Song Zhaodi thought for a moment. “Fatty but not greasy? You mean Dongpo Pork? You have better taste than your son.”
“You don’t know how to make it, do you?” Zhong Jianguo said smugly. “I thought you could do everything.”
Song Zhaodi found his amusement hilarious. “You’re that happy to see me stumped? Too bad—you’re going to be disappointed again.”
“You know how to?!” Zhong Jianguo looked at her in disbelief.
Song Zhaodi nodded. “What I’m curious about is—back then, you could barely get enough to eat. In college, the cafeteria wouldn’t have served Dongpo Pork, and the military definitely wouldn’t have made it for you. Where did you eat it before?”
“Two years ago, our regiment defeated Old Jiang’s troops. As a reward, the unit had the cooks prepare a special meal for us,” Zhong Jianguo explained. “Honestly, I’ve only ever had it that one time in my life.”
“I read about it in a book,” Song Zhaodi said—it was actually from a cooking show. “Making Dongpo Pork isn’t complicated, but we’re missing two key ingredients: sugar and yellow wine.”
“How much sugar do we need?” Zhong Jianguo asked.
“For two pounds of meat, about fifty grams of sugar.”
“Fifty grams?” Zhong Jianguo was taken aback. “That’s barely anything. Are you out of money?”
“I didn’t dare touch the money you gave me before. I still have 170 yuan—70 for our living expenses, and the remaining 100 is off-limits.”
Zhong Jianguo’s eyelid twitched. One hundred and seventy yuan? He had assumed she had, at most, seventeen. “Wait a moment.” He quickly washed the soap off his hands, ran upstairs, and came back with an envelope, handing it to Song Zhaodi. “I got paid yesterday. Including this paycheck, I have 1,500 yuan now.”
Song Zhaodi’s hands trembled. “One—one thousand five hundred? How… how do you have so much money?” That was enough to buy a courtyard house near the Forbidden City.
“I’ve been saving over the years,” Zhong Jianguo said. “Didn’t save much in my early years of service, but I managed to put away a lot recently.”
Song Zhaodi took the envelope, feeling its thickness, and asked curiously, “You have this much money, yet you never thought to buy formula for Dawa and Erwa?”
“I never drank formula myself,” Zhong Jianguo admitted. “I’d heard people mention it a few times, but Dawa’s mom had plenty of milk, so I never considered buying any. As for White Rabbit candy, I always thought it was just regular candy. If you hadn’t told me it’s made from condensed milk, I wouldn’t have known.”
Song Zhaodi snorted. “We’ve known each other for almost a month, and you’re only telling me this now? You really can hold back.”
“Dawa’s mom was soft-hearted, and I was worried you’d be like her,” Zhong Jianguo said. “Besides, you have a habit of saying shocking things. I was even afraid you’d run off with the money.”
Song Zhaodi poured out the money and saw it was all ten-yuan bills. “You’re a soldier, and I’m a military spouse. Where could I possibly run? Even if I wanted to flee to a capitalist country, they wouldn’t issue me a visa. Stop making excuses and acting like everything’s my fault.”
Zhong Jianguo said, “Well, technically, you did bring this on yourself.”
“Let’s turn the page on that. When will the unit go shopping again? Get me ten packs of formula,” Song Zhaodi said, now feeling rich. “And two pounds of White Rabbit candy.”
Zhong Jianguo snatched the money back. “If you run out, ask me. I’ll hold onto this for now.”
“Zhong Jianguo!” Song Zhaodi’s voice suddenly rose, but when she saw Sanwa flinch, she quickly lowered it. “You promised me—I’m in charge of the money.”
“You spend too much,” Zhong Jianguo said bluntly. Then, after a pause, he asked, “How many meat ration coupons do we have left?”
“With last month’s included, ten pounds of pork coupons.” Song Zhaodi’s eyes flickered with an idea. “How about—”
Zhong Jianguo immediately interrupted. “Don’t even think about it. Buy four pounds. It’s only the second day of the month. I don’t want to spend the next twenty-eight days eating nothing but vegetables and tofu.”
“Fine, we’ll do it your way.” As Zhong Jianguo washed the bedsheets, he had placed his watch on the ground. Song Zhaodi glanced at it. “It’s nine o’clock. Hurry up—we’re going grocery shopping.”
Around ten o’clock, Song Zhaodi carried a woven bamboo basket on her back, while Zhong Jianguo held Sanwa in his arms. The couple headed straight to the provisions factory.
