Chapter 12: The Leaf Birthmark

“Zhaozhao, you need to pay attention to your children—don’t rely entirely on your mother-in-law. Gu family has so many children; Chenghuai’s mother can’t possibly manage them all. These children are yours—you can’t hand everything off to others. That’s not what I raised you to do.” Lin Mu spoke with deep concern.

She knew how hard her daughter had struggled these past few years and hadn’t pressed her, but time had slipped by, and now Lin Mu worried that as her grandchildren grew older, they’d grow distant from her daughter—so every time she saw them, she’d offer a few words of advice.

“I know, I…” Lin Zhao tried to explain, but her words were cut off as Dacai and Ercai burst through the door.

“Grandma!!” Ercai shouted with the warmth of a little sun.

Then came Dacai’s equally joyful voice: “Grandma.”

Lin Mu’s face lit up as she waved to her two grandsons: “Oh my, my precious Dacai and Ercai—let Grandma see if you’ve grown taller.”

Dacai and Ercai stood before her, straight as young white poplars.

Ercai beamed proudly: “Grandma, look at me first—I ate a whole big bowl yesterday, eight meat dumplings! I must’ve grown taller.”

“You ate dumplings yesterday?” Lin Mu was startled.

“Yeah, my mom made them—so much meat, so delicious.” Ercai boasted again.

Lin Mu was even more astonished: “Your mom made them?”

“My mom’s also making us clothes,” Dacai added.

Lin Mu turned sharply to Lin Zhao: “Zhaozhao, have you finally come to your senses?”

Lin Zhao didn’t elaborate—she simply nodded. “Yes. I’ve realized it. These four children were born through immense hardship—I can’t abandon them.”

Dacai and Ercai’s mouths curved into fishhook smiles.

“That’s the right attitude,” Lin Mu said, her eyes brimming with relief. “You’ve finally grown up.”

These past few years, she and Zhaozhao’s father had both felt regret—they thought they’d been too hasty in agreeing to let their daughter marry. Zhaozhao was still a child herself—married, giving birth, wed to a man who wasn’t even nearby, her life hard, her temperament souring…

Her father always told her: wait until the daughter grows up. And now, it seemed, he’d been right.

Here it was.

Their daughter had suddenly become sensible.

“I’ll go tell your father—he’ll be delighted too.”

Lin Mu and Lin Fu had been childhood spouses, never once quarreled in decades, never separated, their bond deep and constant, always thinking of each other.

Lin Zhao had grown used to it.

But—

Seeing the joy on her mother’s face, she added, “I’ll come home more often from now on.”

“Good,” Lin Mu replied with full, strong voice.

Her words had barely ended when Lin Shisheng entered.

“Second brother,” Lin Zhao said, her tone light.

“Zhaozhao, from now on, keep Dacai and Ercai away from the old Gu family compound,” Lin Shisheng said.

Lin Zhao frowned in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Mu’s face hardened, her sharp eyes fixed on Lin Shisheng. “Did someone at the Gu household give your boys a bad look?”

“No bad looks—but Dacai and Ercai nearly got hurt by their little aunt,” Lin Shisheng replied, his expression darkening as he recalled the scene.

“What?” Lin Mu immediately checked Dacai and Ercai, terrified they’d suffered harm while she wasn’t looking.

Dacai quickly said: “Grandma, we’re fine. When little aunt was about to throw firewood at us, Second Uncle showed up and kicked it away.”

Ercai nodded vigorously beside him.

Lin Mu relaxed, but fury surged—she rose to storm off to the Gu family compound.

Lin Shisheng grabbed her arm.

“Mom, I already taught them a lesson.”

Lin Mu stopped, asking: “How did you teach them?”

Ercai’s eyes sparkled like lanterns as he proudly recounted how his second uncle had avenged them.

He was a child with exceptional verbal talent, clear thinking, and strong memory—he reenacted the entire scene with dramatic flair.

Lin Zhao watched her second son switch roles: one moment playing his little aunt, the next himself and Dacai, then his second uncle—all seamless, never confused.

He perfectly recreated the moment.

The imagery was vivid.

It made you feel as if you’d been there.

Her expression softened slightly.

She deeply realized Dacai and Ercai had strong hearts—nearly hurt, yet within half an hour, they’d forgotten it entirely.

“Thank you, Second Brother, for protecting Dacai and Ercai,” Lin Zhao smiled.

Lin Shisheng paused, surprised. “You’re being so formal with me?”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Is this really my sister?”

A flicker of exasperation passed through Lin Zhao’s eyes.

She’d been spoiled rotten by her family—never once said “thank you.” No wonder her brother found it strange.

“Second Brother, are you and Mom hungry?”

Lin Shisheng saw her changing the subject and didn’t press—he joked: “Are you inviting me and Mom to dinner?”

“Want dumplings?” Lin Zhao asked directly.

