As soon as Song Zhaodi stepped into the kitchen, she turned around with a bright smile, as if the frosty expression she had moments ago was just an illusion.
Zhong Jianguo saw this and immediately turned to leave.
Song Zhaodi reached out and grabbed his arm. “Let’s talk.”
“Let go!” Zhong Jianguo said coldly.
Song Zhaodi scoffed. “Zhong Jianguo, enough with the act. The rain has been pouring nonstop, and if it keeps up for another two days, those two quilts will start to mildew. You’re doing all this just because you want to come back and sleep inside, aren’t you?” She paused and added, “There’s no one else here, just you and me. I’m not going to laugh at you—”
“You won’t?” Zhong Jianguo sneered, turning around. “You—”
Song Zhaodi leaned in and blocked his mouth with a kiss.
Zhong Jianguo’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Oh my!”
Both Song Zhaodi and Zhong Jianguo stiffened and quickly separated. Turning their heads in unison, they saw Zhong Dawa covering his eyes with both hands—but through the gap between his index and middle fingers, he was peeking. The moment he realised they were looking at him, he turned and ran off. “I didn’t see anything!”
Zhong Jianguo’s face turned red in an instant. He forced himself to remain calm and said with a straight face, “You… you cook, I’ll go make sure he doesn’t run outside.”
Song Zhaodi responded with a simple ‘Mhm’ before turning around, but she couldn’t hold back her laughter.
Oh my god, how could Zhong Jianguo be so cute?
A thirty-year-old man!
What should a thirty-year-old man be like? In Song Zhaodi’s impression, they should be mature and steady in front of others. Even if they had a playful side in private, they would never turn beet red and freeze up just because a woman made a move on them.
A hundred years later, society would be much more open—public displays of affection, whether between men and women, or even between the same gender, would be commonplace. But for now, the world was still conservative, and most people remained reserved and restrained.
And Song Zhaodi liked this kind of restraint.
The first time she kissed Zhong Jianguo, he was so stiff that she couldn’t help but suspect that even though he and Bai Hua had three sons together, they might not have kissed more than three times in total.
Every time she teased Zhong Jianguo on purpose, she was tempted to ask about it. But when she saw him hiding under the eaves outside, she told herself—there’s plenty of time ahead, no need to rush.
“Dad, are you and Mom getting back together?” Zhong Dawa asked eagerly.
Zhong Jianguo gave a reluctant ‘Mhm’. “I guess you could say that.”
“You guess?” Zhong Dawa frowned. “So, you’re still not fully reconciled? Is Mom still mad? Dad, I told you yesterday not to make me drink malted milk, but you insisted. See what happened now?” The little boy let out a deep sigh.
Zhong Jianguo was speechless. “Why are you so worried about your mom and me?”
“When you don’t talk to Mom, she stops smiling,” Zhong Dawa said seriously. “And when Mom doesn’t smile, she’s scary—scarier than you.”
Zhong Jianguo pinched his cheek. “I never noticed. But I have noticed that you’re taking your mom’s side more and more. I’m starting to feel like your stepdad.”
“That’s not true!” Zhong Dawa swatted his hand away, then suddenly thought of something. “Dad, who wet the bed?”
Zhong Jianguo replied, “I think it was one of you two. But it’s also possible that Erwa wet the bed twice.”
“I did not wet the bed!” Erwa walked out, holding Sanwa’s hand, and declared loudly, “It was big brother!”
Zhong Jianguo felt a headache coming on. “Keep your voice down, I can hear you just fine. I was just guessing. Both of you had wet pants, while Sanwa only had a wet shirt. So, apart from Sanwa, you two are both suspects. But since I was the one who gave you the malted milk, I won’t hold you accountable, and you two should stop blaming each other.”
“What about Mom?” Dawa asked quickly.
Zhong Jianguo said, “It was my fault, so she won’t punish you two.”
True to his word, Song Zhaodi didn’t scold Dawa and Erwa, nor did she force Zhong Jianguo to sleep on the chair. However, she stopped speaking to him first. She wanted to see how long Zhong Jianguo could hold out.
Dawa and Erwa noticed that their parents were once again avoiding each other and frowned deeply. Occasionally, they would sigh while watching them, but their concern never lasted long before they went back to playing. After all, Dawa had witnessed Song Zhaodi kissing Zhong Jianguo. To him, even if they slept in separate rooms, it was just a temporary quarrel—they’d be fine by the next day.
By late March, the weather warmed up, and thick winter clothes were swapped for lighter shirts and jackets. Zhong Jianguo and Song Zhaodi still avoided talking to each other whenever possible, which made Dawa worried.
