Chen dasao, Lin Zhong’s mother, chuckled, “That’s exactly what I asked her. She told me to go and see for myself. If you don’t want to go, I’ll go alone.”
“Let’s go!” Song Zhaodi replied. Even if she wasn’t interested in second-hand clothes of unknown origin, she had to at least check it out since the woman had come all this way to inform her. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. “Wait a moment, I need to put the steamed buns in the cabinet. There are mice around.”
Chen dasao suggested, “Do you want to get a cat?”
“No need,” Song Zhaodi said. “Once the weather gets warmer, I’ll buy two goose eggs. Raising geese will do the trick—once they start honking, even cats won’t dare to come near, let alone mice.”
Chen dasao had heard that geese were good guard animals. Since Song Zhaodi had her own plans, she didn’t mention that she knew someone who had cats.
After locking her door, Song Zhaodi picked up her youngest child, Sanwa, who was nestled in the crib. When she stepped outside, she spotted Duan dasao and her daughter, Liu Ping, heading south. A thought struck her, and she asked, “Are Aunt Liu and Liu Ping also going to find second-hand clothes?”
“Possibly,” Chen dasao replied, then hesitated for a moment. “Why didn’t she tell you?”
It was probably because Liu Ping had been talking nonsense in front of her mother. Song Zhaodi explained, “Aunt Liu knew I was steaming buns, so she probably thought I wouldn’t be done yet. Besides, I still haven’t made clothes from the fabric I bought last time. She might’ve assumed I didn’t need any.” She didn’t add that the only person who knew about Teacher Yao giving her half a sack of old clothes was Aunt Liu.
Chen dasao, who was close to Duan dasao, knew she was a decent person, so she didn’t overthink it. Instead, she called out loudly, “Duan dasao, wait for us!”
Duan dasao turned around and glared at Liu Ping. “Didn’t you say your sister-in-law wasn’t coming?”
“She said she had to steam buns! How was I supposed to know she’d finish so quickly?” Liu Ping muttered under her breath but still stopped to wait for Song Zhaodi.
When Song Zhaodi approached, Duan dasao reached out her arms. “Sanwa, come let Grandma hold you.”
But little Zhong Sanwa clung to Song Zhaodi’s neck.
Duan dasao coaxed, “Grandma has candy.”
Even with the temptation of candy, Sanwa wasn’t interested. He had just finished drinking milk and was full—he didn’t want anything else. Resting his head on Song Zhaodi’s shoulder, he tilted his head to look at Duan dasao as if saying, No way, I’m not letting you hold me.
Song Zhaodi patted his bottom. “Such a little rascal.” She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Liu Ping looked guilty, so she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she casually asked, “Auntie, are you heading to the supply and marketing cooperative to exchange clothes?”
“We’re just going to take a look,” Duan dasao said, but before she could continue—
Liu Ping tugged at her mother. “Mom, let’s hurry up! If we’re late, all the good clothes will be taken.”
Duan dasao quickly agreed, “Yes, yes, let’s walk faster.”
Song Zhaodi smirked slightly. This girl sure likes Zhong Jianguo.
Upon arriving at the supply and marketing cooperative, a woman working there called over a young boy and instructed him, “Take them to your aunt’s house.”
The boy responded quickly and ran ahead.
Seeing this, Sanwa wriggled to get down.
Since Song Zhaodi wasn’t in a hurry to accept clothes from strangers, she let him walk on his own.
Liu Ping, on the other hand, was anxious. But since she was feeling guilty, she didn’t dare to bring up the topic herself, afraid that her mother would scold her and that Song Zhaodi would chime in, exposing the fact that she hadn’t actually invited her.
Chen dasao, a thrifty woman, wasn’t in dire need of clothing. Her children’s clothes weren’t fancy, but they were sufficient. She only wanted to repurpose some old clothes into slippers, so she wasn’t in a rush either.
Watching Sanwa toddling along steadily without tripping, Chen dasao couldn’t help but laugh. “This kid walks pretty well.”
“Two days ago, I wasn’t feeling well, so I didn’t want to carry him. Dawa held his hand and walked him home from school,” Song Zhaodi explained.
Just as she finished speaking, the boy leading them tripped and fell with a loud “thud.”
Everyone was startled and rushed to help him, but they quickly noticed that he was lying on the ground, looking back at them.
Song Zhaodi called out, “Get up by yourself. Sanwa, get up!”
Sanwa stared at her as if saying, What? I don’t understand.
Song Zhaodi walked over and extended a hand. The child pouted but grabbed her hand, pushing himself up with his other hand.
“Do you want me to carry you?” Song Zhaodi offered, though she didn’t bend down.
Sanwa looked at the older kids ahead, then shook his mother’s hand off and wobbled forward on his own.
