Chapter 3: Mom Has Changed

In the past, Lin Zhao only gave birth and never raised them; she hadn’t washed a single diaper more than a few times, and once the boys could walk, she stopped cooking altogether, sending them to the old house to eat, and the twins were raised on rice porridge by their nurse.

“Gu Ercai,” Lin Zhao called.

The moment her voice rose, Ercai’s anger vanished; he instantly lost his nerve, glancing at Lin Zhao with a sullen, reluctant look. “What do you want?”

Clearly, his confidence was gone.

“I’ll take care of you from now on, but you have to listen to me—can you do it?” Lin Zhao didn’t know how to raise children, but she believed her kids were obedient; if she spoke to them nicely, Dacai and Ercai would listen.

As she spoke, her gaze swept over Dacai and Ercai.

The Gu twins matured early; they knew their mother was different from others’. Other children’s mothers hugged them; theirs never did. Other children’s mothers cooked them delicious meals; theirs never cared for them…

Thinking of this, Dacai’s eyes darkened with sorrow. The villagers all said their mother didn’t like them.

Now, hearing their mother say she’d take care of them, Dacai’s heart stirred with hope. He asked: “Will you cook us good food?”

“Yes!” Lin Zhao said.

“Will you make us new clothes?” Dacai asked again, afraid she’d think raising them was too expensive, and lowered his standard, speaking carefully: “We don’t need new ones every year—even if it’s just one every few years, is that okay?”

“No,” Lin Zhao thought. One outfit a year was already too little; one every few years? Absolutely not.

The light in Dacai’s eyes faded; a deep, wordless sense of grievance and sorrow filled his heart.

Lin Zhao said sternly: “One outfit every few years? How can that be? You’re still growing. Four outfits a year is about right.”

Dacai froze.

Four outfits a year—not pieces, but full sets—that’s eight pieces total for one person. That’s incredibly expensive.

“It’s too expensive, Mama. Can my brother and I take turns wearing them?” Dacai felt she was finally listening to him and dared to suggest.

Ercai sidled over, pushing his hip against Dacai, looking up at Lin Zhao: “Will you buy us candy?”

Thinking of sweet candy, the greedy child sucked in his saliva.

The last time he’d eaten candy was when their father came home!

Lin Zhao feigned thought, deliberately saying: “What if I don’t buy any?”

Ercai was stunned. His brother’s request had been granted, but hers wasn’t. The little boy, quick to pout, declared proudly: “Fine, don’t buy it! When Dad comes back, I’ll tell him—he’ll teach you a lesson!”

Lin Zhao choked. Her face turned green as she pinched Ercai’s ear. “Who taught you ‘let your man teach you’?”

Ercai tiptoed, leaning into her pull to ease the pain, his boastful energy instantly deflated.

“No one taught me. I heard it from the village aunts.”

Lin Zhao feigned sternness: “Don’t ever copy adult speech again!”

Dacai shoved his hip against his brother and hurried to say: “Mama, I won’t. I never copy adult speech.”

“You’re the best,” Lin Zhao said softly, stroking Dacai’s cheek.

Ercai raised his small hand, eyes wide and pleading: “I’m good too, I’m good too! If you buy me candy, I’ll be even better—I’ll do whatever you say.” Look at him—he already knew how to bargain.

“Fine. First task: bath time.” Lin Zhao couldn’t stand dirty, grimy, stinking kids; she’d endured this long only because they were her own.

As for the two sleeping on the bed—they’d escape it no longer once they woke.

Ercai hated baths; his face wrinkled like a steamed bun. “Can’t we skip it?”

“Sure,” Lin Zhao said, before he could smile. “Then you won’t get any meat buns tomorrow!”

Ercai’s eyes lit up. He grabbed her arm, excited: “You’re buying meat buns? Really?”

Lin Zhao deliberately contradicted him: “Fake.”

“You smiled—that means it’s real! I’m going to wash! Right now! Brother, hurry up, let’s go bathe!” Ercai rushed Dacai.

Lin Zhao held the two children back. “First, eat your sweet potatoes. I’ll heat the water.”

Ercai imitated his grandfather, waving his hand with an air of ancient wisdom: “No need! Cold water’s fine—country folks don’t care about such things.”

Lin Zhao: “…”

She took a deep breath, looked at Dacai, pointed at Ercai, silently telling him to manage his brother, then walked to the kitchen.

As soon as she left, Dacai leaned close to Ercai’s ear and whispered: “Ercai, I think Mama’s changed.”

Ercai, carefree and not as observant as his brother, scratched his cheek and grinned: “Mama talked to us today—haha!”

Lin Zhao heated the water, brought out the tub, and told the two boys to scrub each other’s backs. With the promise of tomorrow’s meat buns, Dacai and Ercai strictly followed her orders, scrubbing each other’s backs with grunts and effort.

