Chapter 66: Hero

“Study hard—as long as you keep studying, the family will support you.” Gu Mu, seeing the boundless potential in her high school–aged grandchildren through her third daughter-in-law, strongly supported their education.

We can always tighten our belts and get by.

We can’t let them suffer the same fate as the older generation—ignorance and lack of education.

At that moment, Da Cai and Er Cai stepped out, holding the breakfast their mother had left for them.

Five small flower buns, one tin of braised pork, three boxes of milk.

Iron Ball and the others had just thought their lives had reached a new peak—until they saw what the twins held, and instantly felt the cruel disparity of the world.

In that instant, their gazes went dull.

Sigh.

Lai Mei stared at the twins with a resentful look. “Da Cai, Er Cai, can’t you let our happiness last just a little longer?”

Comparing people kills you.

Iron Ball picked up his bowl and walked over, eyeing the metal tin in Er Cai’s hand. “Er Cai, what’s that you’ve got? Looks like a tin.”

“Braised pork tin,” Er Cai said. “Mom said it’s called…” He suddenly forgot the name and turned his pleading gaze to his brother.

Da Cai, as usual, filled in: “Braised Pork Tin.”

“Wow!” Iron Hammer opened his mouth slightly, cupped his cheeks, and gasped. “It’s meat!”

“Meat can be made into tins? How amazing!” He exclaimed, voice light and full of wonder.

“Mm-hmm,” Er Cai replied, reaching out to pat his best friend’s stomach. Seeing it wasn’t bulging, he said, “You’re not full yet—have some more.”

He gave Iron Hammer one small flower bun and pushed a box of milk toward him.

“This milk too—it’s Mom’s reward for me and my brother.” Er Cai was overly generous with his best friend.

Children don’t understand politeness. When Da Cai and Er Cai offered their good things, Iron Hammer didn’t refuse—he accepted them outright and bowed his head in thanks. “Thank you. I’ll take them. We’ll drink it together this afternoon.”

“Great,” Da Cai clapped the lid of the tin and tried twisting it open with his hands—but couldn’t budge it.

They had to ask Gu Fu for help.

“Grandpa, can you open this for me?”

Gu Fu’s rough hands took the tin.

He’d never even seen such a thing before. Refusing to show weakness in front of his grandsons, he studied it silently for a long while, then figured it out: he curled his index finger into the ring, applied slight pressure, and popped the lid open.

Suddenly—

A rich, savory meat aroma spilled out.

Even the adults couldn’t resist their hunger, let alone the children.

Bang Bang and the others suddenly felt that the third family’s return wasn’t all good—Da Cai and Er Cai ate this well every day. How were they supposed to live?

“Da Cai, Er Cai, you don’t eat meat every day, do you?” Lai Mei finished her last sip of clear broth, refusing to look at the meat tin—afraid she’d drool. That was for the two boys.

“Not every day,” Er Cai declared, hugging the tin tightly. “We eat it every other day.”

Da Cai told his brother to hold steady, then clumsily used chopsticks to pick up the meat.

His hands were short and small, trembling slightly as he tried to grip the slice, carefully catching it with his other hand before placing it onto the coarse grain bun in Gu Fu’s hand.

In the blink of an eye—

Two slices of meat rested atop Gu Fu’s half-eaten bun, oil seeping into the coarse bread, making it suddenly look far more appetizing.

“Grandpa, eat the meat,” Da Cai said seriously.

After giving it to Grandpa, he gave some to Grandma.

Gu Mu wanted to refuse—but met two identical, disapproving little faces, their eyes accusing.

“Mom said: when juniors offer filial piety, elders must accept it gladly. ‘Gladly’ means happy. Adults shouldn’t spoil the mood—otherwise, the kids will be sad.”

“If kids are sad, they quietly remember it for life. Once remembered, they’ll never share again. Grandma, are you sure you don’t want our filial piety?” Da Cai spoke clearly, logically, each word precise.

This speech was indeed Lin Zhao’s.

It had started when Er Cai had offered his stored candy to his mother. Lin Zhao had swallowed it whole—leaving the child stunned, his face blank.

“Mom, why didn’t you say you didn’t like candy and save it for me?! Aunties One and Two always do!”

Lin Zhao chewed the candy, the rich milky sweetness spreading in her mouth. Her voice was soft. “Do you think candy is delicious?”

“Yes!” Er Cai nodded vigorously.

Lin Zhao countered: “If it’s delicious, why wouldn’t I like it? Am I stupid?”

“Mom isn’t stupid—Mom’s the smartest mom!” Er Cai praised her first, ensuring no word of hers fell to the ground. Then he said: “Aunties One and Two say they don’t like candy.”

