There were only three beds at home, but six people had come. Zhong Jianguo had anticipated this situation, but hearing Song Zhaodi say it so bluntly made him feel stifled. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Very satisfied. Extremely satisfied.”
“So, are we just going to keep sleeping like this from now on?” Song Zhaodi asked deliberately.
“Sure.”
Song Zhaodi shivered and turned toward the voice, locking eyes with a pair of bright, wide-awake eyes. “Zhong Dawa, why are you still awake?”
“Why are you still awake?” Dawa shot back.
Song Zhaodi blinked. “I… I worked too much today. My whole body aches, and I can’t sleep. What about you?”
“I ate too much,” the child admitted sheepishly. “My stomach is so full, it’s uncomfortable.”
Song Zhaodi was speechless. She had thought of many possible reasons, but not this one. “Tell your dad to rub your stomach for you. Erwa, is he asleep?”
“I gave Erwa less rice, and later he only ate the dishes without touching the steamed buns. Vegetables digest quickly, so I think he’s already asleep,” Zhong Jianguo said as he reached out and picked up Dawa. “Son, how about sleeping on Dad’s chest tonight?”
Dawa was confused. “Why?”
“Our bed is too small.” Zhong Jianguo glanced at Song Zhaodi. “Didn’t you notice your mom isn’t even lying flat? If she does, half of her body will be off the bed, and she’ll definitely fall in her sleep.”
Song Zhaodi was a little surprised. “You noticed?”
“I know my bed better than you do.”
Zhong Jianguo had originally planned to wait until Dawa fell asleep before moving him, but the child had already shut his eyes, pretending to sleep. “So, is that okay, Dawa?”
“Mm,” Dawa hummed before commanding, “Rub my stomach. It hurts.”
“You little glutton.” Zhong Jianguo patted his belly gently. “No more eating like this in the future.”
Dawa’s eyes lit up. “Are we having meat again tomorrow?”
“You wish!” Song Zhaodi retorted. “Your dad meant that ‘in the future’ means during the New Year.” She turned to Zhong Jianguo, “By the way, do you get time off during the New Year?”
Zhong Jianguo replied, “365 days a year, no holidays.”
“Then… then I won’t be able to go home for the New Year?” Song Zhaodi asked.
Zhong Jianguo looked at her. “You didn’t know? Song Zhaodi, oh, Song Zhaodi, sometimes you’re sharper than anyone, and other times you’re just plain clueless.
“If the military let people leave that easily, your brother-in-law wouldn’t be your brother-in-law anymore.” He paused. “Once these three grow up a bit, and you can take them on a boat and train, then you can go back to visit anytime.”
Song Zhaodi looked at Sanwa beside her. “That’s at least three years away.”
“Yep. Being a military wife isn’t easy,” Zhong Jianguo reminded her, giving her a sidelong glance. “By the way, how long are your parents staying?”
Song Zhaodi said, “My mother plans to leave the morning after tomorrow.”
“Only two days?” Zhong Jianguo hadn’t expected that and swallowed hard. “Your parents are really considerate. There’s not much farm work in the village right now. They should stay a few more days, and you can take them around.”
Song Zhaodi sighed, “My mom is worried about the chickens and ducks she raises, and the cattle the production team assigned her. I tried to persuade her to stay longer, but she refused. However, Duan dasao mentioned that the weather is acting strange and it might rain tomorrow or the day after. They might not be able to leave.”
“Dawa, if I want Grandma to stay a few more days, would you be okay with that?”
“Yes!” Dawa answered without hesitation. “This grandma is nice. I like her. When Dali wanted to eat an orange, she smacked his hand and told him he couldn’t have it. But the other grandma, the other grandma would—”
Song Zhaodi finished for him. “She would give all the good food to her own grandson and not let you have any, right?”
“Yes!” Dawa nodded firmly.
Song Zhaodi smiled. “Tomorrow morning, when you wake up, tell Grandma you want to eat an orange and an apple. She’ll definitely give them to you.”
Dawa looked sceptical.
The next morning, the child opened his eyes and saw that Zhong Jianguo and Song Zhaodi were still asleep. He dressed himself, slipped on his shoes, and ran downstairs.
Hearing the sound, Mother Song thought it was Song Zhaodi. Turning her head, she was surprised to see Dawa. “Why are you up so early? Go back and sleep a little longer.”
