Zhong Jianguo was dumbfounded and couldn’t understand. “Why?”
“I’ll move in once your room is properly cleaned,” Song Zhaodi glanced at the wall.
Following her gaze, Zhong Jianguo’s face flashed with a hint of embarrassment. “That… that was my oversight.”
“You didn’t expect me to come with you, so it’s normal that you didn’t clean up in advance. I’m not blaming you,” Song Zhaodi said indifferently. She had no deep feelings for Zhong Jianguo—marrying him was just about finding a partner to get by with, so it didn’t matter much to her. “Let’s put our things in order first, then bathe the three kids and change their clothes?”
Zhong Jianguo nodded. “I’ll go boil some water in a bit. There’s a wooden basin in the northern room—put the dirty clothes in there and I’ll wash them tonight. There’s a hand pump in the yard, the toilet is behind the house and the washbasin is under the eaves on the first floor, along with the soap.”
“Got it,” Song Zhaodi replied. “I’ll ask you if I can’t find something later.”
Zhong Jianguo made a sound of acknowledgement and was about to return to his room to change clothes. But halfway there, he turned around and went to the eastern guest room to prepare a bed for Song Zhaodi.
Zhong Dawa looked at his father, then at his seemingly transformed stepmother and decided not to act out anymore. He ran over to his father and whispered, “Dad, I want a White Rabbit candy.”
“You can only have one a day and you already had one today,” Zhong Jianguo said as he made the bed. Then, turning to Song Zhaodi, he added, “Kids shouldn’t eat too much candy. If I’m not home in the future, you can’t spoil them.”
“I won’t,” Song Zhaodi said. “They’re your sons—whatever way you want to raise them, I’ll teach them accordingly.”
Zhong Jianguo frowned slightly. “They’re your sons too. Don’t think of yourself as an outsider—we’re a family now. As long as you’re right, whether you scold them or even hit them, I won’t have a problem with it.”
“Dad!” Zhong Dawa’s eyes widened. “Are you turning into a stepdad now?”
Zhong Jianguo flicked his forehead. “If you keep acting up, even if she doesn’t hit you, I’ll take the belt to you.”
Zhong Dawa immediately wilted.
“Erwa, what’s wrong?” Song Zhaodi noticed out of the corner of her eye that the second child was rubbing his stomach and realised she had overlooked him.
Zhong Erwa hesitated and glanced at Zhong Jianguo.
Hearing Song Zhaodi’s question, Zhong Jianguo happened to turn around. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m hungry,” Zhong Erwa said weakly.
Zhong Jianguo finished putting the duvet cover on, folded the blanket into a neat square and picked up Erwa. “Let’s go make dinner now.” He looked at Song Zhaodi as he spoke, as if asking if she had any objections.
“I’m hungry too,” Song Zhaodi said. “You bathe them and I’ll cook.”
“Alright.”
It was already late autumn in Binhai in October, but Wengzhou Island was still hot. When changing ferries in Shencheng, both Song Zhaodi and Zhong Jianguo had worn long sleeves and pants without feeling warm. But upon arriving at Wengzhou Island, they were sweating profusely.
Zhong Jianguo caught the strange smell on Song Zhaodi and also noticed the stale scent on himself. As soon as he reached the first floor, he grabbed a bucket and went to pump water.
Song Zhaodi placed the sleeping youngest child on the long bench in the living room and told the two older ones to watch over him before rolling up her sleeves to wash her hands and face.
The stove in the Zhong family’s kitchen was an earthen stove. Song Zhaodi left the large pot for Zhong Jianguo to boil water and planned to cook using the smaller pot.
Opening the cupboard, she found rice, flour and eggs. There were also oil, salt, soy sauce and vinegar, but nothing else. So she asked Zhong Jianguo, who had just entered with water, “Do we have any vegetables?”
“There should be some,” Zhong Jianguo said. “Check the yard.”
The Zhong family’s small building was about 200 square meters and the yard outside was around 70 to 80 square meters, enclosed with bamboo fencing. From afar, it looked like a small villa.
