Dinner was served.
The old master sat at the head of the table, with Qin Nancheng and Lin Xiwei seated on his left and right.
On Qin Nancheng’s side sat his people, rigid and upright. Before the meal officially began, their straight-backed, disciplined posture stood out sharply, utterly at odds with the European-style luxury that filled the dining room.
At the end of the table were the gifts Qin Nancheng had brought for his visit—
Two cartons of Xiaoxiongmao cigarettes, two cartons of Huazi cigarettes, two bottles of Moutai original liquor, one jar of fifty-year-aged Laobaifen, two boxes of Daoxiangcun pastries, and one whole Quanjude roast duck.
All of them were rare items in this era!
Xiaoxiongmao cigarettes were well known as special supplies—money alone couldn’t buy them; you needed connections.
Moutai might be obtainable, but the original liquor was much harder to come by.
A fifty-year-aged Laobaifen might also be found, but when it came in an unassuming black jar, that meant it was premium stock taken directly from the distillery.
As for the Quanjude roast duck—logistics were underdeveloped in this era, yet Qin Nancheng had brought it over fragrant and intact, which meant he had personally flown from the capital straight to Shanghai.
On Lin Xiwei’s side, the Lin family took their seats in order: Lin Yulan, Lin Chengyou, Lin Haojie, and Butler Zhang.
The last seat was for the cook, Aunt Wang. The Lin household, inside and out, had to reform itself completely—old-era hierarchical rules could no longer remain.
The roast duck Qin Nancheng brought had to be eaten immediately. Aunt Wang bustled about in the kitchen, sliced the duck, and brought it out, placing it in front of the old master.
Another plate held the duck frame, neck, wings, and other scraps—mostly bones with little meat—left over after slicing. That plate was placed in front of Lin Chengyou and the others.
Lin Chengyou and the other two glanced at the scraps, their expressions instantly darkening, hatred itching in their hearts.
Only after Aunt Wang also sat down did the old master raise his glass and say with a warm smile, “Welcome, Nancheng!”
The others echoed:
“Welcome, Nancheng!”
“Welcome, Brother Nancheng.”
“Welcome, Brother Nancheng.”
“Welcome, Qin Nancheng.”
The last line came from Lin Xiwei.
Qin Nancheng looked at her with a half-smile and curled his lips slightly.
Lin Xiwei met his gaze calmly and confidently, without dodging at all.
…
Under the table, Lin Chengyou kicked Lin Yulan, then heard her say:
“Big sister calling Nancheng哥哥 by his full name is so impolite.”
Lin Xiwei shot back immediately, not even sparing her a glance:
“He’s your brother-in-law. Calling him ‘brother’ every other word—where’s your manners? Besides, do you think being someone’s brother is such a heavenly privilege? Your ‘brother’… isn’t that easy to be. You need a hard life for it.”
She was alluding to Lin Yulan’s cousin Fu Xinghan, who had just been beaten to death, and also warning Lin Yulan to stop stirring trouble—otherwise, once family scandals were exposed, no one would come out unscathed.
Lin Yulan couldn’t hold her expression together. She pouted, looking as if she were about to cry, tears welling as she looked pitifully toward Qin Nancheng.
But the man across from her didn’t even look at her!
Qin Nancheng was especially fond of the words “brother-in-law.” His heart leapt with joy, though his face revealed nothing.
He pushed the plate of sliced roast duck toward Lin Xiwei and dropped a bombshell:
“I lined up early this morning to buy Quanjude especially for you. Back at your first birthday banquet, the first meat you ever tasted was roast duck I brought.”
“Cough!” Lin Xiwei choked on a sip of orange soda, her face once again turning red as an apple.
Around the age of one, children are introduced to meat to help their digestive systems gradually adapt.
Usually, the first meat is pigeon soup. But at Lin Xiwei’s first birthday, she gnawed on Qin Nancheng—and also took a few bites of the roast duck he had carried all the way from the capital, even though she couldn’t really chew it.
Lin Xiwei looked up at him. There was a hint of teasing in Qin Nancheng’s eyes—she had every reason to suspect he was doing this on purpose!
Hmph!
She pulled the plate of pure sliced duck meat over to herself and ate heartily, perfectly justified. Free roast duck—why not eat it?
The undercurrent of flirtation between the two made Lin Yulan so uncomfortable she felt she was going mad.
She glanced at Lin Xiwei beside her, radiant, dressed in gold and silver, and the seeds of jealousy fully sprouted in her heart.
Why was it that she had grown up in the countryside, swallowing coarse food, while Lin Xiwei could enjoy fine clothes and rich meals in the grand Lin residence of a big city?
