Zili looked at Gengsheng. Were they about to fight?
A quarrel at the head of the bed, peace at the foot of it. Gengsheng pulled Zili along, dragging him out of the bedroom and making sure to close the door behind them.
Zhong Jianguo stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at Song Zhaodi. “Can you stop saying ‘not biological’ every time you open your mouth?”
“Am I wrong?” Song Zhaodi countered.
Zhong Jianguo took a deep breath. “You’re not wrong. But the truth can hurt.”
“Then stop arguing with me and just give in to me,” Song Zhaodi said.
Zhong Jianguo sighed. “I’ll try. You should hold back too.”
“If you can hold back, so can I.” Seeing him climb into bed, Song Zhaodi quickly added, “Don’t sleep yet. Go check on Zili and Gengsheng in case they’re hiding under the blanket crying.”
Zhong Jianguo waved his hand dismissively. “They’ll be fine. They were already prepared for this. All we did today was break the illusion. If I had known they were ready, I would have told them earlier and saved myself months of worry.”
“If they call you die, will you respond?” Song Zhaodi asked teasingly.
Zhong Jianguo nearly choked. He glared at Song Zhaodi. “I said tomorrow! Do you think I’m joking?”
“Comrade Zhong, getting bold now, are you?” Song Zhaodi chuckled. “Since you’re so capable, you’ll be making breakfast tomorrow morning.”
Zhong Jianguo paused mid-step. “Then will you do the laundry?”
“I will,” Song Zhaodi agreed readily.
Laundry these days was mostly cotton and linen, with dirt stains rather than grease. A bit of detergent and some scrubbing would do the trick.
Though it wasn’t difficult, Song Zhaodi still didn’t want to wear herself out. The next morning, she woke up and called Zili and Dawa to help her pump water and wash clothes.
Seeing this, Zhong Jianguo called Gengsheng over to help him wash vegetables and had Erwa take charge of Sanwa.
Erwa glanced outside at his busy mother and two older brothers, then looked inside at his father and the other brother. He propped his chin up and sighed repeatedly. “Sanwa, is today the weekend?”
“No school,” Sanwa mumbled, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up, though it was in vain. “Er ge, I’m sleepy.”
Erwa felt exhausted. “Me too. It’s the weekend, but they dragged us out of bed before 6:30, earlier than a school day! I don’t know what Mom and Dad are up to again.”
“I don’t want to know,” Sanwa yawned. “I just want to sleep.”
Erwa checked the surroundings, his dad busy in the kitchen, his mom focused on washing clothes, then made a decision. “Sanwa, I’ll hold your hand. Let’s sneak back to bed.”
Just a wall away, Dawa yawned while pumping water. “Mom, why are we washing clothes so early? Is there a reason?”
“There’s no particular reason,” Song Zhaodi said, wringing out a pair of pants and handing them to Zili. “Hang this up to dry.”
Dawa rubbed his eyes. “Then why not wait until after breakfast?”
Song Zhaodi paused and looked up at Dawa’s red-rimmed eyes. Amused and curious, she asked, “You went to bed before ten last night. Nine hours isn’t enough sleep?”
“Mom, when Gengsheng and I went back last night, Dawa was already awake,” Zili admitted awkwardly. “Then we accidentally woke up Erwa and Sanwa too.”
Song Zhaodi frowned slightly. “How come I didn’t hear anything?”
“We kept our voices low,” Zili explained. “And there were two doors between us. Plus, you and baba were busy arguing, “
Song Zhaodi quickly cut him off. “Baba? Didn’t you say you were going to call him die?”
“Mom, I’ll explain,” Dawa said. “Last night, I woke up and saw that Zili wasn’t in bed. After waiting a while and still not seeing him, I went out to look for him. Then I saw him and Gengsheng coming out of your room.
“I asked Zili what they were doing. He said they had talked to you and Dad about calling you niang and calling Dad die. I thought die sounded bad, so I objected. Then I woke up Erwa and Sanwa, and we took a vote. Three votes against two. They followed us in calling him baba.”
Song Zhaodi eyed Dawa. “Three to two? You actually said that with a straight face?”
“Zili didn’t object,” Dawa pointed out. Then he yawned again. “Mom, can I go back to sleep now?”
“No,” Song Zhaodi said firmly. “After I finish washing the clothes, then you can sleep.” She threw some white shirts into the basin. “You guys better not roll around on the ground when you play. If your clothes stay cleaner, I can wash faster.”
“We don’t roll on the ground,” Dawa glanced at the basin. “These aren’t mine. They’re Zili and Gengsheng’s shirts.”
Zili took a closer look and saw that Dawa was right. “Mom, we won’t wear white shirts anymore.”
“I was just saying,” Song Zhaodi waved him off. “Besides, laundry is your dad’s job. I only wash clothes once in a while. Wear whatever you want.”