Chen dasao was surprised. “He didn’t cry?”
“Sanwa rarely cries,” Duan dasao commented. “I’ve hardly ever heard him cry. Xiao Song takes good care of him.”
Song Zhaodi smiled. “Oh, he cries sometimes. But when I’m busy and don’t pick him up, he realises crying is useless and stops. If I put him in the crib, he understands I have work to do and won’t be able to play with him. So he plays by himself until he’s tired and falls asleep.”
“All of Xiao Zhong’s kids are smart, just like him,” Duan dasao remarked. “They’ll probably grow tall like him too. Look at Sanwa’s legs—he’s just over a year old but already as tall as some two-year-olds.”
Chen dasao nodded. “Dawa and Erwa often visit my house to play with Lin Zhong. One time, I asked Lin Zhong, ‘You and Dawa have a big age gap. Can you really play together?’ Guess what Lin Zhong said? ‘Dawa knows everything, he’s so fun to be around.’”
“He’s just a little schemer,” Song Zhaodi said with a laugh. “When his father scolds him, he immediately turns around and scolds Erwa in the same way. Now, Erwa watches his expressions before making a move.”
Chen dasao was about to say something when she noticed Sanwa had fallen again. “Xiao Song, the road is full of rocks. You should carry him.”
“He’s wearing thick clothes, and his hands aren’t exposed, so he won’t get hurt,” Song Zhaodi said. “If boys are raised too delicately, they’ll turn into weaklings. Look, he got up by himself again.”
Sure enough, Sanwa picked himself up and ran ahead.
After he fell a third time, Song Zhaodi decided he had tumbled enough for one day. She picked him up and carried him the rest of the way.
They walked for another ten minutes before reaching their destination.
As soon as she stepped into the courtyard, Song Zhaodi froze. “Dawa, Erwa, why are you two here?”
“Mom?” Zhong Dawa ran over.
Erwa looked up and asked, “Mom, are you here to buy clothes?”
Song Zhaodi frowned. “Who did you come with?”
“With me.” A woman walked out of the house. “Zhenxing was coming with me, and Dawa and Erwa followed along.”
Song Zhaodi looked over—it was Ma Zhenxing’s mother, Zhou Shufen, who was holding a red-and-white checkered dress in her hands. “You’re here to pick out clothes too?”
“Yes,” Zhou Shufen replied. “You should take a look as well—there are plenty to choose from.”
Song Zhaodi turned to Sanwa. “Dawa, Erwa, take Sanwa outside to play. Don’t cause trouble in someone else’s yard.”
“It’s fine,” a woman in her thirties, standing behind Zhou Shufen, said. She had an average appearance and a similar build to Duan dasao. “There’s nothing in the yard.”
Song Zhaodi smiled and shot Dawa a look. Dawa quickly took Sanwa’s hand and led him outside.
The woman didn’t notice the exchange, only thinking that the Zhong family’s children were well-behaved. She then invited Song Zhaodi and the others inside.
Chen dasao stood beside Song Zhaodi and happened to catch the look she gave Dawa. She frowned slightly—what did Teacher Xiao Song mean by that?
As soon as Dawa and Erwa left, the two children from the Ma family, who had been hiding inside, ran out.
Chen dasao frowned at the sight of her son. “Weren’t you supposed to be at home doing your homework? What are you doing here?”
“I’m done,” Lin Zhong replied. Afraid his mother would press him further, he immediately ran outside.
Chen dasao wanted to understand why Song Zhaodi had sent Dawa and Erwa away, but with other matters on her mind, she didn’t chase after her son. Instead, she followed Song Zhaodi into the house, keeping an eye on her expression.
As soon as Song Zhaodi saw the clothes laid out on the large table, she grinned.
Chen dasao noticed that despite her smile, there wasn’t a hint of joy in her eyes. She lowered her voice and asked, “Xiao Song, these clothes seem pretty nice, don’t they?”
“They are,” Song Zhaodi replied, picking up a suit jacket. When she spotted an oil stain on it, her brow twitched. Did she guess right? Could it really be such a coincidence? “This is—”
“It looks like paint,” Zhou Shufen interjected.
Song Zhaodi brought the fabric close to her nose and sniffed. Her body went rigid. Duan dasao, who stood beside her, immediately noticed and asked, “Xiao Song, what’s wrong?”
“These clothes are really good,” Song Zhaodi said. “My mother told me that back when the country was first founded, there was a store in Binhai that specialised in making suits and qipao. A single jacket like this would have cost dozens of yuan.”
“As expected of a university graduate,” the woman selling the clothes flattered her.
Song Zhaodi smiled. “I’ve just read a few more books than others. Are all these clothes one piece for a jin of ration tickets?”
