Chapter 4: Going to Write

Watching her children leave, Lin Zhao returned to the house. It was a mess, but she had no heart to clean up—her head still throbbed intermittently, the swelling stubborn and grating.

Wait till tomorrow… we’ll deal with it tomorrow.

Having convinced herself, Lin Zhao lay down and closed her eyes.

When she woke again, dusk had fallen, and outside came the voice of Erzai.

“Brother, why hasn’t Mom woken up? Is she unconscious?”

Dazai had quietly checked on Lin Zhao and knew she was still breathing. Hearing Erzai’s words, he snapped at him: “Erzai, you’re too loud! What if you wake Mom? Grandma said people with head injuries need rest—shut up.”

Erzai, who always obeyed his older brother, fell silent.

After sunset, the room grew dark, but there was no need to light a lamp yet.

Lin Zhao got up and stepped out of bed. As soon as she opened the door, Dazai rushed over, afraid she’d revert to her old cold self—he dared not come too close.

He stood in place and asked: “Mom, does your head still hurt?”

Lin Zhao stepped closer to Dazai, stroked the top of his head, and smiled: “Much better after a good sleep.”

Seeing his mother unchanged, Dazai grinned: “Grandma made you some food. Want to eat now?”

Lin Zhao was indeed hungry after sleeping. “Alright.”

Erzai hurried to bring the food.

The chance to show off had been snatched by his younger brother, leaving Dazai quietly sulking—but when his mother smiled at him, a small curve lifted his lips.

Lin Zhao took the meal Erzai brought: cornmeal porridge stewed with cabbage, the only meat being a single fried egg on top.

Without them saying a word, she knew the egg was Gu Mu’s gift to help her recover.

“Thank you, Dazai and Erzai.”

“No need to thank us,” Dazai blushed, fetching a stool for her to sit and eat.

It was peak summer, and the countryside swarmed with mosquitoes—vicious ones that left huge, itchy welts.

Lin Zhao’s legs were covered in red, swollen bites.

Building a new house and buying mosquito nets was urgent.

“Dazai, Erzai, I’m planning to build a new house for us. What do you think?”

Dazai’s eyes widened.

Build a house!?

“Can we build a brick-and-tile house?” Erzai exclaimed excitedly.

Dazai shushed him, signaling him to lower his voice—don’t wake the younger ones, who’d just fallen asleep. Sanzai and Sizai had played hard in the afternoon and were put to bed early.

Erzai clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and hopeful, his voice dropping several decibels but still laced with a childlike lilt: “Mom, I love brick-and-tile houses.”

Honestly, kids talking like that were kind of adorable.

“...Fine,” Lin Zhao said, remembering the savings account her husband had submitted—she nodded decisively. “Brick-and-tile is cleaner. We’ll build that. Then I’ll hang mosquito nets so you won’t wake up biting. But brick and tile are complicated… don’t worry, I’ll write to your father tonight—he’ll figure something out.”

Gu Chenghuai, far away in the military camp: Thank you for remembering me.

Seeing Dazai silent, Lin Zhao softened her tone: “Dazai, why aren’t you speaking? This house will be our home—every family member can voice an opinion.”

“Mom… do we have money?” Dazai asked hesitantly.

Lin Zhao’s heart ached. Dazai sometimes acted too mature for a child—children forced to grow up too soon were always the result of parental neglect.

She smiled at him gently: “We do. We have enough to build the house and buy meat for all four of you.”

Dazai’s face lit up, his smile pure, his eyes bright.

Lin Zhao ate heartily, not complaining about Gu Mu’s terrible cooking.

Though she looked soft and fair now, unlike a country girl, she hadn’t always been so lucky…

Her father, mother, and brothers were kind, but their entire family lived off farming—barely enough to fill their bellies. Cornmeal porridge was a luxury.

Her education had been paid for by her uncle, who worked in the city.

Thinking of how, for years, she’d inexplicably cut off contact with him, Lin Zhao felt like a traitor.

“Mom, can I still share a room with Erzai?” Dazai asked.

Erzai nodded vigorously: “Yes, yes! I want to sleep with my brother!”

Lin Zhao smiled: “And what about Sanzai and Sizai?”

Dazai didn’t hesitate: “Let’s all four sleep together.” He never considered leaving his siblings to their mother’s care.

“Mm.” Erzai had no objections—he always followed his brother’s lead.

Seeing it was late, Lin Zhao told the children to sleep early, and they returned to their rooms.

Before going back, Dazai couldn’t help glancing at Lin Zhao, silently praying: tomorrow’s Mom must be just like today’s.

