First, back to Chen Mianmian.
Looking at the meat, she couldn’t help but drool.
Sun Bingyu said, “Supplies have been tight lately. Zhanzhan hasn’t had meat for half a month.”
Chen Mianmian scooped out a large piece and gave it to her, but added in advance, “If you’re worried it might upset your stomach, don’t eat it.”
This was preserved jarred meat. In theory, it wouldn’t spoil for years—but what if it had gone bad?
Sun Bingyu didn’t reply. She ran home to grab a bowl, filled it with meat, and couldn’t resist sipping some of the oil. “It smells amazing.”
She added, “This must be the wild boar you hunted last October. It’s really fatty.”
When the original owner caught that boar, she was already pregnant with Niuniu.
She had planned to take all the meat back to her parents’ home, but after the divorce, it was left behind.
Chen Mianmian remembered the original owner’s method—never let water touch the ladle when scooping the meat.
Also, after taking some out, the meat had to be resealed with oil so it could last longer.
She decided to taste it first. If it was good, she’d keep some and sell the rest.
Sun Bingyu was curious about something else. “You’re always drying and preserving those ‘blindies,’ but where’s the meat?”
The original owner was a strange person—always catching and drying meat, yet never eating it.
Sun Bingyu, Xue Fang, and Huang Lin from the third floor used to gossip about her behind her back, saying she had something wrong with her mind.
And she really did.
Not only had she lived through several years of famine,
even when food was available, Wang Ximei wouldn’t let her daughters eat their fill, in order to save grain.
So the original owner was always hungry. Long-term hunger left her feeling empty inside, even when her stomach was full.
That emptiness made her hoard things to compensate, which led to her severe hoarding habit.
Smelling the meat, Xue Fang from the second floor came over. “What are you two doing?”
In response, Chen Mianmian lifted a brick blocking the kang stove opening and reached inside.
Sun Bingyu felt nervous. “Be careful—what if there’s a snake in there?”
The room only had a kang bed and a jar. The “blindie” meat was actually stored inside the kang cavity.
Chen Mianmian reached in and pulled out something yellowish, shaped like a turtle shell.
Sun Bingyu, who had already backed toward the door, looked closely. “Wow—a ‘blindie’!”
Xue Fang also gathered her courage and stepped in. “Dried ‘blindie’ meat!”
Sun Bingyu leaned in to look inside the kang. “There’s soil in there—you buried the meat in the dirt?”
The families occasionally went to Quancheng and visited the black market.
Xue Fang said, “I’ve seen this there. They say it tastes great with alcohol.”
Sun Bingyu took the dried meat. “My husband bought some before. We steamed it over high heat—it was delicious.”
But they were puzzled. “If you bury meat in the ground, won’t it spoil?”
It wouldn’t.
The Gobi Desert was dry with little rain—even ancient corpses could remain preserved for thousands of years.
The kang had been repeatedly heated at high temperatures, killing off bacteria.
The soil used to bury the meat was also high-heat processed clay—essentially sterile.
As long as the meat was fully dried, it could be stored for years without spoiling.
On the black market, one could sell for fifty cents, and many people would compete to buy it.
Chen Mianmian estimated there were about two hundred of them—another hundred yuan.
Leaving the room, she went to explore the third house.
Meanwhile, Sun Bingyu soaked the piece she had taken in water.
“Blindie,” also known as ground sheep, had meat even tastier than beef or mutton.
But they were hard to catch and rarely sold, so she had only eaten it once before. She had to try it again.
Not just Sun Bingyu and Xue Fang—other family members were also watching Chen Mianmian.
When she opened the third house, Huang Lin from the fifth floor asked, “Xiao Chen, are you selling those medicinal herbs?”
To most people, the desert seemed barren and lifeless.
But locals knew the Gobi was full of treasures.
The third house had the fewest items—just two bundles of dried cynomorium and a basket of cistanche, both medicinal herbs.
Xue Fang looked up and asked, “Huang Lin, what times are we living in? You still get to eat mutton?”
These herbs were excellent for stewing with mutton—improving both taste and nutrition.
At the base, people usually only used them when cooking mutton.
Huang Lin smiled. “My workplace doesn’t issue mutton. I’m sending these to my family in Shanghai as gifts.”
She and her husband were from Shanghai, so sending medicinal herbs home made sense.
Chen Mianmian picked one bundle of cynomorium and half a basket of cistanche. “I’ll carry them upstairs for you.”
Huang Lin had already come downstairs. “Your belly is so big—I’ll take them myself.”
She added, “There’s plenty of this outside, but since you dug it up, I’ll pay you a little.”
There was indeed a lot outside, but who dared to dig for it with wolves, bears, snakes, and wild boars around?
And medicinal herbs had to be harvested at the right time to be effective.
As Chen Mianmian was thinking about how much to charge, she entered Huang Lin’s home and saw a baby crib in the living room.
