Chapter 422

Yang Yu and her mother-in-law Yang Huaihua stood on either side of Li Yue, helping her prepare dinner.

During the cooking, Li Yue smiled several times with a peculiar, knowing expression.

But when asked what was wrong, Li Yue insisted nothing was amiss—leaving the two women deeply uneasy.

The dinner was lavish; the Jia family soon forgot about the rat poison and gobbled down their food in silence, then dragged their stools outside to claim good spots for the movie.

Though Li Yue had been unusually warm and smiling today, they all felt a chill crawl up their spines, cold and eerie.

So better to keep as far away as possible!

She named the child "Chun'er," thinking: when spring comes, hope arrives too.

But Yang Huaihua flatly refused to wear it—and forbade Yang Yujiao and Yang Yumin from wearing it either.

So Yang Huaihua, full of joy, arrived at the brigade office—only to see two men in military uniforms.

Yang Yumin had always wondered: Li Yue's temper was far from good—how could she possibly endure it?

The village loudspeaker crackled faintly, repeating over and over: "Huaihua, come to the brigade office immediately. Huaihua, come to the brigade office immediately."

And earlier war films were mostly black-and-white.

Yang Huaihua wanted to keep distance from the Jia family, but Li Yue insisted on sitting right next to them—she had to see their faces clearly, though no one knew what she was looking for.

But this battle scene clearly wasn't fighting monkeys—it was fighting white elephants.

Unfortunately, the battle sequence was short; just minutes later, the screen showed a dark, dilapidated mountain village.

Killing a man by destroying his soul—insulting beyond redemption, impossible to wash clean!

Yang Huaihua remembered she'd said only one thing then: "Where's the ashes?"

"They're all up front. Let's move somewhere else—away from them."

"Free movie and you're picky? Old films are better than nothing."

Yang Huaihua didn't dare delay; she quickly settled her mother-in-law and hurried to the village brigade, but malnutrition made her steps light as if a breeze could blow her away.

Since that year Li Ye had told Sun Xianjin he needed a few sable hats, the earnest Heilongjiang lad had sent him several fur coats every year—Li Yue had acquired several herself, and today they'd come in handy.

The movie was truly excellent; the director and actors had great skill, bringing vividly to life a woman who held up the entire sky.

"No, right here—this is the clearest view."

In just over a month, Yang Yujiao had grown used to the Jia family's stares—they looked at every good thing in the house like dogs eyeing a bone.

"While the child's still small, abandon him! If you raise him for a few months, you won't be able to get rid of him."

That was the final year of the natural disaster; everyone suffered, but Yang Huaihua's household had an elderly person and a soldier guarding the border, so the brigade sometimes gave them a little extra grain.

But the biological parents refused to give up—they chased after him.

The Jia family's expressions weren't dramatic—they were utterly bewildered.

Chun'er graduated university, found a beautiful wife in Beijing, borrowed and scraped together money to buy two rooms, and brought Huaihua and his sister to the capital.

Now Li Yue was the undisputed authority at home; the three of them had no choice but to follow her to a large open space dozens of meters away.

Now, watching this film and recalling her unconventional brother's ties to the film studio, all her lingering questions suddenly found answers.

Because the southern "rotation warfare" hadn't ended yet, films depicting battles against the monkeys were wildly popular.

Winter nights fell early; soon after Li Yue and the others sat down, the movie began.

He reached out to tug his wife, hoping to lean on Li Yue's shoulder—but his hand grasped nothing.

Yang Huaihua, who had been sitting beneath the screen, worried and tense, suddenly felt a jolt in her chest—twenty years ago flashed instantly into her mind.

"Yujiao, take the sable furs from my chest—give them to your brother and our mother. You wear the short one; outdoor movies are cold—stay warm."

【It's over. It's over.】

【Why does this movie feel so strange?】

But Li Yue ignored Yang Huaihua's pleas—she forced Yang Yujiao into the fur coat, then dragged her mother-in-law and husband off to the outdoor screening.

They all turned to look at Li Yue—and saw her staring triumphantly at the Jia family, wearing an unnatural, smug smile.

After Yang Yumin and the others finished eating, Li Yue couldn't wait to urge everyone outside to watch the movie.

"Don't show off—those folks in the west room covet anything nice. Dressing so flashy just invites trouble for your sister-in-law."

"Exactly. This child hasn't cried all night—he's clearly been abandoned because no one else could raise him. They're after your compensation money. But in these times, how much grain can money even buy?"

Yet the observant Yang Yumin slowly sensed something off—this movie… why did it feel so familiar?

Then, when Liu Xiaoru, playing Huaihua, opened her door at dawn to find a swaddled infant, Yang Yumin finally understood.

