Chapter 234: Ma Dongmei Is Pregnant

The aftershocks of Xu Damao's absurd marriage have not fully subsided in the Siheyuan, like a faint, intermittent musty smell lingering in a corner; new worries and joys follow one after another, weaving an even more complicated tapestry of life in these famine years.

The Sha Zhu family in the Central Courtyard was the first to show a rare bright spot: Ma Dongmei is pregnant!

The news came from Sha Zhu himself, grinning widely when he met Li Ping'an in the courtyard, unable to contain his swagger: "Brother Ping'an! Buddy, I'm going to be a dad too!" He rubbed his hands, his smile so radiant it seemed about to spill over, as if he already imagined a chubby little boy babbling in front of him.

Sha Zhu even went out of his way to flaunt before Xu Damao: "Xu Damao, my wife is pregnant, my own child—unlike some people who raise other's kids and then, when they're old, don't know if they can support themselves. It's really worrisome!"

Xu Damao retorted: "Sha Zhu, your pregnant wife is still a maiden, not a son, and she's also a daughter‑in‑law being raised by others!"

Xu Damao cursed that Sha Zhu's wife was carrying a daughter, which infuriated Sha Zhu.

Sha Zhu: "At least it's my own seed, better than you raising other people's kids."

This made Xu Damao so angry he simply shut the door and sent Sha Zhu away.

Yet behind this joy lay Ma Dongmei's deep anxiety.

That night, the young couple lay on the kang; Ma Dongmei rested her hand on her still‑unrevealed belly, brows knit: "Zhuzi, joy is joy, but why does my heart feel so unsettled? Right now the grain allotment is this scant, we adults can tighten our belts and survive, but when this child is born… what will we feed it with?"

Sha Zhu waved his hand indifferently, with the chef's blind confidence in food: "Ha! Why worry? What am I, a man? I'm the head chef of the Steel Rolling Mill cafeteria! No matter how hard the times, can a chef go hungry? Don't worry, there's always a way! My son will surely be raised plump and healthy!"

His words rang loudly, as if cheering his wife and bolstering his own courage. Yet Ma Dongmei, watching him, still felt the unease linger.

She, being from the countryside, knew the preciousness of grain and the harshness of this famine; Sha Zhu's so‑called 'chef advantage' could do little against such a tide. She sighed softly, said nothing more, and placed her hand on her belly, feeling the faint, hopeful pulse of life.

Compared with the Sha Zhu family's joy tinged with worry, the Jia family kept sinking deeper into the mire, and that murkiness was eroding the next generation.

Bang Geng was a little over two years old, just at the toddling, babbling stage. The child inherited Qin Huairu's delicate eyebrows and eyes, and should have been a lively, lovable little rascal.

But now, those jet‑black eyes often flash with a cunning and greed far beyond his age. That's the "credit" of Jia Zhangshi's "teach by word and deed."

Jia Zhangshi, lazy and gluttonous herself, dotes on her grandson in a twisted way. Even when she's hungry, she scrapes a morsel from between her teeth to shove into Bang Geng, constantly feeding him: "Good grandson, eat! Eat more! These are yours! No one else can give you anything!" "See? The big sweet‑potato piece in your mother's bowl—go fetch it!" "Ah, my clever grandson, you know how to hide the tasty stuff…"

Over time, little Bang Geng learned to guard his food, snatch others', and even hide food secretly.

He would stare at the stove while Qin Huairu cooked, and if he saw a speck of oil or a slightly better morsel, he'd pounce and grab it with his hand; in the courtyard, if he saw another child holding a piece of cake, he'd stare hungrily, drool, and even rush to snatch it.

Qin Huairu saw it with her eyes and worried in her heart, but being low‑rank and soft‑spoken, every time she tried to discipline, Jia Zhangshi would slam her with a tirade: "You heartless woman! Trying to starve my grandson? What's wrong with a child eating a little?"

Jia Dongxu was indifferent, caring only whether he himself was full. Qin Huairu, isolated and helpless, could only watch helplessly as her son, pampered by his mother‑in‑law, gradually acquired selfish, greedy habits. The household seemed unable to glimpse any future light.

In the Xi Kua Yuan, the atmosphere grew even more tense. Lin Xueqing's due date was rapidly approaching; her belly swelled high, making movement very difficult.

Li Ping'an withdrew most of his thoughts to home; unless a matter was essential at the factory, he delegated it to Wang Dahu, and returned home early to keep his wife company.

He calmly used the space, finely balancing the household diet. The foods prepared for Lin Xueqing were all easily digestible, nutritious fine grains, egg custard, and meat broth, ensuring her and the fetus's needs.

He and Li Pingle still subsisted mainly on coarse grains and wild vegetables, but with the nourishment of Spirit Spring Water and occasional space‑produced staples, their vigor was far better than that of others in the courtyard.

Li Pingle grew increasingly nervous, staying within a step of his sister‑in‑law, fearing any mishap. The company commander Zhao, from the troops, had established preliminary contact with Li Pingle through several letters.

The young man's words in the letters were plain, bearing a soldier's frankness and sincerity, which steadied Li Pingle's frantic heart a bit and added a secret hope.

But that hope was temporarily suppressed by the tension of his sister‑in‑law's imminent labor.

This evening, Sha Zhu tucked two still‑warm, vegetable‑laden steamed buns and slipped them to Li Ping'an: "Brother Ping'an, the factory's leftovers today, a little filler for your belly." He knew Li Ping'an's household had a pregnant woman, so days would be even tighter.

Li Ping'an stared at the two rough buns, realizing they were probably the portion Sha Zhu had saved from his own. He declined, not taking the buns, and patted Sha Zhu's shoulder: "Zhuzi, you're thoughtful. Take care of yourself; Dongmei is pregnant too. I can still get grain, so my wife won't go hungry."

"I'm fine, sturdy as ever!" Sha Zhu chuckled dimly, then lowered his voice, "Brother Ping'an, when will these days improve? We can't have the child born only to starve, can we?"

Li Ping'an's gaze fell on the dimming courtyard; his voice was low yet carried resolve: "It will get better. No matter how hard, we must look forward."

Those words were for Sha Zhu and for himself alike. Protecting the newborn was his most important belief in this dark time.

Night fell, and the Siheyuan returned to silence. Only the faint rumblings of hungry bellies from each house, and occasional muffled dream‑murmurs from the Jia family's Bang Geng—"Eat… eat…"—reminded everyone of harsh reality.

Li Ping'an sat at the bedside, watching his wife's furrowed brows even in sleep, gently tucking her blanket corner. He knew the final moment was approaching.

He must be like the most vigilant Sentinel, guarding this home and welcoming the new life born amid hardship. No matter how fierce the outside storm, this Xi Kua Yuan must remain a safe harbor.

And the impending birth, like a battle, must be flawless. All calculations, all caution, at this moment converge into the simplest, most steadfast goal—Mother and Child Safety.