Chapter 9: Imaginary Mama

Dacai and Ercai brought over small pillows, also made by Gu Mu—fabric was old, heavily patched, but it was already quite good.

After all, country folks had no income; cloth coupons were scarce, and who didn’t wear patch upon patch? Many didn’t even have pillows—having them at all was Gu Mu’s favoritism.

“Sancai, Sicao, lie down quietly, don’t bother Mama,” Dacai lectured his younger siblings solemnly.

The twins smiled sweetly and obediently lay down.

Dacai and Ercai, afraid Mama would send them to the next room, also lay down quietly, four pairs of eyes fixed on Lin Zhao.

“Why are you staring at me? Can’t you sleep?” Lin Zhao asked, amused.

“Today was so full, my stomach doesn’t hurt at all,” Ercai patted his bloated belly, legs crossed like a little old man.

Lin Zhao raised her eyes. “You’re not usually full?”

Ercai hugged her waist, whining dramatically: “I’m never full! Never! It’s all broth—doesn’t fill a thing!”

Lin Zhao didn’t suspect Gu Mu of mistreating the two boys—because the old house’s meals were always like this: lunch was decent, but dinner was so thin you could see your face in it.

“From now on, when I cook, you’ll eat your fill and grow tall,” Lin Zhao soothed gently.

Ercai shot up, grinning wide. “I believe you! Mama must keep her word!”

Dacai watched his brother curled in Mama’s arms, his eyes filled with envy.

Sancai and Sicao sat up too, reaching for Mama to hold them.

Lin Zhao told them to sit still, patted Ercai’s shoulder, and said: “Get up—I need to measure you.”

She fetched a soft tape measure and waved her hand.

“Mama’s making me clothes?!” Ercai clamped down on his siblings who were reaching for her, eyes shining unbelievably bright.

Dacai was also excited.

“Yes, I’ll make a few outfits for you two,” Lin Zhao smiled. “I bought fabric.”

Ercai stood, arms outstretched; under the dim light, his smile blazed like the sun.

Lin Zhao swiftly measured him, noted the numbers in her notebook, then waved Dacai over. “Dacai, your turn. Ercai, watch Sancai and Sicao.”

Ercai answered loudly: “Aye!”

Dacai walked to the bed, looked at his Mama, eyes full of adoration. “Thank you, Mama.”

Lin Zhao measured him the same way, smiling: “I accept your thanks. Now lie down—late hours aren’t good for children.”

After speaking, she took out the fabric from the cabinet and began cutting.

No village girl didn’t know how to sew; Lin Zhao had always been quick to learn, mastering it in just half a month.

“Mama, you can sew?” The farthest boy, Ercai, grinned at her.

Lin Zhao gave him a look. “I always could.”

“Did you ever make clothes for me and my brother before?” Ercai asked.

“Never,” Lin Zhao paused. “Couldn’t afford the cloth coupons.”

Ercai’s face froze.

After a moment, he asked timidly: “Do you have enough now?”

Lin Zhao cut the fabric by candlelight—years without sewing, but her skill hadn’t faded.

“I do,” she smiled. “I suddenly remembered—you four are the precious eggs I struggled to give birth to. You’re too well-behaved. I want to be a good Mama.”

Hearing Mama call them precious eggs, Ercai felt a flood of warmth and joy surge from his heart.

“Mama is our precious egg too.”

“….”

Lin Zhao sighed, changed the subject: “Sleep now. We have to rise early tomorrow.”

Ercai closed his eyes, then opened them again, eagerly asking: “Will Mama cook tomorrow too?”

“Of course,” Lin Zhao smiled. Her pale, luminous face, lit by the dim lamp, was beautiful and gentle—a sight etched deep in Dacai’s heart, never forgotten even after he had children of his own.

“Didn’t I say I’d cook from now on?”

Dacai, worried she’d tire, offered: “I can learn to cook—I’ll make meals for you when I’m done.”

Lin Zhao’s maternal heart melted, soft as water. She smiled and replied: “Good. My obedient Dacai.”

Ercai, a child with big ambitions, declared: “When I grow up, I’ll earn big money and buy Mama a big restaurant—hire the best chefs to cook for her, make her a little miss!”

“!”

The rest was fine—but that last line? Are you trying to send your Mama to jail?!

Lin Zhao frowned.

“Who taught you that phrase?”

Ercai read her expression instantly, knew he’d messed up, and nodded obediently: “I heard it from the village aunts.”

As expected.

Lin Zhao looked at him seriously. “Don’t ever repeat village gossip again. If I hear you parroting nonsense, no sugar for you—ever.”

According to the book’s plot, chaos was coming soon—using words like “little miss” would bring misfortune.

