Chapter 16: What Luck

As Gu Xing’er left, the atmosphere at the dining table improved considerably.

Huang Xiulan broke the heavy silence, speaking up: “I never thought fish with pickled mustard greens could smell this good—Third Sister-in-law really knows how to eat.”

“It’s good,” Gu Mu said. “Next time we catch fish, ask Third Daughter-in-law how she makes it—we’ll try it too.”

Hearing this, the boys burst into excited shouts.

“Nai, I’ll go catch fish!” Tiedan, the little rascal, blurted out.

Gu Mu scolded him sharply: “Go where? You’re barely old enough—dare to go in the river and I’ll beat you!”

She waved her palm, as big as a fan, to scare the troublesome brat.

Tiedan nearly choked on a fishbone, spat it out, and wisely said: “I won’t go.”

Bangbang patted his chest—thank goodness he hadn’t volunteered, or he’d be the one getting scolded; his Nai didn’t care if he was the eldest grandson—wrongdoing meant punishment, no exceptions.

Worried the boys might actually go fishing, Gu Mu told her two sons: “Laoda, Laoer, you two go when you have time.”

Gu Yuanshan and Gu Yucheng agreed.

“Big Cai and Er Cai will definitely eat pickled fish until they’re stuffed,” Tiedan said, full of envy.

Sigh, why wasn’t he a child of the third household?

Laimei savored a bite of pickled mustard greens—once he hated this dish, now it suited his taste perfectly: “Of course! I heard Big Cai’s second uncle gave them a huge fish, and Third Auntie’s generous—they’re definitely eating meat until they’re full.”

Zhao Liuniang shot her son a disgruntled look: “What, am I not generous?”

Laimei replied bluntly: “You’re not generous—Mama’s always stingy!”

Zhao Liuniang ignored her troublemaking son.

What a terrible child.

The Gu family hadn’t eaten meat in over a month; though the fish Lin Zhao brought wasn’t much, its oily sheen barely satisfied their cravings—not a drop of broth was wasted, and even lying in bed at night, they still savored the taste of pickled fish.

In the old couple’s room.

Gu Mu mended the worn cuffs of her husband’s sleeves and said: “Third Daughter-in-law’s changed a lot lately. I don’t ask for much—just hope she treats Big Cai and the others well. Even if she spends recklessly, it’s fine—what do you think?”

Gu Fu, who could drop off to sleep anytime: “...”

What could he say?

“Mm,” he muttered vaguely.

Gu Mu wasn’t satisfied with the answer: “Go to sleep.”

Gu Fu rolled over, and within seconds, snoring filled the room.

That night.

Lin Zhao continued drawing prizes.

Today she completed several tasks—

Hosting her natal family: 10 points.

Making new clothes for the children: 10 points.

Sharing pickled fish with her in-laws and receiving praise: 10 points.

Tidying the backyard: 50 points.

Each 10-point draw yields mostly everyday items.

To get high-tier prizes—like skills—you need at least 500 points.

Lin Zhao thought it over, then chose the 10-point draw.

It seemed her luck had run out after the last two draws—tonight, no massive prize packages appeared.

The items she won weren’t grand, but they were practical.

【Velvet fabric ×10 chi】

【Medical sanitary pads ×5 packs】

【Fine wool yarn ×5 jin】

【Soda ×10 bottles】

【High-stretch hair ties ×3】

【Salted duck egg ×1】

【Premium Grade A white sugar ×1 kg】

【Rice cake ×3 pieces】

Though not as good as the last two draws, Lin Zhao was still pleased—it was free loot.

After drawing, Lin Zhao hugged her sweet, soft little daughter and closed her eyes to sleep.

The next day.

Lin Heling learned his daughter was returning; he looked at his wife and said gently: “Why tell me now?”

Song Xi, Lin Zhao’s mother, replied: “If I told you, you’d lie awake all night. Better not to say anything until now—it’s the same.”

Song Xi’s original name was Song Meihua; when young, after marrying Lin Heling, she thought her name ugly and begged him to change it—later, it became Song Xiwei.

Though old now, she’d once been a flower—a fierce one, swinging a black whip with fierce energy, bold and dazzling.

Lin Heling showed little age; handsome in youth, he remained a dashing old man, odorless, always crisp and clean, tall and upright—his bearing outshone all his peers. Had his clothes not been patched, people might believe he was a city official.

He smiled: “We must tidy Zhaozhao’s room—she’s lazy, always wants to lie down the moment she gets home.”

“I’ve tidied it—cleaned it every few days, and yesterday, when I heard she was coming, I tidied it again. She can lie down the moment she arrives,” Lin Mu said, smiling at her husband. Her husband was handsome—just looking at his face made her want to eat half a bowl more.

Lin Heling was used to her staring and asked: “How long will Zhaozhao stay? She rarely comes home—let her stay longer.”

