Gengsheng suddenly asked, “Big Brother Dawa, aren’t you eating?”
Zhong Dawa choked. “Of course I’m eating. But I’m the one sneaking out to get the pork cracklings, not you guys. You just sit here and wait to eat, and now you’re ratting me out? What kind of little brothers are you?”
“I’m not your little brother,” Zili said. “I’m older than you.”
Zhong Dawa choked again. “Fine, you’re the eldest, you’re the big brother. Then you go.”
“You’re the one who wants to eat,” Zili reminded him.
Zhong Dawa huffed, “Like you don’t want to eat, too.”
“Auntie would figure it out even if we didn’t say anything,” Zili said. “Dawa, you said yourself—Auntie is really smart.”
Zhong Dawa muttered, “My mom just likes to scare people. She never actually hits anyone.”
“Then if she catches you, just admit you took it,” Zili said.
Zhong Dawa’s breath hitched. “It’s not like I’m eating it all by myself.”
“We’ll admit it too. We ate it as well,” Zili said. Erwa and Gengsheng nodded in agreement.
Little Sanwa, who didn’t quite understand what was going on, looked up at his brothers in confusion. “Gege, what are you talking about?”
“Eating pork cracklings,” Zhong Dawa said, then turned to Zili. “Let’s go together. If my mom catches us, we’ll say the mice ate it.”
“Auntie won’t believe you,” Zili said. “The pork cracklings are in the cupboard—you just said so yourself. Our cupboard is always closed. Mice can’t get in.”
Zhong Dawa put his hands on his hips. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you in or not?”
“If you dare go, I’ll go,” Zili didn’t want to look cowardly in front of Dawa. But back when he was in Shencheng, something went missing in the house he was staying at. Even though he and Gengsheng didn’t take it, the woman of the house still blamed them. He was afraid Song Zhaodi would accuse him of stealing, too. “If Auntie finds out, you can’t say it was just me.”
“Of course not. I’m a man of my word!” Zhong Dawa declared.
“So we go now?” Zili asked.
Zhong Dawa thought for a moment. “Now. I’ll lead, you cover the rear.”
“Alright.” Zili followed him, watching as Zhong Dawa confidently strode toward the kitchen. He couldn’t help but be speechless—how was this kid so self-assured? Once inside the kitchen, Zili glanced back. Seeing Song Zhaodi busy making steamed buns, he breathed a sigh of relief and whispered, “How are we taking it out?”
Zhong Dawa hushed him, “Don’t talk. I’ll pour the cracklings into a bowl, sprinkle some salt on them. Keep watch and make sure my mom doesn’t come in.”
“She’s not coming. I’m watching.” Zili peeked out from the doorframe.
At that moment, Duan dasao looked up and happened to see Zili turning his head. “Is Zili hungry?” she asked.
“Hungry?” Song Zhaodi followed her gaze. “In the kitchen? I just heard footsteps. Did someone just go in?”
Duan dasao, busy rolling out bun dough, had also heard footsteps but hadn’t seen who went in. “Probably.”
“Then it must be Dawa,” Song Zhaodi said with certainty. “Zili and Gengsheng are very well-behaved. They eat whatever is given and don’t make a fuss. It’s not mealtime yet, so they wouldn’t have gone in.”
Duan dasao glanced toward the kitchen and quickly said, “They’re coming out. It’s Dawa and Zili. Dawa’s holding something in his arms.”
Catching Duan dasao’s gaze, Zhong Dawa turned without hesitation and dashed back into the kitchen, pulling Zili with him.
Song Zhaodi turned her head just in time to see Zili stumbling after Dawa into the kitchen. She couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation.
“What are you laughing at?” Duan dasao asked curiously.
“Dawa and Zili are up to no good,” Song Zhaodi replied.
Duan dasao paused her work. “Up to no good? You know what they’re doing in the kitchen?”
“For lunch, we’re making stir-fried vegetables and steamed rice. The last of the rice and vegetables were eaten by Jianguo,” Song Zhaodi said. “Aside from cold, hard steamed buns and lard cracklings, there’s nothing else in the kitchen. Dawa is definitely sneaking some cracklings.”
