Chapter 20: Two-Second Attention Span

Lin Zhao subtly stepped back half a step and said, “...go wash up!”

The two children sensed their mother’s distaste, grinned, and hurried off to wash their hands and faces.

Da Zai poured water, Er Zai fetched the baby soap—the two brothers moved in perfect sync.

Lin Zhao was busy bathing the twins.

The one-year-old toddlers loved playing in water, slapping the surface with their arms, laughing until their eyes crinkled.

The well-behaved third child imitated his sister, slapping the water too, and laughed along.

Lin Zhao’s head felt twice its size.

“No splashing!” she scolded, feigning sternness.

The twins were quick to read her expression; sensing their mother’s anger, they stopped splashing. Xiao Si pressed his chubby head against Lin Zhao, his voice soft and milky: “Mama~~~”

Lin Zhao’s stern face cracked. She flicked his nose with her finger. “Little schemer.”

He was impossibly clever.

After washing his hands and face, Er Zai rubbed on baby cream and held out his arms for his brother to sniff: “Bro, do I smell nice?”

“Smells good. Smell me—do I smell nice?” Da Zai also held his hands out before his brother’s nose.

“Smells good,” Er Zai nodded vigorously.

Confirmed that he now smelled nice, he dashed over to Lin Zhao, eyes bright and dewy, asking again: “Mama, are you taking me and Brother to the movies tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Lin Zhao wrapped San Zai and Si Zai in a towel, carried them back inside, and dressed them in clean short-sleeved shirts and shorts.

Seeing Da Zai and Er Zai still trailing behind, she added: “Your father will call tomorrow—it’s probably about the bricks and tiles.”

Er Zai knew what bricks and tiles meant—he was ecstatic. “Mama, when are we building the house?”

“Once we get the bricks and tiles, the double harvest will be nearly over—then we’ll build,” Lin Zhao gave him a definite answer.

Er Zai was overjoyed, his desire to show off obvious. Lin Zhao’s smile faded, and she spoke with quiet seriousness: “Er Zai, don’t talk about family matters outside the house anymore.”

“Why?” Er Zai pouted.

Other kids in the village showed off meat and candy to him; some even teased him and his brother on purpose—why couldn’t he show off too?

Lin Zhao saw his pique and asked slowly: “When others eat meat, do you feel envious?”

“Yeah,” Er Zai didn’t understand why his mother asked such a strange question.

“Once or twice, it’s envy. But if it happens too often, it turns sour. What if someone gets bad intentions? Your father isn’t here—what if someone starts watching us?” The child couldn’t grasp big ideas, so Lin Zhao changed tactics.

But Er Zai had more to say: “Dad’s not here, but Grandpa and Grandma are!”

His gaze turned sharp—there was even a hint of a future villain in it.

But he was still just a four-heads-tall child.

“I run fast—if anyone’s watching us, I’ll go call Grandpa and Grandma. If they’re too strong, I’ll go call Grandma on my mom’s side. She’s amazing!”

A slow smile spread in Lin Zhao’s eyes.

He looked so fierce—she’d thought he’d say he’d fight anyone who messed with them. Instead, he’d just call for help.

What a resourceful child.

But.

“Our house is five minutes from the old homestead, and even farther from your grandma’s. If something really happens, by the time you get help, it’ll be too late.”

Er Zai’s fierce expression dissolved into confusion. His round eyes filled with bewilderment: “What’s five minutes?”

Da Zai wanted to know too, watching Lin Zhao with quiet attention.

Lin Zhao didn’t know how to explain. After a moment’s thought, she said: “A minute is a unit of time. When our house is built, I’ll buy us a wall clock and teach you both to tell time.”

“Mama, what’s a wall clock?” Da Zai asked.

Lin Zhao replied: “You’ll find out when I buy one.”

Da Zai, who always obeyed his mother, nodded like a small adult and promised: “Mama, I’ll watch Er Zai and make sure he shows off less.”

“Only if Mama says we can show off, then we will.”

“...” Lin Zhao was torn between laughter and exasperation—he still cared about showing off.

“Fine.”

Er Zai stepped forward, clutching Lin Zhao’s hem, eyes gleaming with excitement: “Can we talk about the movies?”

Seeing Da Zai’s face light up too, Lin Zhao smiled faintly: “Yes.”

The two children beamed.

But they didn’t rush to tell anyone—they planned to wait until after the movie.

The next day, early.

Lin Zhao once again left the twins at the old homestead.

Gu Mu knew she was taking Da Zai and Er Zai to the county to receive a call—she only told them to stay close to their mother, and didn’t stop them.

Of course, she couldn’t stop them anyway.

“Can I borrow a bicycle? The trip to the county is far—Da Zai and Er Zai won’t be able to handle it,” the grandmother fretted.

Before Lin Zhao could speak, Er Zai shouted: “I can! I run the fastest!”

Da Zai objected: “I’m faster than you.”

