Chapter 28: Amber

Lin Zhao finished cooking, but Dacai and Ercai hadn’t returned yet.

She wasn’t worried; she let the Long Fengtai play in the courtyard while she went back inside and sat by the window.

The two good kids could see their mother from where they sat, so they didn’t fuss, just squatted on the ground playing.

Lin Zhao thought the family’s meat was gone, leaving only eggs; the dog couldn’t eat the household’s fine grains—once the villagers found out, they’d point fingers at her for life—she had to find a way to get some coarse grains.

How to find a way?

Of course, it had to be the lucky draw wheel.

She refused to admit it was because she hadn’t drawn in days and her fingers were itching.

Three draws.

Just three draws!

If she got it, fine; if not, she wouldn’t draw more—Lin Zhao swore to herself.

First draw, luck was decent—she got food.

【Large Shrimp Crispy Candy ×1 bag (50 pieces)】

【Milk Powder ×1 bag】

【Meat Paste ×2 bottles】

【Portable Small Mirror ×3】

【Pork Ribs ×2 jin】

That was ten points gone.

Lin Zhao was fairly satisfied.

Next was the second draw.

She got a heat-relief package.

【Large Green-Rind Red-Flesh Watermelon ×5】

【Mung Beans ×1 jin】

【Green Tea ×1 can】

【Lemon ×2】

Still nothing the dog could eat.

Lin Zhao calculated in her mind: if she didn’t get it in three draws, she’d go to the old house for coarse grains.

Then came the final draw.

“Definitely get coarse grains, get coarse grains.” Lin Zhao’s entire knowledge beyond her time came from the original novel; things not mentioned in it—like dog food—she didn’t know.

After muttering this, she clicked to draw.

Luck was still good.

She got the “Dog Care Package.”

【Deodorizer ×1 bottle】

【Internal and External Dewormer for Dogs ×1 box】

【Dog Food ×100 jin】

Dog food—obviously, food for dogs. One hundred jin? That should last the dog a long time.

Having drawn exactly what she wanted, Lin Zhao was thoroughly satisfied.

Her points dropped to 250, but it was worth it.

Seeing the Long Fengtai weren’t paying attention, she hid all her new draws in the cabinet—thankfully the cabinet was large, or it would’ve been overflowing long ago.

Lin Zhao stepped out the door just as Dacai and Ercai ran home.

Ercai held a skinny little yellow dog; behind them, the dog’s mother lingered far off, sneaking glances.

The skinny yellow dog didn’t enter, hiding beside the Lin family’s gate, cautiously poking its head inside to peek—it hoped its pups would find a home, yet feared they’d be disliked.

Ercai set the little dog down and reached out to stroke its neck.

Dacai exclaimed happily: “Mom, we found the little yellow! He and Big Yellow were eating trash at the village entrance—he looked hungry. Do we have anything to feed him?”

The puppy was emaciated, its fur dull and matted, filthy and knotted, eyes wet and bright with cunning; it clearly sensed Lin Zhao was the decision-maker, wagging its tail like a propeller as it circled her.

Lin Zhao could almost see the fleas on its body.

“It needs a bath first.”

Dacai immediately asked: “Should we boil water?”

“It’s too hot today—no need,” Lin Zhao said.

Ercai, squatting to play with the dog, lifted his small head and smiled: “Mom boils water to wash us.”

They didn’t understand sterilization; Lin Zhao could only say: “Who else but my good kids? Hot water feels better—I don’t mind the trouble.”

The two kids were so charmed by their mother’s words their smiles wouldn’t fade.

Mom is so good to them!

Dacai and Ercai didn’t let their mother lift a finger—they took the little dog to the courtyard’s water outlet; Dacai scooped water, Ercai rubbed its fur.

The puppy wasn’t scared at all, letting them handle it, occasionally sticking out its pink little tongue to lick their hands, making the two boys laugh.

While the brothers played, the Long Fengtai edged closer—but before they could touch, Dacai grabbed their small shoulders.

“Don’t touch—the dog hasn’t been washed, it’s got bacteria, right Mom?” he asked Lin Zhao, who had just stepped out of the house.

“Right. Dacai, take your brother and sisters away,” Lin Zhao instructed.

Dacai, solemn-faced, led the younger ones to the corner of the wall.

The Long Fengtai loved their big brother and stopped fussing over the water.

Lin Zhao applied the deodorizer and dewormer to the little dog.

“Mom, what’s this?” Ercai asked, confused.

“Deodorizer and dewormer,” Lin Zhao said.

“Where’d you get them?” he asked again—but before she could answer, he nodded as if he understood: “I know—you bought them in town.”

He looked triumphant, eyes gleaming, grinning: “So Mom likes dogs too!”

Lin Zhao: “...”

Fine, no need to make excuses.

“Yes, I’ve wanted to raise a dog for a long time.”

Ercai’s eyes sparkled brighter.

Happy because he shared his mother’s liking.