Duan dasao raised a doubtful brow. “You have fish stew with tofu and bone broth every other day. With such good food, Dawa is still greedy?”
“Kids want to eat everything they see,” Song Zhaodi said. “Besides, bone broth isn’t as tasty as pork cracklings.” Then she called out toward the kitchen, “Zhong Dawa! The lard cracklings in the cupboard are for cooking cabbage and stir-frying vegetables. If you eat them all, we’re having plain boiled cabbage tonight.”
Zili jolted in shock. “Dawa, Auntie knows!”
Zhong Dawa was startled, too. He hadn’t expected his mom to figure it out without even coming in. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. We’ll just eat plain boiled cabbage tonight.” He carried the bowl out. “Mom, I’m taking it upstairs.”
“Suit yourself,” Song Zhaodi said. “Just don’t complain later that the cabbage has no flavour because I didn’t put in any oil.”
“I won’t!” Zhong Dawa grabbed Zili’s hand. “Let’s go upstairs, quick.” Before Zili could protest, he was dragged up the stairs.
“Plain boiled cabbage is awful, Dawa,” Zili reminded him. “Let’s just put the cracklings back.”
Zhong Dawa looked at him. “Are you dumb? If plain cabbage isn’t tasty, we’ll just eat buns. Mom steamed so many, if we don’t eat them within three to five days, they’ll grow mould.”
Zili’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I didn’t think of that.”
“That’s because you’re dumb.” Zhong Dawa picked out a large piece of pork crackling. “Open your mouth.”
The two forgot to lower their voices. Duan dasao heard everything loud and clear and shook her head with a helpless smile. “Your Dawa, huh? He’s going to be something else when he grows up.”
“This kid is so clever, we actually have his grandma and maternal grandmother to thank,” Song Zhaodi said. “If his maternal grandmother’s family weren’t so troublesome and his paternal grandmother’s family weren’t so unreliable, a kid his age wouldn’t have learned to be this shrewd.”
Mentioning Zhong Jianguo’s stepmother and ex-mother-in-law, Duan dasao sighed. “It’s almost New Year’s again. You’re not sending anything to Dawa’s maternal grandmother this year either?”
“You saw it yourself when we transferred trains in Shanghai—there are propaganda posters everywhere, and things are even messier there than here. Jianguo said the Bai family’s social class background is just slightly problematic, but they still have people watching them all the time. Dawa’s grandmother and grandfather probably wouldn’t be able to come even if they wanted to.” Song Zhaodi added, “Dawa doesn’t want me to send anything either. If Bai Hua wants to blame someone, she should blame her own son.”
At the mention of Bai Hua, Duan dasao sighed again. “Bai Hua had such a tough life, stuck with a mother who values sons over daughters.”
“Most people come from similar backgrounds. If life turns out hard later on, it’s their own fault, not anyone else’s,” Song Zhaodi said. “Take me, for example; if I had married into Binhai’s city district, my life wouldn’t be as stable as it is now.”
Duan dasao nodded. “Even though Xiao Zhong is never home and sometimes disappears for ten days or half a month, and the house is full of children, it’s still better than marrying out. At least you don’t have to worry about living paycheck to paycheck.”
“That’s true,” Song Zhaodi agreed. “Take salaries, for example. A middle school teacher in our town only earns about thirty yuan a month.”
Duan dasao said, “The key here is the military subsidy. Without that, wages wouldn’t be much either. Honestly, marrying a soldier is only good for that reason.”
“Uncle Liu doesn’t think so,” Song Zhaodi said with a smile.
Hearing this, Duan dasao couldn’t help but laugh. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
Zhong Dawa was eavesdropping from the stairs. When he heard Song Zhaodi laughing, he waved at his brothers. “Eat, eat! Mom’s not mad.”
“Are you sure she won’t hold it against us?” Zili asked worriedly.
