Qian Qinghua huffed, “I wouldn’t dare!” and turned on his heel to leave.
Song Zhaodi smiled helplessly, then pulled off the still-damp shoes from Sanwa’s feet and set them outside to dry. Turning toward the staircase, she called out, “Are you planning to eavesdrop forever, or are you coming down?”
“Stepmom, stepmom, you’re so bad!” Zhong Dawa came bounding down the stairs. “You asked Qian Qinghua to investigate his own father. If his dad finds out, he’s going to get beaten.”
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you even know what I asked him to investigate?”
“Of course,” Zhong Dawa said confidently. “Hands up! I need to check you.”
Song Zhaodi playfully pinched his nose. “That’s not how you check someone. And listen, neither of you are allowed to tell anyone—especially your dad—that Qian Qinghua was here. Now, bring me your books. I’m going to teach you and Erwa some Chinese.”
“But my little brother isn’t even asleep yet,” Dawa protested, more interested in playing than studying.
Glancing at the wiggly toddler in her arms, Song Zhaodi replied, “Your lessons are so simple that I can hold Sanwa and teach you both at the same time. No need to wait for him to sleep. Don’t want to study Chinese? Fine. Then write numbers from 1 to 100. If you finish by 11:30, I’ll make something delicious for lunch.”
Dawa’s expression shifted slightly. “The teacher has only taught us up to ten.”
“But I’ve already taught you 1 to 100,” Song Zhaodi reminded him. “So, are you writing or not? If you’ve forgotten, I can help.”
Erwa raised his small hand. “Stepmom, I forgot.”
“Then have your big brother teach you,” Song Zhaodi said, resisting the urge to smack him. “If both of you learn it properly, I’ll wake up before dawn tomorrow, go to the food factory, and buy you a whole chicken. I’ll also get a pound of pork—dumplings for lunch, chicken for dinner.”
Dawa swallowed hard. “Pinky swear!”
Song Zhaodi hooked her pinky with his. “And you can’t forget what your teacher teaches either.”
“Deal!” Dawa turned to Erwa and beckoned like a little adult. “Bring a stool over, I’ll teach you to count.”
Seeing Erwa’s reluctance, Song Zhaodi sweetened the deal. “Each of you gets a drumstick. And I’ll make chive dumplings, pan-fried.”
“Pan-fried dumplings are better than boiled ones?” Erwa asked eagerly.
“Of course,” Song Zhaodi nodded.
Zhong Erwa licked his lips. “Stepmom, can we have them today?”
“I keep my word,” Song Zhaodi said firmly. “I said not today, so not today.”
Over the winter, both kids had grown a little fairer, their diets much better than before, and their faces had filled out a bit. Looking at them now, round and chubby, Song Zhaodi felt a deep sense of accomplishment—I fed them well.
“If you two behave, I’ll make whatever you want in the future,” she added.
Zhong Dawa quickly chimed in, “Braised pork every day!”
“I’d love to eat meat every day too, but we don’t have enough ration coupons,” Song Zhaodi sighed. “You’re even greedier than your dad. Stop thinking about meat all the time—my veggie dishes are good too.”
Zhong Dawa shot her a doubtful look. “I don’t think so.”
“Then starting tomorrow, your dad can cook,” Song Zhaodi suggested.
Zhong Dawa froze, looking at her with a miserable expression. “Nooo…”
“Do you like the vegetables I cook?” Song Zhaodi pressed.
Zhong Dawa pursed his lips and forced out, “Yes, I love them. They’re my favourite.” Then he quickly added, “But I don’t feel like eating them today.”
“We’re not having greens today,” Song Zhaodi said. Zhong Jianguo had gone out that morning to buy a block of tofu, and she planned to pan-fry it with scallions.
Back in October, she had planted two rows of scallions. When the winter chill set in, she borrowed some straw from the island farmers to cover the vegetables. A light snowfall fell at the end of the year, but since the ground hadn’t frozen, most of her crops survived.
