Zhong Jianguo didn’t bother lowering his voice, so Song Zhaodi clearly heard everything he said to Erwa and Dawa. She suddenly felt like she was raising four children instead of three. “I’m going to go hit your dad. You two stay inside.”
“Okay!” Erwa, having tattled, was afraid of getting hit by his father and didn’t dare go out.
When Song Zhaodi stepped outside, she saw Teacher Yao and Qian Qinghua carrying half a sack of items as they entered the courtyard. She quickly approached them. “What are you doing?”
“When packing, we found half a sack of clothes Qinghua wore as a child,” Teacher Yao said with a shy smile. “We’re leaving soon. Old Qian’s fate might be sealed, but I still wanted to thank you. If it weren’t for you, Teacher Song… Even if I had divorced Old Qian, my children would still have been dragged down by that woman.” As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes.
Qian Qinghua patted Teacher Yao’s shoulder. “Mom, don’t cry. It’s all in the past. Teacher Song, my mom doesn’t have much to give you, but please don’t mind these old clothes. Keep them to make shoes for Dawa and the others.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll take them.” Song Zhaodi accepted the bag and sighed. “Qinghua, whether you join the military or go to the countryside, always keep your textbooks with you. The college entrance exam is only temporarily suspended.
“I don’t know when it will be reinstated, but it won’t be more than twenty years. Even if it takes twenty years, you’ll only be thirty-seven then. That’s only half a lifetime.”
Qian Qinghua nodded firmly. “I’ll remember, Teacher Song. I won’t give up on studying.”
“Teacher Yao, you should think more about yourself too,” Song Zhaodi advised. “Your kids may be grown, but if you’re gone, they’ll feel like half their hearts are missing.”
Teacher Yao wiped her tears. “Thank you, Teacher Song. I—I’ll reflect on myself.” After a pause, she added, “Thank you!”
“I didn’t help you for your sake, so stop thanking me. It’s getting dark; I won’t keep you any longer. Qinghua, take good care of your mom. Your dad was always in the barracks, and it was your mom who raised you and your siblings.”
Song Zhaodi handed the bag to Zhong Jianguo and sent the mother and son off.
Watching Teacher Yao’s slightly hunched back, Song Zhaodi sighed. “If she had stopped Commander Qian when he first started acting out, she wouldn’t have had to deal with all this mess.”
“If she had the courage to stop him, Commander Qian wouldn’t have dared to go after Xiao Zhao,” Zhong Jianguo replied. He stayed in the courtyard and, using the bamboo fence as cover, nodded toward the Lin family’s house. “Look at Commander Lin—he’s doing just fine.”
Song Zhaodi nodded. “So having a strong wife has its benefits.”
Zhong Jianguo was about to nod in agreement when he realised she said ‘strong wife’ instead of ‘virtuous wife.’ He quickly corrected himself. “Too fierce isn’t good either. Women should be gentle.”
Song Zhaodi closed the door and walked up to him with a sweet smile. “Oh? Is that so?”
“Yes—yes, but maybe not always,” Zhong Jianguo stammered, fearing his meals would either be too salty or completely tasteless. “You’re an exception.”
Song Zhaodi wasn’t satisfied with his answer. “Are you saying I’m not a woman?”
“Of course, of course you are!” Zhong Jianguo instinctively agreed. Realising he couldn’t say ‘no,’ he quickly corrected himself, nearly biting his tongue. “I mean, whether you’re gentle or fierce, you’re great. Yes, both are great.”
Song Zhaodi’s eyes curved into crescents as she smiled. “So should I be fierce or gentle in the future?”
Zhong Jianguo thought, I hope you’ll be gentle with me. But he didn’t dare say it out loud. “Whatever you like. I—I like them both.”
“Pfft!” Song Zhaodi was delighted but then noticed the sweat on Zhong Jianguo’s forehead. She couldn’t help laughing. “Seriously?”
Zhong Jianguo was confused. “What?”
Song Zhaodi reached out and touched his forehead. “See for yourself.”
Zhong Jianguo’s face instantly turned red. Embarrassed, he muttered, “It’s because of you.”
“Me?” Song Zhaodi pointed at herself.
Zhong Jianguo cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s time to cook.” He paused. “Where should I put these clothes?”
“Downstairs,” Song Zhaodi said. “Keep the wearable ones; the rest I’ll use to make shoes.”
“For us too?” Zhong Jianguo asked in surprise.
Song Zhaodi shot him a look. “I’m your wife. Isn’t making shoes for you part of my duty? Why do you look so shocked?”
“I’m just flattered,” Zhong Jianguo admitted honestly.
Song Zhaodi laughed. “If I treat you even better, would you be so happy you’d have a seizure?”
“You’re the one who’d have a seizure!” Zhong Jianguo glared at her and walked away.
Song Zhaodi caught up and wrapped her arm around his. Zhong Jianguo froze, instinctively looking around. Noticing someone to the east, he quickly said, “Let go! Public displays of affection are improper.”
