The Traded College Offer
It was pouring rain that day. My cousin Harry Lincoln's wife sat in the living room cracking sunflower seeds, asking me to wash fruit for her.
I refused. James Lincoln—my father—stood in the middle of the living room, pointing at my nose and shouting that I was being unreasonable.
In the heat of the argument, he shoved me, and I tumbled down the stairs from the second floor.
The smell of blood mixed with rain filled the air as I lay on the cold concrete floor, watching him, my mother Mary Lewis, and my brother Ben Lincoln gather around me—yet no one dared to touch me.
I was bleeding heavily; by the time the ambulance arrived, I was barely breathing.
In the last moment before I closed my eyes, I heard Mary say, "If I had known she'd be this stubborn, I should have married her off early to get the bride price."
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in my own small bed.
The calendar on the wall was from three years ago, June 28th—the third day after I received the admission letter from a top university, and also the day James Lincoln planned to sell my college offer.
Voices came from the living room outside, James Lincoln deliberately lowering his tone, laced with flattery.
"Mr. Duncan, rest assured, this matter is absolutely under control."
"Our Shirley has always been sensible, saying she didn't want to attend university and preferred to work instead. This college offer is just sitting unused; why not give it to your daughter? Consider it a favor to family."
I pressed my finger into my palm, the pain jolting me fully awake—I really had been reincarnated.
In my previous life, I believed his words, “I don't want to attend college,” and cried as I confronted him, only to get slapped and told that 'no matter how much a girl studies, she belongs to someone else.'
He used the 200,000 from selling my college offer to gather the bride price for my cousin Harry Lincoln, gaining plenty of face in front of Harry's father's family.
As for me, I became the 'ungrateful, unfilial daughter' in everyone's eyes.
I threw back the quilt, stepped barefoot onto the cold floor, and walked step by step toward the living room.
The door wasn't closed properly, and I could see James Lincoln sitting on the sofa. The man opposite him, dressed in a black suit with a noticeably large belly, was none other than Mr. Duncan—the one buying my college offer.
At the sound of my footsteps, the conversation in the living room abruptly stopped.
Mr. Duncan looked up at me, a flicker of unease in his eyes, as if he feared I had uncovered something.
The smile on James Lincoln's face stiffened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with his usual gentle expression. "Shirley, you're awake? Go back to your room and sleep. I need to discuss something with Mr. Duncan."
I didn't move, just stood by the door, staring at him: "Dad, are you talking about my Admission Letter?"
James Lincoln's face immediately darkened, and his voice hardened: "Adults are speaking—what right does a child have to interrupt? Go back to your room!"
Mary Lewis and Ben Lincoln came out of the room.
Mary Lewis was still holding an unfinished sweater, her face full of impatience: "What's all the noise? Mr. Duncan is still here; don't embarrass us."
Ben Lincoln rubbed his eyes and frowned when he saw me: "Sis, did you make Dad angry again? He said just yesterday he'd buy me a new game console. Don't cause trouble."
I ignored the two of them, my gaze still fixed on James Lincoln: "Dad, are you really going to sell my college offer to help Harry Lincoln pay the bride price?"
The air in the living room felt as if it had frozen solid.
James Lincoln slammed the table suddenly, stood up, and pointed at me. "What nonsense are you talking about!"
"Even if Harry Lincoln doesn't get married, do you expect your brother's schooling and marriage to come free?"
"What's wrong with your sister supporting him? What use is all that schooling for a girl if she's just going to get married anyway!"
Every word echoed exactly the same as in my previous life.
In my previous life, when I heard those words, my heart felt like it was being sliced by a knife, and I cried as I argued with him, telling him I wanted to go to university, that I could earn my own tuition.
But in this life, I only find it ridiculous.
I lowered my eyes, my voice soft: "Dad, I know you mean well."
"I'll listen to you. I won't study anymore; I'll go work to earn Bride Price for Harry Lincoln and Ben Lincoln."
After saying that, I turned and went back to my room, slamming the door shut.
From outside came the sound of James Lincoln sighing in relief, followed by his low conversation with Mr. Duncan, probably saying, "The child finally understands."
I leaned against the door, pulling my old cellphone from beneath the pillow—the same one I had smashed in my previous life, but this time it was still intact.
I pressed the stop recording button; the screen showed a duration of three minutes and forty-two seconds, capturing every word of the conversation between James Lincoln and Mr. Duncan.
