“Aunt Zeng—”
It was a girl with thick eyebrows and big eyes.
The girl was carrying a basket of steamed buns, still steaming hot.
She wore a floral shirt and black pants. When her eyes landed on Qiao Qingyan, her footsteps paused, and she stared in surprise for a few seconds.
Zeng Yumei, wearing an apron, limped out of the kitchen. Seeing the visitor, she said with a warm smile, “Chunya, why are you here?”
Chunya’s gaze swept over the double happiness characters pasted everywhere on the windows in the courtyard. The curve of her lips stiffened slightly:
“Auntie, my mother steamed some date buns and told me to bring them to you.”
“Oh, your mother is so thoughtful.” Zeng Yumei took the basket, put the buns in the kitchen, and returned the basket to Chunya.
She grabbed a handful of candy and stuffed it into Chunya’s hand. “Chunya, that’s your—”
Zeng Yumei’s words caught in her throat, and she was suddenly at a loss. Her daughter-in-law was only nineteen this year, five years younger than Jinye. Chunya was also older than her. Would it be inappropriate to call her sister-in-law?
After pondering for a moment, Zeng Yumei introduced them to each other:
“This is Qingyan, your brother Jinye’s wife.”
“Qingyan, this is the Wang family’s girl from down the lane, Wang Chunya.”
Chunya said nothing, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly downward. She gave Qiao Qingyan a reluctant, slight nod.
Qingyan wasn’t sure if she was seeing things, but her eyes seemed red, like the rabbit in that cage.
“Chunya, let me go check on the pot. Don’t leave either—stay for lunch.” Zeng Yumei didn’t notice anything unusual about Chunya. She patted her shoulder and went into the kitchen.
The surroundings fell quiet. Chunya was the first to speak. “Your name is Qiao Qingyan? Your sister is Chen Xiaomeng?”
In her mind, she recalled what Chen Xiaomeng had told her when they were helping pick green beans together:
“My younger sister grew up in the city. Deep down, she looks down on us country folk. She thinks the countryside is dirty.”
“She’s also lazy. She won’t do any work at home. She orders my mother around all day and nitpicks about everything.”
“Relying on her good looks, she’s ambiguous with several men in the village. Very unclear relationships.”
“She also secretly wears my clothes and has always treated me as a thorn in her side. When she does something wrong, she pins it all on me instead…”
Qiao Qingyan didn’t want to mention Chen Xiaomeng. In her heart, she no longer acknowledged her as her sister. Her voice deepened a little:
“Chen Xiaomeng is indeed my stepmother’s child, but she is not my sister.”
She stood ramrod straight, her tone cold and distant.
Chunya thought to herself: Just as Chen Xiaomeng said—she’s an arrogant girl.
Her sister and stepmother treated her so well, yet she washed her hands of the relationship entirely.
And also, Aunt Zeng’s leg wasn’t good, yet she was cooking in the kitchen, and Qingyan didn’t even offer to help. She just waited to eat what was ready.
If she’s like this on the first day after marrying in, who knows how she’ll torment Aunt Zeng later.
It’s like they brought home an ancestor to worship.
She stared at Qiao Qingyan before her, sizing her up from head to toe.
Pink dress, white lace socks, skin as white as soft tofu. Though Chunya wasn’t dark herself, standing in front of her, she felt considerably inferior in aura.
Especially that face—elegant and lively, gentle and lovely. Even she couldn’t look away.
She really had the face of a fox spirit. If brother Jinye saw her, his soul would be snatched away by her.
At this thought, Chunya felt even more bitter inside.
The atmosphere was quiet for a moment. Qiao Qingyan wasn’t familiar with her and couldn’t find a topic for small talk.
Fortunately, Chunya mumbled a response, then called out a greeting to Zeng Yumei in the direction of the kitchen before turning and leaving the Xiao family home.
Before long, lunch was ready.
This was the most delicious meal Qiao Qingyan had eaten in the two years since she had returned to the countryside.
Braised chicken, stir-fried greens, and a loofah soup—fragrant rice was set on the table, a feast for both the eyes and the palate.
When steaming the rice, Zeng Yumei had laid pumpkin on top of it. The pumpkin came out soft, glutinous, and sweet, and the rice naturally absorbed its fragrance.
In Qiao Qingyan’s distant memories, her own mother had also loved to steam rice this way.
“How does it taste? Is it to your liking?” Zeng Yumei gazed at her with eyes full of expectation.
Qiao Qingyan set down her chopsticks, sat up straight, and answered earnestly, “It’s especially delicious, Auntie.”