When she first entered with Zhong Jianguo, she had given the place a quick glance and couldn’t help but mentally praise herself—she had made the right choice in marriage.
But when she stepped into the yard, she was dumbfounded. In such a large space, the only things planted were flowers and ornamental plants?
Refusing to believe it, Song Zhaodi searched carefully and finally found a few amaranth plants.
She bent down to pluck them, but halfway through, she stopped. Instead of pulling them out, she only picked the leaves.
Standing up, she looked around and sighed before taking a bamboo sieve to wash the vegetables at the hand pump.
“Should I start the fire now?” Zhong Jianguo asked when she came back inside.
Originally, Song Zhaodi had wanted to find some green onions, but she didn’t even spot a single scallion leaf. She almost wanted to ask Zhong Jianguo if his family ever actually cooked meals.
“Start it,” she said, pouring two ladles of water into the small pot and cracking three eggs into separate bowls.
“What are you making?” Zhong Jianguo asked curiously.
“Your house has nothing,” Song Zhaodi replied. “So, we’ll eat plain flour dumplings and I’ll make steamed eggs for your three sons.”
Zhong Jianguo frowned. “Stop saying ‘your house.’ This is your home too now.”
“Fine,” Song Zhaodi said.
In her past life, Liu Ling had also liked flowers and plants and even after becoming Song Zhaodi, that preference hadn’t changed—as long as she was well-fed and clothed. But the reality was, she had debated for nearly ten minutes before settling on buying only two packs of milk powder for Sanwa instead of four. She was afraid that if she spent too much money, the family would have to tighten their belts on the island.
Liu Ling had never been this frugal, even in her poorest days in her previous life. For the first time, she told herself that things would get better in the future.
However, while she was pinching pennies in Shencheng, the Zhong family on Wengzhou Island didn’t even grow a single green onion. Just thinking about the fact that she’d have to buy scallions in the future gave Liu Ling a headache.
Zhong Jianguo returned home and finally relaxed, no longer as cautious as he had been in Xiao Song Village. It was only when he noticed something off in Song Zhaodi’s voice that he realised she seemed unhappy. “Are you tired? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“It’s not that,” Song Zhaodi replied. “I’m fine.” She placed the steaming tray into the pot and put the three bowls, each filled with water and sesame oil, inside. “Once the water in the pot boils, it’ll be ready.”
Zhong Jianguo frowned as he watched Song Zhaodi continue kneading dough. He thought for a long while but ultimately said nothing.
Around five o’clock, after taking a bath, Song Zhaodi went upstairs in shorts and a shirt. She saw Zhong Jianguo pacing back and forth with the youngest child in his arms. “Give him to me. You go take a bath.”
Zhong Jianguo sighed when he noticed the complete lack of a smile on Song Zhaodi’s face. He turned and went downstairs.
As soon as he left, Song Zhaodi made a funny face at his retreating figure, then headed to the west room. Pushing the door open, she found the eldest and second children already asleep. She draped a small towel over their bellies before carrying the youngest child outside. “Little one, your two older brothers are asleep already. Why aren’t you sleeping yet?”
The child had already slept for a long time earlier and wasn’t tired now. Seeing Song Zhaodi talking to him, he stretched out his hands and babbled nonsensically.
Song Zhaodi couldn’t understand, so she tried teaching him to call her “Mom.”
The child let out an “Ah!”—and drooled.
Song Zhaodi turned to grab a tissue but paused midway. “I should save some tissues. Never mind, I’ll just make you a few more bibs tomorrow.” She glanced at the lush greenery in the courtyard and sighed. Then, she gently poked the child’s little face. “Your birth mother was really quite the noble lady.”
Meanwhile, downstairs, Zhong Jianguo was scooping water while carefully thinking about whether he had done something to upset Song Zhaodi. He ran through the events in his mind twice and suddenly realised—since they had gotten off the boat, Song Zhaodi hadn’t said ‘an’ even once.