“Candy’s a good thing—it makes your heart sweet. Who wouldn’t like it?” Lin Zhao hugged Er Cai, pinching his tiny nose gently. Her voice was calm. “Adults say they don’t like it because they can’t bear to eat it—they want to save the good things for the kids.”

“Then why did Mom…” Er Cai mimicked Lin Zhao’s motion, pretending to toss air into his mouth like a candy. He asked earnestly: “Why did Mom eat mine?”

“Why? Why do you think?” Lin Zhao tickled his soft belly.

The child burst into a string of bright, clear laughter.

“Because this is your filial piety toward me—I have to accept it. Adults shouldn’t always spoil the mood; it makes kids stop sharing. I love it when you share with me—anything.”

Mom loved it when they shared with her.

Da Cai and Er Cai memorized it firmly.

That was why they now said these words to Gu Mu.

Gu Mu listened, stunned.

She snapped back quickly and laughed. “Yes, yes, yes—I’ll take it! Why wouldn’t I take filial piety from my own grandsons? I’m lucky—I’m enjoying my grandsons’ blessings.”

As she spoke, she reached for the bun.

Da Cai smiled, picked up the meat, and placed two slices atop it, just like his grandfather.

He gave one slice to Iron Hammer, then the two brothers ate the rest.

The bottom of the tin was coated in oil—they’d use it for stir-frying lunch. Even cabbage stems tasted meaty. The Gu family loved it.

In the county town—

At 11:30, a clean-cut teenager entered the Supply and Marketing Cooperative.

His eyes darted quickly across the counters. Seeing Lin Zhao, he carefully protected the lunchbox in his hands and ran over.

“Sis,” Song Yunjin’s eyes held the pure brightness of youth. His voice was cheerful as he beamed at Lin Zhao, grinning with all eight teeth showing.

Lin Zhao paused slightly, took the lunchbox automatically, and asked in surprise: “Why are you bringing it?”

She hadn’t seen her little cousin in years—he’d grown tall. He must be around 1.78 meters now.

Probably because of food shortages, most people back then were short. One point seven five was already tall; one point seven eight was rare. Over one point eight? That was like a crane among chickens.

“My brother’s got work at the factory,” Song Yunjin glanced around. Though he’d been here before, now that family worked here, stepping inside felt suddenly warm, like home.

What he didn’t say: today’s lunch was meant to be delivered by his father—he’d stolen the job, jumped on his bike, and pedaled off so fast he left his dad behind.

His father’s furious shouts could be heard from far away.

He’d probably get beaten when he got home.

Whatever.

“Only Monday and you’re already busy? That’s tough,” Lin Zhao said sincerely. “I could never handle factory work.”

Three shifts? Just thinking about it made her suffocate.

Song Yunjin knew his sister well—he instantly understood her thoughts. But with others around, he didn’t dare agree, afraid of accidentally saying something that might make people think she couldn’t handle hardship and label her weak.

“Learning a trade means being busy, sure—but at least you don’t have to go to the countryside. Several people in our family housing compound lost their jobs and were forced to go down to the villages. They cried their eyes out at home—it was awful.”

Lin Zhao was eating when she glanced at her cousin and asked: “What are your plans? Keep studying in high school, or find work?”

“Listen—I’m telling you, farm work isn’t for someone your size. If you get sent down, you won’t last half a month—you’ll be crying your eyes out too. Plan ahead. Arrange things early.” She lowered her voice slightly.

“I’ll keep studying in high school, then get a job after,” Song Yunjin said happily. His smile widened. “Dad wants me to go to college—he says I have the potential—but now…”

This year, universities had suddenly stopped admissions. Even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t.

“Getting a job’s fine,” Lin Zhao said. “Just don’t stop learning. There’ll always be a chance later.”

Song Yunjin smiled, his puppy eyes glowing with warmth. “Sis, you and Dad are truly uncle and nephew—you say the exact same things.”

Lin Zhao looked at him with a haughty glance. “I was raised by Uncle too. It’s no surprise I’m like him.”

Besides—nephews resemble uncles. Niece or nephew, same thing.

After eating, Lin Zhao handed the lunchbox back to Song Yunjin.

“Yunjin, do me a favor,” she suddenly remembered something and called him back.

Song Yunjin stopped, turned, and stepped forward, his waist pressing against the counter. “What is it?”

“Go to the photo studio and pick up the photos. Then take these film rolls to the technician and ask him to develop them.” Lin Zhao pulled out the receipt, the film rolls, and cash from her shoulder bag—actually her storage ring.

Song Yunjin’s eyes lit up with sudden joy. “Sis—you bought a camera?!!”

He rarely showed such intense curiosity about anything.

“Yes. If you want to learn, I’ll bring it to your house on weekends and teach you,” Lin Zhao smiled.

Pure delight burst across Song Yunjin’s face.

“Yes!”

As soon as he spoke—

The boy took the items Lin Zhao gave him and left the Supply and Marketing Cooperative with light steps.