Wengzhou Island had originally only had a supply and marketing cooperative. However, with the main forces of the East China Sea Fleet relocating there, military families followed, and everyday necessities had to be purchased. The military coordinated with the local government to establish a provisions factory.
The factory bought chickens and ducks from local farmers, after they had set aside the portion required to be handed over to the production team. Since this provided an additional source of income, the island’s fishermen had no objections, and thus, the provisions factory was established.
As Zhong Jianguo introduced their neighbours to Song Zhaodi, he said, “I suggest you report to the school as soon as possible. Commissar Zhang mentioned that after the New Year, the food subsidy and military allowances will be adjusted.
“The teachers’ benefits will likely be adjusted too. If you go early, you’ll get the same as everyone else. During the New Year, the school gives each teacher a bag of rice and a few pounds of cooking oil. If you wait until after the holiday, you’ll miss out.”
“I thought you were all about integrity and righteousness,” Song Zhaodi said, surprised.
Zhong Jianguo turned to her. “Integrity and righteousness?”
“Great, bright, and just,” Song Zhaodi explained.
Zhong Jianguo chuckled and shook his head. “Having rice and oil makes for a better New Year. I’m just thinking about making sure you all eat well.”
“Xiao Song, Xiao Zhong, where are you heading?” Duan dasao approached them and noticed the basket on Song Zhaodi’s back. “Going grocery shopping? No need—I’ve already bought everything.”
Zhong Jianguo replied, “What you bought can be for tomorrow. We’re getting ingredients for tonight.”
“I bought fish and meat; they can’t be kept overnight,” Duan dasao said. “Go back home. There are vegetables in the courtyard; you don’t need to buy more.”
Song Zhaodi insisted, “We should still go. I also want to see where the grocery store is. I’ve been on this island for over twenty days, and I don’t even know which way the supply store faces.” She paused, then added, “Saozi, come to our house for dinner tonight.”
Duan dasao, seeing that they wouldn’t be persuaded, relented. “Then buy less. I already bought two pounds of pork.”
“Got it.”
Despite that, Song Zhaodi didn’t buy less. She got two bass, a duck, and four pounds of pork, along with some fresh vegetables.
By the time they got home, it was nearly 11:30. Dawa and Erwa were sitting at the door, looking quite pitiful. Song Zhaodi found it amusing. “Why aren’t you two inside? The door isn’t even locked.”
Dawa scrambled to his feet and checked the door—it was only latched from the inside, easily pushed open with a gentle nudge. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out?”
“We couldn’t find you,” Song Zhaodi replied. She knew they had run off to play and hadn’t even thought about looking for them.
Dawa, still young, took her words seriously and pressed his lips together. “Next time, let me know.”
“Then I’ll let you know next time too,” Song Zhaodi said. “We’re having stir-fried meat for lunch.”
Erwa grinned, his earlier frustration vanishing instantly. He clung to Song Zhaodi’s arm and pointed at her basket. “Let me see!”
“You can look inside after we go inside,” Zhong Jianguo said, patting the back of his head. “Should we steam the buns first or prep the fish and duck?”
“Steam the buns first. I’ll handle the fish and duck this afternoon,” Song Zhaodi replied.
“This feels like New Year’s,” Dawa suddenly said.
Song Zhaodi took a moment to process his words before bursting into laughter. “Did your family eat like this during New Year’s?”
“Not really,” Dawa thought hard, then said, “Just fatty meat. Stepmother, I like fatty meat.”
Erwa, worried that Song Zhaodi hadn’t noticed him, raised his small hand. “I like fatty meat too!”
“I’ll make some soon,” Song Zhaodi said. She had bought pork belly, which was slightly more expensive than lean meat. While Zhong Jianguo stoked the fire for steaming the buns, she sliced about a pound of meat into thin pieces and stir-fried them with garlic sprouts and mild green peppers, making a classic twice-cooked pork dish.
Zhong Jianguo caught the aroma and swallowed hard. Watching her plate the glistening, fragrant meat, he couldn’t help but ask, “You really know how to make Dongpo Pork?”
“Regretting your doubts?” Song Zhaodi teased, looking down at him. “Commander Zhong, act like a man!”
Zhong Jianguo turned his head to focus on the crackling firewood, avoiding her gaze.