Song Zhaodi followed his gaze and saw Liu Ping holding a bunch of green onions, staring at them. A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Zhong Jianguo’s neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Zhong Jianguo stiffened and turned his head slowly, eyes wide in disbelief. “Song… Song Zhaodi, what are you doing?!”
“Kissing you. What’s the problem?” Song Zhaodi frowned. “It’s not like I’m some maiden whose virtue you have to protect. If it bothers you, you can kiss me back.” She puckered her lips.
Zhong Jianguo’s vision went black. “You—shameless!” He pushed her away and strode into the house.
Song Zhaodi shrugged and glanced toward the neighbouring house. Liu Ping had already disappeared. Smirking, she quickly followed Zhong Jianguo inside. “Zhong Jianguo, you knew, didn’t you?”
Zhong Jianguo tossed the bag onto a chair and was about to head upstairs when he noticed the three kids in the kitchen. They always got in the way when Song Zhaodi cooked, so he planned to take Erwa and Sanwa outside. But before he could, Song Zhaodi blocked the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“‘Brother Zhong, have you had breakfast? Brother Zhong, you’re back. Brother Zhong, did you run into any of Old Jiang’s people this time?’” Song Zhaodi imitated Liu Ping’s voice with a grin. “Ring any bells? If not, I can keep going.”
“Stepmom, why are you talking like Aunt Liu Ping?” Dawa asked, confused. “It’s weird.”
Song Zhaodi slipped into the kitchen. “Oh? You could tell? Your dad didn’t even notice. He’s the real fool.”
“Fool!” Dawa nodded in agreement.
Zhong Jianguo paused. “Song Zhaodi, stop making things up. There’s nothing going on.”
“What am I making up? What am I thinking?” Song Zhaodi blinked innocently.
Zhong Jianguo choked on his words. “…You know exactly what I mean.” Then, to change the subject, he hurriedly ushered Erwa out of the kitchen.
Dawa glanced between his father and stepmother. “What’s wrong with Dad?”
Song Zhaodi patted his head. “Men have a few days every month when they act strange. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine in a few days.”
Last year, when Song Zhaodi first arrived here, she once encountered Liu Ping, the daughter of Commander Liu. Liu Ping not only ignored her but also made snide remarks.
During the days when Liu Yang was around, the two families grew particularly close. When Song Zhaodi went to Liu’s house for meals, Liu Ping no longer dared to make sarcastic remarks, but she completely ignored Song Zhaodi and only spoke to Zhong Jianguo.
Song Zhaodi couldn’t understand why—she hadn’t offended Liu Ping. Later, she noticed that Liu Ping acted like a lovestruck schoolgirl in front of Zhong Jianguo. Song Zhaodi found it amusing—did she see her as a romantic rival?
Liu Ping was the same age as Qian Qinghua, seventeen. A teenage girl developing a crush on a handsome older neighbour was perfectly normal. Song Zhaodi had been a teenager once too, so when she considered Liu Ping’s age, she couldn’t be bothered to take it seriously.
Now, seeing Liu Ping witness the scene firsthand, Song Zhaodi expected Zhong Jianguo to seize the opportunity to show some affection and make Liu Ping give up. But instead, he tried to push her away?
So, after making the noodles, Song Zhaodi served a bowl to Zhong Jianguo before adding sesame oil and salt to the pot.
Zhong Jianguo noticed the glossy sheen of oil in his son’s bowl while his own had none. He wanted to curse but held back when he realised why Song Zhaodi did it.
After the meal, Song Zhaodi took the three children out for a walk. Meanwhile, Zhong Jianguo diligently washed the dishes, heated a pot of water on the stove, and then went out to fetch them back for washing up.
During the day, the temperature reached over twenty degrees, but at night, it dropped to seven or eight degrees. Because of this, Song Zhaodi didn’t dare let Dawa and Erwa bathe every day, fearing they might catch a cold after sweating so much while playing.
Since she was an adult and physically strong, Song Zhaodi bathed. But after going upstairs, she felt a bit of nasal discomfort and didn’t think much of it. Seeing Zhong Jianguo’s face full of “I have something to say,” she couldn’t help but laugh. They had discussions every few days—probably the only couple on the whole of Wengzhou Island like this.
“What now?” she asked.
“If you’re upset, just take it out on me. Can you stop torturing my stomach?” Zhong Jianguo said.
Song Zhaodi blinked. “Did I?”
“My noodles!” Zhong Jianguo felt a headache coming. “Besides Sanwa, it’s just the two of us here. Is it fun to pretend to be stupid?”
Song Zhaodi laughed. “I find it fun. If I catch you smiling at Liu Ping again, I guarantee every meal you eat will be like today—unless you change wives.”
“I’ll do my best.” Zhong Jianguo rolled his eyes helplessly, pulled up the blanket, and couldn’t help but add, “She’s just a young girl. In a couple of years, she’ll grow out of it.”
