Chapter 7: Two Birds, One Stone

Lin Zhao rubbed the heads of the two little ones; children this age learn everything, so adorable.

Tie Niu dashed to Er Zai’s side, face full of envy, exclaiming: “Er Zai, are you going to eat dumplings?”

His saliva was about to drip.

“Yeah, my mom’s making dumplings today.” Er Zai beamed, proudly showing off.

Lin Zhao didn’t stop him. Her kids had heard enough whispers and laughter from villagers—what was wrong with showing off a little?

“What kind of filling is your mom making?” Tie Niu wiped his mouth and asked again.

“Pork and scallion.” Er Zai, the most eager eater among the kids, had already asked his mom what filling they’d make today.

Pork and scallion.

Definitely all meat!

Tie Niu’s eyes turned red with envy. “Your mom’s so nice—I want dumplings too. It’s still a long way from New Year.” His tone was wistful, regretful.

His family was lucky—they’d get dumplings by year’s end—but other households in the village couldn’t afford fine flour at all; they had to trade it all for coarser grain.

“My mom’s the best—she’s the best mom in the whole brigade!” Er Zai’s face glowed with pride, his neck held high.

For the first time, he felt pride in how his mom treated them—his cheeks burned with joy, but he was too dark-skinned for anyone to see the flush.

The envy on his friends’ faces stirred an unfamiliar emotion in Er Zai and Da Zai—something hard to name, joyful yet almost tearful.

They gripped Lin Zhao’s hand a little tighter, just smiling broadly.

“It’s scorching out—let’s go home,” Lin Zhao urged. She rarely went out in this heat; her face felt like it was burning.

The family of five quickened their pace toward home.

At the Gu family’s old compound, the elderly couple stared at the items Lin Zhao had brought, exchanging glances.

For the first time.

The first time they’d received anything from their third son’s wife.

Gu Fu wanted to say his third daughter-in-law had finally matured, but he was always silent; his cracked lips moved, yet not a word came out.

Gu Mu sat there, staring blankly at the small bundle containing buns and brown sugar, feeling like she was dreaming.

“You wouldn’t believe it—I nearly died when I saw your third daughter-in-law coming with gifts. When has she ever shown up empty-handed? Suddenly bringing something—I thought she’d cooked up some big scheme… to cause trouble. I was terrified—my heart kept jumping, nearly leapt right out of my chest.”

“Old man, what’s going on with your third daughter-in-law? Is she hiding something?” Gu Mu’s mind was a mess; her heart hadn’t settled since yesterday.

Who in their right mind had a daughter-in-law like hers? Gu Mu felt truly oppressed.

Gu Fu was easygoing. “Why think so much? If she gives it, take it. Even if she really does come asking for something, aren’t you going to help?”

“...Of course we have to help,” Gu Mu replied. “We’d help anyway, for the sake of the kids.”

So they were completely under her thumb now.

The Gu family hadn’t eaten meat in two months. With the heavy farmwork lately, Gu Fu was exhausted—and he craved that meaty flavor. He could’ve just endured it, but those plump, juicy meat buns sat there, and he found it unbearable.

“We should get some meat soon,” Gu Fu said, gulping down water.

Gu Mu thought: meat coupons were so hard to come by.

She pitied her husband—his age made the fieldwork truly grueling.

Gu Mu rose and walked to the cabinet, opened the paper bundle—the scent of wheat and meat rushed into her nose.

She swallowed hard, took one meat bun, and shoved it into her husband’s hand.

“There are three buns—eat one, and save the other two for the kids.”

Gu Fu smiled, broke the bun in half, and gave half to his wife. “Eat together.”

As soon as he spoke, he took a bite and sighed deeply in satisfaction.

“This is the taste—so delicious.”

He’d longed for it for years, never dared to buy it.

Gu Mu ate her half and said, “It’s delicious—wheat flour and meat, each alone is good, but together? Even better.”

In this era, every household was poor, and everyone’s nose was like a radar—keen as hell.

Gu family’s eldest grandson, Tie Dan, passed by his grandparents’ room, caught the scent of meat, stopped dead, sniffed, and exclaimed: “There’s meat!”

That call brought all the other kids running out.

Chattering nonstop.

Gu Fu and Gu Mu had four sons and two daughters—

The eldest, Gu Yuanshan, married Huang Xiulan; they had one daughter and two sons. The daughter, twelve, was Gu Lan; the sons, seven and five, were Tie Dan and Tie Chui.

The second son, Gu Yucheng, married Zhao Yuan; they had two sons and one daughter: Bang Bang (eleven), Lai Mei (eight), and Yu Yu (two).

The third child was Gu Chan, already married.

The fourth son, Gu Chenghuai, married Lin Zhao; they had three sons and one daughter.

The fifth and sixth were twins: Gu Qingzhou and Gu Xing’er, still in school.

Recently, Gu Qingzhou had been taken by his uncle and wouldn’t return until school started.