Though he commanded over two thousand soldiers as a regimental commander, at just thirty years old, Zhong Jianguo was still, in Song Zhaodi’s eyes, a young man in his prime. When he wasn’t deliberately provoking her, she didn’t bother arguing with him.
After lunch, as Song Zhaodi tidied up the now-cooled buns, she noticed a small bowl of duck blood on the counter. She recalled that the last time she slaughtered a duck, the blood had spilt onto the ground, and Zhong Jianguo had called her a wasteful woman. She couldn’t help but mentally curse him again.
Zhong Jianguo, rubbing his inexplicably warm ears, had a feeling someone was talking about him behind his back. He muttered, “Petty woman,” under his breath, then instructed Xiao Li to head to the dock.
Song Zhaodi’s parents, older sister, brother-in-law, and their two children—four adults and two kids—couldn’t all fit into one jeep, so Commander Liu arranged for his driver to accompany Xiao Li to pick them up.
Commander Liu’s car was well-known among military officers. Seeing it following behind Zhong Jianguo’s, people were puzzled. The company and platoon leaders training in the area found it inappropriate to ask directly. However, Political Commissar Lu, an old colleague of Commander Liu, secretly pulled him aside.
Commander Liu hadn’t seen the guests yet, so he only said vaguely, “Something came up at home.”
But Political Commissar Lu noticed that Commander Liu was in a good mood and immediately guessed it was something good.
On Wengzhou Island, even a minor scuffle between Dawa and Ma Zhenxing could spread across the entire island. Commander Liu hadn’t left the island recently, and yet something good had happened in the Liu family? Without hearing even a whisper, Political Commissar Lu’s curiosity grew. He kept pressing for details.
Commander Liu, tired of being pestered, finally admitted, “My nephew has been found.”
Political Commissar Lu knew about Commander Liu’s lost nephew. During holidays, when they were deployed on missions and couldn’t reunite with their families, Commander Liu would often bring up his older brother’s wife and child.
But now, this long-lost nephew had suddenly appeared—and he was Zhong Jianguo’s brother-in-law? Political Commissar Lu was stunned for a long moment before finally saying, “You’re right—Xiao Zhong really is fate’s favourite child.”
Commander Liu laughed. “I never expected such a coincidence either. Keep this under wraps for now. If this gets out, and I later promote Xiao Zhong, those envious of him will say I’m playing favourites.”
“I understand,” Political Commissar Lu replied, checking his watch. “The boat will dock in an hour. Let’s go see them.”
Commander Liu’s body was in the military camp, but his mind was already at the dock. He didn’t bother pretending otherwise and, instead of taking a car, jogged home.
Zhong Jianguo, too, wanted to see how Song Zhaodi would explain things to her parents, but he had a training session that afternoon. No matter how curious he was, he couldn’t leave.
Three o’clock, the boat docked.
Mother Song stepped onto solid ground, glanced around, and couldn’t help but remark, “Doesn’t look much different from our place.”
“It’s a bit warmer here,” Father Song said as he took off his thin jacket. “Xiao Liu, did you make it clear in the telegram to Zhaodi that we—wait, why don’t I see Zhaodi?”
When the original host was still around, she often taught the Song family to speak Mandarin. In their home village of Xiao Song, everyone spoke in the local dialect, so the family’s use of Mandarin made them stand out.
Before they set off, Father Song had instructed everyone: once they arrived on Wengzhou Island, they must speak Mandarin—no matter how awkward or unpolished—to avoid embarrassing Song Zhaodi and Zhong Jianguo.
Liu Yang responded, “I told her. She should be—”
“Comrade, are you Commander Father Zhong?”
Liu Yang turned around and saw a young man in military uniform. He quickly said, “This is my father, the commander’s father-in-law. And you are?”
“Just call me Xiao Li. I’m the commander’s orderly.” Xiao Li promptly opened the car door. “Please, get in.”
Without a second thought, Liu Yang helped Father Song into the car and then squeezed in with the child.
Xiao Li raised an eyebrow, surprised. This father-in-law’s family was indeed nothing like the previous one. “Comrade, there’s another car behind us. You can take that one.”
Liu Yang was stunned. “You—you brought two cars to pick us up?”
“The commander figured one might not be enough, so he arranged for another.” Xiao Li smiled. “I passed by the commander’s house on my way here. Saozi has already started washing vegetables.”
Mother Song quickly asked, “Our Zhaodi?”