Mr. Duncan came again the next morning.
He carried a black leather briefcase, zipped tightly, clearly stuffed with a large amount of money.
James Lincoln led him into the bedroom and closed the door. They stayed inside for nearly an hour.
When Mr. Duncan left, James Lincoln walked him to the door, his smile nearly overflowing his face.
When he returned to the living room, he walked with purpose, pulling a thick wad of cash from his pocket. He took out a few bills and handed them to Mary Lewis: "Take this, go buy some good dishes. Tonight, make sure Ben Lincoln gets a better meal."
Mary's eyes brightened as she took the money and counted it: "James, where did you get so much money?"
James Lincoln puffed out his chest, wearing a proud look: "Don't ask questions; it's enough that your husband can handle it."
He stuffed the remaining cash back into his pocket, looking at me with a touch of condescension: "Shirley, this money is saved for you by your father, to be your dowry someday."
Ben Lincoln leaned over, sourly saying, "Dad, you're being unfair! I still haven't gotten my game console, and my bride price money hasn't been arranged either!"
James Lincoln patted his shoulder, smiling meaningfully, "Don't worry, it's all there—none of it will be missing for you."
They all thought I would act like last time, crying and throwing tantrums, refusing to give in.
But what they didn't know was that I had already figured out James Lincoln's habit of hiding money—he always stashed the important cash in the bottom drawer of the bedroom wardrobe, covered by an old sweater, with an iron box underneath.
At night, after all the lights in the house went out, I slipped quietly out of my room.
The living room was silent, save for James Lincoln's snoring coming from the bedroom.
I reached the bedroom door and gently cracked it open just enough to make sure they were fast asleep before entering.
The wardrobe was in the corner. I crouched down and pulled open the bottom drawer, and sure enough, I found that old sweater.
Lifting the sweater, a rusty iron box was revealed.
I opened the iron box; inside, wrapped in newspaper, were bundles of cash—two hundred thousand, exactly the same as in my previous life.
I didn't take any money; I just took out my cellphone and snapped several photos of the iron box and the money inside. Even the date on the newspaper was crystal clear.
Then, I put the iron box back in its place, covered it with the sweater, and silently slipped out, closing the bedroom door behind me.
The next morning, I deliberately carried a glass of water past Ben Lincoln's room while he was playing games.
I 'accidentally' spilled a little water on his keyboard. Ben immediately jumped up and shouted at me, “Sis! Are you doing this on purpose?”
I quickly apologized, and while he was wiping the keyboard, I whispered, “Last night when I got up, I think I saw Dad rifling through an iron box in the wardrobe. There was quite a lot of money inside. He told Mom it was for gathering bride price for Harry Lincoln.”
Ben Lincoln froze with the cloth in his hand, his eyes instantly reddening: "Why should that money go to Harry Lincoln? I'm his true son!"
I didn't say another word, took the cup of water, and left, fully aware that the seed had already been planted.
All day long, Ben Lincoln was restless, his eyes constantly glancing toward James Lincoln's bedroom; he didn't even have the heart to play games.
In the afternoon, James Lincoln went downstairs to play cards, Mary Lewis went to the market to buy groceries, leaving only Ben Lincoln and me at home.
I sat in the living room reading when, shortly after, I heard Ben Lincoln tiptoeing into the bedroom.
Then came a "crash," like the sound of an Iron Box dropping to the floor.
Then, Ben Lincoln rushed out holding the Iron Box, ran to the kitchen doorway, and shouted to Mary Lewis, who was washing vegetables, "Mom! Look! Dad hid this much money!"
The vegetables fell from Mary Lewis's hands. She rushed over, snatched the Iron Box, opened it, and her eyes went wide: "Two hundred thousand? Where did he get that much money? Does he have someone on the side?"
I put down my book and spoke up at just the right moment: "Mom, I think I heard Dad on the phone yesterday, saying something about 'borrowed money.' He also said that Harry's father was pressing him hard, and he didn't want to lose face."
The moment Mary Lewis heard this, her anger flared even higher. She slammed the iron box down on the table. "The money was borrowed? Borrowed to pay the bride price for that ungrateful Harry Lincoln, and you didn't even tell me? What about Ben Lincoln's game console, or the bride price in the future? Does he even care about this family?"
That evening, James Lincoln came home humming a tune, but the moment he stepped inside, he sensed something was wrong.
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