She couldn’t directly warn Ercai of what was coming, so she used his favorite thing: sugar.

Ercai nearly jumped up. “I won’t! I’ll never say it again!”

Come on—compared to gossip, sugar meant everything.

Lin Zhao wasn’t fully reassured, so she turned to Dacai: “Dacai, keep an eye on your brother.”

Dacai loved helping his Mama. He nodded solemnly. “Mm.”

While they spoke, Lin Zhao finished cutting the fabric—she’d sew it tomorrow. She had no watch, couldn’t tell the hour, felt drowsy, and packed everything away.

“Sleep.”

The twins were already sprawled out, bellies rising and falling, tiny feet kicked up, cheeks rosy.

Lin Zhao adjusted their sleeping positions, covered their bellies with the new blanket, and told Dacai and Ercai: “Dacai, Ercai, lie down—I’m blowing out the lamp.”

“We’re lying down,” Dacai said.

Lin Zhao blew out the lamp, lay down, and soon the two older boys were sound asleep.

Once the children slept, Lin Zhao rubbed her hands and began drawing a prize.

The red needle spun, then stopped.

It landed on the bathing and skincare set.

[2 bars of laundry soap]

[1 bottle of shampoo]

[1 bottle of rose-scented body wash]

[1 bottle of smoothing conditioner]

[1 tube of baking soda whitening toothpaste]

[5 soft-bristle toothbrushes]

[1 bottle of whitening moisturizing body lotion]

[1 bottle of moisturizing face cream]

[1 bottle of hydrating children’s face cream]

[1 bar of cleansing face soap]

All things the household desperately needed.

Lin Zhao rose quietly, whispered a mental command to extract, stored the new items in the cabinet, yawned, and climbed into bed.

The Gu family’s old compound—the room belonging to the eldest branch.

Tiedan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He asked his brother: “Tiechui, did you really eat eight dumplings today?”

“Mm-hmm,” Tiechui lay stiffly, right hand patting his swollen belly, his thin, dark face glowing with satisfaction.

“Third Aunt’s dumplings were as big as fists—each bite burst with meat, made of white flour, so delicious.”

Tiedan wanted to cry from envy.

“Why didn’t you save me even one?” he complained.

Tiechui looked confused. “Didn’t you say only what’s in your belly belongs to you?”

Tiedan wanted to slap himself—regret flooded him.

“Next time there’s good food, save some for me. I’ll save some for you too.”

“No,” little Tiechui shook his head. “I’m saving it for Dacai and Ercai.”

“I won’t give you any—you eat too much,” he added, thoughtfully explaining.

Tiedan felt his heart break. He sighed mournfully: “Tiechui, I’m your real brother.”

What’s wrong with saving food for your own brother?

Tiechui rolled over, ignoring him, mumbling: “Dacai and Ercai are my brothers—my best brothers.”

Tiedan was furious and heartbroken. “I washed your diapers for nothing!”

After speaking, he turned over as well.

My brother washed my diapers?

Little Tiechui couldn’t lie still anymore. He squirmed like a worm, stopped beside his mother Huang Xiulan, and whispered: “Mama, did my brother wash my diapers?” The child’s face was twisted with doubt.

Huang Xiulan thought her son’s expression was hilarious. She teased him: “If he did, what will you do? If he didn’t, what will you do?”

Tiechui glanced at his brother’s resentful back, already had his plan.

“If he washed my diapers, I’ll save good things for him. If he didn’t, I’ll still save them for Dacai and Ercai.”

Huang Xiulan had never liked her younger son getting too close to the third branch’s children—those two were too clever, and their mother didn’t care for them at all. She feared Tiechui would be taken advantage of.

I never expected Lin Zhao would invite Tiechui to eat dumplings.

Strange.

But since her son benefits, shrewd Gu Dasao wouldn’t say a word.

Tiechui poked Huang Xiulan’s arm and asked earnestly, “Mama, did Brother ever wash my diapers?”

The boy behind him stiffened.

Even if he only washed half and cried from the stink, it still counts, right?!

Huang Xiulan glanced at Tiedan and smiled, “It counts.”

Tiechui frowned—what did “counts” mean?

“Why do I smell something sweet on you?” Huang Xiulan had noticed the scent earlier but hadn’t asked; now that they were closer, it was unmistakable.

Tiechui grinned foolishly. “Third Aunt smeared me with snow cream—I’m just as fragrant as Dacai, Ercai, and the Long Fengtai.”

Huang Xiulan was stunned by Lin Zhao’s transformation—her mind brimmed with questions.

What on earth is going on with Old Three’s wife?

The next day.