By the time the fifth day of the New Year rolled around, it was already the start of spring. As the weather warmed, her scallions, garlic sprouts, chives, lettuce, and leafy greens grew stronger by the day.
Soon, the greens and spinach would grow too tough to eat, so lately, Song Zhaodi had been cooking them daily. If it weren’t for the fact that the kids got an egg custard every morning and milk powder at night, Dawa and Erwa would have started complaining by now.
Realising that the boys were probably sick of greens, she decided to cook something different today.
At 11:30, Dawa still hadn’t managed to write from 1 to 100, but Song Zhaodi didn’t push him. Instead, she told him and Erwa to watch Sanwa while she cooked.
For lunch, she steamed rice, pan-fried tofu with scallions, and made a soup with mushrooms, fresh bamboo shoots, and tofu skin.
The two children put down their bowls and slumped onto the long bench.
Song Zhaodi handed the youngest child to them before starting her own meal. “Dawa, when you’re as big as Lin Zhong, you’ll have to help me wash the dishes. You can’t just sit there doing nothing after eating.”
“You have to make me delicious food,” Zhong Dawa bargained.
Song Zhaodi chuckled. “Deal.” Seeing how happy Dawa and Erwa were, she suddenly thought of Qian Qinghua. “Dawa, what if your dad were like Qian Qinghua’s dad and sent me back to my family, finding you a new stepmother? Would you be okay with that?”
“Why would Dad send you away?” Zhong Dawa was confused.
Song Zhaodi sighed. “Men don’t always need a reason. If they get tired of someone, they just send them away, like it’s no big deal. Qian Qinghua’s mom was with his dad for many, many years, and his dad is still trying to get rid of her. And Qian Qinghua even agreed to it. If it were you, would you agree?”
“Did his mom do something wrong?” Dawa thought about how his own mistakes sometimes got him punished, making him assume it was the same situation.
“No, she didn’t do anything wrong. She’s actually very kind, even better than me. That’s why I’m worried—if she can be kicked out, then one day, your dad might send me away too.”
“No way!” Dawa quickly shook his head. “I won’t allow it! I don’t want another stepmother!”
Erwa chimed in immediately, “Me neither!”
Song Zhaodi felt a surge of warmth. No matter what might happen in the future, she could see that, at this moment, the two children genuinely meant it. “Even if the stepmother is really pretty, really gentle, and cooks really well, you still wouldn’t want her?”
“No!” Zhong Dawa looked at Song Zhaodi, thought for a moment, then clenched his small fists. “Stepmother, don’t be afraid! If Dad tries to send you away, I’ll hit him!”
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “You think you can beat him?”
“When—when I grow as tall as Qian Qinghua, I will!” Dawa hesitated but then made a firm decision. “From now on, I won’t be picky about food. I’ll eat everything so I can grow taller!”
Song Zhaodi laughed. “Then I’ll make sure to cook delicious meals every day. Now, go upstairs and take a nap. At two o’clock, you have to get up and practice writing again.”
“But I just defended you! We’re on the same side!” Zhong Dawa widened his eyes.
Song Zhaodi snorted. “That’s a separate issue. No slacking. Otherwise, no chicken or dumplings tomorrow.”
Zhong Dawa huffed, grabbed his younger brother’s hand, and pulled a face at Song Zhaodi before heading upstairs. Once there, he secretly took two milk candies and sneaked over to Lin Zhong’s house, slipping them into Lin Zhong’s hands before finally going to sleep.
Song Zhaodi noticed his sneaky behavior but didn’t ask. Kids should have a little space of their own.
That afternoon, while the youngest child was napping, Song Zhaodi took out the green long-sleeved top and pants she had worn on her wedding day. She carefully unstitched them, preparing to tailor them to her own size.
When Duan dasao arrived at the Zhong household, Song Zhaodi was sewing a pair of pants. Seeing the relatively new fabric, Duan dasao casually asked, “Making clothes?”
“Yes,” Song Zhaodi replied. “Auntie, could I borrow your wooden door later? I want to use paste to bond these random fabric pieces together into a whole sheet, so I can make some lightweight shoes for the kids.”
