Chapter 64: One Pill

The children worked with great enthusiasm; before the meal was ready, they made three round trips to carry various small items back to the old house, leaving only large pieces like beds, desks, and boxes full of clothes and shoes.

Before leaving home for the old house, Lin Zhao filled the dog bowl with dog food, patted Huang’s head, and said, “Huang, you and Hubo stay home for now—I’ll bring you back to the old house tonight.”

No wonder Huang understood human emotions—he merely rubbed his head against Lin Zhao’s leg and went to show off his meal to his pups.

The master rarely followed when leaving home.

Lin Zhao brought the children back to the old house.

On the way, they chattered nonstop.

Tie Dan suddenly bumped Er Zai’s shoulder, winked, and whispered, “Er Zai, have you ever tasted Huang and Hubo’s food?”

Thinking of the two dogs wolfing down their meals, he swallowed hard.

The older brother felt awkward, glanced away, and pretended nothing had happened.

But Huang and Hubo’s food smelled so delicious—awww, it’s not my fault I’m hungry!

Er Zai instinctively glanced at his mother; seeing she wasn’t paying attention, he held up two fingers and answered even quieter than Tie Dan, “I tasted one bite.”

“What does it taste like? Is it good?” Tie Dan’s eyes sparkled, and he instinctively pressed down his middle finger.

Today he’d seen Huang and Hubo’s dog food and thought they ate better than he did.

“Not as good as meat,” Er Zai offered an honest evaluation.

Lin Zhao’s ears were sharp; she caught the children’s conversation and wore a look of mixed amusement and exasperation.

“Er Zai, we don’t lack food at home—don’t ever compete with Huang and Hubo for their meals again.”

Er Zai hadn’t expected his mother to hear his whisper; he wasn’t embarrassed, just grinned and said, “I just tasted it.”

“I saw Huang and Hubo eating so happily—Hubo always gets so excited during meals her head nearly knocks over the bowl—I just wanted to know what their food tastes like.”

He was full of energy, skipping and bouncing as he walked, bursting with vitality.

“I tasted it—it’s just okay, not as good as meat or eggs.”

Hey, now you’re being picky?!

That’s not even for you!

Lin Zhao shook her head and looked at Da Zai, who walked solemnly, “Da Zai, did you taste any?”

Da Zai’s eyes filled with guilt and shame; he pressed his thumb and pinky together, cheeks flushed, voice barely a whisper: “One piece.”

Meaning he’d tasted only one piece.

Lin Zhao was charmed by her son; she gently squeezed his soft little hand and smiled, “One taste is fine, but don’t eat any more—what if you get a stomachache?”

“Mm-hmm,” Da Zai nodded vigorously, glanced at the hand his mother held, and his smile widened.

Er Zai loved to play, but loved being with his mother more—he ran over and took Lin Zhao’s other hand.

The two clasped hands swayed gently, radiating happiness.

Back at the old house, the familiar sour-spicy aroma filled their nostrils.

It was sour cabbage fish!

Sour cabbage fish that made their mouths water uncontrollably!!

Bang Bang and the other boys’ feet seemed to have wheels—they slid straight to the kitchen door, peering inside.

“Mom, is the meal ready?” Tie Dan called out loudly.

“It’s ready,” Huang Xiulan looked up from the kitchen door, saw the expectant faces, and smiled.

Not just the children were hungry—just smelling it made her crave it too.

Bang Bang and Lai Mei carried the table; Tie Chui grabbed a cloth and wiped it without being told; Da Zai and Er Zai scoured the house for every chair and stool, placing them before the table.

Lin Zhao poured water and called the children to wash their hands.

Today was the happiest day for the children of the Gu family’s old house.

They ate sour cabbage fish they’d longed for, the rice was thicker than usual, and after dinner there was sweet watermelon… this was a life even immortals wouldn’t trade.

“It’s so wonderful! I declare—I’m the happiest egg today!” Tie Dan beamed, biting into sweet watermelon, juice staining his dark face; he sighed, “If every day were like this, I’d do anything.”

Tie Chui also bit into watermelon, grinning broadly, his smile simple and earnest: “Then I’m the happiest hammer!”

“It’d be so nice if every day were like this,” Lai Mei said, eyes full of longing.

Da Zai and Er Zai smiled secretly, lips pressed tight, like two round, plump hamsters.

They wouldn’t say it… but they lived like this every day, hehe.

Just after six, the sun began to sink, the heat lessened, and Gu Yuanshan and Gu Yucheng began helping with the move.

Heavy items were carried by men, moderately heavy ones by women; within less than an hour, everything was moved to the old house.

“Third sister-in-law, should we arrange the furniture as it was before you moved out?” Huang Xiulan turned to Lin Zhao.

The house had been cleaned in advance—empty, all spiderwebs swept from the corners, floors scrubbed clean, water sprinkled to reduce the earthy smell.

“Mm,” Lin Zhao said.

