The moment I opened my eyes, I'd become the hapless stepmother of the 1970s, holding a feverish child in my arms with nothing but my dowry silver bangle in my pocket. My mysterious husband was nowhere to be found, and the relatives and neighbors were waiting to laugh at me. Just watch me use modern nutrition science to raise the child and leverage a sewing needle into foreign-currency coupons for the Friendship Store. Then my mysterious husband came home to find the house piled high with export samples. He pinned me against the door late that night. “Lin Wanqiu, just how many more surprises do you have in store for me? ...”