On the evening of March 29th, a Friday, long after the ‘bedwetting incident’, Dawa and Erwa dragged Zhong Jianguo out for a walk. At the gate, Dawa suddenly asked, “Dad, why haven’t you forgiven Stepmom yet?”
“Did your stepmom tell you to ask me that?” Zhong Jianguo asked.
Dawa blinked. “No, she didn’t.”
“Then why do you think I haven’t forgiven her?” Zhong Jianguo questioned. “Why not the other way around—why not say she hasn’t forgiven me?”
Without hesitation, Dawa answered, “Because Stepmom said she made you mad.”
“When did she say that?” Zhong Jianguo immediately asked.
Dawa replied, “A few days ago, I don’t remember exactly. Dad, did you make Stepmom mad again while we weren’t home?”
“I didn’t.” Zhong Jianguo had been reflecting on his actions over the past few days. He realised that when Song Zhaodi had wrapped her arms around his neck, he shouldn’t have pushed her away so forcefully and told her to leave. And later, when she kissed him, he shouldn’t have acted as if nothing had happened and just told her to cook.
Song Zhaodi ignoring him now was probably because of that. “So your stepmom thinks I’m still mad at her? That she’s not talking to me because she’s afraid of making me angrier?”
“That’s right.” Was it really necessary to have a cold war for more than twenty days just because of a few misspoken words? Zhong Dawa couldn’t understand what his father and mother were thinking, but his intuition told him that his father wanted him to say ‘yes’.”That’s exactly what stepmom said.”
A hint of joy flashed in Zhong Jianguo’s eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “Then we’ll make up tomorrow.”
At around nine that night, after taking a bath, Zhong Jianguo returned to the bedroom and saw that Song Zhaodi was still awake, playing with Sanwa. Clearing his throat, he said, “It’s going to be warm tomorrow.”
Song Zhaodi hummed in acknowledgement and continued playing with Sanwa.
“I was listening to the radio at the office,” Zhong Jianguo added, “They said it might be around twenty-five or twenty-six degrees tomorrow. Dress the kids lighter.”
Song Zhaodi hummed again, indicating she understood.
Zhong Jianguo frowned. What exactly did this woman want from him?
After a moment of thought, he finally said, “I shouldn’t have told you to leave that time. I apologise.”
Song Zhaodi looked up. “What did you just say?”
“You had your arms around my neck, and I overreacted a bit. We’ve been married for almost half a year and have been sleeping in the same bed all this time. We’re not strangers meeting for the first time, so I shouldn’t have treated you like one,” Zhong Jianguo admitted. “It’s just… next time, if you want to do something, give me a heads-up first. Don’t just pounce on me out of nowhere.”
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. Give him a heads-up? How exactly? Excuse me, Comrade Zhong, may I kiss you? May I hold your hand? May I link arms with you?
What nonsense. Even idol dramas weren’t this uptight.
She gave him a deep look, then lowered her head and smiled at the toddler.
Zhong Jianguo scratched his head. “Comrade Song Zhaodi, can you say something?”
“What do you want me to say?” Song Zhaodi asked.
Zhong Jianguo’s breath hitched. “I already apologised. Whether you forgive me or not, you should at least respond.”
“I never asked you to apologise,” Song Zhaodi said. “Besides, apologising is your business. Whether or not I want to forgive you is mine.” She lifted her head. “Forcing someone to forgive you—Comrade Zhong, that’s a very insincere apology.”
Zhong Jianguo thought to himself, That’s not what you told Dawa. But he knew that if he said this out loud, Song Zhaodi might stay mad for months. “What, do you want me to pour you tea and beg for forgiveness?”
“Drinking water at night is hard on the kidneys,” Song Zhaodi countered.
Zhong Jianguo’s breath caught. “…The situation is tense right now. Don’t go out unless you have to. If you really need something, I’ll have the logistics team pick it up for you.”
“We’re out of baby formula,” Song Zhaodi said. “And milk candy. Also, I’m almost out of snow cream and cooling balm. It’s not even summer yet, and there are already mosquitoes. I have a feeling we’ll go through several tins of balm this year.”
Zhong Jianguo quickly grabbed a notebook and jotted it down. “Anything else?”
“That’s it.” Song Zhaodi thought for a moment. “Oh, and toilet paper. Get the good kind—I don’t want the rough stuff.”
Aside from the candy, everything was unrestricted, so it wasn’t a hassle for Zhong Jianguo. “I’ll have the logistics team grab them next time they go shopping.”
