Zhong Jianguo was momentarily speechless before stubbornly saying, “Fine, I’ll just sleep on the bench again. It’s been a week anyway, what’s another day or two?”
“Dad is a coward!” Erwa made a face at Zhong Jianguo.
Zhong Jianguo raised his hand and smacked the back of Erwa’s head. “Stay out of this! This is between your mother and me.” Then, turning to Song Zhaodi, he asked, “Teacher Song, can I at least stay one more night?”
Song Zhaodi shook her head and held up three fingers. “Three months.”
Zhong Jianguo’s face changed instantly. He was about to protest but noticed the serious expression on Song Zhaodi’s face—she wasn’t joking. Disbelieving, he asked, “Over a few pieces of clothing?”
“This time, it was Chen dasao and Zhou Shufen. Tomorrow, Aunt Liu might bring some fabric, and the day after that, the wife of your commander might come with more. Then in a few days, maybe Secretary Lu’s or Commissioner Zhang’s wives will come asking me to make clothes too. Should I agree or refuse?” Song Zhaodi asked. “And what about when Chen dasao wants clothes for Lin Zhong? Should I cut the fabric for her or not?”
Zhong Jianguo choked on his words, suddenly feeling guilty. “It won’t be that bad, will it?”
“What do you think?” Song Zhaodi countered.
Zhong Jianguo knew better than to argue when Song Zhaodi was like this. “I think… it’s possible.”
“And?” Song Zhaodi pressed.
Zhong Jianguo cleared his throat. “Three months on the bench.”
“Mom, are you mad?” Dawa asked timidly.
Song Zhaodi said, “Let your dad explain it to you.”
Zhong Jianguo sat down and waved the kids over. Glancing at Song Zhaodi, he saw that she was calmly stitching a shoe sole, completely ignoring him. Resigned, he picked up Sanwa and began explaining, “Your mother has to take care of Sanwa every day, cook, and sometimes even sew or patch up your clothes. It’s a lot of work.
“So from now on, if anyone brings fabric to our house, just tell them your mother is too busy. If people ask you outside whether she has time, you should say she’s very busy.”
“But you told Lin Zhong to bring fabric home,” Dawa retorted.
Zhong Jianguo froze, instinctively glancing at Song Zhaodi. Seeing her still focused on stitching, he cleared his throat. “I didn’t think it through. I was wrong. That’s why your mother is punishing me by making me sleep on the chair.”
“I—I promised Ma Zhenxing that Mom would make him clothes. Was I wrong too?” Dawa blinked, testing the waters. “Do I have to sleep on the bench too, Dad?”
Zhong Jianguo ruffled his hair. “I’ll take the punishment for you. But there won’t be a next time.”
“No next time,” Dawa nodded. He glanced at Zhong Jianguo, then at Song Zhaodi, hesitated for a moment, and finally walked up to her, whispering, “Mom, I was wrong.”
Song Zhaodi paused her stitching for a second before saying, “Since it’s your first offence, I’ll forgive you.”
“Thank you, Mom!” Dawa cheered. “What’s for dinner?”
Song Zhaodi looked up and smiled. “Your dad said he’s cooking tonight.”
“Yes, I’ll cook. Whatever you want, just say it,” Zhong Jianguo said quickly, cutting off the kids before they could speak. “Your mom is tired from making clothes. She should rest.”
Dawa turned to Song Zhaodi. “Mom…”
“I need to make shoes for you,” Song Zhaodi replied. “If I hadn’t been making clothes for others, I would’ve finished them already.”
Dawa swallowed his words, pursed his lips, then turned to Zhong Jianguo. “Dad… just cook whatever you know how to make.”
Zhong Jianguo suddenly felt suffocated. “…Is my cooking really that bad?”
“Yes,” Erwa answered immediately.
Zhong Jianguo felt a pang of frustration.
Serves you right! Song Zhaodi thought smugly. Then she said, “I’m not very hungry, so don’t make anything for me. I’ll just eat some vegetables.”
Zhong Jianguo’s frustration disappeared, replaced by concern. “If you’re mad at me, you don’t have to take it out on yourself.”
“I’m not,” Song Zhaodi replied. “I just don’t have an appetite.”
Zhong Jianguo hesitated, then told Erwa, “Watch Sanwa. I’ll go pick some vegetables.”
“Dad, just get lettuce,” Dawa said, clearly doubting Zhong Jianguo’s cooking skills. Rather than letting him experiment, it was safer to stick to something simple.