“You can use it anytime. I don’t need it for now,” Duan dasao said without hesitation. Then she lowered her voice, “Xiao Song, I found out what you asked me to investigate.”
“There really is something going on?” Song Zhaodi had seen enough cases like this in her previous life, which was why she immediately suspected Commander Qian of infidelity. However, in this era—especially in a disciplined military setting—people were generally more straightforward. Though she had her suspicions, she still found it hard to believe. She quickly put down her sewing and listened intently.
Duan dasao locked the door behind her, ensuring no one else would overhear. “I bet you’d never guess who the woman is.”
“There are plenty of single women on this island. Of course, I wouldn’t guess right away,” Song Zhaodi joked. “Auntie, don’t keep me in suspense. Just tell me already!”
Duan dasao smirked. “It’s that young cashier at the provisions store—around twenty years old.”
“Her?” Song Zhaodi was momentarily stunned, then waved a hand dismissively. “Impossible. The moment you mentioned her, I knew exactly who you were talking about. She’s the only young woman working at the provisions store. Her nose and eyes are fine on their own, and her face shape is okay, but together, they just don’t look right. She also has a fierce expression, and the way she speaks makes it clear she’s trouble.
“Teacher Yao, on the other hand, is only slightly taller than you—about 1.6 metres. She’s got a fuller figure, but her facial features are elegant, and she carries herself with grace. When she’s quiet, she has a kind and gentle aura, and when she speaks, she’s even more soft-spoken. She and that cashier girl are worlds apart. There’s no way Commander Qian would prefer her over Teacher Yao.”
Duan dasao clicked her tongue. “Xiao Song, you’re still young. You don’t know how these things work. I don’t mean to talk down to you, but men and women’s relationships aren’t about looks alone.
“There’s an old saying you might not have heard: ‘A wife is not as good as a concubine, a concubine is not as good as a mistress, and a mistress is not as good as the one he can’t have.’ Men stray not because the other woman is better or more beautiful, but because—”
“They’re looking for excitement?” Song Zhaodi finished the sentence.
Duan dasao nodded repeatedly. “Exactly! It’s about the thrill.”
Song Zhaodi thought about it. When Commander Qian was younger, he naturally wanted a wife who had both looks and intelligence. But now that he was in his forties, successful and stable, he didn’t care as much about appearances or intellect. Instead, he just wanted something new. A younger woman, even if she wasn’t prettier than his wife, could still be appealing in a different way. After all, no matter how beautiful a woman is, after ten or twenty years, she’ll age just like everyone else. “Auntie, you sure know a lot.”
“When your Uncle Liu and I got married, things weren’t as strict as they are now. Back in my hometown, there were plenty of men who liked sneaking around,” Duan dasao said. “The army is a lot better, but there will always be a few bad apples.
“When you first told me about this, I didn’t believe it. You know why? Because these days, it’s hard enough to just live a stable life. But this guy—Commander Qian—he’s actually looking for trouble. He must have a death wish.”
Song Zhaodi sighed. “Exactly. If this were a peaceful era, and he was just bored, then fine—get divorced if you want. But in these times? What was he thinking? And how did he convince his kids? His youngest son, Qian Qinghua, actually believes that if his dad divorces his mom, she won’t get into any trouble.”
“You’ve met Qian Qinghua?” Duan dasao asked.
Song Zhaodi: “I’ll go ask him. That kid doesn’t even know what his father is doing outside. By the way, Auntie, how did you find out?”
Duan dasao said, “I went to the hospital to get some cold medicine. While chatting with the doctor, I asked if anyone from the military had come by recently, and the doctors and nurses all said no one had been there. That’s how I knew he wasn’t at the hospital. On my way back, I stopped by the grocery store to buy some dried daylilies. I overheard a few middle-aged women chatting and mentioning Regiment Commander Qian. I asked a bit more, and that’s when I found out that he often buys chicken, fish, meat and eggs.”
Song Zhaodi didn’t quite understand how Duan dasao had come to her conclusion. “Jianguo buys groceries every day too.”
