Chapter 188

A long line stretched outside the Supply & Market as Emily Johnson clutched a glass bottle, squeezed among the crowd. With the New Year approaching, the shelves were unusually stocked with festive goods.

"Two pounds of fried dough twists," Emily handed over the ration coupons and added a bottle of soy sauce to her basket. The young woman beside her tugged her sleeve. "Emily, look!"

A flash of floral fabric darted past the street corner. The girl wore two neat braids, her cotton-padded jacket brand new, as she hurriedly ducked into an alley.

"Is that Margaret Lee?" Emily narrowed her eyes. The girl looked much healthier than the rumors suggested, her cheeks noticeably fuller.

The young woman lowered her voice. "She must be married now. Last year at her parents' place, she was still wearing patched-up old clothes!" Before she could finish, Margaret suddenly turned and met their gaze—then bolted.

"Why is she running?" The woman shook her head. "It's not like I'd report her. Her parents treated her like livestock. If she escaped to a better life, I’d be happy for her."

Emily recalled the somber look on Charles Clark’s face whenever he mentioned this girl. It wasn’t easy for a village girl to break free from her family. Margaret must be clever.

On the ox-cart ride back, several aunts pestered Emily about fabric. When she remained indifferent, one woman nearly snapped—then remembered what happened to Peter Wilson and immediately fell silent.

"Don’t mind them, they just love to gossip," the young woman offered Emily a piece of sesame candy. "Honestly, Margaret made the right choice. A life in town is better than being worked to the bone at home."

Meanwhile, deep in the alley, Margaret leaned against a dirt wall, panting heavily.

"What’s wrong?" Her mother-in-law rushed out from the courtyard, alarmed by her pale face. "Weren’t you buying brown sugar?"

"Mother, I ran into someone I know..." Margaret pressed a hand to her still-flat stomach, her voice trembling. "If my father finds out—"

Her mother-in-law patted her hand. "Silly girl, you’re part of our family now. Come spring, your husband will take you to transfer your household registration. They can’t stop you." She pressed a piece of peach shortbread into Margaret’s palm. "Eat something. Don’t starve my grandson."

Margaret took a bite, the sweetness melting on her tongue. This was the kind of treat she could never have dreamed of back home.