“Brother, you’re so dirty,” Ercai blurted, blunt and cutting.

Dacai’s face flushed red.

He glanced instinctively toward Lin Zhao’s room—no movement. He figured she hadn’t heard Ercai’s words, and relaxed.

“You’re dirty too. Just wash clean,” Dacai carefully preserved his dignity as the older brother.

Ercai obeyed his brother, nodding: “Right.”

He beamed: “After we wash, we’ll be clean little boys!”

Dacai hummed in agreement.

Inside the house, Lin Zhao hadn’t sat long when Ercai’s loud voice rang out: “Mama!”

“...” Lin Zhao really wanted to say, Don’t call me Mama—call your father—but she couldn’t; their father was defending the country.

She walked toward the door. The mysterious lottery wheel still followed her. She stopped, poking and prodding at it, finally finding the setting: “Hide when not in use.”

After setting it, she opened the door.

The two boys stood naked in the tub.

At five years old, they were too young to know shame; they grinned openly, unembarrassed.

“Mama, we’re done! Want to check?” Ercai shouted.

He hated baths, but afterward, he felt pleasantly refreshed.

“No need to check. Wait here—I’ll get your clothes.” Lin Zhao walked toward the children’s room. It was hot now; bare skin was fine.

She opened the small wardrobe. The clothes inside were pitifully few, haphazardly piled. No one had taught them to fold; the children didn’t know how. The garments were patched heavily, but clean—probably washed by Dacai’s grandmother.

Lin Zhao took out two undershirts and two pairs of short pants. She couldn’t find underwear. She’d buy cloth tomorrow to make a few pairs for the boys. Clothes needed making too—there was no shortage of money or coupons at home.

She carried the clothes out to the yard.

The two boys had known how to dress themselves since age three; they didn’t need Lin Zhao’s help.

Dacai finished dressing, smoothed the hem of his shirt, looked up at Lin Zhao, and offered a shy, hopeful smile.

“Mama, we’re clean now.”

Lin Zhao said offhandedly: “Dacai’s a clean, pretty little boy now.”

The Gu children—especially the ones from the third branch—were all beautiful. There was no help for it; their parents were strikingly good-looking, standing out in any crowd.

Ercai stood beside his brother, tiptoeing to stretch taller, blinking his big eyes: “Mama, what about me? What about me?”

Lin Zhao didn’t understand Ercai’s odd competitiveness. She smiled: “You’re a clean, pretty little boy too.”

Ercai’s tail nearly wagged. He declared proudly: “I look just like my brother. If he’s clean and pretty, so am I!”

Then he grinned: “We’re both clean, pretty little boys!”

Lin Zhao said casually: “Being clean and pretty for one day isn’t enough. From now on, you must be clean and pretty every day, understood?”

Dacai opened his mouth, wanting to ask: If we’re clean and pretty, will you like us? But he dared not.

Ercai, however, sidled up to Lin Zhao, pressing close, and cleverly bargained: “If you buy us meat buns every day, we’ll wash ourselves spotless every day.”

Lin Zhao thought: You’re not washing for me. Before she could speak, Dacai lectured his brother seriously: “Ercai, meat buns every day cost too much. Once a month is enough.”

After speaking, he looked anxiously at Lin Zhao: “Mama, will Dad’s money cover meat buns?” He worried their father’s remittance wouldn’t be enough.

Ercai also looked anxiously at his mother.

Lin Zhao thought these two boys overthought everything. “Enough.”

Afraid the children would blab around the village, she didn’t mention they had more than enough money to eat well.

The two boys relaxed, their eyes sparkling with joy.

The village work whistle blew.

“?——?——!” It grew louder, coming closer.

Dacai and Ercai were diligent children. Though young, they didn’t share their mother’s laziness; every day they gathered firewood, dug wild vegetables, hunted for wild fruit…

Before, when Lin Zhao ignored the twins, the brothers carried their younger siblings everywhere. The other children at the old house helped watch the two smallest.

“Brother, I’ll go wake Sancai and Sicao. You get the baskets,” Ercai called to Dacai, dashing into the room.

Moments later, two tiny, tearful voices echoed.

“Bad!”

“Bad… gege.”

Ercai grinned triumphantly: “You two didn’t get up? Hurry up, or I’m leaving!”

As he spoke, he turned as if to walk away.

The twins were barely toddlers, speaking one word at a time, unable to grasp reason. Seeing their brother leave, they panicked, sliding off the bed. Their little heads bumped together, dazed. They stared at each other, rubbing their sore spots, babbling nonsense—Ercai couldn’t understand a word.

He picked them up, slipped on their little shoes, and led them out of the room.