Lin Zhao pinned up her hair, put on a patched-up dress, crouched down, and applied the deodorizer and dewormer—the dog’s fur was matted into clumps, impossible to comb out.

“The dog’s fur won’t comb apart—Ercai, go get me the scissors. I’ll cut the matted clumps first.”

Ercai dashed into the house, found the scissors, and rushed back out.

He crouched beside Lin Zhao again.

“Mom, be gentle—don’t cut the dog’s skin, it’ll hurt,” the kind child reminded her.

“...I know,” Lin Zhao replied.

After cutting away the matted fur, the puppy looked much neater.

Ercai blurted: “So ugly.”

Lin Zhao took off her old clothes, set them aside, and washed her hands with face soap.

Hearing Ercai’s words, she shot him a sideways glance: “Rude. Dogs have dignity too. Where’s it ugly? Don’t you think it’s cute? When the fur grows back, it’ll be prettier—Chinese rural dogs aren’t ugly.”

Ercai widened his eyes: “Mm.”

“What’s a Chinese rural dog?”

She nearly collapsed.

You don’t know anything—why are you just saying “mm” like you’re impressed?

“Chinese rural dog is a breed—the little yellow and its mother are both Chinese rural dogs,” Lin Zhao patiently explained.

“Hungry? I’ll cook meatballs.”

Ercai’s stomach growled several times: “Hungry.”

Dacai also said: “I’m hungry too.”

Of course they were—nothing eaten since morning.

“Wait—I’ll make it.”

Lin Zhao turned and went into the kitchen.

Ercai played with the little dog, then suddenly remembered something—he ran out the door straight to the old house, found Gu Mu, and said: “Grandma, can I borrow your comb?”

Gu Mu glanced at his bald head, assumed Lin Zhao needed it, didn’t ask further: “On the cabinet—go get it.”

“Yes!” Ercai answered crisply, ran to his grandparents’ room, grabbed the comb, and dashed back home like the wind.

“Brother, let’s comb the little yellow’s fur?” he invited Dacai.

Dacai: “Okay.”

The two boys combed the fur of their new family member.

The Long Fengtai wanted to join but were firmly refused; they could only retract their restless paws and sulkily cup their faces to watch.

After a while, Lin Zhao called from the kitchen: “Dinner’s ready!”

“Dacai, Ercai, come wash your hands—wash them clean!”

The two kids hurried to wash, scrubbed twice, then sniffed each other’s hands—only if they smelled clean did they pass inspection.

Erzai burst into the kitchen, sniffed the meat aroma, his eyes sparkling with tiny smiles: “Mama, it’s the smell of meat.”

“Yes, who else but a greedy little brat lives here?” Lin Zhao teased him.

Erzai knew she meant him—he grinned wider. “Mama doesn’t mind me.”

Dazai said little, helping his mother fetch the rice.

Lin Zhao stopped him. “There’s soup in the bowls—be careful, it’s hot. I’ll get the rice. You two will wash the dishes later.”

“Okay,” Dazai replied.

There was a breeze in the yard today, so Lin Zhao had set the table outside early. The whole family ate outdoors.

Sanzai and Sizai also had meat. The two little bundles laughed, showing their tiny milky teeth.

The meatballs in their wooden bowls were crushed fine, so they wouldn’t choke.

Erzai looked and said, “Sanzi and Sizi have some too?”

“It’s fine once in a while.” Otherwise, the two little ones would fake-cry again.

In the meatball soup were round, plump meatballs, mushrooms, and finely chopped green onions—fresh, delicious, and refreshing.

Besides the meatball soup, there was also sugar-stirred tomatoes—tart and sweet, perfect for summer.

Dazai and Erzai ate without lifting their heads.

Xiao Huang circled the two boys’ feet, tail wagging fast, occasionally barking.

“Mama, Xiao Huang doesn’t have food,” Dazai said.

“I forgot about it.” Lin Zhao put down her chopsticks, went inside, guessed at some dog food, and placed it before the puppy.

Xiao Huang buried his head in the bowl and devoured it, eating with the ferocity of a whale swallowing the sea.

“Mama, Xiao Huang is starving,” Dazai said, his eyes filled with sympathy.

He and Erzai had been hungry like that too—but since Mama took care of them, they’d never gone hungry again. Every day was full.

The children gazed at Lin Zhao with adoration, their eyes glowing, softening her heart.

“Now that it’s in our family, it won’t go hungry again.” Lin Zhao truly liked furry creatures, especially dogs—loyal and capable. Who wouldn’t?

“Mama, can you name Xiao Huang?” Dazai played with the puppy, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

“Me? Why me?” Lin Zhao smiled.

Dazai’s face turned serious. “You’re the biggest in the family. You named us. The new member’s name must be yours too.”

Wrong.

The children’s names weren’t hers—they were given by Gu Mu.

Looking at her son’s bright eyes, Lin Zhao couldn’t bring herself to correct him. A quiet ache stirred in her chest.