Tie Dan’s voice wasn’t quiet. Tie Chui and the others rushed over, clustering like they’d grown roots outside Gu Fu and Gu Mu’s door—no one entered, just stared longingly.

“Nai, meat, meat…” Outside, two-year-old Yu Yu squeaked in baby talk.

Gu Mu scowled. “A bunch of kids grown on chimneys—can smell meat even with the door shut.”

Gu Fu said nothing, still savoring the taste of the bun—meat was so fragrant, who wouldn’t smell it?

“Divide the buns among the kids,” the patriarch said, his heart aching for his grandchildren.

“Fine, divide them,” Gu Mu said reluctantly, picking up the remaining two buns and stepping outside, muttering: “Too many mouths here—nothing good ever lasts till tomorrow.”

As soon as she stepped out, the grandchildren’s voices swarmed her—each one talking over the other, making her ears ache.

“Nai, what’s in your hand? Is it meat? It must be—I smelled it!” said Tie Dan.

Tie Chui: “Smells good!”

Eleven-year-old Bang Bang stayed silent, but his eyes kept drifting to his nai’s hand, his mouth watering as he imagined the taste.

Lai Mei, the most mischievous of the Gu kids, pushed up to Gu Mu: “Nai, your grandson wants some.”

Even two-year-old Yu Yu knew her nai had something good—she clung to Gu Mu’s pants, nearly pulling them off.

Gu Mu hurried to the kitchen and split the two buns evenly among the children.

The two buns were divided into tiny portions—everyone got maybe two bites—but the Gu children were all content; the well-behaved ones offered their parents a taste, the unruly ones gulped theirs down in three bites.

Gu Dasao was lucky—her sons Tie Dan and Tie Chui were both thoughtful. After tasting the bun, she smiled at Gu Mu: “Mama, where did these buns come from?”

Gu Ersao also stared at Gu Mu, equally curious.

“Da Zai’s mom brought them,” Gu Mu said.

Gu Dasao and Gu Ersao exchanged slow, stunned glances, then fell silent.

Lin Zhao?

“Why would Lin Zhao bring buns?” Gu Dasao, like her mother-in-law, reacted with alarm, panic, a jolt of tension.

Gu Ersao’s head filled with questions; she looked at Gu Mu.

“She said she wants to build a house and asked your father for help. Brought three meat buns and half a pound of brown sugar as thanks.”

Meat buns—and brown sugar? Da Zai’s mom really went all out this time!!

Huang Xiulan and Zhao Yuan almost changed their minds about Lin Zhao—then remembered her stubborn, difficult nature, and quickly shook their heads, snapping back to reality.

“Build a house? Why suddenly?” Gu Dasao asked curiously.

“Said the mud house sheds too much dust.”

Gu Ersao looked stunned. “Sheds dust? So she wants to build a brick-and-tile house?”

“Exactly,” Gu Mu said. “If she didn’t plan to build brick-and-tile, why would she come asking your father?”

She’d seen it long ago—her third daughter-in-law never showed up without a reason. Every visit meant she wanted something.

Luckily, this time it was a good thing.

Gu Mu wasn’t a cruel mother-in-law, but that didn’t stop Gu Dasao and Gu Ersao from feeling envy—living separately, running their own household—who wouldn’t want to escape a mother-in-law’s control?!

Too bad envy was useless—the younger brother wasn’t married, the younger sister wasn’t wed; to split the household… they’d need at least three to five more years.

Thinking this, Huang Xiulan and Zhao Yuan felt a deep pang of resignation and let it go.

Don’t think too much—too much thinking makes your heart drift.

Over there, Lin Zhao returned home with the children.

It was the hottest part of the day; she coaxed the kids to sleep, then went inside to rest for a nap herself.

Before sleeping, Lin Zhao noticed the task bar on the right side of the prize wheel had updated.

After she told the kids they’d eat dumplings in the afternoon, a new task appeared.

[A childhood without delicious dumplings is an imperfect childhood! Make dumplings for the kids. Complete the task to earn 4 points. Keep going!]

From this, Lin Zhao concluded—

The wheel’s tasks were all related to raising the kids, even tied to what they’d just talked about.

The point values varied—likely based on task difficulty.

That made things simple: caring for the kids would earn her points—two benefits in one.

She woke from her afternoon nap.

Lin Zhao washed her face with cool water and went to the kitchen to work.

Da Zai and Er Zai were gathering cabbage in the backyard with their younger siblings.

Of course, the one-year-old twins were causing trouble.

After being scolded by their brothers, the two little ones gazed up with innocent, clear eyes—so sweet and well-behaved—until their brothers turned back to work, then they started messing around again.

“San Zai, don’t corrupt Si Zai,” Er Zai scolded sternly, raising his voice.

Si Zai is a girl, and he is quite indulgent toward her, rarely scolding his sister unless there’s a special reason.

San Zai ignored him, happily digging his small, soft hands into the vegetable patch.