Hearing this, Huang Xiulan and Zhao Liuniang placed the wardrobe against the wall.

Next to the solid wood wardrobe stood a rectangular five-drawer cabinet; a camphorwood chest sat on the dresser; the table was placed horizontally before the window; by the door stood a wooden washstand, with basin and toiletries on top.

Both sisters-in-law were efficient, used to hard labor, strong—soon the furniture was arranged.

“Where are the bedding? I’ll help you make the bed,” Huang Xiulan showed no sign of stopping.

Huang Xiulan had heard from her daughter about Lan getting a new autumn coat from her third sister-in-law; she understood Lin Zhao was soothing Lan’s emotions in her own way, and felt overwhelming gratitude—now she wanted to take on every task for her.

Lin Zhao didn’t refuse; she took out bedding, sheets, and a cool mat. “Thank you, Big Sister-in-law.”

“Thank you? It’s nothing,” Huang Xiulan waved her hand, working energetically.

Zhao Liuniang knew why her sister-in-law was so pleased—she’d seen Lan’s pink autumn coat, beautiful, not a single patch.

Even she was envious.

Then she thought of Lan, ruined by her own little sister, now struggling to find a good match—her heart ached, and all other thoughts vanished.

To be stuck with a relative like that—how pitiful.

Children need their own mother; what a good elder sister-in-law Gu Da was—clear-headed and diligent—while the little sister… sigh, no need to mention her!

With the two sisters-in-law’s efforts, the house was tidy, everything in its place—as if the third family had never moved out.

Lin Zhao sighed again, proud of her wisdom in choosing such a good in-law family.

She opened a cabinet, pulled out a cloth bundle, and smiled at Huang Xiulan and Zhao Liuniang. “Big Sister-in-law, Second Sister-in-law, open your hands.”

Huang Xiulan and Zhao Liuniang, confused, obediently opened their palms.

Calloused, knuckles swollen, cracked with tiny fissures—not pretty at all.

The two women felt uneasy, fingers instinctively curling.

Lin Zhao pretended not to notice their discomfort, thinking she’d find a chance to give them clam oil to soften their hands.

“Put both hands together.”

They did as told.

Lin Zhao pulled candy from the bundle, filling both their palms completely.

“Thank you, Big Sister-in-law, Second Sister-in-law, for your help—here’s some candy.”

The candy included familiar shrimp crackers and White Rabbit milk candy, plus some others Huang Xiulan and Zhao Liuniang had never seen.

“Too much,” Huang Xiulan said.

Such ungreedy virtue was rare.

Lin Zhao liked such people. “Not too much—I’ll give it to the children, so I won’t give them separately.”

Hearing this, the two no longer hesitated, thanked their third sister-in-law, and left one after the other.

Their feet had barely crossed the threshold.

Sharp-eyed children spotted the candy in their hands and rushed over in perfect unison.

Smiling obsequiously.

“Mom, can I have one piece of candy?” Tie Dan tugged at her sleeve; greedy as he was, he didn’t reach out to grab.

Huang Xiulan reluctantly gave them one White Rabbit candy. “Since you helped today, you and Tie Chui share it.”

Knowing her eldest was a glutton, she stopped after a few steps and warned,

“If you split it unevenly—giving yourself the bigger half and cheating your brother—the rest of the candy is yours no more.”

Tie Dan glared at his mother, grumbling, “I’m not stupid—I know the difference between one full meal and meals every day.”

Huang Xiulan ignored him, returned inside, and slipped one candy alone to Gu Lan.

“Divide the candy evenly—you all get a share. I won’t favor anyone,” she said.

Gu Lan felt lucky to be born into the Gu family, to be this mother’s daughter.

She unwrapped the candy, bit off half, then shoved the other half into her mother’s mouth without waiting.

“Mom and I each get half.” Before Huang Xiulan could scold her, sweet milky flavor filled her mouth.

No wonder it cost several coins—it really was delicious.

Huang Xiulan scolded gently, “Don’t give me any more—eat it yourself from now on.”

Gu Lan leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder, smiled, and didn’t answer.

Who doesn’t like candy? Her mother treated her and her brothers equally—she wanted to be kind to her mother too.

Outside the courtyard.

Zhao Liuniang was surrounded by her two sons, also giving them candy.

Lai Mei pointed at the unfamiliar little round candy, curious: “Mom, what’s this?”

“How would I know?” Zhao Liuniang snapped. It was food, that’s all that mattered. “Don’t ask so many questions—move aside.” She still needed to hide the candy inside.

Lai Mei pouted, stepped aside, and went to find Er Zai. “Er Zai, do you know what that round one is?”

“Of course I know—it’s chocolate. Mom gave some to me and my brother. She said it’s super expensive, even more than White Rabbit milk candy!” Er Zai didn’t like it; he thought it was bitter.

Da Zai felt the same: “Chocolate is bitter. My brother and I don’t like it, but Mom does.”

The children frowned, unable to understand why their mother would like something so bitter.