“Yes, yes,” the seller nodded quickly. Among all the married couples under forty on Wengzhou Island, Zhong Jianguo and Song Zhaodi had the highest salaries. But with three young children, their family of five consumed more than the typical family of three. The woman knew that Song Zhaodi was never short on ration tickets, so she immediately regarded her as a valuable customer. “There are plenty here—take your time picking.”
Song Zhaodi put down the suit jacket and specifically chose the best styles and fabrics.
Liu Ping nudged her mother. “You should pick some too—if you wait too long, Song Zhaodi will take all the good ones.”
Duan dasao smacked her daughter’s hand.
The woman selling the clothes noticed Liu Ping’s small movements and hesitated. “Duan dasao, you should take a look too.”
There was only one grocery store on Wengzhou Island, where the fishermen and military families all had to shop. Over time, everyone became familiar with each other.
Duan dasao didn’t bother asking how the seller knew she was Commander Liu’s wife. She simply smiled and said, “No rush—I’ll pick after Xiao Song.”
The seller was even more puzzled.
Chen dasao chimed in, “You guys can be polite, but I won’t hold back.” She walked up to Song Zhaodi. “Xiao Song, you’re a university graduate—you’ve seen a lot and have good taste. Help me pick a few for Lin Zhong.”
“I don’t think there’s anything here that would fit Lin Zhong,” Song Zhaodi said, turning to the seller. “Do you have anything else?”
The woman hesitated, glancing between Song Zhaodi and the hopeful Chen dasao. She gritted her teeth and said, “Wait here.” Then she went into a side room.
Chen dasao quickly grabbed Song Zhaodi’s arm and whispered anxiously, “What’s going on, Xiao Song?”
Song Zhaodi pulled out a white shirt with a pearl-embellished collar that she had just stuffed to the bottom. “Real pearls—and it only costs one jin of ration tickets. Saozi, do you think she’s stupid?”
Everyone was stunned. Zhou Shufen instinctively dropped the checkered dress she was holding onto the table.
Duan dasao’s heart skipped a beat. She shot Liu Ping a glare before asking, “Xiao Song, should we—?”
“Buy!” Song Zhaodi declared. “One piece per person.”
As soon as she spoke, the woman returned, carrying a half-filled bag. She dumped the contents onto the table. Zhou Shufen instinctively reached out but hesitated, recalling Song Zhaodi’s words. Her hand froze mid-air.
Chen dasao, quick-witted, was afraid the woman would sense something amiss. She laughed and asked, “Is this everything?” Without waiting for an answer, she added, “I have to pick carefully for Lin Zhong. He’s a growing boy—starting to care about his looks and refusing to wear patched-up clothes.”
“Then pick a few more,” the seller said casually.
Song Zhaodi picked up the suit jacket she had set aside earlier. “I’ll take this one. It should fit Old Zhong.” She then turned to Aunt Liu. “This white shirt with the glass beads is nice—how about getting it for Liu Ping?” Though her tone was polite, her expression left no room for refusal.
Duan dasao knew that Song Zhaodi wouldn’t harm her. Since her family wasn’t lacking in ration tickets, she handed them over without hesitation.
Seeing both Chen dasao and Duan dasao take out ration tickets, Zhou Shufen, though reluctant to buy clothes, still picked up the checkered dress and handed a ticket to the seller. She then asked Song Zhaodi, “I need to go home and wash vegetables. Are you all heading back?”
“Yes,” Song Zhaodi replied. “Our clothes are hanging outside—I need to bring them in before they get damp.”
Chen dasao added, “Let’s go.”
The seller wanted to persuade them to buy more.
But Song Zhaodi spoke first, “Saozi, if Old Zhong likes this suit, I’ll come back tomorrow to buy more.”
The seller was stunned. Seeing Song Zhaodi’s beaming smile, she quickly agreed.
Chen dasao tugged at Song Zhaodi and urged, “Let’s hurry back. I still need to knead dough and roll noodles.”
“Alright, we’re leaving.” Song Zhaodi put on a reluctant expression, but the moment she turned away, her smile vanished.
Zhou Shufen and Liu Ping widened their eyes, surprised at how effortlessly Song Zhaodi switched expressions.
As they walked a hundred metres away from the seller’s house, Song Zhaodi adjusted her grip on the clothes. Sanwa reached for her, wanting to be carried, but she said, “Lin Zhong, help me carry Sanwa.”
“Okay.” Lin Zhong, twelve years old and fairly tall, had no trouble carrying the toddler for a while.
Unable to hold back anymore, Chen dasao asked, “Xiao Song, what’s going on?”