Oranges and apples were fresh fruits that couldn’t be stored for long. Since Song Zhaodi hadn’t brought them upstairs, they were hanging on the living room wall. Zhong Dawa looked up and saw them, pointing at an apple. “I’m hungry. I want an apple and an orange.”
Mother Song opened her mouth to say she was about to make breakfast. But then she remembered that the child in front of her wasn’t her grandson—he was Song Zhaodi’s stepson. The fruit had been bought for them anyway. So she took down the bag and handed Dawa an orange and an apple. “Eat a little to hold you over. You can eat more after breakfast.”
“Okay.”
Dawa liked meat more than anything, but he was curious to see if this grandma was really different from the other one. “I want to wash my face.”
Mother Song said, “Put the apple on the table first, and I’ll wash you up.” She took his arm and led him to the well. “Dawa, what do you usually eat for breakfast?”
“Rice porridge, steamed bun and vegetables,” Dawa answered.
Same as at home. Mother Song continued, “Who does the cooking? Your mom or your dad?”
“My… Mom cooks, and Dad makes the fire,” Dawa said as he scooped up water to wash his face.
Seeing that the child could wash his own face, Mother Song was pleased. “Your dad has to make the fire and wash the clothes too. That must be tiring.”
“Dad is strong. He’s not tired.” Zhong Dawa had always thought this because Song Zhaodi told him so, and since his dad was tall and muscular, he believed it. “Grandma, what is Grandpa making with the wood Mom bought?”
“Chickens and ducks can’t be raised together. Your grandpa is building a duck pen. Your mom said she wants to raise two geese next year, so he’ll build a separate pen for them too.”
“That much?” Dawa’s eyes widened with excitement. “That means we’ll have lots of meat next year!”
Zhong Jianguo reached out and patted Song Zhaodi’s arm. “Get up already.”
“Let me lie down for a little longer,” Song Zhaodi pushed his arm away. “Half my body is completely numb.”
Zhong Jianguo said, “Your mother is chatting with Dawa. I saw them talking quite happily.”
Song Zhaodi abruptly sat up and pushed Zhong Jianguo. “Go downstairs and make sure my mother doesn’t ask too many questions.”
“You should also get up and make breakfast.” Zhong Jianguo was also worried that Dawa might say something he shouldn’t. When he got downstairs, he called out to Dawa, “Go wake up Dali and Erwa. The three of you can go play outside. When you come back, breakfast will be ready.”
Back in Shanghai, Zhong Dawa’s cousins either took his toys or snatched his food. In contrast, Liu Yang’s eldest son, Dali, was a bit timid—he would take whatever Dawa gave him, but if he wasn’t given anything, he wouldn’t ask.
This new kid was so well-behaved that Zhong Dawa liked him a lot. As soon as Zhong Jianguo finished speaking, Dawa ran upstairs excitedly.
Song Zhaodi carried Sanwa downstairs, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and then joined her mother in the kitchen to make breakfast.
There were plenty of leftover steamed buns from the previous day. Even though the Zhong family had over ten people at dinner, they had only eaten a third of them. They boiled some porridge on the stove, heated the buns, stir-fried a plate of vegetables, made a few egg pancakes for the kids, and steamed two bowls of egg custard. Breakfast was ready.
Looking at the golden pancakes and the smooth egg custard, Song dajie clicked her tongue in amazement. “You eat like this every morning?”
“Once a day. Zhong Jianguo can afford it,” Song Zhaodi pointed at the three pancakes. “I only used two eggs for all of them. We raise chickens, so we’re never short on eggs. You can make them for Dali and Liugen too when you go back.”
Worried that her sister might be reluctant to use them, she added, “Even if you don’t eat them, saving up sixty eggs a month won’t get you much money.”
Mother Song nodded. “Zhaodi is right. The kids are still young. No need to save up for their weddings just yet. Missing out on a few cents a month won’t make us starve.”
“Commander Liu is quite tall, but jiefu is half a head shorter. I think it’s because he didn’t get enough to eat when he was young,” Song Zhaodi said. “Did you use the money I left for you?
“When you transfer trains in Shanghai, see if you can go to the department store and buy some milk powder and milk candies. Give them a little every day. Even if it doesn’t make them taller, it’ll at least make them stronger.”