Then a chubby little boy rode past on a wooden horse.
Seeing the crib, she imagined Niuniu crying at night—she wouldn’t have to hold her, just rock the crib gently until she fell asleep again.
She said, “That crib is nice. Where did you buy it?”
Huang Lin replied proudly, “You northerners can’t make something like this. I brought it all the way from Shanghai by train. Everyone envies it.”
The fact that it was sitting in the living room piled with clutter showed it wasn’t being used.
Chen Mianmian had an idea and changed the subject. “Do you want meat?”
The workplace hadn’t distributed meat for over a month—of course Huang Lin wanted some.
But she was shrewd. She brought out a big bowl filled with gray-green flour. “I’ll trade this bowl of flour for a bowl of meat. For the herbs, I’ll give you one yuan in ration tickets.”
She added, “The crib is not for sale—I’ll need it for my second child.”
The gray-green flour was tartary buckwheat flour—the worst-tasting of all grains.
It was only distributed during extreme shortages.
Huang Lin was clever—Chen Mianmian wanted the crib, but she tried to brush her off with buckwheat flour.
But from the original owner’s memories, buckwheat flour could be made delicious.
She decided to try it—she would be eating this kind of food often in the future.
Since Huang Lin wouldn’t give the crib, she dropped the idea.
Instead, she said, “Do you have sugar and yeast? Give me two jin of sugar and a packet of yeast.”
Yeast wasn’t worth much, but two jin of sugar was nearly as valuable as two jin of meat.
Huang Lin didn’t want to agree, but her son Kang Kang kept shouting, “Mom, I want meat!”
Reluctantly, she said, “You go get the meat. I’ll go to the store for sugar.”
Chen Mianmian quickly added, “Bring me two potatoes too.”
As Huang Lin carried her son downstairs, she muttered, “Wasn’t Xiao Chen supposed to be a fool? How did she suddenly become so shrewd?”
Someone nearby chimed in, “She made Engineer Zhao suffer enough before—how does she still have the face to come back?”
…
Chen Mianmian stored the flour, washed the bowl, and filled it again with a large portion of meat.
When she came out with the bowl, the children had just returned from school. Zhanzhan ran over. “Wow—meat!”
Then he shouted, “Mom, I want preserved meat!”
Jiang Xia from the neighboring unit also came over. “This meat is really well preserved.”
Then she added, “Xiao Chen, your belly—at most five months, right?”
If it was only five months, that would mean she got pregnant after the divorce.
Chen Mianmian immediately said, “No, it’s already seven months.”
Jiang Xia laughed sharply. “Seven months? What are you carrying—a pea?”
It was just after work hours. People from all three units nearby were watching.
Chen Mianmian thought for a moment and laughed just as sharply. “Oh, Sister Jiang, when you were pregnant with Shuai Shuai, your belly was huge like a hill—but he wasn’t even five jin at birth. What were you carrying—pure fat?”
The original owner had been quiet and kept to herself, never responding to gossip.
But Chen Mianmian was not someone to be bullied.
If anyone talked about her belly, she would strike back hard.
Jiang Xia raised her brows. “You’ve been here two days, and Lingcheng still hasn’t come home. I heard…”
Chen Mianmian smiled. “You heard that Lingcheng, even though he’s busy, is even more excited than I am about the baby?”
Jiang Xia was speechless. “Your belly isn’t even as big as mine.”
Chen Mianmian put her hands on her hips and raised her voice. “How could I compare to you, Sister Jiang? You’re the canteen director. Just look at that thick belly of yours—forget me, whose belly in this courtyard is bigger than yours?”
Jiang Xia got angry. “Chen Mianmian, are you accusing me of stuffing myself? That’s slander!”
Chen Mianmian spread her hands. “You said it yourself—I didn’t say anything.”
Just then, Huang Lin came back and casually glanced over. “Engineer Zhao, cooking personally?”
Chen Mianmian, still in the middle of arguing, turned her head—and was shocked.
A tall man stood in the kitchen. It was Niuniu’s father, Zhao Lingcheng.
He had already come home—when did he get back?
She had been talking nonstop—he must have heard everything. What was his reaction?
The neighbors were dying of curiosity, wishing they could place an ear inside Zhao Lingcheng’s home.
The ex-wife was back, her belly didn’t look big—is the child really his?
She had made his life miserable before—would he remarry and return to that hardship?
Chen Mianmian had to admit—Zhao Lingcheng had excellent composure.
He looked up at Huang Lin and Jiang Xia outside the window but said nothing.
He had been reading. With a snap, he closed the book and glanced at the onlooking neighbors.
In an instant, everyone—adults and children—scattered.
In that brief glance, Chen Mianmian felt surprised.
Because Zhao Lingcheng’s appearance was not quite the same as she remembered.