Song Zhaodi hummed in acknowledgement and lowered her head again.
Zhong Jianguo frowned. She’s doing this on purpose, isn’t she?
She was. Six months of living together, and they hadn’t even held hands. Even idol drama writers wouldn’t drag things out this long. She was determined to force Zhong Jianguo to make a move.
“Comrade Song Zhaodi, can you adjust your attitude a little?!” Zhong Jianguo’s voice involuntarily rose.
Song Zhaodi sat up and smiled. “Go on, I’m all ears.”
Zhong Jianguo choked. This woman was sent by the heavens to torment me, wasn’t she?
“What exactly do you want from me?” he asked.
Song Zhaodi smirked. “You know what I want.” She deliberately dragged out the last two words, her tone full of meaning.
How the hell would I know what’s going on in your head? Zhong Jianguo thought. But just as he was about to say that, something clicked. His face flushed, and he reached out to turn off the light.
Song Zhaodi blinked as the room plunged into darkness. She opened her mouth in disbelief. What the hell? Is this man straight out of the Stone Age?!
“Still not sleeping? Not tired?” Zhong Jianguo suddenly asked.
With a plop, Song Zhaodi flopped onto the bed, groaned dramatically, then sighed and pulled the toddler into her arms. “At least you’re good to your mother. You’d never leave me.”
The toddler giggled and snuggled against her.
Song Zhaodi patted his back. “Sleep, sleep. Gotta get up and make breakfast tomorrow.”
—
The next morning, Song Zhaodi tied her hair up in a ponytail and pulled out a pair of tailored green pants that fit her figure perfectly. She paired them with a crisp white shirt, tucked neatly into her waistband, and slipped on black cloth shoes. Holding the toddler, she walked downstairs with her back straight, shoulders squared—like a special agent from an American movie.
Zhong Dawa, sitting on a bench reading, gawked. He rubbed his eyes hard. “Stepm—no, Mom, you—you look different.”
“Do I look cool?” Song Zhaodi asked with a smile.
Zhong Dawa didn’t know what cool meant exactly, but his mother definitely looked different. She might not be the prettiest on the island, but she was the most striking—the best-looking in a way that was hard to describe. He nodded. “Cool!”
“What’s breaking*?” Zhong Jianguo walked in carrying a tray of dishes.
This is a play on words between 帅 (shuài), meaning “cool” or “handsome,” and 摔 (shuāi), meaning “to fall” or “to break.” Zhong Dawa uses 帅 to describe his mother, but Zhong Jianguo mishears it as 摔, leading him to think something is breaking.
Erwa pointed toward the staircase. “Dad, look! Mom—Mom changed.”
Zhong Jianguo strode over, turned his head, and his eyes widened. “You—”
“I’m Song Zhaodi,” she said, spinning in front of him. “Don’t I look more capable than the female officers in your unit? Don’t I just radiate confidence and strength?”
Zhong Jianguo’s throat dried up. “You—how many different sides do you have?”
“Don’t like it?” Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow.
Zhong Jianguo rubbed his temples, trying to ignore the long legs, slim waist, and—ahem—curves right in front of him. “Go change into something else. This isn’t appropriate.” He turned and headed straight for the kitchen.
“Don’t change!” Zhong Dawa protested. “Mom looks great like this.”
“If it looks good, I won’t change.” Song Zhaodi smiled. “Later, we’re going to the food factory, then the supply co-op. After that, I’ll take you two to the beach.”
Zhong Jianguo’s hand trembled, nearly spilling rice from the ladle. “Don’t you have class today?”
“Comrade Zhong, may I remind you that not only do I not have class today, I don’t have class tomorrow either,” Song Zhaodi said, carrying the toddler inside. “As you’ve probably guessed, today, we’re taking a full island tour. Dawa, Erwa, once the sun’s up and it gets warmer, you two should change into your new clothes.”
The two boys cheered. “Let’s change now!”
“After breakfast,” Song Zhaodi said. “We need to keep them clean—we’ll be wearing them for two days.”
The brothers nodded in unison. “Okay!”
“Song Zhaodi, no one on this island dresses like that,” Zhong Jianguo reminded her.
Song Zhaodi glanced at her long legs and the curves that had been hidden under baggy clothes. Satisfied, she smiled. “Is it really that out of place?”
Zhong Jianguo pointed at her hips. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s great,” Song Zhaodi said. “I have a fantastic figure—everything’s exactly where it should be.”
Zhong Jianguo felt exhausted. “You can’t get anything done wearing that.”