The Lin family didn’t have grain rations—they lived entirely off the land. Luckily, Lin Shisheng could fish and hunt, so they occasionally ate meat, better off than most.

Hunting and fishing depended on luck—the Lin family hadn’t eaten meat in over a month.

Let alone something as refined as dumplings.

“Sure,” Lin Shisheng said, unreserved with his own sister.

No sooner had he spoken than Lin Mu slapped him on the back—he winced in pain.

“Mom,” the young man with two children muttered, sounding wounded.

His silly antics made Dacai and Ercai burst into laughter—the twins didn’t understand, but giggled anyway.

“Sure? Sure what? Do you think we’re starving you? Running over here to mooch off Zhaozhao,” Lin Mu scolded sternly.

Turning to her daughter, her tone softened: “Your father and I already ate before coming—we just came to check on you. We’re leaving right away.”

She touched her grandchildren’s thin faces. “If you take good care of my grandchildren, I’ll be satisfied.”

Lin Zhao hugged Dacai’s shoulder and said seriously: “I’ve been an idiot these past few years—I didn’t care for my four children. But now I’ve woken up—I’m going to treat them well.”

Dacai turned to meet his mother’s gentle gaze, his eyes softening. “Yes, Mom treats us very well. Grandma, don’t worry.”

“Mom, I want to tidy up the backyard vegetable patch—help me with it, you and Second Brother.”

Lin Shisheng had always protected his sister since childhood—he did whatever she asked, a devoted brother.

Without hesitation, he said: “Tell me how you want it done—I’ll handle it.”

“Let’s go to the backyard.”

They walked to the backyard.

Lin Zhao glanced at the messy backyard and frowned: “It’s a mess. Second Brother, build a fence around the vegetable patch—use bamboo slats, all the same height and width. I don’t care about the design, but it must be neat, and…”

“Make you feel refreshed and at peace, right?” Lin Shisheng finished.

“I get it—just like our house. Don’t worry, leave it to me.”

His little Zhaozhao had always been a girl with high standards for daily life.

Lin Zhao turned to Lin Mu: “Mom, plant some other vegetables too—there are too few kinds. Dacai and the others are sick of cabbage.”

“?”

Dacai looked utterly confused.

But he didn’t call his mother out.

“Spoiled,” Lin Mu said to Lin Zhao—but didn’t refuse her daughter. “I’ll go to the old Gu compound and see if they have any vegetable seeds.”

She smoothed her clothes, stamped the dust off her feet, and headed toward the Gu family compound.

Ercai hurried after her.

Lin Shisheng went to gather bamboo slats.

Lin Zhao looked at the twins sitting in the yard, digging in the soil—two toddlers who couldn’t even speak properly seemed to be arguing, utterly charming.

“Dacai, watch your younger siblings. I’m going to cook. Grandma and Second Uncle are here—today we’ll have dumplings for them.”

“Okay,” Dacai said happily. “I’ll watch Sancai and Sicai. You go ahead.”

He was happy to eat dumplings—but eating them with Grandma and Second Uncle made him even happier.

“With a son as well-behaved as you, I really don’t have to worry,” Lin Zhao sighed.

She walked toward the front yard.

Dacai nearly melted into a placenta from his mother’s praise.

As Lin Zhao reached the front yard, she heard a familiar voice outside.

Someone shouted: “The barber’s here!”

She called out loudly: “Dacai!”

Hearing his mother’s call, Dacai hurried over, holding the filthy twins by the hand.

“Mom?”

Lin Zhao handed Dacai two fen. “The barber’s here—take you and Ercai to get your hair cut.”

“Shave it all off,” she reminded.

Dacai froze in place.

Lin Zhao coaxed gently: “Shaved heads are cooler. Besides, your hair grows back fast—you’ll have it again soon.”

Dacai thought his mother was right. “Alright.”

He then led his younger brother and sister out of the house.

After walking only a few steps, they met Ercai, who was trotting behind Lin Shisheng. Dacai called out: “Ercai, Mom wants us to shave our heads—come with us?”

“I’m not going. I’m helping Second Uncle.”

“Mom says shaving makes you cooler. If you won’t go, I’m going.” Dacai said, leading his siblings toward the village entrance.

Seeing this, Ercai instantly changed his mind. “I’m coming too. We’re brothers—we do everything together.”

Lin Shisheng smiled and shook his head.

Tiechui ran over from afar. “Dacai, Ercai, where are you going?”

“We’re getting our heads shaved. You coming?” Ercai asked.

“Yeah.”

The boys set off together.

Lin Zhao was busy in the kitchen. Lin Mu had just returned with vegetable seeds and called out, “Zhaozhao,” intending to tell her what kind she’d gotten. But when she reached the kitchen door and glanced inside, she saw her daughter had mixed a huge amount of flour—all fine grain. Her face darkened instantly.

She stormed in.