“But Xiao Zhong buys them and leaves right away,” Duan dasao said. “Regiment Commander Qian is different. He can spend half an hour just picking out a single fish. Besides, the men in the military rarely buy groceries—except for Xiao Zhong. Regiment Commander Qian was no exception.”
Suddenly, Song Zhaodi understood. Back when she had asked Zhong Jianguo to do laundry, wash dishes, and buy groceries, he had taken it so seriously and even discussed it with her. “So, because Regiment Commander Qian had never bought groceries before, but suddenly started, the people at the grocery store thought he had some ulterior motive?”
“Exactly,” Duan dasao said. “Fortunately, Xiao Qian doesn’t go too far—he just chats with that girl. The women at the grocery store think he’s just teasing her and told me about it as a joke. No one took it seriously. If they knew he was getting a divorce, they’d be scared to death.”
Song Zhaodi nodded slightly. “That’s right. Auntie, don’t mention this to Uncle Liu yet. I’ll go find out more tomorrow, and then I’ll talk to Uncle Liu about it. That way, we won’t wrongly accuse Regiment Commander Qian.”
“You always handle things thoroughly and cautiously. I’ll listen to you,” Duan dasao said. She had spent the morning helping Song Zhaodi gather information, but her household chores were still unfinished, so after sitting for a short while, she got up and left.
In an era without sewing machines, Song Zhaodi could only rely on hand stitching. By the time Dawa and Erwa woke up and finished writing their numbers up to 100, she still hadn’t finished making her pants.
After dinner, while Zhong Jianguo played with Sanwa, Song Zhaodi no longer had to worry about him waking up or making a fuss. She focused and spent another half an hour finishing the pants.
When Zhong Jianguo took the three children upstairs to sleep, Song Zhaodi started making two bras for herself.
Rubbing her sore neck and pounding her aching back, she went upstairs and couldn’t help but ask, “Zhong Jianguo, can we buy a sewing machine?”
“I don’t know where to buy one, and I don’t even know what a sewing machine looks like,” Zhong Jianguo replied. Then, noticing how she was leaning against the door and rubbing her neck, he thought for a moment and said, “Come here, I’ll give you a massage.”
Song Zhaodi froze for a moment before quickly asking, “You know how?”
“I’ve been to the hospital enough times to pick it up naturally,” Zhong Jianguo said. Seeing that she wasn’t moving, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you scared?”
Song Zhaodi curled her lips. “Scared of you? Zhong Jianguo, I’m not afraid of that little bit between men and women.” After a pause, she added, “How about you carry Sanwa over to Dawa’s bed first and then bring him back later?”
“I’m not as impatient as you,” Zhong Jianguo rolled his eyes. “Do you want the massage or not?”
“Of course! Absolutely! Turn around, I’m changing clothes.”
“Aren’t you not afraid?” Zhong Jianguo asked, intrigued.
Song Zhaodi chuckled. “I’m just worried you’ll blush like Guan Yu1. But if you don’t mind, then I don’t mind either. Go ahead and watch.” With that, she started unbuttoning her cotton jacket.
Zhong Jianguo remained still, his gaze intense.
Song Zhaodi showed no hesitation as she took off her cotton jacket and then her blouse.
Zhong Jianguo instinctively turned his head away.
“Pfft!” Song Zhaodi burst into laughter. “Regiment Commander Zhong, don’t look away!”
Zhong Jianguo cursed under his breath—crazy woman! He said, “If you don’t mind catching a cold, just keep standing there.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” Song Zhaodi changed into her pajamas, sat across from Zhong Jianguo, and noticed he was still looking down. Propping her chin up with her hand, she grinned. “Regiment Commander Zhong, between the two of us, who’s really the one remarried? Anyone who didn’t know better would think I brought three kids into this marriage.”
Zhong Jianguo looked up, saw that she was dressed properly, and let out a cold laugh. “Song Zhaodi, I promised not to hit women, but if you keep provoking me, I can’t guarantee how long I’ll hold back.”
“You’re so petty! I was just teasing you.” Song Zhaodi turned around and lay down. “Massage my shoulders, neck, and waist.”