Zhong Jianguo stepped out to grab some scallions and happened to overhear this. He couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation. “Song Zhaodi, from now on, I cook, and you do the laundry.”
“I object!” Before Song Zhaodi could respond, Dawa protested loudly. “Dad, if you cook tomorrow, we, we’ll go on a hunger strike!”
Zhong Jianguo shot him a glance. “You won’t last long.” Then he added, “Dawa, do you know why your name is Zhong Jianqiang?”
“Because Grandma liked the name,” Dawa replied. Noticing Zili’s curiosity, he explained, “Grandma named me, but Mom named Erwa and Sanwa.”
Zhong Jianguo nodded. “Did your grandma ever tell you why? The year you were born, there was a nationwide famine. Your grandma hoped you’d be strong, that even if you didn’t have enough food or warm clothes, you’d survive the hard times.
“But look at you now, you’ve forgotten all that and even dare to complain about my cooking. Do you want me to remind you just how hard life used to be?”
“I believe you!” Dawa quickly surrendered. “Dad, please, just go cook!”
Curious, Song Zhaodi asked, “How do you remember?”
“Mom!” Dawa jumped in before his dad could answer. “Just let Dad cook already!”
Zhong Jianguo smirked. “Eating chaff and wild vegetables.” He looked at Dawa. “Son, do you know what chaff is? It’s the wheat bran we feed our chickens. And vegetables? They’re the weeds you cut from the hills to feed the geese.”
Dawa had a bad feeling about this, but hearing his dad’s explanation, he was still shocked. “You really ate like that?”
“My hometown wasn’t as bad,” Song Zhaodi recalled. “When there wasn’t enough grain, we could fish in the sea or find wild fruits in the mountains. But some places weren’t so lucky. People had to eat tree bark, even–”
Dawa shuddered. “Even what?”
“Even human flesh,” Song Zhaodi said matter-of-factly. “A university friend of mine told me that in her town, a family had too many kids. During the famine in 1960, they had no food left, so they picked up dead bodies from the street and cooked, “
“Mom, stop!” Zhong Dawa shivered, goosebumps covering his arms. “That’s terrifying!”
“But it really happened,” Song Zhaodi said.
“You just heard it from others,” Zhong Jianguo said, feeling nauseated by the topic. “Hearing something doesn’t make it true. Seeing is believing. I think this kind of thing is mostly just rumors getting exaggerated.”
Song Zhaodi clicked her tongue. “You haven’t seen it because you haven’t seen much of the world.”
“Stop right there!” Zhong Jianguo interrupted. “I shouldn’t have brought this up. I’m going to cook now.”
Song Zhaodi raised an eyebrow. “You still have the appetite to eat?”
“Mom!” Zhong Dawa shouted. “If you keep talking, I’m going to get really mad!”
Seeing his furrowed brows deep enough to squash a mosquito, Song Zhaodi relented. “Alright, I won’t bring it up again. But aren’t you even a little curious how my classmate found out?”
“Not curious at all,” Zhong Dawa said firmly.
Zili hesitated. “I’m a little curious…”
“Zhong Zili!” Dawa was shocked. “How could you?!”
Song Zhaodi coughed. “Zhong Dawa, in our house, we value freedom of speech. If you don’t want to know, you don’t have to listen. I’ll just tell Zili.”
Zhong Dawa let go of the water pump handle and started walking into the house. Halfway there, he hesitated, curious about what kind of story his mother would make up next, so he turned back. “I still have to help you pump water.”
Song Zhaodi smiled but didn’t expose him. “It happened in winter. My classmate’s grandmother went to borrow a shovel to clear the snow from that woman’s house. When she got there, she saw them cooking something.
“My friend’s grandmother casually asked what they were making. As she spoke, she leaned in for a peek and saw a fingernail through the gap in the pot lid. But she couldn’t tell if it was from a hand or a foot.”
“Ew, that’s disgusting!” Zhong Dawa covered his mouth, his face turning pale.
Song Zhaodi was startled. “Are you okay? Zili, help him inside to lie down. Wait, Zili, are you okay? Did I scare you?”
“I’m fine,” Zili said. “My grandpa used to tell me stories about when they crossed snowy mountains and marshlands, they ate whatever they could find to survive.”
Zhong Dawa asked quickly, “Did they eat people?”
“No,” Zili said. “There were no people living on the snowy mountains. If someone died, they were comrades. Even if they were starving, they would rather drink cold water and chew on grass roots than touch their comrades’ bodies.”
Song Zhaodi nodded. “Times were really hard back then. We can’t even imagine that kind of suffering.” She noticed Dawa’s complexion improving and decided not to send him inside. “Zhong Dawa, isn’t eating three meals of white rice a day a blessing?”
“It doesn’t feel like a blessing,” Dawa muttered. “If I could have three extra servings of stewed meat, I’d be so happy I’d laugh in my sleep.”