Zhong Jianguo understood immediately and sighed. His son had lost all faith in his cooking. Feeling even more regretful about causing trouble for Song Zhaodi, he left to fetch vegetables.
That night, on Wengzhou Island, the temperature hovered around 13 to 14 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t cold enough to need thick blankets, so Zhong Jianguo didn’t worry about catching a chill as he lay on the long wooden bench.
The Zhong family’s bench was made of wooden slats with large gaps between them. Even with a thin blanket, the pressure points from the gaps left deep red marks all over Zhong Jianguo’s arms, legs, and back when he woke up.
Though the weather was warm, Zhong Jianguo wore long-sleeved shirts and pants during the day to hide the marks from his comrades.
The next morning, he stared at the tightly shut bedroom door, debating whether he really had to sleep on the bench for three months. After a moment of thought, he put on a short-sleeved shirt and ran off to the military camp.
When Song Zhaodi woke up and didn’t see him, she assumed he was still mad and had gone to the mess hall for breakfast instead of eating at home.
At the base, Zhong Jianguo did, in fact, head straight for the mess hall.
An officer on duty the previous night spotted him and asked in surprise, “Commander Zhong, didn’t go home last night?”
“I did,” Zhong Jianguo replied. “But my family hasn’t started making breakfast yet. I have urgent matters later, so I figured I’d eat here first.”
At a nearby table, Ma Zhonghua glanced at Zhong Jianguo as he lined up for food and whispered to the political commissar next to him, “Don’t you think Zhong Jianguo is acting weird?”
The commissar looked over. “Not really. Commander Zhong used to eat in the mess hall often. It’s normal.”
“That was when his first wife was still alive. Back then, he came here all the time and even took food home sometimes,” Ma Zhonghua murmured. “But ever since he married this one, he hardly ever comes here anymore.
“My son Zhenxing says Teacher Song’s cooking is amazing. Yet, Commander Zhong is choosing cafeteria food over home-cooked meals? Does that sound normal to you?”
The other party smiled. When Zhong Jianguo returned with his meal, he called out, “Over here, Regiment Commander Zhong.” Then, in a low voice, he added, “If you want to know something, ask yourself. I’m not going to do it for you.”
Ma Zhonghua swallowed his food and, once Zhong Jianguo sat down, asked, “Regiment Commander Zhong, why is your family eating so late today?”
“We never eat early,” Zhong Jianguo glanced at him, his mood indifferent and his expression calm.
Ma Zhonghua checked his watch—7:40. Normally, by this time, the Zhong family would have already finished breakfast. After all, the children had to attend school, and Song Zhaodi had classes to teach as well. “Regiment Commander Zhong, did you have a fight with Teacher Xiao Song?”
“Can’t you just eat without running your mouth?” Zhong Jianguo glared at him, pretending to be angry, and picked up his meal to leave.
Instinctively, Ma Zhonghua reached out to stop him. “Just joking—hey, wait—Regiment Commander Zhong, what’s that on your arm?”
Zhong Jianguo’s heart tightened, but he remained calm. “Nothing.”
“Sit down, sit down.” Ma Zhonghua pressed him back into his seat, not letting him escape.
The year Zhong Jianguo enlisted was the same year Ma Zhonghua was promoted to officer. Their ranks had been identical, though Ma Zhonghua had already served for nearly seven years by then. That made him particularly resentful—why should this new recruit be on the same level as him right from the start?
Before the military ranks were abolished, the two had held equal ranks. But the following year, Zhong Jianguo became a regiment commander, earning a higher salary than him. Ma Zhonghua wasn’t happy about it.
Of course, the appointment of a regiment commander was decided by senior military officials, so even if he was dissatisfied, he wouldn’t dare to make a fuss. Still, he secretly hoped for Zhong Jianguo’s misfortune—maybe the regiment commander would be dismissed, and he could take over.
But Zhong Jianguo was a man of routine, moving strictly between the training grounds and the family compound, conducting himself properly, making no small mistakes, and certainly no big ones. Occasionally, he even earned merits.
That frustrated Ma Zhonghua to no end. He felt like heaven was unfairly biased.
When Bai Hua was killed on the street, leaving behind three children, Ma Zhonghua secretly rejoiced for days. Later, when he saw Zhong Jianguo bringing Song Zhaodi back, he sneered at the dark-skinned, plain-looking woman—serves you right!