When Song Zhaodi had spoken to Ma Zhonghua earlier, her Mandarin had been perfectly standard, with no coastal accent at all. Even just now, when she was speaking to him, there was no trace of her usual accent.
The more Zhong Jianguo thought about it, the stranger it seemed. There were no televisions or radios in Xiao Song Village. How had a farm girl, who had never left Hongya Town, learned such flawless Mandarin?
Hurriedly finishing his quick bath, Zhong Jianguo threw on shorts and a vest and ran upstairs. “Zhaodi, I think we need to talk.”
“I also want to talk to you,” Song Zhaodi said. “But right now, what’s more urgent than having a heart-to-heart is that your house doesn’t even have a single green onion. What are we eating for breakfast tomorrow? Plain rice porridge with plain steamed buns? What about the kids? More steamed egg custard?”
Zhong Jianguo was momentarily stumped and mumbled, “If you think we need something, I’ll go buy it now.”
Song Zhaodi sighed. “Go find a pen and some paper first.”
When Zhong Jianguo’s previous wife was alive, she had handled all the grocery shopping. After she passed away, he had eaten in the mess hall. He had no real idea what household supplies were needed. Even though he had many questions on his mind, when faced with a more pressing issue—survival—everything else seemed unimportant.
Song Zhaodi handed Sanwa to him and took the notebook and pen. “When Sanwa’s mother was pregnant with him, if you weren’t home, how did she take care of the eldest and the second child?”
“For the first two months, my mother-in-law took care of her,” Zhong Jianguo said. “The eldest and second are well-behaved. The youngest would sometimes cry a lot and when I wasn’t home, Duan dasao, the wife of the commander next door, helped out.”
As she wrote, Song Zhaodi asked, “Why doesn’t the eldest like his maternal grandmother?”
“She favoured boys over girls.” The mention of his mother-in-law made Zhong Jianguo’s head throb. “No matter what nice things the boys’ mother bought for them, the old lady would always secretly stash half of it away to send to her son’s family.”
Song Zhaodi clicked her tongue. “That’s some serious favouritism. I get why the eldest doesn’t like her now. So, are you finally going to tell me how his mother passed away?”
Since gossip travelled fast on the island, Zhong Jianguo hadn’t planned on hiding the truth from Song Zhaodi. “The eldest’s grandmother used to work as a servant in a wealthy family in Shanghai. His grandfather worked at a newspaper and wrote some less-than-ideal articles. Last year, when Shanghai experienced the ‘revolution,’ the old couple was investigated.
“Dawa’s uncle and aunt were workers and their children were considered proletariat, so the old couple didn’t get into too much trouble. They were just made to write self-criticisms. But the old lady heard somewhere that the military didn’t require self-criticisms, so she sent a telegram telling the eldest’s mother to go pick her up.”
“Pick her up?” Song Zhaodi paused. “If they were already under scrutiny, how was she supposed to pick them up? Don’t tell me your first wife actually went?”
Zhong Jianguo sighed. “I told her not to go. She said she wouldn’t, but she hadn’t actually given up on the idea. She waited until I was about to return from sea, left the three kids with Duan dasao and took money and clothes with her.
“She planned to take the train from Hangcheng straight to Shanghai, but when she got to Hangcheng, it started pouring rain, so the trains couldn’t run. She decided to turn back, but just as she left the station, a typhoon hit and then… well.”
“What do you mean, ‘well’?” Song Zhaodi was confused. “Did the typhoon blow her away?”
Zhong Jianguo sighed. “A falling tree crushed her.”
“That’s really…” Song Zhaodi didn’t know what to say. “How did you find out?”
Zhong Jianguo said, “We got word of the typhoon and rushed back as soon as possible. When I got home, she had only been gone for half a day. After settling the kids, I planned to go after her, but by then, the wind had picked up on our end too and no boats could sail.
“Two days later, when the wind finally stopped, I assumed she had already reached Shanghai. Then I got another telegram from her mother urging her to pick them up. That’s when I realised something was wrong. I spent days searching in Hangcheng before I finally found her. She was barely recognisable. If it weren’t for the train ticket in her pocket, I wouldn’t have been sure she was heading for Shanghai.”