“Ah? Oh, yes, Xiao Song saozi,” Xiao Li replied.
Mother Song was puzzled. “She—she’s washing vegetables? Then who’s watching the kids? Jianguo has three children.”
“The two older ones are playing with their little brother.” Xiao Li had no idea that the Song family had never met Zhong Jianguo’s children.
Ever since Song Zhaodi married Zhong Jianguo and moved to Wengzhou Island, Mother Song had worried every single day—worried that her daughter wouldn’t be a good stepmother, wouldn’t satisfy Zhong Jianguo, and that he would divorce her.
“These kids are well-behaved,” Father Song remarked meaningfully.
Xiao Li didn’t catch on and simply replied honestly, “Yes, very obedient. Whatever saozi tells them to do, they do. One time, I was helping her build a chicken coop. She told them to go play, but they refused to leave.”
Mother Song exchanged a glance with Father Song, both finding comfort in what they heard.
“Why were you building a chicken coop?” Mother Song asked.
“I’m the commander’s driver and orderly. When he’s busy, I have nothing to do. He’s busy all day, so I have all day free. Helping out is the least I can do.”
“Your commander is often away from home?” Father Song asked.
Xiao Li instinctively nodded but quickly caught himself. These two elders were subtly probing for information about the Zhong family. “Lately, not so much. He’s been home every day.”
Mother Song was satisfied.
When they arrived, they saw Zhong Jianguo’s house—a two-story home with a fence lined with blooming chrysanthemums. The yard was full of vegetables, and there was even a water pump—no need to haul water. She was even more satisfied.
A child ran out from the house. Mother Song smiled and gestured to Liu Yang, “Quick, bring over the things I bought for the kids.”
“Dawa, is Grandma here?”
Song Zhaodi’s voice came from inside the house, making the Song family pause.
“Yes.” Dawa glanced at Mother Song’s large package, smiled, and ran back inside.
Mother Song was taken aback. She quickly patted Father Song’s arm. “That child—that child knows I’m Grandma?!”
“Dad, Mom, dajie, jiefu, come in quickly.” Song Zhaodi stepped out and called, “Dawa, Erwa, bring stools for Grandma and Grandpa. You all go inside first.” Then she turned and called toward another house, “Commander Liu, my parents are here.”
Mother Song slapped her arm. “Why are you shouting? We’re not some big shots, no need for all this.”
“Mom, Commander Liu next door is jiefu’s uncle.”
Just as she finished speaking, a couple came running over from the house next door.
Liu Yang, not very tall, stood on his tiptoes to look. He whispered, “Dad, Mom, that’s my uncle.”
“Jiefu, if I wasn’t sure it was your uncle, I wouldn’t have written home,” Song Zhaodi said. Then she noticed something. “Wait—where’s Auntie?”
Liu Yang suddenly turned his head away, withdrawing his gaze. “My mom said she was too tired. Zhaodi, what—what should I say? Quick, Zhaodi, he’s almost here. What do I say?”
“Whatever it is, say it inside.” Song Zhaodi urged, “Dad, Mom, come in and rest.” She took the package from her mother, feeling its weight and growing curious. “Mom, what did you buy?”
Mother Song replied, “Apples, tangerines, malt milk for the kids and—what was it again? Zhaodi’s dad?”
“The supply shopkeeper said it’s glutinous rice sticks, dried sweet potatoes and candies,” Father Song said as he stepped inside. He saw Dawa still carrying stools and finally believed what Xiao Li had said—the Zhong boys were indeed obedient. “Bring the snacks out for the kids.”
Song Zhaodi waved Dawa and Erwa over, opening the package. A strong fishy smell wafted out, making her frown. “Mom, we live by the sea. Why did you bring dried fish? Keep it for yourselves. Carrying it all this way must’ve been tiring.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for his uncle and aunt,” Mother Song said, catching a glimpse of two middle-aged figures at the door. She quickly nudged Song Zhaodi.
Looking up, Song Zhaodi smiled. “Saozi, Commander, come in. Don’t just stand at the door.”
“You’re still calling me saozi?” The woman teased.
Song Zhaodi was momentarily confused—what else should she call her? Then, seeing the man beside her, she suddenly understood. “Ah, my mistake! Auntie, Uncle. This is eel and ribbonfish from jiefu for you.” She handed over the dried fish. “This is my jiefu, Liu Yang. This is my elder sister, Song Laibao. These are their kids—Dali and Liugen.”