Zhong Jianguo placed his hands on her shoulders and froze. “Song Zhaodi, you’re only wearing a blouse!?”
“What else would I wear? I’m not about to sleep in a cotton jacket,” she said, turning to glance at him in confusion. “I’ve been dressing like this all winter. You’ve known this—why are you acting so surprised now?”
Zhong Jianguo took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“Who wears a bra to sleep?” Song Zhaodi frowned, baffled. “They’re so tight and uncomfortable. You seriously expect me to sleep in one? Zhong Jianguo, are you being serious, or just picking a fight?”
Zhong Jianguo stared at her. She didn’t seem to be joking. Thinking back, he realised she really never wore a bra to bed. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. “You… you… just lie down, I’ll massage your shoulders.”
“Did your ex-wife sleep in a bra?” Song Zhaodi asked. Feeling his hands pause for a second, she knew she was right. “Dawa’s mom really didn’t know how to take care of herself. When you sleep, comfort is key. If it weren’t for the fact that we have three kids and one is right here in bed, I wouldn’t wear anything at all.”
Zhong Jianguo stiffened. “Song Zhaodi, you’re a woman!”
“I know,” she said. “And I also know I’m your woman. No need to remind me.”
Zhong Jianguo squeezed her shoulder hard. Song Zhaodi gasped in pain. “I regret ever meeting you!”
“I don’t regret meeting you,” she sighed. “I just wish I had met you sooner.”
Zhong Jianguo tensed up again. “…Shut up!”
“You massage with your hands, not your mouth,” Song Zhaodi teased. “Zhong Jianguo, seriously, if you hadn’t married Bai Hua before—”
Zhong Jianguo interrupted, “Then I never would have gone to Xiao Song Village to meet you. No matter how many tricks you had, they wouldn’t have worked on me. There’s no ‘what if’ between us.”
“It was just a hypothetical,” Song Zhaodi said.
Zhong Jianguo scoffed. “That scenario doesn’t exist. If it weren’t for the kids, I wouldn’t have gone to the countryside at all.”
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Song Zhaodi muttered, pouting. “You only agreed to meet me because village girls are hardworking and don’t have as many schemes as city girls.”
Zhong Jianguo sighed. “Since you already know, why bring it up? It’s pointless. But I have learned one thing from you—I was completely wrong. Rural people are far from simple.”
“Rural folks are just like city folks,” Song Zhaodi said. “You only think they’re simple because you don’t know them well enough.”
Zhong Jianguo said, “That’s right. I should also thank you for helping me understand this. From now on, I won’t underestimate any of you.”
“Hiss! Zhong Jianguo, be gentler,” Song Zhaodi frowned. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Zhong Jianguo paused for a moment, then pulled her arm back. “If you still have the strength to talk, it means it doesn’t hurt that much.”
Song Zhaodi rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Your stepmother sent a letter.”
Thud!
Zhong Jianguo let go, and Song Zhaodi fell onto the bed. “When?”
“Yesterday’s letter,” Song Zhaodi said. “Yesterday, I took the kids out to play with the aunt next door. Since you weren’t home, the postman left the letter at Lin Zhong’s house.
“Chen dasao got busy and forgot about it yesterday. She remembered today and quickly brought it over. I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good, so I didn’t open it. It should be outside on the chair.”
Zhong Jianguo didn’t even know what to say to her. “My stepmother sent a letter, and you still have the mood to mess around with me?”
“It’s not that I don’t care about your stepmother, but I can probably guess why she’s looking for you,” Song Zhaodi turned over and lay on the other side of Sanwa, placing her hands behind her head. “Is it about her son enlisting in the army?”
Zhong Jianguo opened the letter. The first half was filled with reminiscing about the past, while the second half subtly credited herself for taking care of his three children before finally bringing up her son. He let out two cold chuckles, then looked up at Song Zhaodi. “How did you know?”
“I’m a genius,” Song Zhaodi blurted out.
Zhong Jianguo wanted to hit something. “Can you be serious for once? Just once?”
