Zhong Jianguo chuckled, “Ulterior motives? Song Zhaodi, is that how you see yourself?” Without waiting for her to respond, he continued, “You want Zili and Gengsheng to completely sever ties with their mother’s side and see only you as their mother. I understand that, but have you considered how young the children still are?”
“Zili is ten years old, not that young anymore,” Song Zhaodi replied. “I don’t want the children I’ve worked so hard to raise to keep thinking about a group of heartless people.” She paused. “Do you agree?”
Zhong Jianguo sighed. “Even if I disagreed, I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
“Don’t sound so defeated,” Song Zhaodi said. “We’re husband and wife. Occasionally, I do respect your opinion.”
Zhong Jianguo rolled his eyes at her. “Respect me? Then have a daughter.”
“Are you certain it would be a daughter?” Song Zhaodi asked with a smile.
Zhong Jianguo was momentarily speechless. Ignoring whether his hair was dry, he pulled up the blanket and lay down, refusing to continue the conversation.
When Dawa had his birthday, Song Zhaodi made a bowl of steamed egg cake for the children. In March, as Erwa’s birthday approached, Song Zhaodi asked him what he wanted to eat. Without hesitation, he said he also wanted cake.
With six hens and six ducks at home, all carefully looked after by the children, they laid eggs daily. Every few days, a whole basin of eggs could be collected. Since Erwa’s request was reasonable, Song Zhaodi agreed.
On the eighth day of the third lunar month, the five children finished eating the egg cake, their mouths still smeared with crumbs. Sanwa immediately announced that his birthday was tomorrow, so he wanted cake too.
His birthday wasn’t for another six months, in the ninth lunar month. Song Zhaodi gave him a light slap on the bottom and told the children that on their birthdays, they could request any dish they liked, and she would make it for them.
At the time, she didn’t expect Zili or Gengsheng to ask for anything, as they were too well-behaved and never dared to trouble her.
But when Zili requested cake, Song Zhaodi immediately understood, he had truly come to see the Zhong family as his own. Not wanting him to think she wouldn’t keep her word, she had the children gather eggs the next morning to make the cake.
Dawa eagerly led the way, Zili followed with a silly smile, and Sanwa, excited about the cake, jumped up and down. Watching them so happy, Song Zhaodi suddenly felt cruel.
That night, after the children had gone to bed, she asked Zhong Jianguo to bring Zili and Gengsheng over.
The two boys, groggy from sleep, opened their eyes. Seeing the serious expressions on Zhong Jianguo and Song Zhaodi’s faces, they immediately jolted awake. “Did something happen to Grandpa?” they asked in unison.
“Your grandpa is fine,” Zhong Jianguo said, but realising his mistake, quickly added, “Well, we don’t actually know for sure. But I think no news is good news.”
Zili let out a breath. “Then, Uncle, what did you want to say?”
“Your mother,” Zhong Jianguo glanced at Song Zhaodi. “You tell them.”
Song Zhaodi sighed. “Zili, Gengsheng, your mother has remarried.”
The two boys were stunned, their faces full of shock.
Song Zhaodi continued, “Your Uncle Zhong found out about this some time ago and has been thinking about how to tell you. We chose today because there’s more to it, your mother had a daughter, born in June. Based on the timeline, she got married right after you left the capital and got pregnant soon after.”
Zili was at a loss for words. It took a while before he could speak. “Are you sure?”
“Your Uncle Zhao said so,” Zhong Jianguo replied. “He was in the capital for a meeting and overheard people talking about your grandfather’s family. He couldn’t believe your mother remarried so quickly.
“When he went back to the capital recently, he learned your mother had given birth to a daughter. He felt you had the right to know, so he insisted I tell you.”
Gengsheng asked, “Uncle Zhong, can you tell me who my mother married?”
“Wu Bozong, from the Wu family,” Zhong Jianguo said. “Their daughter’s name is Wu Tong.”
Zili’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Him?!”
“You know him?” Song Zhaodi asked. Then, as if struck by realisation, she continued, “Does Wu’s family have something to do with your father’s death?”
Zili shook his head. “I don’t know. But I heard from a neighbour that when my father was imprisoned, the one guarding him was Wu Bozong. But how could my mother marry him?”
“She might not have known about it,” Zhong Jianguo suggested.
Song Zhaodi shot him a glance, did he really believe that?
Zhong Jianguo felt awkward under her gaze. Silently, he asked her if she expected him to outright say, Zili, your mother married Wu Bozong because he was powerful.
Gengsheng, noticing their expressions, thought for a moment before saying, “Auntie, Uncle, Wu Bozong is really ugly. I saw him once at a banquet when I was with Grandpa two years ago. When I told my mother, she also said he was very ugly.”
Zili nodded. “He was married before, with several children, both sons and daughters, all older than us.”
“Then he must have treated your mother well and could protect her,” Zhong Jianguo said. “It’s a chaotic time, women want to find someone who can protect them.” He turned to Song Zhaodi and added, “You married me because you thought I could protect you.”