“Good, good, good!” Commander Liu was emotional. He had finally found his nephew. But in his excitement, seeing the grown-up Liu Yang, who bore some resemblance to his older brother, he was at a loss for words. “Well then, in-laws, are you thirsty? I—I’ll pour some tea.”
Zhong Dawa pointed to the thermos on the small table. “Uncle, it’s here.”
“Call him Grandpa,” Song Zhaodi corrected. “And call Auntie Grandma.”
Zhong Dawa frowned slightly. “Why?”
“Because Uncle and Auntie are now our family, just like Grandma and Grandpa,” Song Zhaodi explained.
Commander Liu waved a hand. “Xiao Song, let the child call us whatever he likes. It’s just a title—as long as he sees us as family, that’s what matters.”
“Then I’ll listen to you,” Song Zhaodi said, placing all the snacks her mother had brought onto the table, and filling it completely. “See? I wasn’t lying.”
Dawa smiled slightly, glanced at Mother Song, and softly murmured, “This Grandma is pretty nice.”
“Poof!” Commander Liu sat across from his nephew. Seeing that Liu Yang’s eldest son was about the same age as Dawa, he suddenly felt a bit nervous—after all, he was already a grandfather. But as soon as Dawa spoke, he relaxed. “This grandpa is also pretty good, and so are Auntie and Uncle.”
Zhong Dawa glanced at the fish by his feet and nodded. “They’re all good.”
Song Zhaodi smiled, unwrapped a package of glutinous rice sticks, broke off a piece to taste—finding the sugar content low—and then pushed it toward Dawa. She waved at the two nephews, “You four can share this. Go upstairs or stay in the courtyard, but don’t run outside.”
“Okay!” Zhong Dawa took it. “We’re going upstairs.”
Song Zhaodi instructed, “Dali, Liugen, go upstairs with Dawa.” As she spoke, she exchanged a glance with her elder sister, Song Laibao.
Song Laibao set down her younger son and nudged him forward. “Go play with your big brother. He’s your big brother, right?”
“Dawa is the oldest,” Song Zhaodi said, grabbing a couple of candies. “One for Dawa and one for Erwa. Dawa will bring out all their little toys for you to play with.”
Once Dawa and Erwa left, only Commander Liu and Duan dasao remained as outsiders—the rest were family. The two children, less timid than when they first arrived, accepted the candies from Song Zhaodi and ran upstairs.
With the kids out of the way, Song Zhaodi finally said, “Jiefu, Uncle Liu wants to know how people treated you and Aunt Yang after your father’s martyrdom.” She paused before adding, “Jiefu, don’t worry about causing trouble for Uncle Liu. He’s a commander—we don’t have to fear them.”
“It’s all in the past,” Liu Yang said, though his eyes brimmed with tears.
Song Zhaodi sighed slightly and exchanged a glance with her mother before the two of them got up and headed to the kitchen.
Before she married Commander Liu, Duan dasao was illiterate. People in that era lived day by day, with no certainty about the future. Even after marrying Commander Liu, she never had a proper name—when she was young, relatives and neighbours called her ‘Xiao Duan’. Now that she was older and a commander’s wife, no one could call her ‘Xiao Duan’ anymore. Regardless of age, people addressed her as ‘saozi’ or just ‘Duan dasao’.
After lunch, Duan dasao brought the fish and meat she had bought to the Zhong household. Song Zhaodi started cooking duck and prepared to clean the fish. When the Song family arrived, she was in the middle of marinating the fish with salt and ginger slices.
Seeing the four fish on the chopping board, Mother Song was both happy and worried. “Zhaodi, are you planning to stop saving for the future?”
“Mom, you’re exaggerating,” Song Zhaodi replied. “The fish were cheaper than what we sell. Since I knew you’d be coming, I saved the meat coupons from last month. We’ll eat well today and satisfy our cravings.”
Mother Song couldn’t help but say, “But there are only so many of us—four fish is too much.”
“We have five people in our family, six in yours and four in Liu’s,” Song Zhaodi explained. “Plus, jiefu’s younger cousins haven’t come back from school yet. Four fish might not even be enough. Mom, help me start the fire—I’ll begin cooking.”
Mother Song wanted to point out that five of those were children who wouldn’t eat much fish, but since the fish had already been bought, it was too late to argue. “You have three kids now, and you’ll have more in the future. Be frugal.”