“Zhaozhao, what are you doing? Why mix so much flour—especially white flour? Are you going to ruin us?”

She stepped closer and saw the flour in the Hua Kai Fu Gui enamel basin was ruined. Her heart clenched painfully.

“We’re fine,” Lin Zhao smiled.

Lin Mu snapped, “Who lives like this? All this white flour—your sons could eat noodles for a whole month.”

“There’s still more flour. Don’t worry, you won’t starve your grandchildren.” Lin Zhao spoke calmly. “You and my second brother came to visit me—how could I not even cook you one meal?”

Lin Mu remained unmoved, still angry. “You never used to be so distant.”

Lin Zhao kept smiling. “I’m not the same person anymore.”

Lin Mu had never been to school and didn’t understand fancy words. She spoke with solemn concern: “Zhaozhao, your husband works hard for his money. Spend it wisely.”

“You’ve got Dacai and the others to feed. When they grow older, they’ll need school, then wives and husbands, won’t they?”

“If you don’t plan now, you’ll cry later.”

“But Dacai has his father,” Lin Zhao replied dismissively. She was easygoing by nature, never wasted energy on worry—living well in the present mattered most to her.

Lin Mu wanted to hit her. “Your husband can earn, but he married a wife with fingers so wide she can’t hold onto anything!”

“I raised her,” Lin Zhao said, unafraid. In all her life, her mother had never once scolded her harshly.

Lin Mu choked on her anger and turned away, stomping off to the backyard.

Lin Shisheng, who had just gotten bamboo slats, saw his mother’s furious back and leaned into the kitchen, lowering his voice: “Zhaozhao, what did you do now to make Mom so mad?”

Lin Zhao covered the dough and began preparing the filling. The small enamel basin was full of meat. “She says my fingers are too wide.”

Lin Shisheng saw all that meat and his Adam’s apple bobbed—he was hungry.

He agreed with Lin Mu. “Your fingers are too wide. Why use all this meat at once? Save it—eat a little every few days.”

Lin Zhao looked up at him. “Stop talking. Do you want to eat or not?”

“Who doesn’t want meat?” Lin family had barely had enough grain for two years—no dumplings since then.

“When Second Brother finishes his work, you’ll eat dumplings until you’re full.” Lin Zhao took two steps forward. “Hold out your hands.”

Lin Shisheng stretched his arms out, palms open.

Lin Zhao placed two rock candies in his palms. “Here, sweeten your mouth, Second Brother.”

“Rock candy?” Lin Shisheng’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d seen rock candy before—but never this pure, this transparent, as if not a single impurity marred it.

“Is this really rock candy? It doesn’t look like what I’ve seen.”

Before Lin Zhao could answer, he tossed it into his mouth. The sweetness hit him, and deep amusement flashed in his eyes.

“It’s rock candy.” Lin Zhao kept working. “Second Brother, can you finish the vegetable garden fence in an hour? I’m timing the dumplings.”

“More than enough.” Lin Shisheng spoke casually, confidently. The work was nothing to a man used to hard labor.

“Understood.”

Lin Shisheng went to the backyard to work. As expected, he listened for a long while as Lin Mu complained—again—about Lin Zhao’s wide fingers and her wasteful ways.

He said: “Zhaozhao hurt her head. A little nourishment won’t hurt.”

“Mom brought her eggs and fish—wasn’t that meant to help her recover?”

Lin Mu, arranging the vegetable garden, replied: “Was that for her? It was for us. Your sister treats you well—you must remember that, and protect her.”

Lin Shisheng had expected this turn. “Of course. I’ve only got one sister—I’ll protect her.”

“Remember your words.”

The scent from Gu family’s kitchen yesterday had left neighbors starving. Today, at mealtime, the smell of meat rose again.

Wang’s children cried from hunger. Wang Chunhua, seeing her grandchildren so pitiful, gritted her teeth and boiled two eggs, letting them share it—only then did the crying stop.

But the neighbor’s child on the other side wouldn’t calm down. The boy’s wailing was loud enough to shake the roof.

The Lin family sat eating, each with a bowl of dumplings.

Hearing the wailing next door, Lin Mu frowned at Lin Zhao. “They’ve been like this all along?”

“Not before. Only these past two days. There’ll be plenty more crying ahead.” Lin Zhao didn’t care.

She couldn’t stop cooking just to spare the neighbors.

“You didn’t beat them enough,” Lin Mu said. “When your brothers were young, they’d never dare this.”

Lin Shisheng chewed a dumpling, savoring it. He paused. “Mom’s fists were as big as sandbags—who’d dare misbehave?”

Without exaggeration, the three Lin brothers had grown up under their mother’s iron fist.

Lin Zhao had three older brothers—no, more accurately, four.

Her third and fourth brothers were twins. The twin brother was stolen right after birth.

The Lin family only knew the child had a small leaf-shaped birthmark on his ear. Nothing else.