“Alright,” Song Zhaodi said. “My mother mentioned it. Honestly, older people see things more clearly. I always thought she introduced me to you as a way to surrender to you. I didn’t expect her thoughts to run so deep.” She paused. “What’s your plan?”
Zhong Jianguo didn’t even think about it. “Do nothing.”
“That’s not going to work,” Song Zhaodi said. “You don’t want to deal with her, but she’s still your elder. You can’t hit her or scold her, so leave it to me.”
Zhong Jianguo looked down at her. Compared to last year, she had gained a little weight and her skin had become fairer—she finally looked more like a woman. “Let’s hear it.”
“It’s nothing special,” Song Zhaodi said. “Zhong Shengli is your brother. Even if you don’t want to admit it, he’s still your father’s son. If you refuse, your father might bring him over, and you’ll have no choice but to let him in. The only way to solve this completely is to start with Zhong Shengli.”
Zhong Jianguo pondered. “So we just wait for them?”
“There’s no other way,” Song Zhaodi said, furrowing her brows. “When your eldest brother was born, we were fighting the Japanese alongside the Nationalists, so your mother named him Weiguo. The year you were born, the Japanese invaded the Central Plains, so why did your mother name you Jianguo?”
Zhong Jianguo put down the letter and lay down. “My name was changed later. When my mother passed away, the Japanese had already started retreating, and the founding of the nation was imminent, so she named me Jianguo.”
Song Zhaodi sat up and turned to him. “How come I’ve never heard you talk about your maternal grandparents’ family? They weren’t as troublesome as your stepmother and ex-mother-in-law, were they?”
“They weren’t that difficult,” Zhong Jianguo said. “My father was good-looking when he was young.”
Song Zhaodi nodded. “I can see that from you—thick eyebrows, deep eyes, a square face, full of heroic spirit. You look like someone a woman could entrust her life to.”
Zhong Jianguo was both amused and exasperated. “Can I finish my story?”
Song Zhaodi gestured. “Go ahead.”
Zhong Jianguo continued, “He had a few years of private school education and could write some poetic verses. He looked reliable, so he sweet-talked my mother into leaving with him.
“My grandfather opposed it, but it was useless. Later, when my mother passed away, they wanted to take my brother and me back. My stepmother, thinking she couldn’t have children at the time, swore in front of my grandmother that she would treat us like her own. So my grandmother’s family agreed to let us stay.”
Song Zhaodi was curious. “And then?”
“Then, when my brother and I went to find them, the neighbours said they had moved away a year earlier,” Zhong Jianguo said. “I asked my father where my grandmother’s family had gone. There was no way they wouldn’t have left an address. My father said he didn’t know.
“My stepmother looked guilty and also claimed she didn’t know. She must have hidden it or thrown it away. I’m not making baseless accusations—when they left, she hadn’t conceived yet.”
Song Zhaodi said, “Zhao Yin would definitely do something like that.”
Zhong Jianguo raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you really hate her.”
“It’s not hate—it’s disgust,” Song Zhaodi said. “One look was enough. I didn’t even want a second. Your ex-mother-in-law is easy to deal with. If I give her the cold shoulder, she behaves for a while. But Zhao Yin is like a fly—constantly buzzing around to annoy you.”
Zhong Jianguo nodded. “Exactly. Dawa’s grandmother is unreasonable, but if I act distant, she backs off for a while. But that trick doesn’t work on my stepmother—her skin is too thick.”
Song Zhaodi yawned. “Sleep, sleep. Oh, by the way, Dawa and Erwa were whining about eating chicken—they almost threw a tantrum. Remember to wake up early tomorrow to buy some for them. Also, get some meat—I’ll make dumplings for them.”
“Don’t spoil them too much,” Zhong Jianguo said, but he was secretly pleased with how well she treated the children.
The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Zhong Jianguo drove the car he had brought back the night before to the food supply factory.
When he got out of the car, the factory workers, both men and women, greeted him. “Commander Zhong, you’re here again. What are you buying today? Haven’t seen you in a while—were you out at sea again?”