“I know, Mom,” Song Zhaodi reassured her. “We’re saving money.”
Mother Song hummed in acknowledgement, then lowered her voice to ask, “Any signs yet?”
“Signs of what?” Song Zhaodi was puzzled.
Mother Song gestured toward her stomach. “Are you that clueless?”
Song Zhaodi was speechless. “Mom, since the day Jianguo and I got married, we’ve only been together for twenty-four days. Even if I were pregnant, I wouldn’t feel it yet.”
Mother Song counted on her fingers. “Oh, that’s true.”
Turning away, Song Zhaodi rolled her eyes. Her old woman was way too eager. “Mom, did you tell erjie you were coming to Wengzhou Island?”
(T/N: Erjie: Second sister.)
“We left in a hurry, so we didn’t tell her,” Mother Song said. “When we return to the village, if she doesn’t ask, I won’t mention it. If she does, I’ll tell her.”
Song Zhaodi disagreed. “Not telling erjie about something this important is unfair to her.”
“What do you want me to do?” Mother Song sighed. “After I had your erjie, I couldn’t conceive again. I thought I’d only have two daughters in this lifetime, so I treated your dajie and erjie equally. Whatever your dajie had, your erjie had too—even if it was just a hair tie, I never shortchanged her.
“But then, without telling anyone, she set her sights on Liu Yang. The whole family was kept in the dark. When the village chief came to propose that Liu Yang marry into our family, she stayed silent. Then, when Liu Yang and your dajie went to get their marriage certificate, she suddenly objected. Tell me, could I have stopped Laibao and said, ‘Don’t go—let your younger sister marry him instead’? Is that something a mother should say?”
Song Zhaodi explained, “Erjie probably assumed jiefu would choose her. She treated him well and might have thought he understood her feelings.”
“I gave birth to her, and even I didn’t notice her feelings,” Mother Song scoffed. “Your jiefu is such an honest man—how could he have known? Your erjie just thought she was being clever.
“And then later on, you were there, too. I told her we’d find her a husband better than Liu Yang, someone who wouldn’t let her suffer. But again, without saying a word, she found someone on her own. It wasn’t until they were getting married and needed proof from the village that she told your father and me. Tell me, what kind of daughter does that?”
Song Zhaodi sighed. “It’s been years. You’re her mother—don’t hold a grudge. If she had better judgment, she wouldn’t have tried to stop dajie’s marriage.”
“I didn’t mean to keep this from her,” Mother Song said. “But her husband earns more than Liu Yang, and every time she comes home, she brags nonstop, as if our entire family combined is no match for him.
“Now, your jiefu is a martyr’s son and part of a military family. If she finds out, she’ll feel inferior to your dajie again and get upset with us. She might even refuse to come home for the New Year.” She sighed again. “Our family doesn’t compare itself to others, and we don’t hold grudges—where did she get this personality from?”
Song Zhaodi replied, “From biaoyi’s side.”
“Speaking of your biaoyi,” Mother Song suddenly asked, “did your cousin come to cause trouble when she found out you and Jianguo got married?”
Song Zhaodi didn’t answer directly. She had calculated the ship schedules from Shencheng and arranged for Jianguo’s stepmother and ex-mother-in-law to cross paths. Instead, she only recounted what had happened after they arrived on Wengzhou Island.
“Your biaoyi will definitely come again,” Mother Song concluded.
Song Zhaodi knew that Zhong Jianguo’s former mother-in-law would come again. When she heard her mother mention Zhao Yin, she didn’t even need to think before asking, “Did you hear something from Uncle?”
“Her son, the one Zhao Yin had with Jianguo’s father, is already eighteen this year,” Mother Song said. “He was born on the second day of National Day and is named Shengli. He graduated from middle school last year and has been staying at home since. Your uncle mentioned that they want Jianguo to find him a job.”
Song Zhaodi widened her eyes in disbelief. “Why are they all like this?”
“Don’t even mention it.” Mother Song sighed deeply. “When we arrived, a few women from the village even asked your father if Jianguo’s situation was good. They’re probably thinking about sending their kids to join the army too.”
“Being a soldier is honourable, but it’s also tough,” Song Zhaodi said. “The weather right now isn’t too bad, but Duan dasao said that during the peak summer days, all the officers turn as dark as charcoal, some even peel from sunburn.” She paused. “Zhong Jianguo is no exception.”