“I can,” Song Zhaodi replied. “My pants may look fitted, but I can squat just fine and stand back up. If you don’t believe me, I can show you.”
Zhong Jianguo pitied himself. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what do you mean?” Song Zhaodi put on an eager, studious expression, as if ready to learn. “A plain white shirt with no lace, green trousers that are practically the same colour as your army uniform—wearing this outside won’t cause you any trouble, so don’t worry.”
Zhong Jianguo rubbed his temples. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you by wearing this outside?” Song Zhaodi turned to Dawa. “Kids, does Mom look bad in this outfit?”
Dawa and Erwa responded in unison, “Mom looks great!”
Song Zhaodi turned back to Zhong Jianguo. “There you have it. Out of our family of five, if we count Sanwa as yours, it’s three against two. Even if you have objections, keep them to yourself. Put the rice down—I’ll cook.”
“I still don’t approve of you wearing that,” Zhong Jianguo said firmly, setting down the water ladle.
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “These are my clothes, on my body. Does your approval even matter?” She paused before adding, “Actually, there is one way—you could help me change into something else.”
Zhong Jianguo’s breathing quickened. He stared at her in disbelief. “Song Zhaodi, I… I no longer suspect you’re a spy from the other side, nor do I think you’re from the U.S. or Japan. Now, I suspect you’re not even human!”
Song Zhaodi beamed. “I’m not mad. Say whatever you want, however you want.”
“Dad, you can’t talk about Mom like that,” Dawa protested, displeased. “Saying someone’s not human is an insult.”
Zhong Jianguo took a deep breath. “I’ll say this one last time—don’t push me.”
“I’m not,” Song Zhaodi said casually, handing Sanwa over to him. “Go wash his face.”
Zhong Jianguo carried the child outside, with Dawa and Erwa following.
“Dad, Mom’s clothes look really nice. Why won’t you let her wear them?” Dawa was puzzled. “Why do you get mad so easily?”
The clothes were fine, but they outlined her entire backside and chest. And she wanted to wear them outside? Even take a stroll around the island? Just thinking about it made Zhong Jianguo’s chest tighten. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, but you do,” Dawa sighed dramatically. “You understand everything, yet you still make Mom mad all the time. Last night, you told me you didn’t. Liar.” He grabbed Erwa’s hand, lifted his chin proudly, and declared, “Let’s go.”
After dinner, Song Zhaodi led the three children upstairs. Zhong Jianguo, instead of cleaning up the dishes, followed them. When he got upstairs, he saw Dawa wearing grey trousers and a white shirt—almost identical to his own change of clothes. Except, this set looked particularly stylish, yet oddly familiar.
Noticing Zhong Jianguo staring at Dawa like he was trying to uncover some deep mystery, Song Zhaodi smirked. “It’s modelled after Han-style clothing. All three of them have two sets each. The pants are cropped at nine-tenths length, the sleeves are mid-length. The cotton-linen fabric is breathable, so they can wear them from now until late September.”
“You made these?” Zhong Jianguo asked.
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “Surprised?”
“Were you a tailor before?” The words slipped out before Zhong Jianguo could stop them. Then he froze. Song Zhaodi’s detailed background was locked away in his office archives—she had never worked as a tailor. So why had he instinctively asked that?
Song Zhaodi, equally surprised, thought to herself—this man’s instincts were sharp. “What gave it away?”
“You admit it?!” Zhong Jianguo was stunned.
Song Zhaodi shrugged. “I told you, I never lie.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense,” Zhong Jianguo waved her off, pinching Dawa’s collar. “The stitching on this is almost as tight as my military uniform’s. My clothes are machine-made, but for you to sew them by hand, you’d need at least seven or eight years of experience. But you’re only twenty-three!”
Song Zhaodi replied matter-of-factly, “I’m naturally gifted.”
“I’m being serious,” Zhong Jianguo said, his tone heavy.
Song Zhaodi set Erwa down and noticed Dawa rubbing his new clothes over and over. With a soft sigh, she said, “Dawa, your outfit is just like your brothers’. If they look good in theirs, then yours looks just as good.”
Dawa immediately lifted his head. Seeing how sharp Erwa looked in the same clothes, he finally broke into a shy smile.
Once Song Zhaodi finished dressing Sanwa, she took all three children downstairs. “Go show off to your friends.”
“I don’t want to show off,” Dawa retorted.
Song Zhaodi chuckled. “Alright, I misspoke. Take your brothers outside to play. Your dad and I need to talk.”
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