Once I sold a baby rabbit and met the village chief's wife.

She told me that the day after I left, three thugs broke into my grandfather's house. They didn't find any money, so they broke my uncle's leg and took turns assaulting my stepmother.

And the gold coupons that my grandfather guarded so fiercely can't even buy a basket of eggs now.

Last month, I heard that people in the village found gold in the ash pond. He stopped working altogether and now guards the ash pond every day, dreaming of getting rich overnight.

My uncle and stepmother argue every day, my father is as thin as a monkey, his hands and feet are dirty, and yesterday he stole a chicken from the neighbor's house and was hung at the village entrance and beaten.

Karma, a satisfying result for many, but I strangely remained calm.

Perhaps I've seen too many ordinary people like Ping Ping. Personal grievances seem insignificant in the face of national righteousness.

I picked a pair of baby rabbits for her but didn't take her money: "If they don't sell, you can take them back to raise."

The village chief's wife refused to take them: "Then sell them tomorrow."

"We won't be here tomorrow."

"Don't worry, with me here, Huang Laosan won't dare to trouble you." Rare words of concern from her made me smile.

"We're going to Beijing."

These days, I've also figured it out. If heaven gives me a second chance at life, it's not for seeking revenge on anyone.

The grand scenes I read about in textbooks in my past life, I want to see with my own eyes in this life.