But when news spread that Song Zhaodi was a university graduate, Ma Zhonghua could no longer laugh.
And when he found out she was teaching high school English, his jealousy flared up again.
His son, Ma Zhenxing, played with Zhong Dawa, and while he never stopped them, every time Ma Zhenxing came home, he would interrogate him about the Zhong family’s affairs.
However, Zhong Dawa rarely brought friends home and hardly ever talked about his family. Even when playing with Ma Zhenxing, he was too focused on having fun to share anything useful. The only information Ma Zhenxing could offer was what delicious meals the Zhong family had been eating—nothing more.
Unwilling to accept this, Ma Zhonghua kept a close eye on Zhong Jianguo, eager to see him stumble. And today, he had finally found an opportunity. To prevent Zhong Jianguo from slipping away, he hooked an arm around his shoulder, making it look as if they were close friends from behind. “Did you sleep on a bench all night?”
“No.” Zhong Jianguo shot him a look. This Old Ma had been a regiment commander for years, yet he still enjoyed stirring up trouble.
Ma Zhonghua pulled at his shirt, revealing more severe marks on his back, as if he had been beaten with a wooden plank. “Regiment Commander Zhong, you call this ‘nothing’?”
Zhong Jianguo pried his hand away, tucked his shirt back into his pants, and frowned. “Old Ma, what are you doing?”
“Regiment Commander Zhong, did you really have a fight with Teacher Song?” The political officer beside them also couldn’t help asking after seeing the marks on his back. “What was it about? Should I have my wife talk to her?”
Zhong Jianguo’s expression turned cold. “No need. If Old Ma’s wife stopped going to my house so often, everything would be fine.”
“What does my wife have to do with this?” Ma Zhonghua quickly grabbed him again as he tried to leave. “Zhong Jianguo, you have to explain yourself today.”
Zhong Jianguo put down his chopsticks. “You want me to explain? Fine, let’s make things clear. My wife not only has to take care of the kids, do the laundry, and cook every day, but she also has to teach. Yesterday, when the youngest was fussy, she barely had time to eat. Your wife, meanwhile, brought over fabric and asked her to make clothes for your two kids.
“She got so busy sewing clothes for your children that she forgot to prepare her lesson. It was past ten at night when she finally sat down to plan her class. Then the youngest woke up and wanted her to play with him. Frustrated, she kicked me out to sleep on the long bench. Now tell me, does your wife have anything to do with this or not?”
Ma Zhonghua opened his mouth but hesitated. “Well… forgetting to prepare lessons is a big deal. If Teacher Song forgot, that’s her own problem. Why blame my wife? Zhong Jianguo, you’re being unreasonable.”
“Old Ma, you’re the one being unreasonable.”
Ma Zhonghua stiffened and turned around, only to see their division commander. He immediately stood up straight. “Commander Liu? Didn’t your family cook this morning either?”
“I was out at a meeting with the commander yesterday afternoon and rushed back overnight,” Commander Liu replied. “I haven’t even had a sip of water since yesterday.”
Zhong Jianguo quickly pulled up a chair. “Commander, please sit.”
“Old Ma, I have to criticise you.” Commander Liu had always thought Zhong Jianguo was incredibly fortunate to have married Song Zhaodi. Seeing the Zhong children well-fed and neatly dressed every day, he often told his wife that if their future daughter-in-law were even half as virtuous as Song Zhaodi, he’d be satisfied.
He couldn’t stand seeing Zhong Jianguo mistreat Song Zhaodi, let alone hearing others badmouth her. “Speaking about Comrade Song Zhaodi like that—it’s heartless. Old Ma, even if she did forget to prepare her lesson, that’s her own responsibility. But if she weren’t making clothes for your kids, I doubt she would have forgotten.”
Ma Zhonghua nodded quickly. “Commander, you’re right. I didn’t think of that. I—I’ll make sure to apologise to Teacher Song the next time I see her.”
Commander Liu gave him a deep look. “No need for that. Xiao Song is a generous person—she won’t hold it against you. I’m criticising you because you’re a regiment commander, a role model for the soldiers. You should lead by example.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Ma Zhonghua nodded repeatedly. “I’ll reflect on this deeply.”
Zhong Jianguo decided the matter had been settled. He cleared his throat lightly. “Commander, let’s eat.”
Commander Liu’s public rebuke of Ma Zhonghua spread throughout the training grounds before noon.