Why Li Yue had spent the past month urging him to endure, to wait.

With no milk in the village, no cows or goats, Yang Huaihua used her meager compensation money to buy millet and fed the child spoonful by spoonful until he survived.

This movie… is about me!

"Huaihua, you can't keep this child—he's only three months old. No one in the village has milk. How will you raise him?"

The Jia family sat beneath the screen, listening to the audience's curses—how unbearable their torment was.

Every member of the Jia family felt utterly finished.

2605: 700: 3: 000:: 46

The open space was already packed—neighbors and nearby residents had gathered, laughing and chatting merrily.

Yang Yujiao had heard that line more than once.

【You have it—why don't I? We're flesh and blood!】

So now their thought was: This isn't me. This absolutely isn't me. Don't believe it—keep watching.

The big color TV was just decoration—the antenna had been removed, afraid any signal might attract the Jia family's greed.

"I think I've heard this before—ah, wasn't it that family who got married recently? My second uncle went to watch the wedding."

A thin certificate of honor, a light martyr's certificate, a tiny medal, and two perfectly crisp salutes—these had exchanged Yang Huaihua's husband, whom she'd waited for day and night.

But the plot that followed stunned them into silence.

"I never said old films are bad—but this one's even better!"

"It's nothing. Old age brings strange thoughts. Don't mind me—watch the movie. It's great."

Nearly a thousand spectators at the outdoor screening couldn't hold back—they erupted in Beijing's signature curses, furious and indignant.

Everyone in the village urged Yang Huaihua to abandon the child—everyone was barely surviving; who had room for a dying infant?

But Yang Huaihua clutched the child tightly, refusing to give him up—even when others said, "Weaned at three months, he'll just grow up a fool," she held firm.

But in that spring, a foul wind blew in.

Yang Yujiao, hearing her mother's words, pouted and set down the sable coat she'd admired for only a minute.

"Mother, let's not watch. Let's go home."

Li Yue was leaning sideways, straining her neck to stare ahead.

Yang Yumin wept—because his childhood nickname was Chun'er.

It was a bright, clear day; she was feeding her paralyzed mother-in-law when suddenly the village loudspeaker blared.

Only then did Yang Huaihua realize she'd been crying—while her daughter-in-law Li Yue wiped her tears with a handkerchief.

Moreover… this movie was real.

"Exactly. Never admit it. Sweep them out with a broom."

"Grandma, when the child was dying, who believed good deeds bring good rewards? Now you're jumping out pretending to be a righteous king?"

The film opened with a fierce battle scene—immediately capturing everyone's attention.

"Hey, think about it—hasn't this movie's story sounded familiar?"

Those who've done wrong fear exposure—and fear exposure by many.

The village pooled money for travel expenses; the county awarded a bonus. Because of Chun'er's success, Yang Huaihua's spring had finally arrived.

But then many people appeared as intermediaries, urging Chun'er not to forget his blood ties, urging Yang Huaihua to be magnanimous, to believe good deeds bring good rewards.

She was watching the Jia family—she wanted to see clearly how their expressions looked right now.

Yang Huaihua couldn't recall how she'd walked home that day—she only remembered that day in 1962: the sky was gray, not a single ray of sun visible.

It was a thrilling pursuit: several of our soldiers chased a group of white elephant soldiers—making it even more exhilarating to watch.

The Jia couple in the west room still wore their old cotton-padded coats. Why are you wearing such soft, smooth sable furs?

But the more they watched, the more stunned they became.

Now, even Yang Yumin had figured it out—and so had Yang Huaihua.

Li Yue's voice pulled Yang Huaihua out of her daze.

Having weathered storms, they knew well the power of "many tongues melt gold"—you stole one sweet potato, but everyone said you stole gold, so you stole gold.

Martyrs' ashes were rarely given to families; Yang Huaihua's question was pointless.

"Hey, a battle movie—and in color! This time it's really good—not just some old film to pass the time."

But our house wasn't just two rooms—it was a big courtyard. And my second uncle said the wife was truly beautiful—more beautiful than Liu Xiaoqing, Gong Zhu, or Pan Hong."

Now they couldn't leave, couldn't stay—only hoping the movie would end quickly so they could slip home in the dark and bury their heads under the covers.

Chun'er refused them outright, cursing and rejecting them bitterly.

Chun'er didn't become a fool, as others predicted—he was brilliant, ranked first in school, and eventually passed the entrance exam to a Beijing university, becoming a revered college student.

Just before Chun'er was to leave for university, his biological parents appeared.

Yang Yumin, who had written many literary works, quickly found the perfect words to describe his wife's smile—

The beautiful woman was grinning triumphantly, cackling: "Hehehehehehehe."