“They all think that since there’s no war now, being a soldier is like being in the old puppet army—just sitting indoors all day enjoying good food and drinks,” Mother Song explained.
Song Zhaodi thought carefully. “Tell them that there’s still a war going on.”
“A war?” Mother Song was startled. “Is Old Jiang’s army back again?”
Song Zhaodi quickly reassured her, “No, Mother, don’t worry. Not here. I remember there’s a war in the south, but I can’t recall the exact location. I’ll ask Jianguo later.” Then she lowered her voice. “Mother, are they still crying outside?”
Mother Song walked to the kitchen door, peeked outside, and said, “Not anymore. His uncle is talking to your father, probably about your jiefu’s past. What should we do with these fish?”
“I read about it in a book—steamed and braised,” Song Zhaodi said. She had bought two perch to steam, while Duan dasao had bought fish for braising. “I wanted to try making it before, but we never had the ingredients. Mother, I’ll make red-braised pork for you today.”
Seeing her daughter so different from before, Mother Song was pleased. “Getting married really changes a person—you’re even cooking meat for me now.”
“I wanted to do it before too, but you thought I was wasteful.” That was the truth. The original host had always eaten plain food, so when she found a small piece of pork, she placed it on a bun, sprinkled some salt, and dipped the bun in oil to eat it—only to get caught and beaten by her mother.
Mother Song sighed. “Other girls care about looking good and having fun, but all you thought about besides studying was eating. I used to say you had a noblewoman’s body but a servant’s fate. Looks like I was wrong.”
“I was only a kid back then—who knew what the future would be like?” Song Zhaodi said. “But one thing’s for sure—life will only get better from now on.”
Mother Song nodded. “It’s already better than a few years ago.”
“Mother, Dawa and Erwa are quite obedient, right?” Song Zhaodi knew what her mother worried about most.
Mother Song hummed in agreement, then suddenly asked, “What about the third child?”
“You didn’t see him?” Song Zhaodi was surprised. “There’s a small bed by the door—Sanwa is sleeping there. He naps every afternoon.”
Pushing some firewood further into the stove, Mother Song got up and went to check. Sure enough, there was a small bed in the kitchen’s eastern corner. She couldn’t help but marvel, “City folks really have their ways. Zhaodi, tell your jiefu how this bed is made so we can have one for Liugen. That way, your Aunt Yang won’t have to watch over him all the time.”
A woman in their old village once left her baby on the bed while she cooked, only to find the child dead by the time she finished. Father Song was called to check the baby and could tell right away—the baby had woken up, played for a while, and somehow crawled under the blanket, suffocating.
Ever since then, villagers didn’t dare leave their babies sleeping alone.
Having inherited the original host’s memories, Liu Ling never covered Sanwa with a blanket when he slept. She only wrapped him in a small cotton quilt. Only when she was watching him did she dare to use a blanket.
“It’s easy to make. Jianguo has blueprints for it,” Song Zhaodi said. “I’ll ask him later. Mother, the fish is already steaming. Should I start frying the vegetables?”
Mother Song had no objections. “When will Jianguo be back?”
“Around six.” Song Zhaodi replied. “If he’s not back by then, we’ll keep the dishes warm in the pot.”
The large pot steamed the fish, while the smaller one was for stir-frying. Song Zhaodi braised the fish, made red-braised pork, and cooked two bowls each of lotus root, lettuce, and greens.
Just as she was making seaweed egg soup, she heard someone calling “Brother Zhong” outside. She deliberately said, “Mother, Zhong Jianguo comes back around this time every day. When he gets home, he doesn’t have to do anything—just sits down and eats.”
Her mother retorted, “What would you have him do? What kind of work do you think he can do?”
“He can do everything—laundry, chopping wood, you name it,” Song Zhaodi said casually.
Mother Song glared at her. “Nonsense. A man doing laundry? What kind of sight is that? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Auntie, you might not know, but I wash all the clothes in our house,” Zhong Jianguo said as he walked in. “The bedsheets, blankets and even Sanwa’s diapers hanging outside—Zhaodi has never washed them.”
Mother Song turned to Song Zhaodi in disbelief. “Really?!”
“Mother, he knows taking care of the children is hard for me,” Song Zhaodi said. She actually hadn’t meant to bring this up, but she knew her mother wouldn’t feel reassured unless she saw something tangible. “I wanted to wash them, but he wouldn’t let me.” Before Zhong Jianguo could speak, she changed the subject. “Take the Dongpo pork out.”