Lin Zhao woke up drowsily, feeling hot and suffocated; she opened her eyes to find the Long Fengtai asleep on top of her, in an odd position.

Dacai and Ercai were also squeezed beside her.

She lifted Sancai and Sicai, placed them aside, sat up, and fanned herself with her hand, half-asleep, still groggy.

So hot.

Dacai and Ercai woke up too, their slightly longer hair damp, faces marked by the cool mat, flushed from heat.

“Mama,” Dacai’s voice, usually steady, now carried a child’s innocent lilt.

Lin Zhao spoke softly, “Still sleepy? If you are, go back to sleep.”

“Where’s Mama?” Dacai rubbed his eyes, becoming more alert.

“I’m not sleepy anymore—it’s too hot. I’ll go wash up and make breakfast. What do you want?” Lin Zhao asked.

“Whatever Mama makes is delicious.” Dacai thought of yesterday’s dumplings and swallowed hard.

Lin Zhao’s heart swelled with pride; after a moment’s thought, she said, “How about egg custard? Sancai and Sicai can eat it too—is that okay?”

“Okay.” Dacai beamed.

Mother and son tiptoed out of bed and into the courtyard.

There was a breeze outside; the morning air hadn’t warmed yet, far more comfortable than indoors.

Lin Zhao opened the window to let air circulate.

“Dacai, let’s wash first.” She took out facial soap and four soft-bristle toothbrushes, introducing each one: “This is facial soap—you and your siblings can use it to wash hands too. These are the toothbrushes I bought for you. When Ercai and the others wake up, you distribute them.”

Dacai extended both hands to receive what Lin Zhao offered, carefully placed three toothbrushes back on the table, and took his own to brush his teeth.

It was his first time brushing—he found it fascinating, mimicking his mother: left, right, up, down; every time he met her smiling eyes, he smiled back.

Lin Zhao spat out the rinse water and reminded her son, “Don’t swallow the toothpaste water—spit it out.”

Dacai’s cheeks puffed out, foam rimming his mouth; he nodded.

Lin Zhao tried washing her face with the facial soap she’d drawn—it smelled sweet, felt refreshing, left no dryness, only smooth, pleasant skin. Still, she was used to applying snow cream after washing.

Back inside, she remembered the face cream she’d drawn last night; instead of snow cream, she applied the cream.

Outside, Dacai washed his face with facial soap for the first time—the child was so enchanted by the scent he nearly bit the soap.

Lin Zhao leaned halfway out the window and whispered, “Dacai, come in after washing—I’ll put face cream on you.”

Hearing this, Dacai rinsed the foam off his face, dried it with a towel, and dashed inside, his footsteps lightening instinctively as he crossed the threshold.

Lin Zhao’s expression softened as she applied the cream to Dacai’s face.

“Smells nice, right?” she asked.

“Mm,” Dacai whispered, then added hesitantly, “It doesn’t smell like last night’s.”

Lin Zhao wasn’t the least bit guilty; she raised an eyebrow. “You don’t understand—women like all kinds of skincare. This is still minimal.”

Dacai suddenly understood. “When I grow up and become a worker, I’ll buy you lots of snow cream.”

Whether true or not, the words warmed the heart.

“Good, I’ll wait,” Lin Zhao said, pointing to the children’s face cream. “This is for kids—you and your siblings must apply it after washing your faces.”

Dacai asked, “Will it make me as white as you?”

Lin Zhao nearly laughed. “You want to turn white?”

Dacai looked up at her, shyly smiling. “I want to be like Mama.”

“Hm?” Lin Zhao didn’t understand.

Dacai lowered his eyes and said nothing.

The villagers said they were too dark to look like Mama.

Lin Zhao didn’t press him, only said, “You and Ercai are dark from the sun—that’s why. Look at Sancai and Sicai—they’re fair and soft. Give it time, and you’ll become fair and soft too, just like me.”

Dacai brightened. “I’ll remind my siblings to apply it.”

Lin Zhao wrapped her arm around her son’s thin shoulders and led him outside.

“Come on, let’s steam the egg custard.”

“Besides egg custard, what else do you want?”

“I’ll help Mama light the fire,” Dacai said, then answered her question: “Egg custard is enough.”

“Fine. It won’t be long before lunch anyway.”

Mother and son got busy in the kitchen.

Gu Dacai sat on a small stool tending the fire, glancing at his mother now and then, his smile never fading.

Soon, a tempting aroma rose from the pot.

“Mama, it smells so good,” Dacai said, sitting on his stool, nose twitching as he inhaled deeply—almost dizzy from the scent.

Mama had beaten four eggs.

(End of Chapter)