Lin Mu couldn’t help laughing: “You wish your daughter never married, don’t you?”

“Which father wants to see his daughter marry?” Lin Heling countered, then added: “For a father, giving away a daughter leaves a hollow space in the heart.”

Lin Mu thought: Thank goodness Zhaozhao married close by—easy to visit home; otherwise, her father would be even more anxious.

At the Gu household.

Lin Zhao rose early, made egg custard to fill the Long Fengtai’s bellies, sent the two little ones to the ancestral home, then returned to boil noodles.

Soon after, Big Cai and Er Cai woke up from the smell.

The brothers, dressed in their new clothes, clung to the kitchen door, eyes darting inside.

Er Cai grinned: “Mama, what are you making? So fragrant—I was dreaming, then the smell woke me up.”

“Today we eat boiled noodles and soda,” Lin Zhao smiled warmly.

“Soda?!!!!” Big Cai’s eyes lit up, his voice rising: “The soda from the supply and marketing cooperative?!” he asked excitedly.

“Soda!!!” Er Cai cried out too, voice as loud as his Nai’s.

“Yes,” Lin Zhao said gently.

She reminded the two children, whose eyes scanned the kitchen for the soda: “Go wash your faces and brush your teeth—use face soap, and don’t forget to put on baby cream.”

“Yes!” Big Cai pulled Er Cai off to wash up.

Neither child had ever eaten boiled noodles or drunk soda—they were beyond eager.

Lin Zhao ladled three bowls of clear broth noodles, garnished with small greens and finely chopped scallions, each topped with a glossy fried egg.

As she set them on the courtyard stone table, the two boys, their faces fragrant with baby cream, ran out.

“Wow, eggs again!!” Er Cai exclaimed happily, pulling his brother to sit.

At that moment, Lin Zhao brought out three bottles of soda.

“Hurry and eat, or the noodles will turn soggy.”

Big Cai and Er Cai’s eyes flashed bright, their faces glowing with joy.

The brothers sat but didn’t pick up their chopsticks until their mother sat down and lifted hers.

Er Cai took a bite of the fried egg, his face lighting up: “Mama, this egg is delicious.”

Big Cai nodded in agreement, his mouth greasy with oil.

Lin Zhao took a bite of the noodles—perfectly seasoned: “This is fried egg—cooked in oil, of course it’s good.”

“Mama, I love fried eggs—can we have them tomorrow too?” Er Cai asked boldly.

“Of course—just say so,” Lin Zhao replied. There was plenty of oil at home—easy to make.

At this time, both adults and children lacked fat in their diets; the two boys had big appetites, finishing their bowls and even drinking the broth.

“Full?” Lin Zhao asked. They said half-grown boys could drain a father’s resources—there was truth to that.

“Full,” Big Cai wiped sweat from his brow, smiling. Eating hot soup noodles in summer was truly warm.

The two children glanced at the soda on the table but didn’t drink it yet—instead, they spontaneously went to wash the dishes.

After washing, they stood watching Lin Zhao expectantly.

Er Cai asked: “Mama, can we drink the soda now?”

“Of course—if you don’t get too full,” Lin Zhao said.

Big Cai thought carefully, then consulted his brother: “Er Cai, let’s open one bottle, share it, and save the other for after we come back from Grandma’s—okay?”

Er Cai thought his brother’s idea was perfect and agreed instantly: “Yes!”

Lin Zhao respected their decision, opened one bottle, and gave it to the two boys.

“Er Cai, you drink first,” Big Cai said.

Er Cai took a tiny sip, his eyes crinkling into crescents: “You drink too, Brother—the soda’s so good, my tongue’s tingling, sweet!”

After tasting it, he immediately handed the bottle to Big Cai, urging him to drink.

Big Cai took a sip, his dark eyes sparkling with delight: “So good!” He fully agreed with his brother.

Lin Zhao noticed the brothers’ mutual kindness and smiled—what divine little treasures, here to repay her kindness, needing no guidance at all—they already knew what to do.

Big Cai saw his mother’s smile and suddenly felt shy; he whispered: “Mama, why are you smiling?”

“Laugh at how lucky my life is.”

Er Zai chuckled. He knew this phrase well—everyone in the village said his mother had good fortune.

He grinned wide. “My brother and I are lucky too!”

As he spoke, he took the soda from Da Zai, took a long, satisfying sip, and sighed dramatically like an adult.

Lin Zhao smiled. He was clearly copying his grandfather’s mannerisms.

“Drink up slowly. I’m going to pack up—we’ll leave soon!”

Er Zai suddenly remembered something and called out to her. “Mama!”

Lin Zhao stopped and turned to look at him. “What is it?”

“Can I bring my candy?” Er Zai’s expression was serious. “My brother and I want to give some to Da Dan and the others.”