Zhong Dawa said confidently, “My mom isn’t like that. Just eat.” He looked around. “I’m going to get the thermos, and later we can have malted milk.” Then, he ran downstairs.
Hearing the thumping footsteps, Song Zhaodi turned her head. “Done eating already?”
“We’re still eating.” Zhong Dawa grinned. “Mom, you’re not mad, right?”
Song Zhaodi chuckled. “You only ask now, when the lard residue is almost gone? Zhong Dawa, don’t you think it’s a little late?”
“Nope.” Seeing her reaction, Zhong Dawa knew she wasn’t angry. He ran to the kitchen to grab the thermos. “Mom, Zili said he wants sour and spicy shredded potatoes.”
Song Zhaodi’s hand paused. “Zhong Dawa, if you’re looking for a beating, just come here. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Zhong Dawa grabbed the thermos and ran back upstairs.
Duan dasao watched him hop around like a rabbit and said, “It’s a good thing you only have one Dawa. If you had two, your house would feel like a constant opera performance.”
“With Dawa like this, the other four kids won’t have a chance to be quiet and obedient even if they wanted to.” Song Zhaodi finished wrapping the last bun, stood up, and stretched. “My poor old back.”
Duan dasao glanced at her. “How old are you even?”
“Young and strong people get tired too.” Song Zhaodi let out a long sigh. “Two pots of buns, two pots of steamed bread—at most, they’ll last until the fifth day of the new year.”
Duan dasao laughed. “The kids are still little, and you’re already worrying. Wait until they’re thirteen or fourteen, when teenage boys eat their parents into poverty. Then they’ll finish a whole pot of steamed buns in a day.”
“Oh, right.” Song Zhaodi suddenly realised. “I should teach Dawa and Zili how to knead dough.”
Duan dasao looked at her in surprise. Seeing she wasn’t joking, she hesitated. “But they’re boys.”
“There’s no rule saying boys can’t cook.” Song Zhaodi glanced upstairs. “Dawa loves eating so much, he’d probably love it.” She paused. “I’ll ask him later.”
Five minutes later, Song Zhaodi called Zhong Dawa down to tend the fire.
As Zhong Dawa stoked the fire for the steaming buns, Song Zhaodi sat beside him peeling potatoes. “Dawa, when you get older, you and Zili can help with the cooking sometimes so I can take a break, okay?”
“You mean I can cook whatever I want?” Zhong Dawa asked eagerly.
Song Zhaodi immediately felt like she had wasted her breath. “If you’re not afraid of running out of food, then sure, cook whatever you want.”
Zhong Dawa grinned sheepishly. “Mom, I was just joking. I’ll cook whatever you tell me to.”
“Then when you reach fourth grade, I’ll start teaching you how to cook,” Song Zhaodi said.
Zhong Dawa’s eyelid twitched. “Fourth grade? That’s more than a year away.”
“What are you scheming now?” Song Zhaodi asked with amusement.
Zhong Dawa licked his lips. “Next year, during the Dragon Boat Festival, the little roosters in the coop will be grown. Mom, our family is big, I think we should butcher two at once. I’ll do it. You don’t have to.”
“Dawa, you’re still a kid,” Song Zhaodi sighed helplessly. “Your dad really needs to see what you’ve turned into.”
Zhong Dawa grinned. “Mom, I take after Dad. That’s why I’m always thinking about food.”
“When your dad was little, he wasn’t as bad as you. In your house, apart from the two-legged parents and siblings, there’s nothing with four legs that you don’t think about eating.”
Zhong Dawa and Song Zhaodi both turned toward the door at the same time. Zhong Jianguo was standing there.
“Why are you back so early today?” Song Zhaodi asked.
Zhong Jianguo said, “Came home to pack up my clothes. I probably won’t be back until New Year’s Day. If I don’t make it for New Year’s Eve, don’t worry, just celebrate as usual.”
“Why are you heading out to sea all of a sudden?” Song Zhaodi frowned.
Zhong Jianguo explained, “Last year, our regiment didn’t go out. This year, it’s our turn for patrol duty.” He paused. “I’m going to pack my things.”