The moment he was gone, Li Fen walked over.

“Still your cousin?”

Her expression held admiration. “He looks sharp.”

Lin Zhao knew Li Fen was looking for a husband for her younger sister—she eyed every young man like a future brother-in-law. She smiled: “He’s still in school. Not suitable.”

“Get lost,” Li Fen bumped her arm, spat playfully, her eyes brimming with laughter.

“How could I not tell? A student is nothing like a young worker—he has a clean gaze and a youthful face; clearly a student. Even if I were desperate, I wouldn’t pick a student.”

Her sister is already over twenty, but that boy hasn’t even turned eighteen—too mismatched.

Lin Zhao protested, "It's not my fault! Who got Sister Fen so eager? You spread it all over the supply and marketing cooperative."

She was never ordinary to begin with—standing before the counter, she looked as fresh and vibrant as a blooming peony. Even without a smile, she was lovely; now, with this playful mischief, she glowed with brilliance and life, stirring complex feelings in Li Fen’s heart.

If my sister looked like this, she’d have found a good match long ago!

Nowadays, the young people in town all judge by looks. Diligence and capability don’t matter—you must be good-looking. Not necessarily like a fairy, but at least clear-eyed and charming.

My sister isn’t a fairy or even delicate; she’s tall and sturdy. Even if she’s capable, it’s hard to find a match.

Of course, more importantly, my sister doesn’t have a formal job.

“I can’t afford to wait,” Li Fen sighed.

Lin Zhao lifted her eyes, puzzled. “What? Are there performance targets? Can’t you wait half a year or even a year?”

Li Fen laughed at her phrasing, the heavy fog over her heart lifting slightly.

She explained, “I have a younger brother. He was in the military for years and only returned two years ago. He was wounded in battle—his legs were injured, so he walks with difficulty. He’s already twenty-eight and still unmarried. I’ve arranged several meetings for him, but as soon as the girls hear we still have an unmarried sister, they immediately back out.”

“This…?” Lin Zhao’s face twisted with confusion; she didn’t understand.

It’s just having a sister—she’s healthy, whole, and will marry eventually. What’s the problem?

“Maybe fate hasn’t arrived yet,” she said dryly.

When people are troubled, they find tasks to occupy themselves. Li Fen wiped the counter with a cloth, scrubbing from one end to the other, then turned back to wipe again.

As she passed Lin Zhao, she added, “I haven’t told you the full reason yet.”

“My brother says he wants to give my sister a grand wedding and has planned a watch as her dowry.”

Here she paused, then continued, “He also said he’ll give me a bicycle—because he wasn’t around when I married, didn’t give me anything, and now he wants to make it up to me.”

Li Fen knew her brother wanted to stand up for her.

Ever since he mentioned giving her a bicycle as a dowry, her in-laws had become more courteous to her, calling her “Fenfen” whenever they had something good.

Lin Zhao had been doted on by her parents and brothers at home, and after marrying, no one dared to nag her. As someone who always received benefits, she saw nothing wrong with this.

“He’s your own brother, your sister’s real brother. If he’s capable and wants to give you a dowry, that’s perfectly fine.”

She knew Li Fen’s parents had passed away early, and her brother and sister had been raised by her.

The three of them had relied on each other.

So why shouldn’t her brother treat his elder sister well?

Li Fen’s expression grew complicated. “If only everyone thought like you. But when those girls heard my brother was giving me a bicycle and my sister a watch, they demanded three-turns-and-a-sound as bride-price—or they wouldn’t marry in.”

Did they think she was a golden egg? Three-turns-and-a-sound? Even the factory director’s own daughter wouldn’t dare ask for that.

“How could you possibly gather three-turns-and-a-sound? It adds up to nearly a thousand or eight hundred yuan, and you need ration tickets for everything. My brother flatly refused. That girl said we weren’t sincere, that my brother was… a ‘sister-pusher,’ a ‘sister-hugger.’”

Even now, half a year later, Li Fen still trembled with anger when she spoke of it.

Lin Zhao patted Li Fen’s hand, offering silent comfort.

It was truly absurd.

“Don’t be angry. That kind of greedy, demanding girl doesn’t deserve to enter your home, doesn’t deserve to be a hero’s wife. Take your time—I believe your brother will find a good match.” Lin Zhao’s voice was gentle, her expression earnest.

He was an unnamed hero who bled for his country and bore wounds for life—he deserved happiness, a lifetime of peace and ease!

Li Fen had never told anyone else these things, afraid of being laughed at. But knowing Lin Zhao wasn’t gossipy, and remembering how this girl had slipped her two catties of coarse grain that morning, her heart warmed toward her a little more.

A girl who remembered kindness, with good character—trustworthy.

“Zhaozhao,” she called, her usually brisk voice softening for the first time.