Seeing he wouldn’t listen, Er Zai raised his hand in anger, raising his voice several notches, “San Zai, if you don’t listen, I’m going to hit you!”

“Er Zai.” Lin Zhao suddenly appeared in the backyard, calling out to him, “Who are you trying to hit?”

Er Zai instantly dropped his hand, looking guilty, and complained, “Mama, San Zai keeps causing trouble—he’s driving me crazy!”

“Your brother is still young; teach him slowly. Don’t hit anyone, especially not your younger siblings. Have I ever hit you?” Lin Zhao said gently.

“No.” Er Zai replied, thinking to himself that it was because his mother never disciplined him or his brother—he was afraid she’d ban him from eating dumplings, so he didn’t dare say it.

Don’t doubt it—his mother really could do something like that!

“Pull me a few scallions,” Lin Zhao said, not pressing the matter further; she let the children resolve their own affairs as long as their overall behavior was fine.

In the vegetable patch, Da Zai swiftly pulled up five scallions, waved the large ones in his hand, and stood to ask her, “Mama, is this enough?”

“Pull a few more,” Lin Zhao said.

Da Zai bent his head and pulled a few more, then ran back to give them to her.

Lin Zhao took them, shook off the dirt from the roots, and praised, “Thank you, Da Zai—you’re such a help.”

Da Zai’s face turned red; he was delighted to be able to help his mother.

The vegetable patch held many kinds of vegetables, all tended by Gu Mu; the twins sometimes watered them or pulled weeds—far more diligent than Lin Zhao, their own mother.

Lin Zhao took the scallions, told Da Zai and Er Zai to watch over their younger siblings, then returned to the kitchen to prepare the dumpling filling.

Soon, a rhythmic thumping sound came from inside.

Just as she was chopping the filling, a childish voice called from outside.

It sounded familiar—it was Tie Chui, the youngest son of the Gu family’s eldest branch, same age as Da Zai and Er Zai, raised together since childhood, and the three boys shared a special bond.

Lin Zhao stepped out of the kitchen.

Little Tie Chui grew tense upon seeing Aunt San, his small body stiffening, unable to look at Lin Zhao.

“Aunt San,” he whispered.

Lin Zhao’s mind flashed with the original novel’s plot about Tie Chui:

In the original novel, whenever Da Zai and Er Zai fell into misfortune, Tie Chui, the loyal friend, never abandoned them and always helped.

Because of this, Gu Dacai harbored deep resentment toward Da Zai and Er Zai, yet never spoke harshly to them.

“Tie Chui, you’re here! Da Zai and Er Zai are in the backyard with the little ones—go find them yourself,” Lin Zhao said with a smile, her voice soft.

“Okay,” the simple-minded Tie Chui replied, then ran toward the backyard.

Arriving in the backyard, he shouted, “Da Zai, Er Zai, what are you doing?”

Da Zai stood up, waving the cabbage in his hand, and answered, “We’re pulling up cabbage.”

“Tie Chui, do you want to join us?” Er Zai called out warmly.

“Sure!” Tie Chui rushed into the vegetable patch and joined Da Zai and Er Zai in pulling cabbage.

Soon after, Lin Zhao carried a ceramic bowl out to the backyard.

Seeing her, the Long Fengtai wobbled over, reaching for her arms, wanting to be held; the mother, seeing the dirt on their bodies, felt her head spin, quickly set down the bowl, stretched out her arms, and held them still.

“Whose stinky brats are these?” she said with disdain, yet a faint smile played on her lips.

The identical Long Fengtai flashed the same sweet smile, trying to burrow into her arms, but Da Zai grabbed them; San Zai and Si Zai clung to their big brother, and with one tug, the two little ones stood obediently, no longer fussing.

Lin Zhao sighed in relief and said, “I made you some brown sugar water—drink it if you’re thirsty.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Da Zai said, then called to Er Zai and Tie Chui, “Er Zai, Tie Chui, come drink the brown sugar water.”

Lin Zhao knew Tie Chui would feel uneasy with her around, so after delivering the water, she left the backyard.

In this year of hardship, a sip of sweet water could bring comfort for days.

Hearing the words “brown sugar water,” Er Zai pulled Tie Chui over, and the children took turns sipping.

“Da Zai, Er Zai, this brown sugar water is so sweet!” Tie Chui’s eyes lit up.

“It really is,” Er Zai agreed.

Almost all the Gu children were raised by Gu Mu, and all were well-mannered—none were selfish or spoiled brats; with brown sugar water as a reward, the children in the backyard worked with great enthusiasm.

Time slipped by, and the blazing sun slowly sank.

Da Zai led Er Zai and Tie Chui to carry the big cabbages into the cellar; after finishing, they returned to the front yard, where the scent of meat drifted from the kitchen. The five children clung to the doorframe like a string of candied haws.

“Mama, are the dumplings ready? They smell so good!” Er Zai, the most talkative, sniffed eagerly, his nose twitching.