She hadn’t helped choose their nicknames. But for their official names, she must think carefully.

“Fine, I’ll name it.” Lin Zhao looked down at the dog whose tail was wagging wildly. Its eyes were bright, clear as fine amber. She said: “Call it Hu Po. The dog’s name is Hu Po.”

“Nice!” Dazai didn’t even know how to write those two characters or what they meant, but he praised it wholeheartedly anyway.

Erzai asked: “Mama, what’s Hu Po?”

Lin Zhao didn’t know either.

In the original novel, someone found a stone, and long after, it was discovered to be precious amber. Su Yuxian had privately said many cruel things about it.

“Ask your father when he comes back.”

Erzai was easygoing—he never tortured himself. Not knowing? Fine. He didn’t press it. He picked up his bowl, squatted in an Asian crouch, and sat side by side with the new family member to eat.

Dazai filed the matter away in his mind, planning to ask his father when he returned.

Lin Zhao remembered the dog’s mother. She asked the two boys: “When you found Xiao Huang, did you see Da Huang?”

“Mama, it’s not Xiao Huang—the dog’s name is Hu Po.” Dazai corrected her, then added: “We saw Da Huang. Da Huang gave us Hu Po.”

Lin Zhao thought: with so much dog food, adding another big dog wouldn’t be a burden. “Do you want to keep Da Huang too?”

The two children’s eyes lifted slightly, as if stars twinkled in their pupils.

“Really?” Dazai asked hopefully.

Erzai added: “I wanted to name Da Huang, but I was afraid Mama would think two big dogs eat too much.”

Lin Zhao thought: without the mysterious lucky wheel, she’d never have kept them. But with heaven’s gift, what difference did one more dog make? Especially if it was Da Huang.

“It does eat more. But Da Huang can guard the house and protect you. If we keep him, I’ll feel better going to work.”

Da Huang, the village stray, was a descendant of heroes—intelligent, loyal, capable. Keeping him was no loss.

Dazai hugged Lin Zhao, his ears turning red. He muttered: “Mama’s the best,” then sprinted out to find Da Huang.

Erzai, for the first time, didn’t follow his brother. He finished his last sip of soup, set down his bowl, and kept combing the puppy’s fur.

Lin Zhao noticed the comb in his hand—she was certain it wasn’t hers.

“Where did you get this comb?”

It looked like something from her mother-in-law.

Erzai said: “My grandma’s!”

“...” Lin Zhao pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re using your grandma’s comb to brush the dog?!”

You really are your grandma’s favorite grandson.

Erzai looked puzzled. “Grandma told me to take it.”

“Did you tell your grandma you were going to brush the dog with it?” Lin Zhao asked.

Erzai shook his head. “No.”

“Go tell her yourself,” Lin Zhao sighed. If this were her comb, she’d never use it again.

“...Okay,” Erzai replied, still carelessly brushing the dog.

Lin Zhao could barely look.

She was curious why he didn’t use hers. She asked: “Why not use my comb?”

Erzai tilted his head, eyes confused. “Aren’t you the one who doesn’t like others touching your things?”

Then, with flawless precision, his expression shifted from confusion to excitement. “Does this mean I can use your things now?”

Even if you danced around it three times, I still wouldn’t nod.

No matter how many times you twist and turn, I won’t nod.

Erzai didn’t pester. He remained calm, indifferent.

Lin Zhao was impressed.

His mindset crushed most adults—he never wasted energy on inner turmoil.

This mindset crushes many adults—he never wastes energy on inner turmoil.

Three minutes later.

Dazai returned with Da Huang.

Da Huang didn’t rush in. He lowered his head, standing at the gate. He was filthy, skin and bones, his fur dull, matted, tangled.

Hu Po saw him, barked a few times, dashed over, tail spinning like a propeller, hopping excitedly—adorable.

“Come home,” Dazai urged Da Huang.

Da Huang looked up at Lin Zhao and Erzai. Seeing them wave, he finally entered with his pup.

“Mama, should we bathe Da Huang and treat him for fleas?” Erzai asked eagerly.

“Of course.” Da Huang needed it far more than his pup.

His body was surely crawling with parasites.

Same routine.

Lin Zhao put on old clothes, sprayed Da Huang with deodorant and dewormer, then used scissors to cut away the matted fur.

This big dog was clearly intelligent—he seemed to know every move was for his good. He cooperated perfectly, even without a single whine.

“Good boy,” Lin Zhao said, genuinely fond of Da Huang now.

After the bath, she went inside and fetched dog food.

Da Huang didn’t eat right away. He used his front paws to nudge the bowl toward Hu Po. Hu Po ate a few bites, barked twice—as if signaling he was full—then Da Huang finally ate heartily.

In this era, people suffered. Dogs suffered too. Since birth, he’d never had a full meal.

People suffered in this era, and dogs suffered too; from birth, it never had a full meal.

(End of Chapter)