Er Zai wasn’t upset—he nodded in agreement: “Yeah, Brother runs faster than me.”

Gu Mu watched her two grandsons, her smile tender.

“Fast, all fast—you two boys run fast.”

She treated them perfectly equally.

Er Zai grinned.

Lin Zhao spoke now: “It’s still early—we can walk slowly and make it. No need for a bicycle.” She was a lazy soul and hated unnecessary talk.

Besides, the two children looked full of energy—they didn’t seem like they’d collapse on the road.

Seeing her third daughter-in-law had made up her mind, Gu Mu didn’t press further: “Alright, be careful on the way.”

To avoid the twins causing a fuss, Lin Zhao signaled Da Zai and Er Zai with her eyes and slipped out of the old homestead with them quietly.

Da Zai and Er Zai had never done anything like this with their mother before. Though they felt a little guilty toward their younger siblings, they were thrilled and exhilarated.

Lin Zhao held one child in each hand as they walked toward the county.

“Don’t say you’re tired on the way. Whoever says they’re tired won’t get to go to the county again until we buy a bicycle.”

Er Zai zeroed in on the key point: “Mama, are we buying a bicycle?”

Was that the point?

Lin Zhao chuckled: “No tickets. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Ask Dad!” Da Zai’s mind raced—he remembered they’d be calling their father today. “Ask Dad!”

“You really are your father’s favorite son,” Lin Zhao ruffled Da Zai’s prickly bald head and laughed.

Da Zai thought she was praising him—he grinned.

Er Zai stood on tiptoes, urgent: “Me! Me! I’m Dad’s favorite second son!”

“Yes, yes, you’re Dad’s favorite second son!” Lin Zhao agreed. “Dad’s favorite second son, walk properly—we need to reach the county before noon.”

Er Zai settled down and walked hand-in-hand with his brother, strides firm.

People from Fengshou Team saw Lin Zhao walking with her two sons toward the county and exchanged glances.

“Why is Lin Zhao taking Da Zai and Er Zai to the county? Could she be planning to sell them?” Zhao Laopo imagined the scene of the boys being sold, her face darkening.

Wang Chunhua thought Zhao Laopo was overthinking. She explained for Lin Zhao: “Da Zai’s father sent a telegram—he wants his wife to go to the county to receive a call.”

Zhao Laopo hadn’t expected that. Her smile turned awkward, her wrinkles deepening.

“Oh, I see.”

“I was being petty.”

“Chunhua, don’t tell that person.”

“That person” meant Lin Zhao.

Wang Chunhua smiled: “I’m not the gossiping type.”

“Ah, ah, you’re not,” Zhao Laopo hurried to agree. She dared not provoke the young bride next door—after all, the old mother-in-law was still collecting manure, and rumor had it she cried while copying quotations.

Who had come up with the idea to make illiterate people copy quotations? It was cruel beyond measure.

Soon, everyone in the village learned that Gu’s third son had sent a telegram—and everyone wondered what it was about.

The Su household.

Liao Hongjuan was instructing Su Yuxian.

“Lu Yizhou is coming home today. You must grab him tightly. Whether you live well or not depends on these few days—he’s being watched by many in the team. Don’t let someone else snatch him. Without an engagement ceremony, it’s still unsafe. Pay attention.”

Su Yuxian took the words to heart, her eyes hardening.

Lu Yizhou was her man—no one could take him!

“I know. I’ll go meet him first, then tell him about marriage right away.”

Liao Hongjuan’s expression softened slightly.

“Go early. Don’t be late.”

She pulled out a small packet of hardened brown sugar and handed it to Su Yuxian: “The road is long—borrow a bicycle.”

Seeing her mother give up her precious brown sugar, Su Yuxian was deeply moved: “Thank you, Mama.”

Liao Hongjuan always knew how to control her daughter. Her lowered eyes flickered, then lifted again, now radiating maternal warmth.

“Go.”

Su Yuxian set off confidently to the station to meet Lu Yizhou.

Dacai and Ercai, thrilled at the thought of making a phone call, felt no fatigue and walked swiftly.

Lin Zhao had worried the two children might tire and pout, begging to be carried, but instead they trotted and strolled without a hint of exhaustion.

She simply quickened her pace.

Along the way, chatting and laughing, they arrived in town without incident.

There were few tall buildings here; the tallest stood no higher than five stories, and brick-and-tile houses far outnumbered those in the village.

To children who had never seen the world beyond their village, every corner of town was astonishing.

The lively, cheerful pair, stepping into unfamiliar territory for the first time, only now began to feel fear—nervous, uneasy, and awkward.

This showed in how tightly they clung to their mother’s hand, their palms sweating.

Lin Zhao’s eyes flickered with amusement; she, too, had felt this way when she first came to town for school, always afraid she’d do something wrong and become a laughingstock.