Zhong Jianguo used to feel embarrassed by their teasing, but now, he treated the factory like his personal vegetable garden. He calmly bought pork and picked out some chicks.
As Duan dasao had mentioned, from getting out of the car to getting back in, Zhong Jianguo spent only about ten minutes.
Because of her reminder, Song Zhaodi had been paying attention to the time. From the moment Zhong Jianguo left to the moment he returned, it was only about half an hour. She couldn’t help but sigh—this man was truly practical.
The chicks and ducklings they hatched last year had grown quite large. Among them was a rooster and two drakes. Tossing some wilted vegetable leaves into the duck pen, Song Zhaodi turned to Zhong Jianguo, who was washing the children’s faces. “On Dragon Head Festival in mid-February, let’s slaughter the rooster for dinner.”
“Finally!” Dawa was excited. “I want a big drumstick!”
Zhong Jianguo glanced at Erwa, who was struggling while having his face washed, then at Dawa, who had run excitedly to the chicken coop. He reminded them, “You two raised those chickens yourselves.”
“We raised them to eat them!” Dawa tilted his head and asked, “Stepmom, how many days until Dragon Head Festival?”
Song Zhaodi smiled. “Half a month. If you learn the multiplication table by then, the festival will arrive.”
“I got it!” Dawa nodded. “Stepmom, I want pan-fried dumplings!”
Song Zhaodi was speechless. Usually, when she told him something, he would forget it completely, but as long as it was related to food, he could remember it clearly even after three to five months. “I’ll make it tonight.”
“I’m coming home for lunch,” Zhong Jianguo said. “I’ll take care of Sanwa, you cook.”
Song Zhaodi rolled her eyes helplessly. As she glanced around, she noticed that the goose pen by the fence was empty. She quickly reminded herself to buy two goose eggs next time she went to buy hatching eggs.
Although school had officially resumed, Song Zhaodi had only one class in the morning, so she had time to cook for the children at noon. As a result, they ate too much, and after a full meal, Zhong Dawa and Zhong Erwa slept until nearly two o’clock before heading to school.
In the evening, when preparing dinner, Song Zhaodi remembered that the third-year students would be finishing school soon. She took out two pieces of crispy fried dough that had been made during the New Year and gave them to Dawa and Erwa to snack on before dinner.
Dawa accepted the crispy fried dough, his eyes darting around before asking Song Zhaodi if he could have three more pieces.
The crispy fried dough was high up, and even if Zhong Dawa stood on a stool, he still couldn’t reach them. If Song Zhaodi didn’t give them to him, he could only stare at them and crave them.
Song Zhaodi found it odd—how would he split three pieces? The thought crossed her mind, and she handed him three more while asking if they were for Ma Zhenxing’s brothers and Lin Zhong.
Zhong Dawa’s eyes widened in disbelief. He hadn’t said a word—how did his stepmother guess again? Before Song Zhaodi could say anything else, Dawa called for Erwa, grabbed the crispy fried dough, and ran out the door.
When they reached Lin Zhong’s house, Dawa gestured wildly, telling him that his stepmother was too scary—she was even smarter than Sun Wukong.
In the fall, Lin Zhong would be starting his first year of middle school. Song Zhaodi was a first-year English teacher, and Lin Zhong had never studied English before. Afraid that he might struggle with it, he had asked older students if Teacher Song liked to report students to their parents.
The first-year students had only two words to describe Song Zhaodi—’very strict!’
For the sake of the crispy fried dough, Lin Zhong didn’t tell Dawa that his stepmother was more than just strict—she was on another level. Instead, he advised him, “All adults are this smart.”
Dawa and Erwa had interacted with many adults, half of whom were… well, hard to describe. So, they didn’t take Lin Zhong’s words seriously. However, remembering that Song Zhaodi had warned them not to talk about family matters outside, they remained silent.
Lin Zhong took Dawa and Erwa to find Ma Zhenxing’s brothers to play, just as Qian Qinghua arrived at the Zhong house.
