Eighty-Year-Old, the Part About Stealing My Face and Going on a Blind Date with Hu Jing's Circle of Pen Pals

In her previous life, she was drowned in a river and died tragically. Shen Zhi was reborn in the twelfth lunar month of 1985, holding on to her needle and thread. Bai Lianhua, a fellow villager, stole her ID card and used her cold features to trick the capital into delegating power to the powerful for half a year. She collected remittances, earned foreign exchange, and hoarded scarce fabrics, relying on her looks to become rich and climb the social ladder. In her previous life, Su Xiao had killed her to silence her, married into a top-notch compound instead of being married, and enjoyed all the prosperity. In this life, Shen Zhi is dormant in a poor country, intercepting letters from home thousands of miles away, and changing her name with a piece of reply. Seeing the word is like meeting. Previously, they were all pseudonyms. My real name is Shen Zhi. A thin stroke of handwriting breaks through the loneliness of the rich and powerful for half their lives; a recent photo of an original person reverses the closed loop of death. Lu Yan wrote the letter and replied: The letter meets the true heart, and it will live up to the pen and ink, and you will live up to it. Breaking away from the blood-sucking native family, tearing green tea and white moonlight, mastering top sewing skills, and riding the wave of innovation in the 1980s. Everyone said that she robbed her enemy of his marriage. Shen Zhi stroked the yellowed film, her eyebrows and eyes were cold: It is always my eyebrows, my destiny, my husband, and no outsiders will be allowed to steal it.