Chapter 425: The Warmth of the Natal Home

In mid-December, the second snow of 1984 fell, thickly blanketing the earth and turning the ancient capital into a white world.

Yang Yujiao lowered her head and stepped out of school, instinctively turning right toward the bus stop, only to find at least two hundred people crammed around it.

The little girl's heart immediately began to pound—this was exactly what she dreaded most.

Normally, people queued orderly for the bus, and there weren't so many riders, but today, with the snowfall, fewer rode bicycles, and the regular bus routes would surely be overwhelmed.

What to do then?

Push your way in—those with strength get on.

On several past occasions while cramming onto buses, Yang Yujiao had been scolded: "Don't you know the rules? Just arrived from the countryside?"

Everyone's shoving forward—why are you picking on me?

Perhaps the other person wasn't deliberately looking down on Yang Yujiao, nor harboring much malice—just suffocated by the oppressive air of the lower classes and driven to irritability—but gentle-natured Yang Yujiao always felt she had done something wrong.

So now, seeing this situation, Yang Yujiao hesitated only a second, tightened the straps of her schoolbag, and quickened her pace, sprinting through the snow along the roadside.

She would run home through the snow.

Because Yang Yujiao's Beijing household registration hadn't been settled, Yang Yumin had leveraged a connection with a 1978 graduate from Peking University to get her enrolled in a middle school in Haidian, six or seven kilometers from their home in Zhongguancun—a brisk sprint still took nearly an hour.

Yang Yujiao wasn't afraid of the hour-long commute; back in her hometown, she'd walked an hour on mountain paths to elementary school, and she often walked home instead of taking the bus to save on fare.

But recently, her mother Yang Huaihua had ordered her: during this time, she must help her sister-in-law cook and absolutely must not let her tire herself out.

Her sister-in-law Li Yue would get home at five-thirty—so if she didn't take the bus and ran home instead, wouldn't she just be arriving to eat ready-made meals again?

How could that be acceptable? What kind of lazy little sister was that?

Yet Yang Yujiao had barely taken two steps when she heard a familiar horn sound behind her.

"Beep-beep-beep~"

"Yujiao, where are you looking? Don't you see me?"

Yang Yujiao turned around and saw her sister-in-law Li Yue's car parked to the left of the school gate—she'd instinctively looked down and turned right upon exiting, and hadn't noticed it.

"What are you still staring at? Get in quick."

Seeing Li Yue waving at her from inside the car, Yang Yujiao hurried over, opened the door, and climbed in.

Only now, inside the car, did she feel the comfort and superiority of owning a vehicle in such terrible weather—outside, snot froze on her face; inside, it was warm as spring, two entirely different worlds.

As the channel manager for the Pengcheng No. 7 Factory's Beijing-Tianjin region, and with her connection to Li Ye, Li Yue's treatment at work was undoubtedly top-tier.

She had given her old Volga to Wang Qiang and now drove a brand-new Santana, whose ride comfort was nearly on par with cars of the future.

Yang Yujiao sighed enviously: "Sister-in-law, your car is really nice."

Li Yue smiled: "Nice, right? Next time it rains or snows, just wait at school—I'll come pick you up."

"No, no," Yang Yujiao quickly shook her head. "Your work matters more. I'm fine. Rain? I've got an umbrella. Snow? I've got leather boots. Mama said, never be ungrateful."

Li Yue turned to look at the slightly anxious Yang Yujiao and understood her sense of contentment.

Just a few years ago, hadn't she, Li Yue, been just like the old Yang Yujiao?

Leather boots in the snow? Don't make me laugh! Back in Qingshui County, most people wore shoes woven from reeds—warm and practical, but nothing like boots.

As for umbrellas in the rain? How many umbrellas did your family even have?

If a little kid could top their head with a clean sheet of plastic film, they were already showing off—many just held up fertilizer sacks to shield themselves from rain.

So it was no wonder that Yang Yujiao, suddenly arriving in Beijing and showered with love from her brother and sister-in-law, felt instinctively overwhelmed and uneasy.

The snow-slicked roads slowed the Santana, but after heading north a short distance, Li Yue turned left straight toward Zaojunmiao.

Yang Yujiao blinked in surprise, then heard Li Yue say: "Today your brother's unit has a reception, and Mama will be busy until seven. We won't go home and make a fuss—we're going to my brother's place for dinner."

"Ah?"

Yang Yujiao said hesitantly: "Is that appropriate?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Li Yue said without hesitation. "I just called—he's having hotpot tonight. Xiao Hui and the others are coming too. We're not adding extra chopsticks."

"Oh~"

Yang Yujiao was deeply envious of Li Yue—married and still able to drop by her brother's house for meals, and do so without shame.

In this era, many people believed that once a daughter married, she shouldn't return home often, let alone visit her brother's house.

The Santana arrived at Zaojunmiao just as Li Ye and Li Dayong were swinging large brooms, sweeping snow with several neighbors.

