The beloved but ungrateful girl is reborn: This time she has truly changed.

Drink it while it's hot.

Chen Hongxia handed the bowl to her daughter and stirred the brown sugar for her.

Qi Chou caught his breath and got up to go to the kitchen.

A short while later, two plates were brought out—one plate was yesterday's braised pork, and the other was spare ribs.

The meat had solidified into a layer of white oil, but he heated the plate by the stove, and the oil melted again, releasing a fragrant aroma.

"Eat, eat more." He pushed the plate towards his daughter.

Qi Weiwei held a bowl of porridge in one hand and chopsticks in the other. Looking at the two plates of meat in front of her, she finally couldn't hold back her tears, which fell into the porridge bowl.

She lowered her head and ate the porridge, meat, and ribs in large gulps.

The porridge was sweet, and the meat was delicious.

She ate, soaked her feet, and talked about her meeting with Wang Dong that day.

She didn't say how she left the Tang family, nor did she mention Sun Xidi's insults, Tang Aijun's indifference, or the two children's malice.

Compared to the fatal blow I received before my death in my previous life, these are nothing.

She only mentioned Wang Dong's reaction, the address and letter of introduction he provided, his willingness to help, and that he had given her a letter of introduction and some money.

Chen Hongxia and Qi Chou listened quietly without interrupting.

The firelight danced on their faces, reflecting the heartache and anger in their eyes.

After Qi Weiwei finished speaking, she finished her porridge and soaked her feet.

Chen Hongxia brought a clean towel to wipe her feet, and Qi Chou cleared away the dishes.

"Go to sleep," Chen Hongxia said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Qi Weiwei returned to her room, lay down on her familiar bed, covered herself with the quilt her mother had aired out, and quickly fell asleep.

She slept soundly and peacefully that night.

She was at her own home, at her parents' home.

The next day, the whole family overslept.

The snow outside the window has stopped, but the sky is overcast, as if it's about to snow again.

The room was quiet, with only the occasional crackling sound of coal burning in the stove.

When Qi Weiwei woke up, it was almost nine o'clock.

She lay in bed, listening to the faint sounds outside—her mother was quietly busy in the kitchen, and her father was walking around in the living room.

Just as she was about to get up, she suddenly heard a knock on the door.

"Knock knock knock".

It's very light, but very clear.

Then came the sound of Qi Chou opening the door, followed by a surprised exclamation: "Dad? Mom? What brings you here?"

Qi Weiwei's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly got dressed and got out of bed.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw my grandparents standing in the doorway.

Grandpa Qi Dayou was wearing a worn-out military overcoat, a Lei Feng hat on his head, and snow that had not yet melted was on his shoulders.

Grandma Wen Sumei was wearing a thick scarf and carrying a bamboo basket covered with a blue cloth.

"Grandpa and Grandma!" Qi Weiwei exclaimed in surprise.

"Weiwei's awake?" Grandma walked in with a smile, placed the bamboo basket on the table, and lifted the blue cloth. "Quickly, eat it while it's hot."

There was a small thermos and an oil paper package in the basket.

The thermos contained steaming hot soy milk, the oil paper package held fried dough rings, and there was a glass jar filled with stinky tofu.

Qi Weiwei's eyes lit up immediately.

She hadn't had breakfast like this in many years.

The Tang family is from Shandong Province. In the morning, they like to drink mixed bean porridge, eat flatbread, and roll mung bean sprouts.

Tang Aijun said that it tasted like "the taste of home," and that Beijing's breakfast was "crude" and "unrefined."

To please him, Qi Weiwei learned to do those things too, learning to cook bean porridge until it was sticky and soft, and to make pancakes that were both soft and chewy.

As for soy milk and fried dough rings, and stinky tofu...

Tang Aijun scoffed at these ideas.

He said soy milk was "a poor man's thing," fried dough rings were "greasy," and stinky tofu was "leftovers from the palace nobles."

Therefore, Qi Weiwei has not eaten these foods since she got married six years ago.

Right now, looking at the familiar breakfast on the table, her nose felt a little sore.

"What are you standing there for? Eat up!" Grandma pushed the enamel mug in front of her. "It's sweet soy milk with sugar, your favorite."

Qi Weiwei sat down, picked up a fried dough ring, broke it open, dipped it in some stinky tofu, and put it in her mouth.

The fried dough rings are fried until crispy, dipped in the salty and savory flavor of stinky tofu, and make a crisp "crunch" sound in your mouth.

She picked up the soy milk again and took a big gulp.

The sweetened soy milk was warm and comforting, warming me from my throat all the way to my stomach.

So sweet.

She squinted her eyes and sighed contentedly.

This is what breakfast should be like.

The family sat around the table and happily ate breakfast.

When her grandparents asked her about what happened yesterday, she gave a brief account without going into too much detail.

After breakfast, the dishes were cleared away, and everyone washed up, Grandpa took out a brown paper envelope from his pocket.

"Weiwei, come here." He beckoned.

Qi Weiwei walked over, and her grandfather pulled out three pieces of paper from the envelope—blank letters of introduction stamped with the red seal of the neighborhood committee, but the name, reason, and destination were all blank.

"I've thought about it," Grandpa said, adjusting his reading glasses, "it's not really appropriate to go see your third cousin like this."

Qi Weiwei was taken aback.

Her third cousin was a distant relative from her grandmother's side; she had married and moved to Shandong Province. Her grandfather had mentioned before that she could ask her for help.

"We haven't been in touch with that child for many years," the grandfather continued, his brow furrowing slightly. "Besides, you... hit her son when you were a child."

Qi Weiwei: "..."

The memories of her dead body struck her instantly.

Traveling through seventy-three years of my past life and twenty-six years of this life.

She had almost forgotten about that incident.

"That wasn't just hitting him," Dad said with a wry smile, "it was almost killing him."

My third cousin's son is named Douzi. He is said to be the only son in three generations and is a troublemaker. He is two years younger than her.

At that time, Qi Weiwei was only nine years old.

She was pampered at home, but being a girl, she couldn't be too mischievous.

Douzi came to Beijing to visit relatives and stayed for almost half a month.

That child was spoiled and resented Qi Weiwei's favoritism, so he did all sorts of bad things—putting pebbles in her shoes, stuffing caterpillars into her blanket, stealing her candy and then framing her.

Qi Weiwei endured it several times without telling the adults, feeling ashamed.

One last time, Douzi blew her nose and smeared a handful of snot all over Qi Weiwei's pillowcase.

When she went to sleep at night, as soon as she lay down, her head and face were covered in smears of smears.

It was sticky and smelled fishy.

The nine-year-old girl was furious on the spot.

She didn't cry or make a fuss. The next day, all the adults went out to run errands, leaving only her and Douzi at home.

She walked up to Douzi and grabbed his collar.

Douzi was half a head taller than her, but she was really furious. She didn't know where she got the strength, but she dragged Douzi outside.

Bean struggled, kicked her, and called her a "worthless piece of trash."

Qi Weiwei didn't say a word and dragged him to the well in the yard.

That well was over ten meters deep, and the water was ice-cold.

She pressed the beans against the edge of the well, grabbed one of his feet, and was about to shove him in.

Douzi was terrified and screamed like a pig being slaughtered.

Just as she was about to let go, a hand reached out, grabbed Douzi's other foot, and pulled him back from the edge of the well.

who is it?