Chapter 288

In January 1963, the chill had not yet faded, but the siheyuan gained a bit of busyness and a different vitality from the arrival of two newborns. The west wing and the central courtyard, separated by a single wall, staged utterly different 'confinement' scenes.

In the west wing, Li Ping'an interpreted the four words 'model husband' to the utmost. Lin Xueqing lay in bed, covered with a soft quilt; the stove fire always burned brightly, warm as spring. Li Ping'an strictly followed the old rules, never letting Lin Xueqing touch cold water, even using warm spiritual spring water to wash her hands.

"Xueqing, have some brown sugar water, just brewed." Li Ping'an held the warm enamel jar and carefully brought it to his wife's lips. The brown sugar water was bright red, with a refreshing sweetness, a top-grade product of the Spiritual Spring Space.

"I can do it myself." Lin Xueqing felt a little embarrassed.

"Lie still, don't exert yourself during the confinement." Li Ping'an spoke gently but without room for argument.

After getting off work, his first task was to check on his wife and daughter, then roll up his sleeves and start tidying. Without a word, he washed the soiled diapers and Lin Xueqing's clothes in warm water, rinsed them clean, and hung them on the indoor rope, never letting his wife touch them. Xiao Nuanqing's diapers were always spotless, carrying the fresh scent of gleditsia, with not a speck of dirt.

What moved and slightly puzzled Lin Xueqing most was the household meals. Li Ping'an would go out every few days in the evening, saying he was heading to the black market to try his luck.

Each time he returned, he could bring back some scarce goods—a plump old hen, a few lively crucian carp, or several pounds of exceptionally good pork trotters.

"Ping'an, how much does this… cost? It's too dangerous!" Lin Xueqing said anxiously, looking at the milky, fragrant crucian carp soup simmering in the sand pot.

"It's fine, I know my limits, and I only deal with acquaintances." Li Ping'an said offhandedly, carefully picking out the bones from the soup before handing her the bowl, "You need nutrition now, and Nuanqing needs milk."

The "acquaintances" he spoke of were naturally that mysterious Spiritual Spring Space. Producing these items could perfectly explain their source while giving his wife and daughter the most practical nourishment. Lin Xueqing's milk supply was indeed ample, and Xiao Nuanqing, fed on it, grew white and plump, rarely crying.

Yet Li Ping'an harbored another important matter in his heart. Under the pretext of saving a dowry for his daughter, or keeping a memento, he turned his attention to antique trinkets that were now ignored and cheap.

Taking advantage of the excuse "going to the black market," he would indeed detour to those dim ghost-market stalls, spending little money to exchange for seemingly insignificant porcelain bowls, jade tablets, and old calligraphy and paintings.

While others saw them as worthless trash, he knew the value hidden within. This covert, ongoing effort was like a squirrel hoarding food for winter, quietly amassing a substantial foundation for an uncertain future.

Compared to the orderly, warm affection of Xi Kua Yuan, the Sa Zhu Family in the Central Courtyard appeared rather chaotic.

As for his wife Ma Dongmei, Sha Zhu put his specialty to use, varying his dishes to cook tasty meals for her—stewed chicken soup, Red Braised Pork, fish soup—his Stove skills were unmatched. But when it came to anything else, he was all thumbs.

Changing the baby's diaper left him fumbling—either wrapping it too loose and leaking, or tying it too tight and chafing the infant's tender skin; to lull the child to sleep, he hefted it in his bulky arms, making the baby cry even louder in his embrace; the washing chores were done hastily and sloppily, sometimes leaving the diapers unclean and smelly.

Ma Dongmei leaned against the kang, watching Sha Zhu once again fumble and make their son He Xiaonian wail loudly, then glancing at her own aching chest from engorged milk, a surge of unnamed anger rose. She heard the faint sounds from Xi Kua Yuan of Li Ping'an gently soothing the child, and looking at this husband who was a mess except for cooking, the disparity in her heart felt like a huge stone blocking her.

"Zhuzi and Li Ping'an are both men of this courtyard—look at Li Ping'an!" Ma Dongmei couldn't help but complain, her voice tinged with postpartum weakness and irritability, "He comes home from work, washes clothes, cooks, tends the confinement—does everything competently! He even looks after the child properly! Now look at you! Besides lifting a big ladle, what else can you do? You can't even soothe the child! Washing those diapers is as if you hadn't washed them at all!"

Sha Zhu, unable to save face, stuck out his neck and retorted, "I'm learning, aren't I! How can a big man be as meticulous as a woman! Feeding you two well is already good enough! Look at my cooking—isn't it better than Li Ping'an's?"

"Is it enough just to eat well? This is confinement!" Ma Dongmei grew angrier as she spoke, "Look at Lin Xueqing's complexion—rosy and moist! As for me? I'm angry with you every day!"

He Yushui stood silently helping to tidy up, listening to her brother and sister-in-law argue, feeling uneasy. She wanted to intervene, but didn't know where to start. Her brother, though not ill-intentioned, simply lacked attentiveness.

Sha Zhu, left speechless by the rebuke, fumed inside, slammed the door and went out to squat in the courtyard, smoking in frustration. He felt wronged, having labored hard over the stove only to be scolded.

Yet seeing the silhouette of Li Ping'an gently rocking the child in the window of Xi Kua Yuan, and hearing his own household's child crying and his wife's complaints, he couldn't help but admit that, in caring for others, he fell far short of Li Ping'an—not just a little bit, but by a great distance.

A mysterious sense of competition and a hint of jealousy sprouted in his heart. He secretly resolved that he must excel at this confinement duty, and could not let Li Ping'an outshine him!

Thus, that January in the siheyuan, Xi Kua Yuan was delicate warmth and tranquility, while the Central Courtyard was a blend of bustling everyday life and frantic scrambling—a process of adjustment and collision.

Li Ping'an, with his steadiness and ahead-of-his-time understanding, upheld a carefree sky for his wife and daughter; while Sha Zhu, in these trivial daily affairs, began awkwardly learning how to become a more qualified husband and father.

The warmth and resentment of this confinement period intertwined into the most genuine human fireworks at the start of 1963.