Da Dan was Lin Da’s son. Da Dan had a twin brother, Er Dan. Both were ten years old, and below them was an eight-year-old sister named Lin Xibao.

“So generous? If you give all of it away, you won’t have any left,” Lin Zhao teased her two sons.

Da Zai said, “Da Dan and Er Dan shared eggs with me and Er Zai, and they even gave us candy for the New Year.”

“Brother’s right. We want to share with them,” Er Zai added.

Of course they were reluctant—but both boys were generous children who loved sharing with family.

Lin Zhao said, “Take it if you want. Do as you please with the candy I gave you.”

“Thank you, Mama!” Er Zai shouted loudly.

Lin Zhao ruffled his hair and went inside to pack.

One meat can, two jin of meat, a jar of oil, a pack of instant noodles, salted duck eggs, three bottles of soda, a small packet of candy. After a moment’s thought, she added the new box of snow cream.

She packed it all into a net bag, stepped out of the room, and locked the door.

“Da Zai, Er Zai—are you ready?”

Da Zai and Er Zai came out of their room, their pant pockets bulging.

“Ready.” Er Zai patted his pockets, worried the candy might fall out.

Lin Zhao glanced and knew at once—the two boys had taken all their stored candy.

No wonder they were her sons—so generous.

“Let’s go!” Lin Zhao said.

Something tickled Er Zai’s funny bone. The boy giggled, his laughter bright and clear.

The three of them walked out the front gate. Lin Zhao locked it and set off with her two sons to visit her parents’ home.

The half-grown boys had boundless energy. They didn’t complain once about being tired; their silhouettes looked like birds just let out of a cage.

“Mama, can you sing?” Er Zai plucked a stalk of pigtail grass from the roadside and turned to ask her.

“No,” Lin Zhao said.

“Can you?”

Er Zai shook his head. “I can’t either.”

“What about Da Zai?” Lin Zhao didn’t forget her eldest.

Da Zai held his mother’s hand. “I can’t either.”

Lin Zhao remembered that the county cinema had just premiered a new film, “Tunnel War,” and asked, “Want to watch a movie?”

Both children’s faces lit up.

Er Zai tossed away the dogtail grass, dashed toward Lin Zhao, skidded to a sudden stop, leaned forward, then bounced back, his voice eager and excited: “Mama, are you taking me and my brother to the movies?”

“Yes,” Lin Zhao said, seeing her son’s hopeful face, she promised him the moon.

Er Zai cheered, his laughter startling the sparrows resting in the trees.

“Movies! Movies!!”

He mumbled about the movies nonstop all the way.

Watching the two boys’ joy, Lin Zhao’s eyes softened with a smile.

Laughing and chatting, the three arrived at the entrance of Dongfeng Team’s village.

Lin Da Dan waited at the village gate with his younger siblings. Seeing their aunt, the children rushed over excitedly.

Da Dan and Er Dan were already ten years old. They ran fastest, stopping abruptly before Lin Zhao, shouting in unison: “Auntie!”

Lin Xibao ran after them, her yellow hair fluttering in the wind, grinning with her teeth showing like a little wild child. “Auntie!!”

Behind them came the two girls from Lin Er’s family: Lin Xuan and Lin Zheng, aged nine and seven.

“Auntie, I missed you so much!” Xibao hugged Lin Zhao’s waist, her smile brighter than the sun.

Lin Zhao carried her bags and feared hurting her niece, so she lifted her arms quickly. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Did your grandma tell you to wait here?” she asked. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long—we came right after lunch,” Lin Da Dan answered, his eyes constantly flicking toward the net bag in his aunt’s hands.

He’d seen it—plenty of good stuff inside.

Sensing his nephew’s gaze, Lin Zhao shoved the bag into his hands. “What are you staring at? Don’t you know to take it? My arms are aching.”

Lin Da Dan happily accepted it, grinning. “I was afraid you’d think I was too forward.”

“What? You think I’m a stranger?” Lin Zhao feigned annoyance.

Lin Da Dan panicked, shaking his head frantically. “No, no, Auntie! Let’s hurry home—Grandpa’s waiting for you. He’s been thinking of you all the time.”

Hearing this, Lin Zhao quickened her pace.

Lin Da Dan and Lin Er Dan flanked her like the two guardian deities, walking her home.

Along the way, they met villagers. An old aunt casually asked a question. Lin Da Dan, naturally sociable, chatted smoothly with them, his smile brighter than any flower. “Yes, my aunt’s visiting her parents.”

“What? You’re asking what my aunt brought? Look—this whole net bag is it.”

“Is my aunt filial? Of course she is! Grandma says she’s the most filial daughter in the whole village.”

Lin Zhao, unable to interject the whole time: “...”

She elbowed Er Dan quietly. “You haven’t seen your brother in a while—why’s he suddenly become such a chatterbox?”