Song Zhaodi hummed in response. “If you think it’s unnecessary to act, then do as you see fit.”
“And then you’ll keep making me eat plain noodles?” Zhong Jianguo countered.
Song Zhaodi’s answer was to lift the blanket, turn over, and hug Sanwa to sleep.
Zhong Jianguo groaned in frustration. “I must have been out of my mind back in Xiao Song Village. And I must not have been wearing my glasses, either. How else could I have thought you were simple, kind, and open-hearted? If I could go back in time, I would—” He paused and turned toward Song Zhaodi, only to find her eyes closed, completely ignoring him.
Feeling awkward, Zhong Jianguo rubbed his nose and swallowed the rest of his words, then turned off the lights to sleep.
Song Zhaodi opened her eyes, glared at Zhong Jianguo, then closed them again to sleep.
The next morning, Song Zhaodi woke up with a groggy head. She rubbed her temples and saw Zhong Jianguo still asleep. Thinking for a moment, she lay back down and pushed him awake. “Go make breakfast.”
“You go.” Zhong Jianguo had sharp instincts. While he relaxed at home, his vigilance was still higher than most people’s. The moment Song Zhaodi sat up, he was already awake but hadn’t opened his eyes. “I’ll take care of Sanwa.”
Song Zhaodi originally planned to ignore him for a few days. “I don’t feel like cooking this morning. If you don’t go, we just won’t eat.”
Zhong Jianguo opened his eyes. Seeing that she was serious, he got up and dressed with a sigh. “It’s just a small thing. Is this really necessary?” After a pause, he glanced at Song Zhaodi and saw her staying silent. Frustrated, he said, “Fine, fine. I promise, I’ll avoid Liu Ping from now on.”
“I thought about it seriously last night,” Song Zhaodi said. “We are husband and wife, but also individuals. Whatever you do is your own business—I shouldn’t interfere.” She looked at him once and added, “You don’t need to promise me anything. I won’t concern myself with you anymore.”
Zhong Jianguo opened his mouth but didn’t know how to refute her. After a moment of thought, he said, “I’ll go make breakfast. You rest a bit longer.” He put on his coat and walked out. At the top of the stairs, he suddenly asked, “What do you want to eat?”
“Anything. I’m not hungry,” Song Zhaodi replied.
Zhong Jianguo sighed, resisting the urge to slap himself. He should’ve just gone to sleep last night instead of picking a fight. Now, she didn’t even want to eat.
Downstairs, he opened the pantry and saw rice, steamed buns, potatoes, yams, and eggs. He felt relieved—so many ingredients, making breakfast would be easy.
He washed some rice to cook porridge, went to the yard to pick some scallions, and planned to make scrambled eggs with scallions for the kids, along with a stir-fried vegetable dish.
Dawa stumbled downstairs, still drowsy, but hearing noises from the kitchen woke him up instantly. “Mom, what’s for breakfast?”
“Your mom is resting. I’m cooking today,” Zhong Jianguo said, looking at his perfectly chopped scallions with satisfaction. “Son, what do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.”
Seeing the unevenly cut scallions on the chopping board, Dawa frowned. “Can your cooking even be eaten?” After a pause, he added, “Don’t waste the ingredients. I’ll go wake Mom up.”
“Stop right there!” Zhong Jianguo didn’t want Dawa to see Song Zhaodi as some unreasonable stepmother. “Your mom cooks every day. Can’t she take a break? Do you want her to work until she gets sick?”
Dawa stopped, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean that…”
“Help me light the fire. I’m making scrambled eggs,” Zhong Jianguo said.
Dawa’s eyes lit up, then he thought of the limited eggs at home. “Dad, I don’t want eggs. Just stir-fry the vegetables. I really want to eat vegetables today.”
“But I already chopped the scallions…” Zhong Jianguo had no preference for food—this meal was mainly for the kids, so he respected their wishes.
“Save them for lunch with the noodles,” Dawa suggested.
“Alright,” Zhong Jianguo nodded. “I’ll go get the vegetables.”
Thank goodness, the eggs were spared. Dawa sighed in relief and ran upstairs, bursting into the room. “Stepmom, get up! Dad’s cooking!”
“Let him cook.” Song Zhaodi, feeling exhausted, waved him off.
Seeing her unbothered expression, Dawa felt a bit sad. He turned to leave but suddenly heard her cough. He looked back and saw her frowning. His eyes widened. “Mom, are you sick?!”
How obvious. Song Zhaodi, startled by his exclamation, had to open her eyes. “Don’t make noise. I just want to rest. Go help your dad with the fire.”
Dawa hesitated but ran downstairs, shouting, “Dad! Mom is dying!”
Clang!
The basin in Zhong Jianguo’s hands fell to the ground, scattering freshly washed vegetables everywhere.
Leave a Reply