Song Zhaodi grinned. “Human meat?”
“Mom!” Zhong Dawa put his hands on his hips. “I’m really mad now!”
Song Zhaodi laughed. “Okay, my bad. I won’t bring it up again. I’ll make it up to you, let’s butcher the gander and have iron pot braised goose for lunch.”
“I don’t want to eat meat right now.” Zhong Dawa was about to say “Great!” but suddenly felt nauseous. He covered his mouth and waved his hand. “Give it a few days, a few days.”
Zili sighed. “Even when you feel like throwing up, you’re still thinking about food. You really are the biggest foodie in our family. Do you need me to help you to the bathroom to puke?”
“I’m not going to throw up,” Zhong Dawa said, supporting himself on the well and waving Zili over. “I just need to go upstairs and lie down. I need to stay far away from Mom.”
Zili gave him a deadpan look. “Then why did you come back earlier?”
“I didn’t expect Mom to make up something so believable,” Zhong Dawa muttered as he reached the door. He couldn’t resist glancing back. “Snow in winter, inside someone’s house, she made it sound like she saw it herself. Mom should be teaching Chinese, not English.”
Zili was curious. “Why?”
“Because Chinese textbooks are full of stories,” Zhong Dawa explained. “If Mom were a Chinese teacher, she wouldn’t even need a textbook, she could just tell stories off the top of her head.”
Zili shook his head. “You don’t seem too sick. Get yourself upstairs, I’ll help Mom pump water.”
“Together, together,” Zhong Dawa said, his legs wobbling. He wanted to let go of Zili, but he was afraid he’d roll down the stairs on his own.
Zili sighed. “You think Mom made it all up, but you still got freaked out. You’re really something.”
“I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it,” Dawa muttered as he pushed open the door and saw two little kids sleeping on the bed. “Why are they sleeping too?”
Zili replied, “Same reason as you, they got drowsy.”
“You and Gengsheng aren’t sleepy?” Zhong Dawa finally noticed something was off. “You haven’t even yawned.”
Zili smiled. “I slept well last night. Straight through till morning.”
“I did too,” Zhong Dawa muttered before climbing onto the bed.
Zili tucked a towel blanket over Erwa and Sanwa. Looking up, he saw that Dawa had already closed his eyes. He thought for a moment, then pulled the curtains shut and quietly closed the door.
Meanwhile, Song Zhaodi walked in with a large wooden basin and found Gengsheng still in the kitchen. “Why aren’t you upstairs getting some rest?”
“I’m not tired,” Gengsheng smiled. “Oh, Mom, I finished my notebook.”
Song Zhaodi said, “I’ll buy some this afternoon. Do you need anything else?”
“No, that’s all,” Gengsheng replied.
After breakfast, Song Zhaodi sent the kids to rest and emptied out all five schoolbags. She found that Gengsheng’s pencil was worn down to less than three centimeters and sighed.
That afternoon, she took ten yuan to the supply and marketing cooperative and bought a whole box of notebooks and pens.
Erwa was shocked. “Mom, did you buy out the whole store?”
“No,” Song Zhaodi said. “Only half.”
Dawa sighed dramatically. “Oh my god, now I understand why everyone says you spend money like crazy.”
“I bought in bulk, so they gave me a discount. It’s cheaper than buying bit by bit,” Song Zhaodi explained. “Those women gossiping behind my back don’t know how to manage money properly.”
Dawa nodded, “You’re really good at managing things, but my classmates keep asking me, ‘Zhong Dawa, did your mom really buy you a whole box of pens and paper?’”
“Just answer them the same way you did before. I won’t argue with you about it,” Song Zhaodi said. “The day after tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival. What do you guys want to eat?”
Zhong Dawa replied, “Anything you want, as long as it’s not meat.”
On the morning of the Mid-Autumn Festival, Song Zhaodi went to the food factory to buy some tofu and tofu skin. At noon, she made a homestyle tofu dish, stir-fried green peppers with tofu skin, stir-fried tomatoes with loofah, and braised eggplant.
When the four dishes were placed on the table, Zhong Dawa regretted his choice. “Mom, you picked tomatoes but didn’t stir-fry them with eggs?”
“Tomatoes stir-fried with loofah?” Zhong Jianguo washed his hands and sat down. “You really have a unique taste, huh? Zili, Erwa, have you ever seen anyone eat it like this?”
Song Zhaodi handed him the rice. “That dish is meant for soaking your rice. Tonight, we’ll have stir-fried tomatoes with eggs, cucumbers with eggs, loofah with eggs, and scallions with eggs.”
Dawa was in disbelief. “Mom, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” Song Zhaodi said. “It was only after I put the loofah and tomatoes in the pot that I realised I should’ve stir-fried them with eggs. Oh, wait, Dawa, I think I just heard someone knocking on our door. Go see who it is.”
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