That evening, when Regiment Commander Lin returned home and chatted with his family, he couldn’t help but bring up the incident—especially about how ungrateful Ma Zhonghua had been. He emphasised that their family should never behave like him.
The next afternoon, while the two eldest children were at school and the youngest was napping, Song Zhaodi, having some free time, harvested all the chives and planned to make chive dumplings.
When Chen dasao came home from work and saw Zhong Dawa playing in the courtyard with his younger brother, she called out, “Dawa, where’s your mom?”
“She’s making dumplings.” Zhong Dawa pointed to the house. “Mom, Auntie Lin is looking for you! Come out quickly!”
Chen dasao hurried over.
Song Zhaodi stepped out of the house, her hands covered in flour. Seeing Chen dasao at the doorstep, she didn’t even bother washing her hands before greeting her. “Chen dasao, what’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing,” Chen dasao said. “My Old Lin mentioned that you forgot to prepare your lesson plans because you were busy making clothes for the Ma family’s kids. It made me realise how busy you usually are, and I shouldn’t have asked you to make clothes for Lin Zhong. I just wanted to say thank you.”
Song Zhaodi was stunned for a moment. Damn Zhong Jianguo—he actually learned to make up lies now? “You don’t ask me to make clothes for Lin Zhong all the time. It was just one time, so don’t worry about it. That day, I just had too many things going on, and Sanwa was fussing too. I was busy calming him down and forgot about my lesson plans. It wasn’t entirely because of making clothes.”
“If the Ma family hadn’t asked you to make clothes, you wouldn’t have forgotten,” Chen dasao said.
Song Zhaodi smiled. “Now that everyone knows about this, Ma Zhenxing’s mother will probably be too embarrassed to ask me again. Besides, the clothes are simple—if she observes more carefully, she can make them herself. There’s no need to ask me. Saozi, I have dumplings waiting in the pot, so I won’t chat any longer.”
“You go ahead, you go ahead,” Chen dasao waved her hand.
Zhong Dawa glanced at Chen dasao’s retreating figure, then at his mother. Holding Sanwa’s hand, he said, “Let’s go back inside.” Once inside, he immediately asked, “Mom, what did Lin Zhong’s mom mean?”
Song Zhaodi snorted. “Who knows what she was trying to say?”
“Dawa, Erwa, is anyone home?”
Song Zhaodi rolled her eyes. “Speak of the devil.”
“It’s Ma Zhenxing’s mom!” Dawa quickly said. “Mom, should I tell her you’re not home?”
Song Zhaodi replied, “Our door is wide open. Clearly, someone’s home.” As she walked out, she called, “I’m here. Come on in.”
Zhou Shufen entered, carrying a basket. When she saw Song Zhaodi, she gave a sheepish smile. “My husband said you forgot your lesson plans while making clothes for the kids. Teacher Song, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Song Zhaodi sighed. “Zhong Jianguo and his big mouth—how did such a small matter end up spreading everywhere?”
Zhou Shufen’s face showed a trace of discomfort. “My husband forced Commander Zhong to tell him. Oh, right—our cucumbers are ripe. Zhenxing said Dawa and Erwa love eating them, so I picked a few for you.” She handed the basket to Song Zhaodi.
Song Zhaodi glanced inside and was surprised to see seven or eight large cucumbers. “Why so many? When did you plant them?”
“I started them in pots first, then transplanted them to the yard once it got warmer,” Zhou Shufen explained.
Song Zhaodi nodded. “Let me put them inside. Wait a moment.”
She placed the cucumbers in the kitchen, thought for a moment, then scooped out a full bowl of freshly steamed dumplings from the pot and placed them in the basket.
Zhou Shufen was startled. “Teacher Song, what are you doing? I can’t accept this.”
“They’re for the kids, not for you,” Song Zhaodi said. “I made too many today.”
Zhou Shufen sighed. “If I’d known you’d be this generous, I wouldn’t have brought you cucumbers. What kind of situation is this—coming over and taking your food instead?” But thinking about how her children loved Song Zhaodi’s cooking, she didn’t refuse. “Thank you, Teacher Song.”
“Mom, I think Ma Zhenxing’s mom is really nice,” Zhong Dawa said after watching Zhou Shufen leave. He made a point to tell his mother.
Song Zhaodi looked at the fresh, juicy cucumbers and smiled. “She is pretty nice. Later, I’ll make you something earth-shattering.”
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