The first round of negotiation ended in failure, as expected.
Zhao Lingcheng refused to listen to his ex-wife’s explanations. He slammed the passbook onto the table, furious, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Chen Mianmian felt deeply apologetic for damaging his reputation, but she wasn’t discouraged.
After all, in her professional career, she had never closed a case in a single hearing.
Conflicts could be reconciled, contracts could be negotiated—there was no rush. She still had confidence in her ex-husband.
As for making money, she didn’t need to expand into new ventures yet. Early that morning, she took the leftover buckwheat pancakes from the night before, sliced them up, stir-fried them in the oil from the cured meat, and made a bowl of fried pancake strips. Not long after, a new customer arrived.
Xue Fang knocked on the window early.
“Xiao Chen, there’s business.”
The visitor was her friend, Xiao Jia, a sales clerk from the department store, here to buy furs.
Xiao Jia sniffed the air and said,
“Strange, I smell something incredibly fragrant.”
Xue Fang added,
“I smell Sichuan pepper, sesame oil… and meat.”
Little Zhanzhan suddenly poked his head out of the window.
“We’re cooking—”
Sun Bingyu quickly covered her son’s mouth, not wanting to attract attention.
…
Chen Mianmian noticed a little girl beside Xue Fang and smiled.
“Miaomiao, do you want to try some food Auntie made?”
Little Zhanzhan whispered from the window,
“Miaomiao is a wild child.”
Sun Bingyu pulled her son back again.
“Bad boy, don’t bully your sister.”
Xue Fang couldn’t have children. Miaomiao was adopted—bought from the countryside near Quancheng.
The little girl licked her lips and shook her head obediently.
“Thank you, Auntie. I won’t eat.”
Xiao Jia picked out four furs and was about to pay, but Chen Mianmian said,
“No need for money—just give me special supply coupons.”
At the time, someone like Zhao Lingcheng earned 36 yuan plus 30 yuan in special coupons monthly.
Ordinary workers earned 28 yuan and 25 grain coupons.
But supplies at the base were cheap, and people often had more coupons than they needed.
Xiao Jia handed over ten yuan in coupons.
“No change needed. I heard you have cured meat—give me a piece.”
Trading a piece of meat for two yuan in coupons sounded shocking, but in the Hexi Corridor there was a term called the “lean gap”—from March to June, meat was almost unavailable, even at the base.
Chen Mianmian wanted to maximize the use of her meat jar.
“How about a piece of pure fat?”
She didn’t like fatty meat, but others prized it. Xiao Jia smiled.
“That would be great, thank you.”
After scooping the meat, Chen Mianmian asked,
“Let me ask something—does the store have baby formula?”
Xiao Jia replied,
“My family has plenty. You can trade meat for it.”
Chen Mianmian wanted to raise Niuniu but didn’t want to breastfeed.
One reason was work; another was that she couldn’t psychologically accept being a “milk cow.”
If she could trade meat for formula, she was willing.
But at that moment, Little Zhanzhan threw a stone out the window and hit Miaomiao on the head.
Miaomiao tried to run but stumbled and fell hard.
She didn’t cry loudly—just whimpered softly like a kitten.
Xue Fang picked her up and said,
“If it’s for yourself, fine. But for the baby, forget it. Miaomiao grew up on formula—she’s skinny as a monkey. She’s already four and still gets sick all the time.”
Xiao Jia added,
“Formula is just made from soybeans and rice. It can’t compare to breast milk.”
She then said,
“But if breast milk isn’t enough, you can supplement with it.”
So formula wasn’t even real milk—and Miaomiao’s frailty might be because of it?
Chen Mianmian thought about it and gave up the idea. She’d breastfeed instead.
Niuniu was a little genius—she couldn’t risk poor nutrition affecting her.
So the formula plan fell through.
With ten yuan in coupons, she could have started preparing for childbirth, but she decided to save them and trade meat for what she needed.
She asked Xue Fang,
“You still have the vermicelli from last year, right? And Miaomiao’s bedding?”
Xue Fang, being from the south, didn’t like vermicelli. It was still sitting on her balcony.
Since she still hoped to have her own child, she had kept Miaomiao’s bedding.
But since her chances were slim, she was willing to give it away.
“Let’s trade for meat.”
She added,
“I have five jin of vermicelli. Give me two pieces of fatty meat.”
A win-win deal.
Just as Chen Mianmian was about to scoop the meat, she heard Jiang Xia outside:
“Strange, why did Lingcheng stay at the guesthouse last night?”
Sun Bingyu opened the window.
“Xiao Chen, didn’t Engineer Zhao come home? Why?”
Jiang Xia walked over and sneered,
“Some people think everyone else is blind and stupid.”
Sun Bingyu quickly shut the window.
Jiang Xia then turned to Xue Fang,
“I have flowered steamed buns. Want some?”