Song Dajie frowned. “Where did you hear that from?”
“Dajie, Zhaodi is right,” Zhong Jianguo walked in, holding Sanwa’s arm to help him balance. “Foreigners are taller and stronger than us because they eat meat and drink milk regularly. Unlike us—three meals a day, and it’s either vegetables with noodles or rice with vegetables.”
Since Zhong Jianguo was a military officer with an orderly, Song Dajie felt he knew more than Song Zhaodi. She immediately said, “Alright, I’ll listen to you. I’ll do that when I get back.”
Song Zhaodi smiled and went outside to call the children back for breakfast.
Dawa ran in, and Mother Song noticed he was holding an apple in one hand and an orange in the other. She was puzzled. “This child was crying about being hungry when he woke up, so why isn’t he eating?”
Following her mother’s gaze, Song Zhaodi saw what Dawa was holding and couldn’t help but laugh. She made up an excuse. “He’s waiting for the pancakes.”
“Pancakes? We have pancakes today too?” Zhong Dawa quickly shoved the apple and orange into Song Zhaodi’s hands. “I want pancakes!”
Zhong Erwa chimed in. “Me too!”
“They’re on the table,” Song Zhaodi said. “Dali is our guest. Give him one first.”
On mornings when Sanwa wasn’t fussy, Song Zhaodi would make pancakes—one for each of the two older boys. If Sanwa was unwell or got restless and wanted to go outside, she would ask Zhong Jianguo to make them steamed eggs instead.
For over twenty days, as long as there were eggs, breakfast had always been like this. Seeing three pancakes on the plate, Dawa was about to ask why there was an extra one today. But after hearing Song Zhaodi’s words, he simply picked one up and handed it to Dali.
Seeing this, Mother Song whispered to Father Song, “This child isn’t selfish about food. That’s good.”
“Jianguo taught him well,” Father Song replied. Then he turned to Liu Yang. “Your uncle invited us to his house for lunch today. Remember to let him know that we’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning.”
Commander Liu was Liu Yang’s biological uncle, but they hadn’t seen each other in over ten years, so they felt quite distant. Liu Yang was even more at ease with his coworkers at the furniture factory than with his uncle.
They had already reunited the day before, and now that he knew his uncle was a good person and his uncle thought well of him, Liu Yang felt it was time to go back to work. He had no objections to his father-in-law’s decision.
Noticing that the sun wasn’t as bright as yesterday, Song Zhaodi could tell the weather was about to change. So she didn’t try to persuade them to stay—after all, the sky would do that for her.
At lunchtime, when Commander Liu heard that Liu Yang was leaving, he kept trying to persuade him to stay longer. But when Liu Yang mentioned that his mother was alone at home and in poor health, Commander Liu stopped insisting.
After the meal, Commander Liu asked Duan dasao to buy some things for Liu Yang to take back.
Duan dasao, being observant and knowledgeable about the weather, noticed the damp ground and suspected it would rain soon. But since she couldn’t be sure it would rain the next morning, she bought non-perishable goods.
That evening, as Mother Song packed their belongings, she felt uneasy. Song Zhaodi hadn’t said anything to make them stay, which made her a little upset. Even though she truly wanted to go home and wasn’t just being polite, she still wished her daughter had tried to persuade them.
After Song Zhaodi went out, Mother Song couldn’t help but say to Father Song, “Does our daughter not want us to leave too soon?”
Father Song wasn’t as observant as Mother Song and thought she was overthinking. Mother Song didn’t want to dwell on it either, but she couldn’t help it. She tossed and turned until midnight. Suddenly, a loud rumble of thunder woke her up. She quickly shook Father Song.
“What’s wrong?” Father Song asked groggily.
“Thunder! There’s thunder!” Mother Song said anxiously. “It’s winter, old man. Is something bad about to happen?”
“It’s just rain. Thunder is normal,” Father Song said but then paused in surprise. “Wait… it’s winter? How can there be thunder in winter?”
Mother Song suddenly remembered something. “That’s right! In old opera lyrics, it says, ‘Winter thunder and summer snow are bad omens’. Old man, should we still leave tomorrow?”
“Let’s sleep first and decide in the morning,” Father Song sighed. “Hopefully, it’s nothing serious.”