Zhong Jianguo’s expression shifted slightly. He smiled at Mother Song, then looked at the sliced, glossy pork. Glancing outside to ensure no one was watching, he beckoned to Song Zhaodi. “Hurry, give me a piece.”
“You’re such a glutton!” The Dongpo pork was cut into large pieces, but since there were many people, Song Zhaodi sliced it into thin portions to fill two bowls. Seeing him eager, she simply cut a large piece and stuffed it into his mouth.
Zhong Jianguo let out a contented sigh. After swallowing, he grinned. “Just for this piece of meat, today was worth it.” With that, he turned and walked out.
Mother Song couldn’t help but rub her arms. “You two… Whatever. I won’t say anything.”
“Then don’t say anything,” Song Zhaodi said. “Next month, I’m going to teach at the school—eighty yuan a month. If there’s any difficulty at home, Mother, ask Father to write me a letter. I’ll send money.”
Mother Song was stunned. “That much?! You—you really married the right man.”
“Yes.” Song Zhaodi smiled. “Even if the school doesn’t close, if I graduate and become a teacher, I wouldn’t necessarily earn this much.”
Mother Song quickly asked, “Why is the salary so high here?”
“It’s a military-affiliated school,” Song Zhaodi explained. “It’s for officers’ children. The education department funds part of it, and the military supplements it, so the wages are higher.”
Now fully reassured, Mother Song still couldn’t help but nag about how Song Zhaodi didn’t know how to manage household expenses.
Meanwhile, Zhong Jianguo, savouring another bite of Dongpo pork, was in an excellent mood. Before Song Zhaodi could speak, he said, “Uncle, Auntie, it’s hot here. If you don’t eat now, it won’t be good tomorrow.”
“Put it in the well,” Song dajie suddenly suggested.
Song Zhaodi: “Over here, we use hand pump wells, not traditional wells.”
Seeing her sister and brother-in-law only picking at the vegetables, she thought for a moment, then gave them plenty of meat. She then turned to Dawa, “This Dongpo pork mixed with rice tastes even better than vegetable sauce over rice. Do you want some?”
“We don’t have rice today.” Zhong Dawa had already anticipated this. His eyes lit up. “I got it!” He then ran off with two mixed-grain steamed buns.
Mother Song quickly asked, “Where is he going?”
“He’s probably going to ask someone for rice,” Song Zhaodi guessed. She hadn’t expected that Dawa would actually return with a full bowl of rice, making her both amused and helpless. “Who gave it to you?”
Zhong Dawa looked proud. “Lin Zhong’s mom. Dad, go get me a bowl. I want to mix the meat broth with my rice.”
Zhong Jianguo brought out four small bowls, dividing the rice into four portions. Erwa and Liugen got slightly less, while Dawa and Da Li got more. Then, he picked out the meat and poured the broth over the rice. Seeing Commander Liu’s two children staring wide-eyed at him, he smiled and asked, “Have you never seen rice eaten like this? Dawa thought of it himself.”
“It’s because my mom’s cooking is so good that even the broth tastes great,” Zhong Dawa said, deliberately wanting to call her “stepmother,” but after glancing at the oranges and apples hanging on the wall, he held back.
Mother Song chuckled, “But you can’t just eat broth, you have to eat some meat too.” As she spoke, she placed two pieces of meat into his and Erwa’s bowls.
The two little ones immediately beamed with joy.
Seeing this, Zhong Jianguo breathed a sigh of relief.
Liu Yang and Song dajie also felt reassured.
After the meal, Zhong Jianguo naturally took on the task of scrubbing the pots and washing the dishes. Even though Mother Song had mentally prepared herself, she couldn’t help but complain that Song Zhaodi wasn’t being considerate enough.
Song Zhaodi didn’t want to argue with her and changed the subject, explaining where they could bathe and who would be staying where for the night.
Seeing her daughter avoid the conversation, Mother Song didn’t bother saying more. Because of this, when she later found a hair tie under the bed, she didn’t think much of it, assuming it had been left behind while Song Zhaodi was tidying up.
Dawa, Erwa, and Sanwa slept with Song Zhaodi and Zhong Jianguo, lying between them. Even if they wanted to exchange glances, they could only see one of each other’s eyes.
Song Zhaodi found it amusing. “Commander Zhong, are you satisfied with sleeping like this?”
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