“Did Dawa’s grandmother take responsibility for causing her daughter’s death? Did she offer to help look after the kids?” Song Zhaodi asked, observing that Zhong Jianguo wasn’t too emotional about the incident before pressing further.
Zhong Jianguo sneered. “She was afraid I’d blame her. On the day of the funeral, not a single person from their family showed up.”
“Did Dawa’s mother not know there was a typhoon when she left?” Song Zhaodi didn’t know how to evaluate Zhong Jianguo’s outrageous mother-in-law, so she simply changed the topic.
Zhong Jianguo: “We moved here the summer before last and encountered a typhoon at that time, but it only rained for a few days. She probably took a chance, thinking there wouldn’t be strong winds.”
“That was just her bad luck.” Song Zhaodi sighed and handed the notebook back to him. “You’re often not home and I have to take care of the three of them alone. I can’t feed them one by one. Find a carpenter to make three chairs for me and also a small bed for Sanwa. Dawa and Erwa can sit on chairs and eat by themselves. When Sanwa is asleep, I can put his bed next to me and do other things.”
Zhong Jianguo looked at the drawing in the notebook. It was even more precise than what he could achieve using a ruler, which startled him. He remained expressionless and asked, “Besides the chairs and the bed, what else?”
“First, buy some greens and cabbages, then get some seeds,” Song Zhaodi said. “It’s very hot here, so we should be able to grow another crop before winter comes. Buy more vegetable seeds. I’ll clear out the yard and plant everything. That way, we won’t have to buy vegetables in the future.”
Zhong Jianguo nodded. “Anything else?”
“That’s all for now,” Song Zhaodi said. “Give me Sanwa. You go ahead.”
Zhong Jianguo left the house, but instead of heading to the island’s supply and marketing cooperative, he took the drawings and went straight to the military camp. When he reached the office, he pushed the door open and walked in. “Old Zhang—”
“Commander?” The man in his forties suddenly stood up. “When did you get back?”
“Just now.” Zhong Jianguo said, “I remember there are a few guys in our regiment who are pretty good at carpentry. Have them make three chairs and a bed for me.” He handed the notebook to Political Commissar Zhang.
Political Commissar Zhang instinctively took it. “This broken island doesn’t even have a decent—” He lowered his head as he spoke and suddenly widened his eyes. “You drew this? Since when did you have this skill? How come I didn’t know? When did you learn it?”
“This is nothing.” Zhong Jianguo spoke modestly, but his eyes were fixed on Political Commissar Zhang’s reaction.
Political Commissar Zhang’s eyes widened further. “This is nothing? I may not have gone to university, but I studied in a private school. You can’t draw chairs this precise without at least three to five years of practice. Commander, you’ve been hiding quite a lot!”
Zhong Jianguo’s eyes darkened. It seemed like Song Zhaodi was keeping a lot from him. “It’s not me. My new wife drew it.”
Political Commissar Zhang almost blurted out, “Didn’t your wife die?” But then he suddenly remembered that Zhong Jianguo had been gone for seven or eight days just to find a mother for his three children. “I heard from the division commander that the girl you went to see was a rural woman. Does she really have this kind of skill?”
“She has plenty of skills,” Zhong Jianguo said with a smile. “There are still things to do at home, so I’ll leave this to you.”
Political Commissar Zhang grabbed Zhong Jianguo. “Hold on, your wife isn’t just some village girl, is she?”
“She is,” Zhong Jianguo said, recalling the changes in Song Zhaodi. “She’s a well-educated village girl. If there’s anything else, let’s talk tomorrow. My house doesn’t even have a single vegetable leaf—I need to go buy groceries.”
Political Commissar Zhang let go and couldn’t help but say, “Why is your luck always so damn good?”
“It really is.” Zhong Jianguo chuckled as he left the office, then sighed deeply while looking up at the sky. Hopefully, this wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen.
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