“Bitter candy?” Lai Mei was astonished.

Her eyes suddenly lit up. “If Third Aunt likes it, it must taste good.”

She looked up and met the twin cousins’ utterly bewildered stares.

He rubbed his nose. “Maybe it’s just not to your taste.”

“Like cilantro—some like it, some don’t.”

Da Zai and Er Zai thought Lai Mei’s older brother made perfect sense.

Night fell. The moon rose, studding the sky with stars.

The brothers called out to the Long Fengtai from the main house, told Grandpa and Grandma, then took their younger siblings’ hands and led them back to their room.

They shut the door.

Er Zai sat on the edge of the bed, his invisible tail flicking behind him, his grin impossible to suppress. “Living in the old homestead is so nice.”

He looked around the room, fiddling with everything, touching everything—everything felt fresh to him.

“Mom, why can’t we live in the old homestead forever?” he asked.

“Because we’ve split the family,” Lin Zhao replied, standing on the table to hang curtains, using fabric she’d drawn earlier. If anyone in the Gu family found out she’d used such fine cloth for curtains, they’d be heartbroken.

“Then… can we reunite the family?” Er Zai pressed his index fingers together, eyes bright with hope.

He wanted to live in the old homestead forever, close to his best friend, Tie Chui.

Lin Zhao froze.

She’d heard of family splits—but never of a family reunion.

She laughed at her son’s childish words, shoulders shaking with mirth, her eyes and brows brimming with joy.

“No, we can’t.”

“Our little family will split too, someday.”

Huh?

Da Zai and Er Zai snapped their heads up. Their own family would split?!

The two children clasped hands tightly, still holding the twins, looking up at Lin Zhao with serious, determined faces.

“Mom, our family won’t split—not ever!” Da Zai declared, his small face stern, his tone solemn and resolute.

Hearing their mother say their family would split, Er Zai felt as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head. His bright smile vanished instantly. A crushing ache filled his chest. He clenched his lips to hold back tears—but failed. His eyes already shimmered with mist.

He secretly wiped his tears, sprinted forward, and tugged at Lin Zhao’s pant leg, forcing a smile, his eyes red and fragile, as if they might shatter at any moment.

“Mom, I don’t want to split! I want to stay with you forever. Wherever you go, Er Zai goes too. No one can separate us!”

“No, not split!” Si Zai’s face was fiercely cute.

Quiet San Zai nodded solemnly, his voice firm: “Mm!”

Children’s words shouldn’t be taken seriously—who knows what the future holds?

But their reactions warmed her heart.

Lin Zhao saw Da Zai and Er Zai’s faces flicker with panic, like drowning children grasping for a floating log.

They were terrified.

She finished hanging the curtains, jumped down from the table, and hugged all four children. Her voice was soft: “You’re all part of this family. If you say we won’t split, then we won’t—ever.”

Er Zai clung to his mother, arms tight, his reddened eyes glaring at his siblings, vowing inwardly: if San Zai or Si Zai ever tried to split the family, they’d have to go through his fists first.

As for his brother? They shared a bond—he knew Da Zai didn’t want to leave Mom any more than he did!

The Long Fengtai blinked, confused by their second brother’s fierce glare. “?”

“Mom, wherever you go, you have to take me,” Er Zai growled at his siblings, then shoved himself deeper into Lin Zhao’s arms. His voice was commanding, but his small body was soft everywhere.

Lin Zhao pinched his cheek, her mood unusually light. She chuckled softly: “Alright, alright. You’re my sons. Wherever I go, I’ll take you all.”

Such clingy, devoted children—so tender-hearted. How much pain must they have endured in the original novel to become those gloomy, ruthless adults?

Just thinking about it made her heart ache.

Er Zai lifted his head and spoke with a child’s voice, yet with unwavering conviction: “Wherever Er Zai goes, I’ll take Mom with me.”

“Alright.”

Da Zai thought he should take Mom too—but seeing his brother cry, he let it go.

Let him have it.

Remembering Mom had to work tomorrow, Da Zai told his siblings to get into bed.

The three younger ones obeyed their elder brother without question, climbed into bed, and lay side by side.

Lin Zhao hung a mosquito-repellent sachet by the bed, then lay down herself and began telling stories to lull the children to sleep.

When their breathing slowed, she summoned the Prize Wheel.

The right-side task bar flashed incessantly; her points kept rising.

The final total: 1058 points.

Giving the task of pasting matchbox covers to her sister-in-law was worth it—just completing that one task earned her 350 points.

With her total points surpassing 1000 for the first time, the Prize Wheel now offered a new option: one spin for 1000 points.

Lin Zhao hadn’t expected this.

She didn’t choose the 1000-point spin. She selected the 500-point one.

The pointer spun rapidly, then stopped.

Ten seconds later.

Lin Zhao’s eyes caught four simple characters.

“One Pill”

Still saving up—I’ll definitely add more these two days!! (San Zai’s emphatic nod GIF)

(End of Chapter)