Quick Transmigration: The Gossip Master Took the Black Lotus Script - Chapter 37

After cursing Zhang Dawu, the man started looking for other allies, but everyone refused him for one reason or another. Furious, he kicked a stone, only to end up hopping in pain, clutching his foot and yowling.

At that moment, Liu Lihong walked out from behind a tree. Her eyes flashed with disdain at the sight of the man holding his stinky foot, but remembering her goal, she forced herself to hold back.

“You want to drive Luo An out of the village? That won’t be easy, you know. After all, she’s an educated youth.”

The man looked up and saw it was a female educated youth speaking. He immediately curled his lip. “I know you. I heard you’ve always been suppressed by Comrade Luo and never had a chance to shine. What? You want to use me to get your revenge? Dream on!”

Liu Lihong’s face instantly fell. “Fine. Then I hope you spend your whole life crushed under your wife, never able to turn over.”

She threw the words over her shoulder and was about to leave, but the man refused to let her go.

“Watch your mouth, you stinking woman! No matter what, I’ve at least got a wife. That’s better than you, an unwanted old maid! I hear you’ve got a thing for that pretty boy Shao Jing? Word is he’s already been transferred to some remote farm to suffer. Why don’t you go keep him company?”

He might have hated Luo An, but he hated Liu Lihong even more. Ever since she came to the village, she’d acted like she was too good to even look at people like him, as though just glancing their way dirtied her eyes. What a show-off!

And besides, he’d already heard how she clashed with Luo An several times, never once managing to win. Now she came running to him—could that possibly mean anything good?

He wasn’t educated, but he wasn’t stupid either.

In the end, the man accomplished nothing. When he finally came home two hours later with just a bit of meat, his wife was furious. She grabbed a broom and went at him.

“Wife, wife, I just waited longer because of the crowd. Don’t hit me, what if people see? That’d be embarrassing.”

“Oh, but when you used to hit me, did you ever think about whether I might be embarrassed?”

Hands on hips, she scolded him. To change her position in the family, she had been one of the most serious trainees in their class. Now, seeing him begging for mercy, she felt truly satisfied.

“It was just a habit! Besides, I never really went too far. What family doesn’t have some bumps and bruises now and then, right?”

As soon as he said this, he saw a meaningful smile spread across his wife’s face. “Exactly. So if there are a few bumps and bruises from now on, that’s normal too, isn’t it?”

“No, no, no! Wife, I was wrong! The child’s watching—please give me some face.”

He was honestly scared now. That Comrade Luo An had too many tricks for tormenting men. He was afraid he wouldn’t live long enough to see his son married.

Just as he was about to say more, the village loudspeaker blared, calling everyone to the committee office.

Seizing the chance, he hurriedly took the broom from his wife with a goofy grin, and together they went off to the meeting.

At that time, Luo An and her group were wearing big red flowers. Beside them were brand-new enamel cups and a thermos—clear proof that their trip had been fruitful.

Once everyone was gathered, the village head happily announced their good news:

“Our village’s cultural troupe won an award in the performance competition! Next, our troupe will go around to nearby villages, spreading our village’s fine spirit far and wide. Let’s have some applause!”

The women clapped enthusiastically. The men exchanged glances and clapped too, though secretly muttering to themselves. It seemed it wasn’t just them who’d suffer under Comrade Luo An’s “influence”—men from all the nearby villages were doomed as well.

Strangely, that thought made them happy.

Wouldn’t it be better if Luo An brainwashed the women from other villages too? Otherwise, if word got out that only in their village the men didn’t dare raise a hand against their wives, wouldn’t that be shameful?

With that in mind, they clapped even harder, this time with more sincerity.

After the New Year, before spring plowing began, Luo An led the women from village to village on “tour performances.” After each performance, they shared methods and strategies of resistance with the local women.

And surprisingly—it worked! The women listened intently, while the men gnashed their teeth, sometimes even trying to drive them out. But with Luo An there to hold the ground, the men were easily subdued.

In fact, the more the men caused trouble, the more effective the propaganda became. The women who had once been beaten now looked inspired, their eyes glowing. Even if they weren’t fighters, they had awakened to the idea of resistance.

“Sisters, aunts, remember—during resistance, we must protect ourselves. If you truly can’t win, then endure for the moment. Later, we’ll find ways to take revenge. If the village can’t solve it, go to the commune and seek out the Women’s Federation. If you want justice, there will always be a way to get it!

Never think being beaten is something every woman has to go through. Never resign yourselves! Remember these words.”

As the tour went on, Luo An’s name became infamous among the men but caught the attention of the Women’s Federation.

Sure enough, just as the tour ended and things in the village grew quiet again—so quiet that Luo An almost felt bored—the director of the Women’s Federation came knocking. She invited Luo An to work at the commune.

That was a proper, official job. Even locals needed connections to get such work, let alone an educated youth sent down from the city.

When word spread, the village head’s wife was both reluctant and proud, beaming as if her own daughter had achieved something.

To make the commute easier, Luo An bought herself a bicycle. Later, thinking it over, she felt it was unfair that she had to spend her own money. If her family hadn’t forced her down to the countryside, she wouldn’t have needed this expense at all.

So she picked up her pen and wrote another long family letter (really, a debt-collection note). In it, she not only bragged about her hard-won Women’s Federation job but also wept about how she had gone into debt to buy the bicycle.

“Grandfather, I never imagined life in the countryside would be this hard. From childhood I was pampered by my parents, but now I can only rely on my wits. Luckily, I’m smart and capable, and I finally managed to earn a decent position. Doesn’t that make you happy?

Oh, by the way, from our village to the commune it takes several hours on foot. To avoid being late for work and failing the organization’s trust, I bought myself a bicycle. Now I owe a hundred yuan. Surely you’ll help me through this difficulty, won’t you? After all, Father’s lifelong dream was for me to amount to something. You won’t let him down, will you?”

After scribbling down the letter and tossing it into an envelope, Luo An began preparing a package for Xu Qing—Du Jia’s homemade dried meat, meat sauce, and so on—at least to reassure her mother that she was living well.

While Luo An thrived at the commune, both families received her letters.

Xu Qing was naturally delighted. If her daughter could send these things home, it meant her life truly was good.

But Old Man Luo’s face grew so dark it seemed ink would drip from it.

Money, money—always after money!

What kind of children were these? Were they trying to swallow him whole before he even died?

Just after she’d finished mediating another quarrel, Old Madam Luo came into the room to see her husband scowling at the letter. She tentatively asked, “That brat sent a letter? What did she say? Don’t tell me she’s asking for money again?”

Old Man Luo, fuming, flung the letter aside. “If you’re so curious, why don’t you read it yourself? Can’t you give me a moment’s peace?”

Old Madam Luo: … What did she write this time?