Xue Fang had been staring at the meat jar, but at the mention of buns, she immediately said,
“Of course!”
Chen Mianmian jumped in,
“I’ll give you another spoon of oil—give me the buns.”
She had only gone to the canteen once. She knew Jiang Xia would make things difficult for her there.
The buns were huge—bigger than a face—and could last for days.
Xue Fang took the buns and passed them to Chen Mianmian.
“Scoop deeper—give me more oil.”
Those beautifully cracked wheat buns now belonged to Chen Mianmian.
Jiang Xia’s face turned green with anger.
She believed her sister Jiang Yao—educated, pretty, and Zhao Lingcheng’s junior—was a better match.
If not for Chen Mianmian, they would have been a perfect pair.
Chen Mianmian had forced marriage by faking the drowning incident, then returned after divorce—infuriating.
Jiang Xia kicked her son in frustration.
“All you do is eat!”
Little Shuai Shuai, upset, kicked Miaomiao.
“Wild child!”
Miaomiao was so light she was sent flying and fell hard again.
He ran off laughing.
Chen Mianmian helped Miaomiao up and shouted,
“Why did you hit her?”
Jiang Xia gave her son a token scolding, glared at Chen Mianmian, and left proudly.
Xue Fang felt hurt but didn’t dare argue, especially after receiving buns.
She carried Miaomiao upstairs.
Sun Bingyu whispered from the window,
“What’s going on with Zhao Lingcheng?”
Chen Mianmian deliberately raised her voice,
“He cares about the baby even more than I do. He snores at night, so he stayed at the guesthouse to avoid disturbing us. We’re doing great!”
Jiang Xia slammed her window shut.
“Keep pretending.”
Sun Bingyu believed her.
“Don’t mind Jiang Xia. Just live well with Zhao Lingcheng—that’s what matters.”
But Chen Mianmian had made up her mind.
If Jiang Xia kept spreading rumors, what if people called Niuniu a “bastard”?
For that alone, she had to stand her ground—and eventually take Niuniu away.
…
Instead of going home, Chen Mianmian went upstairs and waited.
Soon, Little Shuai Shuai ran in, pulled down his pants, and tried to pee on her door handle.
She stomped her foot.
“See this? Scissors. I’ll cut it off!”
Startled, he ran—tripped—and wet himself.
Miaomiao saw and burst out laughing.
…
Later, Xue Fang brought vermicelli and bedding.
“These are for the baby—change them at night, wash them during the day.”
Chen Mianmian accepted them and looked at Miaomiao.
An idea formed.
“Sister Xue, can Miaomiao stay and play here today?”
“I’ll cook her meat—really delicious meat.”
Xue Fang happily agreed.
Chen Mianmian wasn’t just playing house—she was preparing for the second negotiation.
Zhao Lingcheng would return tonight. Without his approval, her stay would be terminated.
She needed to turn the situation around.
…
That weekend, Engineer Zeng ran into Zhao Lingcheng at work.
“You’re not going home?” he asked.
“Still working,” Zhao Lingcheng replied.
Zeng hesitated—he had planned to introduce him to someone.
But Zhao Lingcheng ignored it and shut himself in his office.
At 5:30 p.m., music played—Katyusha.
He ate bread and canned fish, lost in thought.
He remembered his mother—elegant, beautiful, fluent in English and Russian.
She would visit him from major cities.
He loved her deeply.
But she had left, saying she would return after victory.
He watched her leave, holding onto the car door, unwilling to let go.
A boy in the car told him to “get lost.”
…
After finishing his meal and changing his shirt, Zhao Lingcheng finally headed home.
He smelled cooking meat even before entering the compound.
Someone said,
“Xiao Chen is cooking meat again.”
Another replied,
“She used to eat wild greens—now she eats meat every day.”
He immediately knew it was her.
She had once cooked meat for him—but never ate it herself, saying it was for men.
He never understood her—and refused to.
He would never let her raise the child.
Looking through the window, he said,
“Half an hour later. We’ll talk.”
But Chen Mianmian called out,
“Stop sulking. Come in—there’s a guest.”
A guest?
He stormed in—only to find a tiny girl sitting at the table.
The girl stood up nervously.
“Miaomiao, don’t be afraid,” Chen Mianmian said.
“Uncle Zhao likes little girls.”
“I want to go home,” the girl whispered.
“But you’ve been waiting for the meat,” Chen Mianmian coaxed.
Then she said to Zhao Lingcheng,
“Sit down. Smile.”
He didn’t smile—but he sat.
“Wait, the meat’s coming,” she said.
The second negotiation had begun.
But first, she served the dish.
After soaking vermicelli for eight hours and cooking it in rich oil, it became soft, glossy, and fragrant.
Miaomiao stared at it, swallowing hard.