Zhou Shufen was left speechless, struggling to catch her breath.
Song Zhaodi feigned ignorance and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
“I finally understand why you stay at home and don’t come out,” Zhou Shufen said. “Because no one wants to chat with you.”
Song Zhaodi smiled. “You’ve got it backwards. When words don’t click, even half a sentence is too much. I just don’t feel like talking to them.”
Zhou Shufen wasn’t fond of socialising either, so she understood Song Zhaodi. But she didn’t want to admit it, so she deliberately said, “You don’t need to investigate who’s gossiping behind your back about you not having kids. Just have one and shut them up.”
“I already said I don’t want to have children,” Song Zhaodi reminded her.
Zhou Shufen sighed. “Even if you find out who said it this time, there’ll be a next time. As long as you don’t have a child, these rumours won’t stop.”
“Old Zhong is a regiment commander. Not many people on this island dare to talk about his wife,” Song Zhaodi replied. “I have a pretty good idea who it is, but I’m not certain.”
Zhou Shufen was curious. “Who is it? Who’s got such a loose tongue?”
“I think it’s Lin Zhong’s mother,” Song Zhaodi said. “That woman is two-faced. When I can’t be bothered to humour her, I expose her lies. I guess she hates me for it but can’t do anything about it, so she just gossips to make herself feel better.”
“Lin Zhong’s mother? Chen dasao? I don’t know much about her,” Zhou Shufen admitted. “But she gives me an uncomfortable feeling.”
“Seems like your instincts are pretty sharp too,” Song Zhaodi stood up. “Help me find out more.”
Zhou Shufen quickly stood up. “You’re leaving already?”
“Why would I stay at your place?” Song Zhaodi shot back.
Zhou Shufen was at a loss for words and sat back down. “Fine, take care.”
“I came because I had something to say. Now that I’ve said it, should I stay and chat about household gossip?” Song Zhaodi realised she had blurted out the truth again and explained, “I’m just not used to it. Once I finish making new clothes for the kids, I’ll make some for yours too. Just remember to bring me some fabric, we don’t have extra at home.”
“Got it.” Zhou Shufen waved her off. “I honestly don’t know how Commander Zhong puts up with you.”
Song Zhaodi grinned. “I’d like to know too. I’ll ask him and tell you later.”
Zhou Shufen opened her mouth, shocked that she would even say such a thing. Fearing that she actually would, she rushed after her. “Don’t ask! I don’t want to know!”
“Alright, whatever you say,” Song Zhaodi agreed without hesitation.
Zhou Shufen suddenly felt like she had been tricked. But before she could respond, Song Zhaodi was already at the door.
Back home, Song Zhaodi took out the shoe soles she had been working on and began sewing them onto the uppers. By 2 pm, she had finished five pairs of sandals.
At around 6 pm, Zhong Jianguo returned home. As soon as he entered, he saw the five kids sitting in a row, whispering and pointing at their feet. He walked closer to take a look. “All new shoes?”
“Yep!” Erwa stretched out his foot. “Dad, mine looks the best, right?”
Zhong Jianguo nodded. “Yes. But… why do all five pairs look exactly the same? Am I seeing things?”
Erwa’s expression changed slightly and he glared at Zhong Jianguo. “I hate you!”
“I don’t hate you, my dear son.” Zhong Jianguo ruffled his hair and slipped into the house before Erwa could react.
Song Zhaodi was inside kneading dough when she heard the footsteps. She scoffed. “Happy that you made your son mad?”
“Not too bad,” Zhong Jianguo glanced at the dough. “Did you mix in cornmeal?”
Song Zhaodi nodded slightly. “Go wash your hands and help me out.”
“Why not have Zili or Dawa help you?” Zhong Jianguo grumbled.
“I can’t have the kids cooking every day. Besides, I didn’t have much else to do this afternoon,” Song Zhaodi said.
“Are we out of white flour?” Zhong Jianguo asked.
“There’s plenty left. The kids said adding a bit of cornmeal makes it taste good, so I traded for ten pounds of it,” Song Zhaodi explained. “You’ve been coming home on time lately. Is Old Jiang not doing well?”
“Old Jiang is in great health,” Zhong Jianguo replied. “There’s some shake-up up top. We figure he’s busy making adjustments.”
Song Zhaodi clicked her tongue. “Even after being sent to this island, they’re still scheming. What’s the point?”
“Probably just unwilling to give up,” Zhong Jianguo said, picking up a piece of dough. “How do I knead it?”
“I’ll go slow, follow my lead,” Song Zhaodi instructed.
Zhong Jianguo nodded.
Song Zhaodi shaped a half-circle, while Zhong Jianguo ended up with a cylinder.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Song Zhaodi frowned.
Zhong Jianguo nodded. “Yep.”
Song Zhaodi was stunned. “What did you just say? Zhong Jianguo, say that again.”
“I did it on purpose,” Zhong Jianguo grinned. “If you teach me step by step, I promise I’ll get it right.”
Song Zhaodi was momentarily speechless. Then, realising what he meant, she laughed. “Alright then.” As she spoke, she stood up.
Zhong Jianguo instinctively backed away. “I was just joking! Don’t take it seriously!”
“Too late!” Song Zhaodi grabbed his arm.