Lin Zhao didn’t know Dazai’s quiet hopes. Back in her room, she didn’t sleep right away. She sat at the desk and wrote to her husband.

Today had been hell—she’d been wronged, and her heart ached. She thought of her image in that book: a nagging, luckless background character, full of flaws, good for nothing but giving birth… It made her furious.

She’d given him four children and let him support her—what was wrong with that? Her husband hadn’t complained. Why did that damn book slander her so?

She took out old stationery and a fountain pen—since she’d gotten pregnant with the twins, she hadn’t written to the military base nearly as often!

The ink in the pen had dried up…

This pen had been a gift from Gu Chenghuai—cost over ten yuan.

She opened the drawer, pulled out a bottle of ink, and refilled the pen.

Lin Zhao wiped the residual ink from the nib and began writing. Pages filled up, her wrist aching by the end—she’d forgotten what she’d even written.

She was the kind of girl who got angry quickly—and let go just as fast.

After writing, she’d vented. The knot in her chest had mostly dissolved.

Remembering a braised chicken leg in the cupboard, she got up to fetch it.

Unwrapping the oil paper, a rich, salty aroma hit her. She swallowed involuntarily.

It wasn’t that she was greedy—her belly simply lacked fat.

There was only one leg. Giving it to any child would be unfair, and late at night, processed meat wasn’t good for them. She’d handle it herself!

Lin Zhao licked her lips, bit in, and chewed fast—the flavor was truly delicious. In two minutes, the leg was gone.

The bone wouldn’t be wasted—tomorrow, she’d feed it to the stray dogs.

The stray dogs of Fengshou Team had ancestors who’d once served the community. Even in the hardest times, no one had ever thought of slaughtering them for food.

The next morning, when Lin Zhao woke, all four children had already eaten breakfast at the old house and returned.

Hearing movement in her room, Dazai rushed over and gently knocked.

“Dazai? Come in.” Usually, only Dazai knocked. Erzai would just burst in.

Hearing his mother’s gentle voice, Dazai smiled.

He pushed the door open.

“Mom, does your head still hurt?” he asked immediately.

His eyes flicked to the swelling on her head.

Seeing it had shrunk, he exclaimed: “Mom, your bump’s smaller!”

“Yes, I noticed too,” Lin Zhao smiled.

Just then, Erzai burst in, eyes sparkling: “Mom, when are you going to buy meat buns in town?”

Lin Zhao absently smoothed down his cowlick. “After I wash my face and brush my teeth.”

Erzai’s grin widened, his mouth stretching nearly to his ears.

He didn’t press—just wanted to confirm she’d really go.

With her promise, Erzai became a diligent bee: fetching her wash water, handing her a towel, retrieving her toothbrush and paste… He nearly offered to brush her teeth himself.

Lin Zhao stopped him: “...Don’t bother with me. Go do your own thing.”

She couldn’t stand it—she wasn’t some helpless beauty.

“Oh.” Erzai turned to leave, but took two steps and turned back: “Mom, hurry up.”

Lin Zhao: “...”

“Little glutton,” Lin Zhao muttered, but her eyes sparkled.

Erzai didn’t feel offended—he beamed like an idiot: “Yes, I’m a little glutton.”

He leaned close, looked up, and grinned: “Mom, can you buy two meat buns for your little glutton?” He held up two fingers.

Lin Zhao pushed away his cute face—she wasn’t falling for it: “No.”

Fine then.

Erzai didn’t argue. He turned away with a flourish and walked toward Dazai.

Lin Zhao noticed another strength in Erzai: he knew when to let go—no hesitation, no dragging.

Sanzai and Sizai had woken up and were playing in the yard. Both wanted their mother to hold them. Dazai, alone, struggled to manage them—but with Erzai helping, things eased.

After washing up, Lin Zhao took the children to the old house and headed to town alone.

The family had no bicycle. The team leader had one, but his wife was greedy—borrowing it meant paying a favor and enduring lectures. Better to walk.

Seeing Lin Zhao heading to town again, the village gossips began whispering.

“Dazai’s mom’s going to town again? It’s not even payday—what’s she going for now?”

“Who knows? Only Lin Zhao lives well—she’s all soft and pale, doesn’t care for her kids, dumps them all on her mother-in-law. Gu Chenghuai’s family got cursed marrying her.”

“Exactly! Don’t even say she can give birth! Any woman can do that! A lazy, greedy daughter-in-law like her? Even if she could birth ten, I wouldn’t take her.”