Meanwhile, Song Zhaodi, who was a light sleeper, also woke up. She reached out and nudged Zhong Jianguo. “Why is there thunder in winter?”
“The weather near the sea is just like this,” Zhong Jianguo replied, already used to it. “The sky really seems to be on your side. You wanted rain, and here it is.”
“Of course,” Song Zhaodi smirked. “I hope it keeps raining until morning.”
The next morning, the rain was still pouring. Song Zhaodi knocked on her mother’s door and said, “Dad, Mom, it’s raining. The boats can’t sail. You’ll have to stay a few more days.”
Mother Song stared at Song Zhaodi’s face, seeing how happy she looked. She wasn’t surprised and belatedly realised, “You knew it was going to rain?”
“You didn’t?” Song Zhaodi asked innocently. “I told you yesterday morning that it was going to rain and that it wasn’t a good time to travel.”
Father Song frowned. “But there wasn’t even any fog on the mountains yesterday.”
“There is now,” Song Zhaodi paused. “Here, you can tell if it’s going to rain by looking at the ground. If it looks like it was splashed with water, it won’t just rain—it’ll rain for several days. The ground floor was already damp during dinner last night. I thought you knew.”
Mother Song immediately understood. “You little brat! You watched us pack up yesterday and didn’t say a word. Did you do this on purpose?!” She raised her hand, ready to hit Song Zhaodi.
“Don’t hit my mom!” Zhong Dawa rushed out and pushed Mother Song with all his strength.
Mother Song staggered but managed to steady herself. Seeing the little child standing in front of Song Zhaodi, she found it both amusing and exasperating. “She’s my daughter!”
“That doesn’t matter!” Zhong Dawa blurted out.
Song Zhaodi picked him up and said, “Grandma was just joking with me. Help me light the fire, and I’ll make you some steamed egg custard today.”
“Really?” Zhong Dawa was sceptical. He looked at Song Zhaodi, then at Mother Song.
Song Zhaodi knew the child had a psychological barrier. Zhong Jianguo had mentioned before that Mother Bai often beat and scolded Bai Hua in front of the children. She gently patted his bottom twice and said, “When Grandma says she’s going to hit me, it’s just like this.”
The child responded with a soft “hmm,” realising he had misunderstood Mother Song. Feeling a little embarrassed, he deliberately said, “I’m hungry.”
“Then let’s go down now.” Song Zhaodi carried him downstairs.
Mother Song shook her head and sighed. “Old man, your daughter is really something.”
“If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have gotten into university,” Father Song replied. “I told you, you were overthinking it. How about now? Still overthinking? You stayed up until midnight last night. Go rest for a bit.”
Three days later, the sky cleared, and the Song family left Wengzhou Island.
Seeing that their daughter was doing well, Mother and Father Song and were happy as they boarded the ship. If only they had stopped nagging Song Zhaodi about not making Zhong Jianguo do laundry and wash dishes, she would have been happy too.
Hearing their words, Zhong Jianguo was actually pleased. He deliberately asked Song’s parents in front of Song Zhaodi, “When will you visit again?”
Binhai was too far from Wengzhou, and the trip was inconvenient. Plus, they had to request leave from the production team. Not wanting to say they were too busy, Mother Song replied, “We’ll come when Zhaodi has a baby.”
Song Zhaodi’s face darkened immediately, and she urged her mother to go into the cabin quickly.
Watching the ship slowly disappear, and no longer seeing his obedient friend Dali, Zhong Dawa couldn’t help but ask, “Stepmom, when will you have a baby?”
“You called me stepmom again?” Song Zhaodi glared at him. “Call me Mom!”
Zhong Dawa took a few steps back, putting some distance between them. “Tell me, and I’ll call you Mom.”
“I don’t know either,” Song Zhaodi said. “But if you want to see Grandma, when Sanwa grows up and during school holidays, I’ll take you back to Xiao Song Village.”
Erwa held out his hand. “Pinky promise!”
Song Zhaodi tapped his forehead. “No pinky promises! Now, get back home.”
“Stingy,” Zhong Dawa muttered.
Song Zhaodi turned around, and the child quickly covered his mouth. Seeing this, Song Zhaodi laughed. “Scaredy-cat.”
“I’m not a scaredy-cat!” Zhong Dawa huffed and grabbed Erwa’s hand. “Let’s go play with Ma Zhenxing.”