Zhong Jianguo instinctively tried to block but froze halfway: “You’ve been making shoes and steaming buns all day, it’s exhausting. Just tell me how to do it, no need to teach me hand-in-hand.”
Song Zhaodi stared at him, her gaze intense. “Really? You sure? There’s only one chance, Comrade Zhong.”
“No parents love to mess around more than you two,” a voice suddenly chimed in.
Both Song Zhaodi and Zhong Jianguo turned around simultaneously, seeing their eldest child standing at the doorway with a mature, almost old-fashioned expression.
A hint of embarrassment flashed across Zhong Jianguo’s face, but he quickly composed himself. “We weren’t messing around.”
The eldest child gave his father a look. “Sure, not messing around. Anyway, Dad, can you move? I’m thirsty and need to get some water.”
Zhong Jianguo was about to say, “Go ahead,” when he suddenly realised he and Song Zhaodi were blocking the way. His face reddened instantly and he instinctively pulled Song Zhaodi to his side.
She stumbled slightly,
Bang!
Her forehead hit Zhong Jianguo’s chin.
Their son glanced at them, shook his head and remarked, “See? Lying hurts your mouth. People really shouldn’t do bad things.”
“Zhong Jianqiang!” Zhong Jianguo gritted his teeth, rubbing his chin. “Do you believe I won’t give you a beating?!”
His son turned around. “Of course, I believe you. You’re my dad, you’re tall, you’re strong, you can hit whoever you want.” As he spoke, he made a face at his father and dashed into the kitchen.
Song Zhaodi rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Hurry up and knead the dough, it’s getting dark soon.”
“That rascal is getting out of control,” Zhong Jianguo pointed toward the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to do something about him?”
Song Zhaodi replied, “I remember when we first got married, he was scared of you. How come he isn’t anymore?”
In the past, life was rough and Zhong Jianguo was constantly tense, rarely smiling. He was always serious and at one point, he had to deal with Old Jiang’s men, carrying an unintentional aura of danger. It would have been strange if the kid wasn’t scared of him.
Then Song Zhaodi entered their lives. The household grew livelier each day and Zhong Jianguo’s smiles became more frequent. The distance between him and the children closed and over the past two years, he had bonded with them. It was no wonder their son no longer feared him.
Zhong Jianguo understood why and knew Song Zhaodi would figure it out too. “Because you protect him,” he said.
Song Zhaodi was taken aback. She hadn’t expected that answer and hesitated for a moment. “You’re really something… If you had reacted this quickly when we first met, I wouldn’t have dared to trick you.”
“That time was different,” Zhong Jianguo said. “Back then, I didn’t have Song Zhaodi to teach me.”
She stomped lightly on his foot. “Slick talker!”
“Mom’s right,” their eldest child said, walking past with an enamel cup. As he passed his father, he quickly added, “Dad, this water is hot, don’t touch me!” The implication was clear, if you hit me, I’ll spill the hot water on you.
Zhong Jianguo’s hand froze for a second. “Such a scheming little mind. Who even wants to touch you?” Once his son walked past, he suddenly stretched out his arm and smacked the boy on the rear.
The child stumbled forward, nearly falling. He caught himself on the doorframe and turned back in disbelief. “Are you really my dad?”
“Stepdad,” Song Zhaodi interjected. “Don’t be mad. I’ll deal with him later.”
The child’s face lit up with glee. His eyes darted around and he suggested, “Mom, it’s pretty warm tonight. Why don’t we have Dad sleep on the long bench? The gaps in the bench let the air through, it’ll be nice and cool.”
“That’s a great idea,” Song Zhaodi agreed. “Let’s do that.”
Zhong Jianguo looked at his son, then at his wife. “Are you two doing crosstalk?”
“We’re not joking,” Song Zhaodi said, lifting her gaze slightly. “He almost fell. If he had, he would’ve hit either the door or the threshold. Sleeping on the bench is a fair punishment.”
Zhong Jianguo glanced outside, making sure their son wasn’t nearby, then loudly declared, “I was wrong! I’ll listen to you, I’ll sleep on the bench tonight.” Then, in a lower voice, he added, “But don’t lock the door, okay?” After a pause, he pleaded, “There are a lot of mosquitoes and the bench doesn’t have a mosquito net. If I sleep outside all night, I’ll get eaten alive.”
“Perfect,” Song Zhaodi replied. “That way, you’ll learn not to mess around with the kids at the wrong time and place.”
Zhong Jianguo’s expression shifted. “You’re serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” she said. “Since it’s still light out, you’d better borrow a mosquito net.” With that, she carried a tray of steamed buns into the kitchen.
Zhong Jianguo hurried after her. “Mosquito nets aren’t like cabbages, you can’t just borrow one whenever you want. Teacher Song, can we reconsider and postpone my punishment until it’s not so hot?”
Song Zhaodi thought for a moment. “That’s not impossible.”
Zhong Jianguo was overjoyed. “Thank you, Teacher Xiao Song!”
“Don’t celebrate too soon,” Song Zhaodi said, then shared what she had learned from Zhou Shufen. Finally, she asked, “If someone told you I have a health issue and can’t have children, what would you do?”
Zhong Jianguo was about to say, “Then we’ll have one anyway,” but he could tell she was more serious now than before. “How do you want me to answer?” he asked. “I’ll say whatever you want me to say.”
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