Gengsheng frowned. “But Wu Bozong is nothing like you, Uncle. And I really think he had something to do with my father’s death. I don’t believe my mother didn’t know.”
“She might have had her reasons,” Zhong Jianguo said. Immediately, he felt a pinch on his leg and quickly brushed Song Zhaodi’s hand away. “Or maybe your grandmother, grandfather or uncle forced her into it.”
Gengsheng, catching their small exchange, sighed. “Uncle Zhong, don’t try to defend my mother. I don’t want to hear your explanations. Auntie, what do you think? Do you believe my mother knew Wu Bozong was the one guarding my father?”
Song Zhaodi gave Zhong Jianguo a sidelong look, as if to say, See? You underestimated their ability to handle the truth. Then she turned to Gengsheng and Zili. “Your mother is an adult, not some naive girl. Before she remarried, she would have investigated thoroughly. I don’t believe she didn’t know.
“She cut ties with your father to protect herself, I can’t blame her for that. If it were me, I’d do the same. But I would’ve sent you both to the countryside rather than back to your maternal family to fend for yourselves. As for her marriage, if Wu Bozong was really as ugly as you say, even if my whole family forced me, I wouldn’t have married him.”
Zili murmured, “So she really wanted to marry him?”
“A woman who can abandon her husband and children wouldn’t find it hard to marry an ugly man,” Song Zhaodi said. “I’m a woman, I understand women best.”
Gengsheng declared, “I believe Auntie.” Then, noticing his brother silently crying, he put an arm around his shoulder. “I told you before, Mom didn’t want us. But you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Most mothers love their children, so it was normal for Zili to doubt it,” Song Zhaodi said. “Some mothers would die for their children, while others love themselves more. Your mother is the latter.”
Zili instinctively asked, “Auntie, what about you?”
“I don’t know,” Song Zhaodi replied. “I’ve never been in either situation, so I can’t answer that.”
Gengsheng squeezed Zili’s shoulder reassuringly.
Zili turned to Gengsheng. Should he really say it?
Gengsheng nodded.
Zili pursed his lips, glanced at Zhong Jianguo, then at Song Zhaodi. He wiped away the last tear from the corner of his eye, took a deep breath, and said, “Aunt, Uncle, Gengsheng and I once said that if our mother doesn’t want us, then we don’t want her either.”
“I agree.” Before Zhong Jianguo could speak, Song Zhaodi cut in decisively. “Even though your mother gave birth to you, she also abandoned you. If you hadn’t met Uncle Zhao, you both might not have survived. If it were me, I wouldn’t want such a heartless mother either.
“There’s another thing you must remember: To a child, there is only one biological mother. But to a mother, losing a child isn’t the end, she can have more. Isn’t that exactly what happened? She now has her own daughter, along with a group of stepchildren. To put it bluntly, whether you two exist or not, it doesn’t matter to her.”
Zili nodded. “That’s exactly what Gengsheng said. Aunt, Gengsheng and I made a promise. If we’ve lived in your home for three years and our mother still hasn’t come looking for us, we’ll call you ‘Mom.’ And if she ever remembers us and comes back for us, we won’t acknowledge her.”
“You’ll only call her ‘Mom’?” Zhong Jianguo, moved by their words, cleared his throat to suppress his emotions. “And what will you call me?”
Zili and Gengsheng both looked up at him.
“You mean to tell me you’ve only thought about her and not me?” Zhong Jianguo exaggeratedly widened his eyes. “You two ungrateful kids! Who washes your clothes every day? Who scrubs your shoes?”
Zili felt awkward. “Uncle, ”
“Uncle, we already have a dad,” Gengsheng hesitated before suggesting, “How about we call you die?”
[Die (爹, diē) is an informal Chinese term for ‘father’ or ‘dad.’]
Zhong Jianguo was caught off guard and asked, “Do you think that’s appropriate?”
“Die and niang, it sounds fitting,” Gengsheng observed keenly, noticing that Zhong Jianguo didn’t seem upset. “Baba and mama go together, and so do die and niang.”
Zhong Jianguo waved his hand. “When Dawa and the others started calling Teacher Xiao Song niang, I found it really strange. It took me years to get used to it. If you two start calling me die, I’ll be uncomfortable for years again. Just call me ‘Uncle.’ It sounds better.”
“If you feel awkward, then have Dawa call me ‘Mom’ too,” Song Zhaodi suggested.
Zhong Jianguo replied, “I’d love to, but you were the one who told the three kids to call you ‘Mom.’ They listen to you, not me. If anything, you should be the one to say it.”
“Dawa is your son,” Song Zhaodi reminded him.
“He’s your son too,” Zhong Jianguo countered.
“But not by birth,” Song Zhaodi pointed out.
Zhong Jianguo was momentarily at a loss. “I’m not arguing with you. Zili, Gengsheng, go to bed. Whether you call me die or ‘Uncle’, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
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