Now that her family had left, Zhong Dawa and Zhong Erwa had to move back to their own room. Song Zhaodi had to tidy up the house and didn’t have time to watch them, so she let them go play with their friends.
After finishing the children’s room, Song Zhaodi started sorting out her own clothes. However, when she stepped out of Zhong Jianguo’s room with her clothes in her arms, she was stunned—the door was locked.
That evening, mentally preparing herself to reason with Zhong Jianguo, Song Zhaodi was about to confront him when Xiao Li arrived. Seeing her, he said, “Saozi, the commander asked me to tell you that he won’t be back tonight. Please take care of the house.”
If she didn’t know that Zhong Jianguo was just a regiment commander and couldn’t control the higher-ups’ orders, Song Zhaodi would have suspected that he did this on purpose. “I plan to report to school at the beginning of next month. Ask Zhong Jianguo who I should contact.”
“Understood.” An hour later, Xiao Li returned with a few books. “Political Commissar Zhang said you can go directly to the principal. These are first-year middle school textbooks.”
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “Political Commissar Zhang didn’t go back either?”
“No one did,” Xiao Li said. “Saozi, the commander said if you need anything, go find Duan dasao. He doesn’t know how long this mission will take.”
Song Zhaodi took a deep breath. “Got it. Take care of your commander.” She didn’t bother asking when Zhong Jianguo would return because even if she did, Xiao Li wouldn’t tell her the truth.
Luckily, with Duan dasao’s help, Song Zhaodi wasn’t too exhausted even with Zhong Jianguo away and having to do all the housework and childcare herself. However, due to the weather, Sanwa got sick once, scaring Song Zhaodi half to death.
In her past life, Liu Ling never wanted children—not just because she didn’t want to be tied down, but also because newborns were too fragile and delicate. Raising a child wasn’t just about feeding, clothing, and sending them to school.
A child couldn’t choose their birth, so parents had to take full responsibility. Liu Ling, who spent her previous life constantly travelling, knew she wouldn’t make a good mother and didn’t have the patience to stay home. That’s why she never had kids.
After transmigrating into Song Zhaodi, she was now in an era where even selling a chicken in private was restricted. No matter how capable she was, she had to live a quiet life at home.
Rural people were conservative, and the times were restrictive. If she didn’t want to bring shame upon her family in the village, she had to get married. Since she had to marry anyway and didn’t want to risk childbirth, while also wanting to leave the countryside, Zhong Jianguo seemed like a match made by fate.
In her past life, Liu Ling always considered future consequences before making decisions, but she never overthought things because plans could never keep up with changes. In this era, she didn’t have the luxury of too many thoughts either.
That’s why, after marrying Zhong Jianguo, she told herself that this was the path she had chosen. The soul inside Song Zhaodi had changed, allowing her to quickly adapt to family life. But that’s getting off track.
Sanwa hadn’t fully recovered yet when, on the night of November 15th, Zhong Jianguo finally returned.
Seeing how exhausted he was, Song Zhaodi didn’t press him for the key, nor did she tell him about Sanwa’s illness.
The next morning, after Zhong Jianguo woke up and had breakfast, Song Zhaodi sent Dawa and Erwa out to play, then called him over. “Let’s talk.”
Zhong Jianguo knew exactly what she wanted to discuss. Before she could speak, he said, “I threw the key into the sea. If you’re not afraid of people finding out, you can go ahead and break the lock with an axe or smash the door open.”
“You—” Song Zhaodi was dumbfounded. “You scoundrel!”
Zhong Jianguo smiled slightly. “I had a good teacher.”
“Get lost!” Song Zhaodi shouted angrily.
Zhong Jianguo, fearing he might provoke her further, said, “Relax, I’m an upright man.”
“Oh? Should I be thanking you then?” Song Zhaodi mocked.
Zhong Jianguo responded earnestly, “No need. We’re husband and wife—there’s no need to keep such strict accounts. I’m heading out now.”
“You just got back last night, and you’re not even resting?” Song Zhaodi followed him outside, frowning as she noticed the car parked in the yard.
“I’ll rest in the afternoon,” Zhong Jianguo replied. “Do you need anything? I can stop by the supply and marketing cooperative on my way back.”