Song Zhaodi unfolded the suit and pointed to the oil stain. “This is gasoline. You all know what gasoline is, right? It’s fuel for cars. The leaders who ride in cars all wear Zhongshan suits now—none of them wear Western suits. Don’t you think the origin of this jacket is a little suspicious?”
“Foreigner’s trash?” Chen dasao asked. “I’ve heard Old Liu mention it before. Is that what this is?”
Song Zhaodi shook her head. “Ever since the East Sea Fleet was transferred here, the waters around Wengzhou Island have been tightly controlled. The patrol boats are out every few days, so foreign junk can’t get in.”
“Maybe it came from somewhere else, like Shencheng?” Duan dasao suggested.
Song Zhaodi asked, “Then how did she manage to get it past inspection and bring it here?”
“She could have brought in a little at a time, not too much at once,” Duan dasao replied.
Song Zhaodi handed the suit over to her. “I can still smell something fishy. It could be the scent of earth, or it might be the smell of blood.”
“You—Xiao Song—” Duan dasao’s hand trembled, and the suit fell to the ground. “You don’t mean—?”
Song Zhaodi said, “Our country has been advocating cremation for over a decade now, but there are still many who choose burial. So, I can’t be certain whether these clothes came from a crematorium or if they were dug out of a coffin. Either way, they were taken off a dead person.”
“Oh my god!” Zhou Shufen’s eyes widened in shock. “And you still want us to buy them?”
Song Zhaodi chuckled. “What else are we supposed to do? Throw them back? If we don’t take them home, we can leave them at the roadside. I’ll go buy some joss paper, and we can burn these clothes to return them to their original owners. That way, we can leave in peace. Otherwise, if we send them back, whatever’s attached to them might follow us.”
“You’re right, Xiao Song is very thoughtful,” Chen dasao agreed, even though she didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits. “Better safe than sorry. Even if we didn’t buy any clothes and left empty-handed, we could still have picked up something unclean.”
Song Zhaodi looked at Duan dasao.
Duan dasao had no objections. “I’ll listen to Xiao Song. When this girl first told me about it, I already thought it was too good to be true, but she insisted on bringing me here.” She tapped Liu Ping’s forehead.
Liu Ping backed away. “Mom, your hand touched the clothes.”
“Now you’re scared?” Duan dasao scolded. “Why didn’t you think of that earlier? Stop being greedy for small gains, or one day, you won’t even know how you ended up dead.”
Chen dasao tried to smooth things over. “Alright, don’t scold her anymore. Xiao Song, what should we say when we burn the clothes?”
“My family’s Sanwa saw something unclean on them,” Song Zhaodi replied. “The elders in our village say that children can often see things that adults can’t. What do you all think?”
Chen dasao said, “I don’t have a problem with it, but what if Xiao Zhong doesn’t agree with you doing this?”
“It’s fine.” Song Zhaodi picked up the white shirt from Duan dasao’s hands. “Look at this pearl—back in the day, a single one would cost at least fifty cents. There are over ten pearls on this shirt alone, which means just the pearls would be worth three to five yuan.
“I can’t guarantee that woman doesn’t have more shirts like this. If we don’t let the people on the island know there’s something wrong with these clothes, some bargain hunters will still go to her looking for cheap finds.”
Once clothing is linked to the dead, no one would want it, no matter how much gold or silver was on it—unless they were desperate for clothes or valued money over their lives.
Chen dasao understood Song Zhaodi’s reasoning and suddenly thought of something. “Why don’t we report this to the Revolutionary Committee?”
“Yes, let’s go find them,” Duan dasao agreed.
Song Zhaodi shook her head. “Saozi, if the Revolutionary Committee gets involved, that woman’s whole family might end up imprisoned. And if they find out she was engaging in profiteering, she could lose her life. I don’t want that.
“If we burn the clothes and spread the word, that woman, if she’s smart, will destroy the rest herself. Even if someone reports her to the committee, they won’t be able to find anything, so they can’t do anything to her. But if she values money over her life and doesn’t get rid of the clothes, then it’s her own fault if she gets caught. We’ve given her a chance.”
“In that case, let’s burn them right here at the roadside,” Duan dasao said. “That way, she’ll find out as soon as possible.”
Song Zhaodi nodded. “I’ll go buy the joss paper from the supply and marketing cooperative.”
“I’ll go,” Chen dasao volunteered. “If you hadn’t come along, I probably would’ve bought ten or even eight pieces to take home.”
Song Zhaodi didn’t argue with her. “Auntie, let’s walk a little further ahead. Dawa, Erwa, you two go back with Lin Zhong first.”
“If Dad asks where you went, what should I say?” Dawa quickly asked.
Song Zhaodi glanced at the setting sun. “Tell him you’re hungry and ask him to cook.”
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