Just the Jinling Yunjin qipao Lin Xiwei was wearing was worth its weight in gold—an heirloom craft passed down for over sixteen hundred years, woven with real gold thread, beautiful like clouds and霞. It was far beyond what the word “expensive” could ever describe.
In fact, all of Lin Xiwei’s clothes were either her mother’s old garments or outfits cut and sewn from leftover fabric the family had kept over the years. The Yunjin qipao she was wearing had been remade from one of her mother’s old dresses.
In this era, the Lin family had a problematic class background, making it difficult for them to obtain all kinds of ration tickets. In truth, the family had lived rather frugally for years. From the eldest to the youngest, everyone wore old-fashioned clothes—some even in Republican-era styles.
Back then, the Lin family had been fabulously wealthy. A starved camel was still bigger than a horse; the materials of their clothes were all of exceptionally high quality. Even the old garments and leftover fabrics were rare materials by the standards of this time.
Lin Yulan put on an innocent act, deliberately appearing frank and naïve:
“Brother Nancheng is so outstanding. There must be many female soldiers in the army who admire you, right? Their family backgrounds must be very good too…”
As if suddenly realizing something, she quickly raised her hand to cover her mouth, pretending she had spoken out of turn:
“Oh! I forgot—big sister was never sent down to the countryside. As for her background…”
The unspoken implication was that Lin Xiwei would affect Qin Nancheng’s future.
…
Lin Xiwei’s slender fingers, which were wrapping roast duck, paused slightly. She slowly lifted her eyes and looked over.
Opposite her, Qin Nancheng was leaning lazily against the back of his chair. His brows were tightly furrowed, impatience clear on his face, the corners of his mouth pulled downward as he retorted coldly:
“That has nothing to do with you.”
Lin Yulan was humiliated once again. Tears slipped down uncontrollably. “Brother Nancheng, I—”
“Enough!” The old master reacted most strongly, shouting in a deep voice.
“I think Yulan has had too much to drink. Wang Ma, take her away to sober up.”
“Yes.” Wang Ma stood up and walked over. “Second Miss, please come with me.”
Seeing that she was about to be removed from the table, Lin Yulan hurriedly looked toward her father for help.
Lin Chengyou, seemingly weighing something in his mind, pretended not to see her at all.
In the moment of her stunned disappointment, Wang Ma grabbed Lin Yulan and lifted her up like a little chicken.
Lin Yulan panicked, her voice suddenly rising several pitches:
“Let go of me! Stop using that capitalist ‘miss-this, miss-that’ way of addressing people on me. Our backgrounds are clean—we can especially stand up to political scrutiny!”
The words were blatantly self-promotional, implying that she was more suitable than Lin Xiwei to marry Qin Nancheng.
Even as she was being dragged away from her seat, Lin Yulan anxiously added:
“Brother Nancheng, you must keep your eyes open and judge carefully who truly deserves to be your good woman. Don’t let rotten people affect your bright future…”
Wang Ma practically escorted Lin Yulan out under guard, wishing she could strangle her on the spot.
Wang Ma had been deeply involved in Lin Xiwei’s upbringing. The old master was, after all, a man—many matters during a girl’s growth had been handled by Wang Ma.
To Wang Ma, Lin Xiwei was closer than a biological daughter or granddaughter.
She dragged Lin Yulan outside, shot her a vicious glare, pointed at her nose, and scolded angrily:
“You low-class thing! Look at you, jumping around like a monkey over a simple meal—what kind of behavior is that? My young lady’s fine marriage—how dare you try to butt in? Pah!”
Lin Yulan rubbed her aching arm and snapped back sharply:
“You can’t change the servility in your bones. Calling people ‘miss’ every other word—no wonder you’re destined to be a servant your whole life!”
Wang Ma sneered coldly. “My young lady grew up without her mother by her side—it was I who raised her with my own hands. The bond between me and her is something an outsider like you will never understand. Stop trying to sow discord in front of me.”
Lin Yulan still looked down on Wang Ma, convinced that servility was etched into her bones:
“Stop putting on airs. A servant is a servant—a cheap, worthless thing!”
Wang Ma grabbed her arm, dragged her a few steps into a corner, and slapped her hard across the face:
“Who are you calling that? You shameless piece of trash! Who are you calling that, huh? You think I’m easy to bully? I’m not my young lady—I’ve got plenty of strength and ways to deal with you!”
Lin Yulan, a thin and weak girl, was pinned in the corner by Wang Ma, who did physical labor year-round. She couldn’t even turn over. When she tried to scream, Wang Ma stuffed a filthy rag into her mouth:
“You still dare to shout? I’ll tear that mouth of yours apart! You’re the cheap one! Your whole family are cheap bones!!!”