“I want to buy baby formula, but the co-operative doesn’t carry it,” Song Zhaodi said. “Duan dasao told me it can only be found in Hangcheng, over 200 miles away. If you’re not busy tomorrow, take the three kids to the training area, and I’ll go with Duan dasao. It’s getting cold, and their cotton clothes are too small—I need to buy some fabric to extend the sleeves and pant legs.”
Zhong Jianguo thought for a moment. “Alright, I’ll take them tomorrow. If I have meetings, I’ll ask Xiao Li to watch over them.”
Between 1966 and 1976, the events of that decade felt too distant for Liu Ling. She had learned about them briefly in school, but since she was passionate about fashion design and aimed to study in a related field, she hadn’t paid much attention to that part of history, thinking it was irrelevant.
Years later, while researching the evolution of clothing in China, she revisited this period and was shocked by the styles people wore. That surprise left a lasting impression on her.
If someone asked Liu Ling what happened during those ten years, she wouldn’t be able to say. To her, Wengzhou Island seemed like a secluded paradise. There were no public parades of shame, no struggle sessions, and no big-character posters everywhere.
At times, Liu Ling felt like she had landed in 1977, after the revolution had ended. But the reality was that it was still 1967, and the movement was only just beginning.
Song Zhaodi, whose soul had been replaced, suggested going to Hangcheng under the pretence of shopping but truly wanted to see if the outside world had already descended into chaos.
On the morning of November 16, Song Zhaodi, Duan dasao, and a few other military wives arrived in Hangcheng, only to find the streets filled with people wearing red armbands, big-character posters plastered everywhere, and citizens looking anxious and uneasy.
To her relief, they did not encounter any public humiliation or struggle sessions before returning home. Duan dasao, who knew nothing about history or that this was just the beginning, was deeply troubled. That night, when she saw Commander Liu, she immediately reported what she had witnessed in Hangcheng.
The next day, Commander Liu gathered his trusted subordinates in his office to discuss the situation and prepare them mentally.
Zhong Jianguo, however, was not worried. No matter how much turmoil erupted at higher or lower levels, no one dared to touch their military unit, which stood across the strait from Old Jiang. If their unit was disturbed, Old Jiang’s forces could seize the opportunity to attack.
Still, Zhong Jianguo knew that some things were best kept unsaid. So, like the others, he nodded seriously and acknowledged the commander’s warning.
At home, seeing Song Zhaodi, he thought about her occasional carelessness. After putting the three children to sleep, he said, “We need to talk.”
“About why you locked my door and threw the key into the sea?” Song Zhaodi asked.
A flicker of discomfort crossed Zhong Jianguo’s face. “Something serious.”
“Are you sure?” Song Zhaodi was sceptical.
Zhong Jianguo nodded. “The commander told us today to be cautious with our words and actions—don’t stand out. That’s what I want to tell you, too. From now on, don’t mention things like the Tao Te Ching, Three Character Classic, or Dream of the Red Chamber outside. Even if you have impeccable revolutionary credentials, they’ll accuse you of ideological deviance.”
“I understand,” Song Zhaodi said. “I only talk about those things in front of you. While you were away, I didn’t just sit idle. I studied English textbooks and memorised the Chairman’s Quotations. If anyone tries to challenge me, I’ll use the Chairman’s words to shut them up. I suggest you study them too.”
Zhong Jianguo was surprised by her awareness. “I’ll find some time to look at them. Now, let’s sleep.”
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “How?”
“Can you stop messing with me?” Zhong Jianguo shot her a glare before heading back to the bedroom.
As winter deepened, Wengzhou Island, though located in the south, was far from warm. Its damp cold was sometimes even harsher than the coastal winters.
Song Zhaodi didn’t dare let their youngest child sleep alone, but she wasn’t used to cuddling him, so she let him sleep between her and Zhong Jianguo.
Zhong Jianguo knew that if their son slept on the outside, he’d either freeze or roll off the bed. Without needing to ask, he accepted that the child would sleep in the middle. However, when Song Zhaodi deliberately provoked him, he merely pulled a long face.
By 1968, after winter break ended, the military dependents’ school began a new semester, and Song Zhaodi officially became a teacher. By then, their youngest child had learned to walk and call his father but had yet to call for his mother.
Previously, Zhong Jianguo had told her that other teachers would help care for their child during her classes. She had thought he was joking. However, when she arrived at school with the child in her arms, several teachers immediately offered to look after him before she even had to ask.
