Chapter 304: Qin Huairu's Helplessness

The farce over a single cabbage in the central courtyard finally ended hastily in Yi Zhonghai's 'keeping the big picture' He Xini.

The neighbors who had been watching the spectacle smacked their lips, departed with various inscrutable expressions, leaving only the repressed sobs from Wang's wife's home and the expression on Jia Zhangshi's face, a mix of smugness and arrogance.

Qin Huairu lowered her head, following her mother-in-law and son back to their increasingly cramped home. The kerosene lamp's glow was dim yellow, barely lighting the sunken floor and a few pieces of broken furniture; the air was filled with a strange smell of cheap clam oil mixed with rotting food.

She closed the door, shutting out any outside gaze, and Qin Huairu felt the constantly taut nerve relax a little, but then a deeper exhaustion and an indescribable humiliation welled up in her heart.

She looked at her son Bang Geng; the boy showed no guilt on his face, even seeming somewhat excited because his grandmother had just 'won big', and he was playing with a torn piece of paper.

A strong worry, like icy floodwater, instantly engulfed Qin Huairu. This child, if he continues like this, will really be ruined!

She took a deep breath, tried to make her voice calm and stern, crouched down, and grabbed Bang Geng's hand: 'Bang Geng, tell me the truth, did you take the cabbage from Aunt Wang's house in the Front Courtyard?'

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a barely perceptible tremor. She wished her son could deny it, even if just to deceive her, anything would be better than this……

However, before Bang Geng could answer, Jia Zhangshi, like a hen protecting her chicks, exploded! She grabbed Bang Geng and pulled him behind her, her bulky body like a mountain separating mother and son, Sanjiao Yan glared at Qin Huairu, spit almost flying onto her face:

"Qin Huairu! What do you mean?! Are you still Bang Geng's birth mother?! Outsiders slander him, don't believe him, and you, as his mother, join in the clamor?! Do you just not want to see my grandson do well?!"

Jia Zhangshi's voice was sharp and piercing, like a dull knife scraping a pot bottom, stinging people's eardrums. She slapped her thigh, beginning another round of performance: 'My poor, good grandson! Your mother doesn't believe you! How are we supposed to live like this?! Old Jia, open your eyes and see—your daughter-in-law is trying to drive us two to death!'

Bang Geng was startled by his grandmother's posture, and hearing her say his mother didn't trust him, the excitement from his successful theft instantly turned into resentment and grievance toward his mother. He hid behind Jia Zhangshi and shouted at Qin Huairu: 'It wasn't me who took it! Grandma said it wasn't me! Why do you keep asking me? You're not a good mother to me!'

Qin Huairu looked at the old woman and the child before her—her mother-in-law's meddling, indiscriminate behavior, and her son's increasingly warped understanding from indulgence—she felt a chill rush from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head, as if all her strength had been drained. She opened her mouth, wanting to say more, to tell her son stealing was wrong, to tell her mother-in-law that doting would only harm the child……

But the words reached her lips and yet she couldn't utter them.

What could she say? Argue with her mother-in-law? She'd lose and dare not. This family still needed the mother-in-law's help watching the child, even though she did a terrible job.

Every day she worked in the Steel Rolling Mill workshop, lugging things like a man, her back and waist aching from exhaustion, just to earn that little wage to support the family of five (including her mother-in-law).

After work she still had to wash clothes, cook, tidy the house, attend to the elders, care for the young; each day she was like a top constantly being whipped, even finding time to catch her breath felt luxurious.

Educate the child? How could she not want to?

She remembered Bang Geng as a chubby, smiling, well-behaved little kid when he was young. But after her husband died, the family's pillar collapsed, and the entire burden of life fell on her shoulders alone.

She rose early and returned late, worn out from rushing about; by the time she got home she was utterly spent, with no extra energy left to patiently guide or correct her son's every small mistake.

And mother-in-law Jia Zhangshi not only failed to help, she became the biggest obstacle. She guarded Bang Geng like she was protecting her eyeballs, tolerating no one saying even half a 'no'; even if Bang Geng truly did wrong, she always found excuses to exonerate him, even turning around to blame others. In such an environment, for Bang Geng to turn out well would be the real miracle!

A deep sense of powerlessness, like icy vines, tightly wound around Qin Huairu's heart, tightening more and more, almost choking her. She looked at her son's resentful little face, at her mother-in-law's 'I am always right' expression; all reason and persistence now seemed feeble and pale.

She was tired. Not bodily fatigue, which she had long grown used to. It was heartweariness, a despairing exhaustion of seeing no hope, only sinking deeper into the mire.

"Mom…… I didn't mean it that way……" She ultimately chose to compromise, her voice dry and weak: "I…… I'm just…… afraid he'll turn bad……"

"Turn bad? My grandson's sharp as a tack! Do you need to worry about it?" Seeing Qin Huairu soften, Jia Zhangshi's momentum grew: "Hurry up and cook! Do you want to starve us? Bang Geng, be good, ignore your mother; Grandma hid a piece of peach pastry for you……"

Jia Zhangshi produced half a piece of peach pastry out of nowhere and shoved it into Bang Geng's hand. Bang Geng instantly turned from tears to smiles, took the pastry, gave his mother a triumphant glance, and began to crunch away, the earlier unpleasantness already flung to the clouds.

Qin Huairu silently turned and walked toward the icy stove. She picked up a ladle, scooped up bone‑chilling cold water, and began to mix the cornmeal. Her movements were mechanical and numb, her mind a blank—or rather, she dared not think further.

This was the only way she could live.

For her child, for this barely‑held‑together home, she had to endure, had to pretend not to see the festering sores, had to swallow all her grievances and helplessness. Just like many struggling women in this siheyuan, she ground down her dreams, her dignity, even her hopes for her child's future, bit by bit, mixing them into the coarse cornmeal, simmering them into a pot of gruel that merely filled the stomach, called 'just getting by'.

Outside the window the night deepened, the siheyuan fell into silence. In the window of the Jia family in the central courtyard, a dim yellow light shone, illuminating Qin Huairu's busy yet solitary figure at the stove, and also showing Jia Zhangshi holding her grandson, a face full of a satisfied, murky smile.

This heavy maternal love, entangled by reality's helplessness and the family's distortion, became an unbreakable shackle; on this cold night, it let out a silent sigh. And Bang Geng, under that deformed protection, gnawed on peach pastries, feeling only that his grandmother was the best person in the world to him; as for whether stealing things was right or wrong? That wasn't even a matter!