Song Zhaodi was helping Sanwa walk when she saw him. She gestured toward the house with her chin, signaling him to go inside. “Did you find out?”
Qian Qinghua nodded, his face looking particularly grim.
Last year, Liu Yang had visited, and when Commander Liu’s family had come to eat at the Zhong house, Song Zhaodi noticed from Liu Ping and Liu Wei’s tone when speaking to Duan dasao that they idolised their commander father but didn’t respect their mother much.
When Song Zhaodi brought it up to Zhong Jianguo, he analysed it for her, and she realised that the children admired their father’s military achievements, believing that running a household couldn’t compare to leading soldiers in battle.
Naturally, Duan dasao was no match for Commander Liu.
At the time, Song Zhaodi had asked Zhong Jianguo, “Is running a household easier than leading soldiers in battle?”
Zhong Jianguo, who did the laundry, washed dishes, occasionally chopped firewood, and bought groceries, couldn’t bring himself to say it was easy. He simply followed his heart and admitted, “Neither is easy.”
Song Zhaodi was already aware that the boys on the island idolised their fathers, and she had thought that Qian Qinghua sided with Teacher Yao because, as a teacher, her status at home should be higher than that of Duan dasao. However, Qian Qinghua’s actions proved her wrong.
Song Zhaodi was quite angry, but seeing Qian Qinghua looking a bit hurt, she didn’t bother comforting him. “Go call your mother over.”
“Right now?” Qian Qinghua asked hurriedly.
Song Zhaodi: “Commander Zhong will be back soon. If you don’t want this to become public, you’d better run quickly.”
Qian Qinghua was about to graduate in a few months. At sixteen or seventeen, he understood what improper conduct meant for his father. Without another word, he turned and ran home. But just as he left, Zhong Jianguo returned.
Song Zhaodi quickly pushed him toward the Liu house. “Go hide at Uncle Liu’s for a while.”
“What happened?” Zhong Jianguo asked, then suddenly had a realisation. His intuition kicked in. “Song Zhaodi, what are you up to behind my back again?”
Duan dasao, who was washing vegetables, happened to see Qian Qinghua running toward the Zhong house. Hearing Song Zhaodi’s words, she stepped out and grabbed Zhong Jianguo’s arm. “Xiao Zhong, if you want to know something, I’ll tell you. Don’t cause a scene outside. Xiao Song, you’d better head back.”
Song Zhaodi returned home with Sanwa. Before she could even finish a glass of water, Teacher Yao and Qian Qinghua arrived, both panting from exhaustion.
After inviting them to sit and rest for a moment, Song Zhaodi explained why she had helped Teacher Yao. Then she revealed that Qian Tuan Zhang wanted a divorce because he had someone else. When she saw that Teacher Yao wasn’t surprised, Song Zhaodi frowned. “You knew?”
“Mom, you knew?” Qian Qinghua was equally shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
Teacher Yao was silent for a moment. “I had no evidence. I… I just felt that something was off in the past few months. I thought he was looking down on me for being the daughter of a capitalist. So… I didn’t dare to tell you.”
“If Teacher Song hadn’t stepped in, were you planning to just agree to the divorce and let yourself be labeled as part of the ‘black five categories’ under capitalism?” Qian Qinghua was utterly disappointed in his father and had already made up his mind that if his father insisted on the divorce, he would expose his father’s wrongdoing himself. But seeing his mother’s attitude, he was even more disappointed—more so than with his father.
Teacher Yao didn’t look at her son but turned to Song Zhaodi. “Comrade Xiao Song, thank you. I really hadn’t thought of telling them. Now that Qinghua knows, there’s no point in hiding it anymore—”
“Wait a minute, Teacher Yao,” Song Zhaodi interrupted. “You’re not blaming me for exposing this, are you?”
- To blush like Guan Yu: This expression alludes to Guan Yu (关羽), a legendary Chinese general from the late Eastern Han dynasty, famed for his loyalty, courage and righteousness. In traditional depictions, Guan Yu is portrayed with a striking red face — a feature that has become iconic. ↩︎
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