Song Zhaodi couldn’t help but sigh. Despite the chaos of this era and the presence of truly bad people, there were still many kind-hearted souls.
The new semester brought a fresh start. Song Zhaodi, full of energy, carried her equally excited child to school, only to find a heavy atmosphere looming over the place.
There was no one in the office. When she asked a student, she learned that all the teachers were in the principal’s office.
Knocking and stepping inside, she saw a group of people looking as if the sky had just collapsed.
During the winter break, Zhong Jianguo had been away, and Song Zhaodi had been too busy with the children to pay attention to outside news. She lowered her voice and asked the principal, “What happened?”
“The higher-ups issued a directive to cleanse the school of undesirable influences,” the principal sighed.
Song Zhaodi frowned. “And?”
“Regiment Commander Qian is divorcing Teacher Yao,” the principal said, shocking Song Zhaodi.
She widened her eyes in disbelief. “Teacher Yao? The one who teaches junior high math with me? The one who often helps me with my child and even made him a pair of cotton shoes?”
“Yes,” the principal nodded.
Song Zhaodi couldn’t understand. “Why? She told me she and Commander Qian were revolutionary comrades. They’ve been married for 20 years. Their child will be getting married in two years!”
“Teacher Yao was born into a capitalist family,” the principal explained. “Commander Qian wants to cut ties with her. Once they’re divorced, it will solidify her status as one of the ‘Black Seven’ categories1 of enemies.”
“If she can’t teach here anymore and has to leave Wengzhou Island, how will she survive in this chaotic world as a woman in her forties?”
Song Zhaodi took a deep breath. “Jianguo didn’t mention this to me. Has the divorce been finalised?”
“Political Commissar Lu hasn’t approved Commander Qian’s request yet,” the principal replied. “Two days ago, he even asked me about Teacher Yao’s situation. If I were to declare that she’s problematic just because of her background, then you, Teacher Song, would be the only one in this entire school who’s ‘clean.’”
Song Zhaodi pointed at herself in disbelief. “Me? No problem?”
“The thing is, my family used to be rich farmers,” the principal said. “These teachers here either come from wealthy farming backgrounds or have connections with capitalists. If an investigation really happens, you’re the only one whose ancestors were all poor farmers.”
Song Zhaodi frowned. “What does my ancestry have to do with any of you?”
“Bad background,” the principal replied. “People like that shouldn’t be teaching students.”
Song Zhaodi had been prepared for this but hadn’t expected such a thorough investigation. “So, from what you’re saying, no one has come to check yet?”
“Teacher Yao is already getting divorced. It’s only a matter of time,” one of the Chinese language teachers commented.
Song Zhaodi waved a hand dismissively. “Not necessarily. I heard that the higher-ups don’t allow local authorities to interfere with military affairs. Since our school is a school for military children, the local Revolutionary Committee probably won’t dare to investigate. As long as they don’t step in and the military doesn’t interfere, everyone should be fine.”
“Then why is Commander Qian divorcing Teacher Yao?” a young teacher asked.
Song Zhaodi let out a scoff. “Because he’s afraid she’ll hinder his chances of promotion.”
“That—” The principal was caught off guard. “Xiao Song, you can’t just say things like that.”
Song Zhaodi asked, “Has anyone at the school reported Teacher Yao as a problem to the military?”
“No!” the principal said. “We’d rather no one bring up anyone’s background at all.”
Song Zhaodi continued, “If Commissioner Lu came to ask you about Teacher Yao, that means the military didn’t see her as a problem in the first place. That means all of this was orchestrated by Commander Qian himself.
“For a man to abandon his wife like this—other than for career and financial gain, I can’t think of any other reason.” She paused before adding, “Well, one more possibility: he’s taken a liking to someone else and is using this as an excuse to get rid of his first wife.”
“Comrade Song makes a good point.” The principal thought for a moment. “But if we want to protect Teacher Yao, we don’t have any evidence that Commander Qian is acting dishonourably.”
Song Zhaodi replied, “That’s easy to take care of.”
- The Black Seven Categories was an expanded version of the Black Five Categories which included landlords, rich peasants, counterrevolutionaries, bad elements, rightists as well as two additional groups: traitors and spies. ↩︎
Leave a Reply