She whispered, “So I’m not the only one who’s scared…”

Ercai, distracted, asked in surprise, “Mom’s scared? What’s Mom scared of?”

Before Lin Zhao could answer, Dacai squeezed her hand tighter; though he himself was deeply uneasy, he reassured her, “Mom, I’ll protect you.”

Lin Zhao froze, her heart softening completely.

“Alright. But with you two here, I’m not afraid at all.”

Hearing this, the two children surged with energy, straightening their backs, a sense of responsibility settling on their shoulders.

The fear in their eyes vanished, replaced by their earlier confidence.

“Should we wait for the phone at the post office or eat first?” Lin Zhao asked.

The little foodie Ercai immediately asked, “Is there meat?”

“I don’t know. Whatever’s available, that’s what we eat—no picking,” Lin Zhao said honestly. “Sometimes there’s meat, sometimes not. You’ve eaten meat for days straight—haven’t you had enough?”

Ercai looked at her with a look that said, You just don’t understand. “Meat can’t fill you up. I love meat—I could eat it every day and never get tired of it.”

Lin Zhao: … Even mountain delicacies and sea treasures would grow tiresome if eaten daily.

“Fine. Let’s eat first—there might still be meat.”

Ercai cheered.

Lin Zhao brought the two children to the state-run restaurant, found a server, and ordered. The server still refused to look them in the eye, lazily listing today’s dishes.

There was chili-fried pork, pork stewed with vermicelli, radish and bone soup, pork shreds with noodles, and large steamed buns.

“Dacai, Ercai—what do you want?” Lin Zhao encouraged them with her gaze, urging them to speak freely.

Ercai puffed out his chest and declared confidently, “I want pork stewed with vermicelli.”

Dacai followed, “I want radish and bone soup.”

Lin Zhao nodded. “Two orders as my sons said, plus one serving of pork shreds with noodles.”

Ercai scanned the room, found an empty table, and sat down, waving to Lin Zhao and Dacai.

“Mom, Brother, sit here.”

Lin Zhao led Dacai over.

This was the first time the two children had eaten at a state-run restaurant—they were ecstatic, squirming in their seats, eyes darting everywhere.

“What are you looking at?” Lin Zhao asked with a smile.

“Tiechui has never been to town—he doesn’t know what a state-run restaurant looks like. I’ll look closely so I can describe it to him when we go back,” Ercai explained brightly.

“Alright, then look your fill,” Lin Zhao said.

Ercai nodded absently, then suddenly sighed.

“Why sigh? I’m taking you out to eat and you’re sighing?” Lin Zhao rubbed his bald head.

Ercai’s voice carried regret: “It’s a shame I can’t draw—if I could, I’d sketch it out so Tiechui would know what town looks like.”

He’d heard about drawing from Lin Xibao.

Lin Zhao knew Dacai and Ercai were close to Tiechui, so she wasn’t surprised—she asked instead, “Do you want to learn drawing?”

“Yes!” Ercai’s eyes lit up.

“Think about it slowly. It’s hard to find a drawing teacher—I’ve studied in town for years and never heard of anyone who could draw,” Lin Zhao said casually.

“Why’s it so hard to find one?” Ercai asked.

“Because learning to draw costs money.” In places like theirs, barely scraping by for food, those who learned to draw were vanishingly rare.

Upon hearing drawing cost money, Ercai immediately said, “Then I won’t learn.”

Lin Zhao: Knew it—two-second enthusiasm.

“You don’t need to learn drawing to capture a scene—cameras can do it too.”

Dacai was especially curious about this new term his mother mentioned; his eyes brightened, filled with puzzled wonder. “Mom, what’s a camera?”

“Something that takes photographs,” Lin Zhao explained patiently.

Ercai’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Is it expensive?” That was his main concern.

“Of course it is—several hundred yuan.”

Ercai wasn’t discouraged; he declared confidently, “When I grow up, I’ll earn lots of money and buy a camera.”

Dacai asked hesitantly, “Why not make one ourselves?”

Ercai thought his brother had a point; his face scrunched up in deep thought. “How do you make it? I don’t know how.”

Dacai didn’t know either—he turned his questioning gaze to Lin Zhao.

Lin Zhao offered a polite smile.

“….”

Don’t look at me—I don’t know how to make one either.

Ercai, seeing his brother look to their mother, assumed she knew; his eyes sparkled with admiration. “Mom knows?”

He remembered Gu Mu saying his mother was exceptionally brilliant—a high school student. What a “high school student” was, a child who hadn’t started school couldn’t possibly understand—but the way his grandmother spoke had left a deep impression on him, so Ercai… didn’t get it, but was awed.

“Mom’s a high school student—she must know.”

Lin Zhao, pinned by two pairs of trusting, adoring eyes, nearly broke into a cold sweat.

High school students couldn’t build cameras either.

“I don’t know how.”

Dacai and Ercai stared, mouths slightly open, dumbfounded, staring at their mother.