Chapter 151: The Daughter‑in‑Law Returns

It wasn't even half past seven yet when the noisy crowd entered the courtyard; they were all there to watch TV.

There were fewer people than before, because Wu Guiwen, after giving everyone free TV for a few days, began demanding that they bring something.

Even one or two peanuts, or half a liang of sunflower seeds, wouldn't be considered too little.

If you pool them together, doesn't that make it more?

When you buy snacks for guests during the New Year, you can just save that amount, right?

But even so, many people are unwilling to give it up—partly because they want to watch TV, their hearts itching like a cat's scratch, and partly because they can only stubbornly hold back from entering the courtyard.

They inevitably mutter behind his back that Wu Guiwen is a "Wu Rooster."

Fortunately, a few families in the inner courtyard don't have to bring anything.

Lu Ying watched for a while, then felt it was too cold and simply went back to her room to sleep.

She got up, looked around, but didn't see her younger brother Lu Cheng.

The wooden door of the West Wing Room was tightly shut, and Lu Ying wondered why they were sleeping so early today.

She had intended to go straight back to the bedroom to sleep, but as she passed the corner of the West Wing Room, she heard a clicking sound from inside.

The radio is at their father's place; Lu Beitang is skilled—while watching TV, he can also listen to the radio without delay.

That's not the point; the point is, how could there be a radio clicking sound inside Lu Cheng's room?

As Lu Ying quietly approached the window and listened carefully for a while,

she soon heard a faint singing that made her both surprised and curious.

Because the song coming from Lu Cheng's room was something she had never heard before.

She found the melody pleasant, but couldn't make out the lyrics at all; it seemed like a foreign language.

He hadn't turned on the light; Lu Cheng lit a candle in the room, trying to make everyone think he was asleep.

The radio volume was also kept as low as possible.

While he was listening and recalling what poem to write, the door suddenly slammed with a "ding‑ding" sound, startling him out of the blue.

"Who's there? Could you knock more lightly…"

Lu Cheng muttered while quickly turning off the radio, hiding it in the quilt, and after a few folds stacked it neatly at the bedside.

"It's your sister, open the door quickly," Lu Ying kept knocking from outside.

Hearing it was his older sister, Lu Cheng let out a sigh of relief: "Sis, I'm asleep, don't want to get up; you should go to sleep too."

"Open the door, what are you hiding in there? Let me in quickly, or I'll knock all night and keep you from sleeping."

He knew his older sister's temper well; when she said she'd knock all night, she really could keep knocking.

Lu Cheng had no choice but to open the door; Lu Ying rushed in, searching the room.

"Sis, what are you looking for? Could you not disturb me while I'm writing poetry? My inspiration is flowing like a burst of urine; your knocking almost made me… "

Having found nothing, Lu Ying turned to Lu Cheng: "Were you listening to a song just now?"

"No," Lu Cheng insisted, refusing to admit.

If his sister found out, she'd definitely confiscate it, and he'd have no chance to listen.

"Impossible, I heard it; it was a song sung by a foreign man, and it was wonderful."

Lu Cheng thought he was doomed; he had already turned the volume down to the minimum, maybe the glass window wasn't sealed tightly enough, and his sister had heard it.

"Ah, singing? Yes, you didn't mishear; to be precise, it's a Chinese man singing a foreign song."

Lu Ying grew even more suspicious; there was no one else in the room.

"Did you sing it?"

"Ah, yes, I sang it."

"Nonsense, you can't even hold a tune and you're singing? Even a dog would shake its head."

"Hey, sis! You're insulting me, I'm not that kind of person."

Lu Ying "tsk"ed, and since Lu Cheng wouldn't admit, she decided to look for it herself.

She checked the desk drawer and the wardrobe, found nothing; the room was that small, Lu Cheng's furnishings were simple, even under the bed she hadn't looked.

In the end she still didn't find anything.

When Lu Ying began to doubt that she had really misheard, she noticed that Lu Cheng's quilt was folded.

Lin Qingyan wasn't home, when had Lu Cheng ever folded a quilt?

And the fold was messy, clearly done in a hurry.

As she was about to go over and lift it, Lu Cheng stepped forward to block her.

"Move!"

"Sis, there's really nothing, I did sing just now; if you want to hear, I'll sing it for you right here."

"I'm not going to listen to your ghostly wailing."

Seeing Lu Cheng blocking her, she couldn't get past, so she said: "Really nothing hidden?"

"I truly have nothing; I swear to the Old Heaven, anyone who lies will have Binzi give birth to a hundred children, exhausting that bastard."

Lu Ying rolled her eyes: "Since there's nothing hidden, fine, I'll go back to sleep."

"Alright, alright, sister, take care…"

As Lu Cheng relaxed his guard and walked toward the desk, little did he know that just as Lu Ying reached the doorway, she suddenly performed a reverse thrust.

Lu Cheng tried to block again, but it was too late; he saw Lu Ying reach into the quilt, fumble twice, pull out a cassette recorder, and several boxes full of foreign-language tapes.

"Great, you even dare to listen to these capitalist songs? Smuggled, I bet! You're bold."

"Sis, keep your voice down, if people hear it, it won't work."

Lu Cheng tried to rush forward to snatch it, but Lu Ying quickly tucked it behind her.

"I can be quiet, but today I still have to expose you to the Street Office; the items are now confiscated."

Lu Ying pretended to listen to themselves, speaking with a face of righteous solemnity.

Lu Cheng realized he might not return: "Alright, alright, giving it to you isn't a problem, so the two of us can stay in this room and listen for a while; I'm writing poetry, all thanks to this song for a little inspiration."

"Write poetry by listening to music?" Lu Ying lightly nodded: "Oh, I get it, I was wondering how you could compose poems, turns out you have a secret weapon."

The older sister thought this was even better, and Lu Cheng was fretting, not knowing how to explain.

By candlelight, he wrote a famous poem by Hai Zi—Asian Copper.

There was no way around it; the poems he could remember were far too few, so he could only seize Hai Zi himself and pluck them.

Lu Ying didn't know, but they read the poem on the draft paper carefully, and the more they read, the more flavorful it seemed.

Finally, they fixed their gaze on the recorder.

Listening to a song can produce good poetry?

"How's it, sis? Give me your rating."

Lu Ying rolled their eyes: "I'm going to sleep."

Grabbing the recorder, Lu Ying hurried back to their room, shut the door tightly, and checked the window again.

Then they took paper and pen, hid under the blankets, covered their head, illuminated with a flashlight while turning on the recorder.

They were overjoyed, thinking, "Now it's finally my turn for inspiration; watch me write a great poem."

Yet after listening to the song for ages and picking at their fingers, they still couldn't force out a single character.

Strange? Where's the inspiration? Why can't they write?

They listened until daybreak, not knowing when they fell asleep.

Because they didn't know how long it had been stored in the warehouse, the battery was also dead.

Lu Ying didn't give up; every night they stopped watching TV, and every evening they hid in the quilt listening to songs for inspiration.

Yet in the end they still gained nothing; in their frustration, they suddenly understood something.

It was a foreign song, surely because they didn't understand it, they couldn't reach inspiration.

It must be so.

If Qing Yan could return, that would be great; they would definitely understand.

Waiting and waiting, ten days later, Lin Qingyan finally returned.