This was a Beijing hutong tradition: after every snowfall, everyone at home had to come out and sweep. No one ordered or called out—but everyone did it willingly; even the laziest men now put in effort.

Seeing Li Yue's car, Li Ye stopped working, waved his hand, and signaled her to bring Yang Yujiao inside.

"Xiao Hui and the others are preparing food inside! Wait a moment—we'll be done sweeping soon."

"Alright, we'll help."

Li Yue led Yang Yujiao eagerly inside to find Pei Wenhui and Wen Leyu. Though the Yang family treated her well, living daily with her mother-in-law was never as comfortable as being with her girlfriends.

Li Yue felt the happiest moments of her life were these past two years, sitting before the TV with Wen Leyu and Pei Wenhui, drinking unlimited watermelon soda, chattering and laughing.

Seeing Li Yue return, several aunts laughed: "Enough, young man, stop sweeping—go inside!

Your sister's back for the first time in a while; the family must treat her well, or she'll think she's been rejected by her natal home."

Li Ye smiled: "Never. Besides, there's not much left—look at how fast these uncles and older brothers are sweeping. It'll take minutes."

One uncle, flattered by Li Ye's praise, began boasting: "Hah, if you ask about other things, I won't claim much—but when it comes to snow removal, Beijing people are number one, no one dares say second.

Back then, when that guy came to Beijing, he wanted to see the Great Wall, but it had just snowed heavily. You know what? I joined that cleanup crew—sweeping that snow was incredible."

Beijing's storytellers were storytellers indeed—eloquent and not just rambling nonsense.

Hearing this old man's tale, Yang Yujiao realized: twelve years ago, when that president from the Lighthouse visited China, whether he wanted to prove "He who hasn't climbed the Great Wall isn't a true man," or just wanted to see how big a gap Beijing's snowplows had, he suddenly decided to see the Wall.

And overnight, Beijing mobilized eight hundred thousand people, sweeping snow all the way from Diaoyutai to Badaling.

Supposedly, the next morning, he stood stunned for a long time; after returning home, he said: "A country with this kind of mobilization capacity—I'll never defeat it in my lifetime."

And the uncle beside Li Ye was one of those eight hundred thousand—something he could brag about for life.

Li Ye, upon hearing it, was both astonished and envious.

Participating in an event with eight hundred thousand people—surely one could brag about it for life.

………………

When Li Ye finished sweeping and returned home, the charcoal hotpot was already blazing red.

Beijing's weather grew colder, and fresh vegetables on the table grew scarcer.

In the winter of 1984, there were no adequate greenhouse vegetables; most households relied on potatoes, radishes, and cabbage to fill their meals—no matter how creatively prepared, they eventually grew tiresome.

But if you bought a few pounds of beef or lamb and paired them with those three staples in a hotpot, it was entirely different.

"Hurry up, hurry up—don't let the sister go hungry! We must make her feel the warmth of her natal home."

"Sister, don't lift a finger today—you can't help! In the past, you cooked for us; today, we serve you."

Pei Wenhui, Wen Leyu, and Fu Yiruo chattered as they arranged condiments and utensils, refusing to let sister Li Yue lift a hand—truly giving her the care and attention of her natal family.

Only Yang Yujiao felt awkward, especially when Fu Yiruo placed a can of Pengcheng Red Bull before her—she grew even more uneasy.

Li Yue tugged Yang Yujiao's sleeve and smiled: "Don't be stiff—we're family. Call the men 'brother,' the women 'sister.'"

Yang Yujiao then shyly greeted each one as "brother" and "sister."

The charcoal hotpot boiled quickly; the young people had no formalities and soon began cooking and eating.

After a few bowls of beef and lamb, Yang Yujiao's shyness vanished completely—they laughed and chattered, delighted beyond measure.

In this small courtyard at Zaojunmiao, there were no rigid rules—only freedom and ease. Otherwise, why would married Li Yue love returning for meals?

And when Li Yue got carried away, she commanded Li Ye: "When I leave, bring me a jar of that sauce you made—I'll take it home and let them taste it."

Li Ye pointed to the door: "Already prepared for you—right there on the cabinet by the entrance!"

Yang Yujiao glanced at her sister-in-law, who was taking food home, then at her own nearly empty sauce bowl, and suddenly thought: if this tradition could spread from Li Yue to her own family, it would be perfect.

A married daughter is like water spilled out—Yang Yujiao too would marry someday. But if she could return to her brother's home anytime, welcomed without hesitation, what a blessed fortune that would be.

Yang Yujiao didn't notice that another girl at the table, Fu Yiruo, had the same look in her eyes.

Having grown up under her mother's roof in Malaysia, dependent on others, Fu Yiruo craved family ties more than anyone.

The Fu family in Malaysia was Fu Yiruo's maternal grandparents' home—also her mother Fu Guiru's natal home—but the treatment Fu Guiru received there was beyond words.

Yet the sister before her was kind, the brother kind, the sister-in-law kind—so Fu Yiruo believed her future would be ten times, a hundred times better than her mother's.

(End of Chapter)