze, Wang Gang handed over only 60 bottles from his stash, which Wang Fang gratefully accepted as if it were a lifelong favor. In the end, perhaps feeling the pressure of hosting, Uncle proposed splitting 10 bottles each for Su Lanzhi and Su Meimei's families from this lot. But after Aunt Wang Fang shot him a fierce, silencing glare, he cleared his throat and amended it to 5 bottles each.
"My Su Long, you see, he gets terrible diarrhea from drinking the boiled muddy water. I'm sorry, everyone, but we can only spare 5 bottles for your family, just for absolute emergencies," Wang Fang explained, her voice laced with false apology. A relative willing to part with one twelfth of their newly acquired water during the apocalypse was already, in her mind, a qualified ally. Such people were smart, she believed, they understood the new economy of favors.
After the meal, the table was only hastily cleared. No one even bothered to pretend interest in the Lantern Festival Gala playing on the TV. Uncle got straight to the point, his earlier festive demeanor gone. "Alright," he said, his voice dropping, "now that dinner's over, let's talk business. Zhong Yong, what is this about? Not only do you have a mistress outside, but you even have a ten year old illegitimate child?"
The words stunned everyone at the table, including Su Lanzhi and Jing An, whose eyes went wide. Wang Gang gave Zhang Zhongyong a look that was both incredulous and faintly admiring, a look that said, "You're so good, kid! Hiding it so deep!"
"We all know about Meimei and that Sun Yinrui. That's on her, true. But she only got involved with Sun Yinrui recently. At most, it's an improper relationship. But you?" Uncle's voice rose, finger jabbing in Zhang Zhongyong's direction. "You've been with that woman for how many years? Over ten years at least, and you even have a child! A son!"
Uncle slammed his palm on the table, making the empty plates jump. "You're a government worker. Do you realize how serious this is? Bigamy! And worse than that, piling offense upon offense! Your career is finished!"
Jing Shu suddenly understood the strange dynamic. No wonder Su Meimei and Zhang Zhongyong were still sitting together, eating from the same table today. Zhang Zhongyong's secret had been exposed, and Su Meimei now had him by the throat. She was barefoot, having lost everything already, while he was still wearing the shoes of his position and reputation. Barefoot people are never afraid of stepping on those with shoes.
In the previous life, Zhang Zhongyong's scandal hadn't broken out until two years later, when society was in utter collapse and rules meant nothing. By then, he no longer cared and even flaunted his second family openly. But in this life, it had been exposed so much earlier, while the structures of consequence still stood.
Was it because Su Lanzhi had sold the little BMW to Su Meimei, but Su Meimei never got to drive it, the car vanishing into Zhang Zhongyong's control? Had that seed of suspicion made her hire a private detective to dig up evidence, leading to this early, explosive exposure?
Indeed, even a small butterfly, like her decision to sell that car, can fan out great effects. Jing Shu never expected such a delightful, unforeseen surprise. A cold, satisfied smile touched her lips as she watched Zhang Zhongyong's face pale under the accusing glare of the room.
===
"Prodigal" literally means wastefully or recklessly extravagant.
The Original Reference: "The Prodigal Son"
The term comes from the Parable of the Prodigal Son in the Bible (Luke 15:11-32). In the story:
A young son asks for his inheritance early, leaves home, and squanders all his money on reckless and extravagant living. Eventually, he becomes destitute and returns home, expecting punishment. Instead, his father joyfully welcomes him back with open arms and celebrates his return.