“I’ll help you.” Song Zhaodi quickly put the potatoes in water so they wouldn’t discolour. “Take both military coats with you.”
“I know.”
Upstairs, Zhong Jianguo saw the four children sitting in the living room. His brow furrowed. “Did you get into trouble?”
Zili and Gengsheng’s faces paled.
Erwa and Sanwa glanced at him before continuing to play with their string figures.
“No,” Song Zhaodi answered before Zili and Gengsheng could speak. “Dawa egged them on to eat the lard residue. They finished a whole bowl of it. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll scold them.”
Zhong Jianguo laughed. “That’s all? I thought something serious had happened.” Then, he turned and went into the bedroom.
Zili and Gengsheng exchanged looks. Eating a whole bowl of lard residue wasn’t serious?
Then, they realised something was off. They turned to look. Erwa and Sanwa were still playing with their string, completely at ease.
Zili, still wary, whispered to Erwa, “Why aren’t you afraid your mom will scold you?”
“Why would Mom scold me?” Erwa asked.
Zili frowned. “We ate all the lard residue. Even if she doesn’t punish us, she’d at least nag us a little, right?”
“It’s already gone. Nagging won’t bring it back,” Erwa said matter-of-factly.
Zili was speechless but had to admit that Erwa made a good point. “Is your mom always like this?”
“I don’t remember,” Erwa thought hard. “Go ask my big brother. He knows.”
Gengsheng couldn’t hold back anymore. “Since Aunt isn’t nagging us, why aren’t you going downstairs?”
“Why should I?” Erwa pointed at the blanket wrapped around his legs on the couch. “There aren’t any blankets downstairs.”
Even with Dawa’s assurance that Song Zhaodi wasn’t angry, Zili and Gengsheng were still nervous. Seeing that Erwa and Sanwa weren’t going down either, they decided to stay put, waiting for Zhong Jianguo to return before heading downstairs.
They had always assumed that Erwa, like them, was afraid of Song Zhaodi’s temper. But they never expected…
“Erwa, does Auntie ever get angry?” Zili asked in a low voice.
Zhong Erwa thought carefully. “My mom does get angry, but it seems like it’s always when she’s arguing with my dad. Once they stop arguing, she’s not angry anymore.”
“Has she ever scolded you?” Zili asked in a hushed voice.
Gengsheng perked up his ears to listen.
Erwa replied, “My mom doesn’t scold people.”
Zili blinked, doubting what he had just heard. “She doesn’t scold people?”
“Yeah,” Erwa said. “My mom says people should be reasonable. If you curse at someone, you’re not just insulting them; you’re also dirtying yourself. Something like that. Anyway, it’s your turn now, Sanwa.”
Sanwa reached out and pulled the string loose. “Let’s start over.”
“You idiot, that’s cheating! You’re about to lose, so now you want to restart?” Erwa was upset. “I’m not playing with you anymore.” Then he turned to ask, “Zili ge, do you know how to play?”
Zili pointed at Gengsheng. “He does.”
Erwa lit up with excitement and switched places with Zili.
Sanwa quickly grabbed onto Zili, pulled out a string from under the blanket, and said, “Zili ge, I’ll play with you.”
“You’ll play with me?” Zili was confused.
Sanwa nodded. “Second Brother doesn’t want to play with you, so I will.”
“But Erwa never said he wouldn’t play with me,” Zili instinctively replied.
Sanwa stretched out the string. “Come on, hurry up, Zili ge!”
Zili had no clue how to play ‘cat’s cradle’. He turned to watch how Gengsheng was doing it and tried to imitate him. Soon, the string was in his hands.
Sanwa reached out his chubby little fingers, hooked onto the string lightly, and smoothly transferred it to his own hands. “Zili ge, your turn!”
Zili felt a headache coming on. He turned and asked, “Erwa, Gengsheng, how do I do this?”
Sanwa said with a serious expression, “Zili ge, you’re not allowed to ask anyone else. Asking means you lose.”
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