Wang Chunhua passed by, heard them talking behind her back, and couldn’t help retorting: “Dazai’s mom doesn’t want your son either.”

The woman turned beet red: “How dare you speak like that!”

What was wrong with her son? He was perfectly fine.

She couldn’t swallow that insult—this auntie shot back with a sneer: “I heard you went all the way to help Lin Zhao yesterday—wonder if she even thanked you.”

Wang Chunhua didn’t take it to heart, speaking coolly: “I help others because I hope my own children will find kindness when they’re in trouble, not because I crave thanks. We’re all neighbors—helping each other is natural. Why bother with empty formalities?”

With that, she turned and walked away.

The gossips caught in the act lost their momentum and scattered quickly.

Lin Zhao didn’t know about the scene back there. At the village entrance, she placed the leftover chicken bones where the stray dog usually hung around.

No sooner had she left than a large yellow dog appeared. Its fur was matted and dry, its body thin, every bone clearly defined.

Smelling the fragrant bones, the dog sniffed cautiously, licked its lips—but didn’t eat. It lifted its head away from the bones and barked.

“Wo…”

A moment later, a small yellow pup emerged, shuffling slowly to the bones and began gnawing, its tail wagging like a propeller.

The big dog drooled, starving—but never once considered taking a bite.

The braised chicken bones were soft; the pup finished quickly, still feeling no fullness, and whined at its mother: “Wo…”

That meant it wanted more.

The big dog lowered its head and licked the pup’s skull, nudging it onto its back. The pup growled fiercely and barked again.

Then, the two dogs left together.

The road from Fengshou Team to the county town wasn’t far, but not close either—by bicycle, it was near; on foot, it was far.

Lin Zhao arrived in town just before eleven, having walked for two hours, nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

First, she went to the post office and mailed her letter, watching closely as the clerk affixed the stamp and placed it among the stack of mail before she felt reassured.

“You still don’t trust me to handle things?” asked the round-faced girl with two short braids behind the counter, smiling teasingly.

The girl was Liang Yi, who had worked at the post office for years and knew Lin Zhao.

Lin Zhao smiled lightly. “It’s just been a long time since I mailed anything. I noticed you’re moving faster than usual—found it interesting.”

Liang Yi beamed at the praise. Seeing Lin Zhao’s forehead reddened and slightly swollen, she asked: “What happened to your head?”

“Bumped it,” Lin Zhao said casually.

“Be careful—head injuries aren’t trivial.”

“Mm.” Seeing someone else come to conduct business, Lin Zhao waved at the counter and stepped out of the post office.

After mailing the letter, she went to the Supply and Marketing Cooperative.

Her household lacked many things, so she’d brought all her nearly expired ration tickets.

She bought cloth, hard candy, toothbrushes, toilet paper…

Spotting some Liyuan shoes, she asked the clerk: “Do you have any for five-year-olds?”

Lin Zhao looked like someone with money, and she bought decisively—glanced once, satisfied, and paid immediately. The clerk treated her better than usual, without the usual haughty indifference toward customers.

In this era, few bought shoes—most wore homemade cloth shoes. Even adults rarely bought shoes; families buying shoes for children were rare indeed. The cooperative had stocked a few pairs of children’s Liyuan shoes, but over a year had passed without a single sale. Seeing Lin Zhao interested, the clerk was delighted: “We do. How many pairs?”

Before Lin Zhao could answer, the clerk enthusiastically added: “Liyuan shoes are high quality and look great on feet—you won’t regret buying them.”

“Two pairs, thank you.” Imagining the joy on Dacai and Ercai’s faces when they saw the shoes, Lin Zhao felt any price was worth it.

The clerk was thrilled—selling off stagnant stock meant even without monetary rewards, the director would praise her verbally, helping her chances for an excellence award.

She became even more enthusiastic, wrapping the two pairs of shoes in paper, placing them on the counter, and sliding them over: “Seven yuan.”

Yes, two pairs for seven yuan—nearly half a worker’s monthly wage. Very expensive.

Lin Zhao held the shoes, measured them mentally, judged the size right, and paid without hesitation.

The clerk had worked half a year and had never seen anyone so careless with money. She couldn’t help feeling envious—and remembered two more blankets still unsold. “Want a blanket?” she offered.

“Yes!” Lin Zhao’s eyes lit up.

Perfect—she could replace the blankets covering Sancai and Sicao.

The clerk crouched, pulling two blankets from a cabinet beneath the counter.

Red, garish in appearance, but the quality was good.

“I’ll take both,” Lin Zhao said.

(End of Chapter)