Dacai found his and Ercai’s baskets.

At that moment, Gu Mu came over. Seeing Lin Zhao in the yard, she asked: “Still got a headache?”

“A little,” Lin Zhao didn’t lie—after all, there was a big bump on her head.

Gu Mu said: “If it hurts, lie down more. Don’t stand too long.”

“Mm,” Lin Zhao replied.

Gu Mu had little to say to her. After a few brief words, she took the twins and stepped out the door.

The third daughter-in-law had hit her head—she needed rest. She wouldn’t dare make her watch the children.

Of course, Lin Zhao wouldn’t care for them anyway. Sigh.

Gu Mu once again regretted being swayed by Lin Zhao’s face and agreeing to let the third son marry her; standing together they looked well-matched, but if her temperament was bad, how could they live together?

When Er Zai saw their grandmother leave, he urged Da Zai: “Brother, let’s go too.”

Da Zai, uneasy about Lin Zhao, took a few steps toward the door, then stopped, worried, and said to his mother: “Mama, if your head hurts badly, call me and Er Zai—we’ll get you a physician.”

Er Zai, thinking of the meat buns, didn’t forget to flatter: “Yes, yes, if anything happens, call us.”

Lin Zhao’s heart was gripped by the pure, precious love of the two children, warmth rising in her chest.

She stepped forward, then suddenly said: “Close your eyes!”

Da Zai and Er Zai didn’t understand, but their mother had been in a good mood today, so they obeyed and closed their eyes.

Er Zai grinned: “Mama, I’ve closed mine!”

Da Zai also said: “Mama, I’ve closed mine too.”

“Good.” Lin Zhao pulled out two pieces of rock candy as if by magic and slipped them into the children’s mouths.

Da Zai and Er Zai felt something slide into their mouths, sucked gently—it was sweet, it was sugar.

Er Zai snapped his eyes open, his gaze brighter than summer night stars: “Mama, it’s candy!!”

The children didn’t care where the candy came from; for them, as long as there was food, it was enough.

Da Zai also opened his eyes in shock, remembered his mother hadn’t said they could open them, and quickly covered his eyes with both tiny hands: “Mama, I didn’t open my eyes!”—performing the classic “cover ears and steal the bell.”

Lin Zhao laughed: “You can open them now.”

Da Zai lowered his hands, eyes shining as he looked at her: “Mama, the candy is so sweet.”

Mama is so good.

The village aunts were wrong—his mama loved them. Adults who didn’t like children wouldn’t give them candy.

His mama gave him and his brother candy—she must love them.

Thinking this, Da Zai felt sweetness in his heart, sweeter than eating a whole bag of sugar.

“Mama, do you have any candy?” Da Zai worried she might not have any for herself.

“Of course.” Lin Zhao ate one herself—it was sweet and delightful.

Er Zai’s eyes twinkled; he grinned and leaned over: “Mama, can I have another one?”

Seeing his sweet smile, Lin Zhao gave each boy another piece.

“You must brush your teeth tonight.”

Er Zai tucked the candy into his little pocket, patted it several times to make sure it wouldn’t fall out, then heard his mother and said: “We don’t have toothbrushes.”

“Mama says little kids don’t need to brush their teeth,” Da Zai added.

Pfft…

The two little cotton-padded coats suddenly became wind-leaking leather jackets.

“Tomorrow I’ll buy you two!” Lin Zhao sighed helplessly—what on earth had she been like before?

Da Zai remembered the twins and reminded his mother: “San Zai and Si Zai need some too.”

“...I remember.” She was only twenty-three this year—her memory wasn’t that bad.

Lin Zhao married Gu Chenghuai the year before she turned eighteen, right after graduating high school; she had no connections, no money, couldn’t even find a manual labor job, let alone that year’s harvest had been poor and her family was on the brink of starvation.

Since childhood, she had been decisive, planning to marry her way out of her fate.

Later, by chance, Lin Zhao met Gu Chenghuai, who had returned home for a visit; she took the initiative, and Gu Chenghuai seemed unable to resist her advance—he surrendered, and they married before a portrait of the Great Leader.

Outside the gate, faint footsteps passed occasionally, along with voices—it was the workers heading out to labor.

Da Zai was eager to leave; before going out, he reminded her: “Mama, rest well—I’ll bring you back food.”

Where would he get food? Of course, from the old family compound.

Lin Zhao broke into a sweat.

“...Alright.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to cook—first, her head ached; second, the stove hadn’t been lit in ages and needed preparation.

“Don’t go near the river. Stay near adults. If anything happens, call for help,” Lin Zhao warned anxiously.

Before Da Zai could speak, Er Zai shouted loudly: “Mama, we know! Grandma taught us!”

Saying that, he grabbed Da Zai’s hand and ran out the door.