Zeng Yumei’s smile crinkled her eyes and brows together, and she kept piling food into Qiao Qingyan’s bowl.
Of the two most tender chicken legs on the whole bird, one went to Qiao Qingyan and one was given to Duoduo.
This old hen had been raised for over a year and was originally meant to be kept a while longer to sell for money, but how could they let the new bride go without on her first day in the household, eating plain soup and rice?
Zeng Yumei steeled herself and simply stewed the chicken.
Qiao Qingyan looked down at the food in her bowl, which was nearly piled into a small mountain, and quickly spoke up:
“Auntie, please eat, don’t give me any more—I won’t be able to finish all this as it is.”
Duoduo sat on a stool, shoveling rice and dishes into her mouth with gusto, eating with great relish, and after one bowl she wanted another.
This child really has a good appetite, Qiao Qingyan thought.
She had always eaten lightly—half a small bowl of rice with a few bites of dishes was enough to fill her at every meal.
Back in the Qiao family, whenever Chen Xiuying stewed meat, she would always first add it to her own daughter’s and son’s bowls, and only then would it be Qiao Nianshan’s turn.
If Qiao Qingyan’s chopsticks so much as edged slightly toward the meat dish, Chen Xiuying’s sharp gaze would immediately cut over.
She had never been greedy for a bite of meat, but that feeling of being neglected, mistreated, and pushed aside was truly hard to bear.
Now, at the dinner table, being cared for so simply and warmly by a mother-in-law she had not known for long, Qiao Qingyan suddenly felt a sting at the tip of her nose, and warmth welled up in her heart.
She reached out and placed a piece of meat into Zeng Yumei’s bowl as well, saying gently, “Auntie, let’s eat together.”
On the other side, the moment Chunya stepped out of the Xiao family’s courtyard gate, her eyes reddened.
She raised a hand and wiped the corner of her eye with the back of it, then walked home sullenly.
Her mother, Qingmei, spotted her as soon as she returned and asked, “Did you deliver the date buns to Auntie Zeng?”
“Mm.” Chunya responded indifferently.
“So what’s Jinye’s new wife like? Is she pretty?” Qingmei asked her daughter curiously, spatula in hand.
“Go see for yourself if you want to know.”
What did she look like? Like a seductress.
Chunya irritably kicked aside a stool in her path and went straight to her own room.
“I just haven’t had the time…” Qingmei watched her daughter’s retreating figure and called out, “Who’s gone and made you angry for no reason?”
“No one made me angry!” Chunya replied sullenly, then slammed the door shut, threw herself onto the bed, and tears streamed down through her fingers.
“This child, day after day, always throwing little tantrums…” Qingmei muttered to herself, then turned and went into the kitchen.
Chunya didn’t eat lunch either, lying on the bed and crying by herself all afternoon.
Toward evening, when her father Wang Jianguo came back from the fields with his hoe over his shoulder, Chunya heard her parents talking in the yard.
“I ran into that kid Jinye on the road just now.” Wang Jianguo spoke while washing his hands.
“What happened? It’s his wedding day today—he’s not at home keeping his new bride company?”
Wang Jianguo shook his head. “I saw him heading to Zhijie’s place. Said he’s staying at Zhijie’s tonight.”
“What’s going on? He got married today, his bride is waiting at home, and he’s not going back?” Qingmei was astonished.
“How would I know,” Wang Jianguo washed his hands and urged gruffly, “Hurry up and serve the food, I’m starving.”
Qingmei pursed her lips, went to the kitchen to serve the rice, and shouted toward the inner room, “Chunya, come out and eat! Stop lying around all day!”
“You get lazier the older you get—sleeping from dawn till dusk, not even getting up to eat…”
Chunya yanked the door open and walked out of the bedroom, looking anxiously at Wang Jianguo:
“Dad, you said Jinye is sleeping at Zhijie’s place tonight?”
“Mm.” Wang Jianguo was bent over rummaging for tea leaves in the cupboard. He glanced up at his daughter. “What’s wrong with your eyes? Why are they so red?”
“Nothing, they were itchy so I rubbed them.” Chunya came closer, unable to resist pressing further. “He got married today—why won’t he go home?”
Wang Jianguo answered casually, “When a man won’t go home on his wedding night, it’s obvious he’s not satisfied with the match. He doesn’t want to face his new bride at all.”
Hearing this, Chunya’s face shifted from gloom to sunshine. “Really?”
“Mm.” Wang Jianguo didn’t notice his daughter’s expression. He pinched some tea leaves into a bowl. “Go, go to the kitchen and bring me the thermos.”
“Okay.” Chunya answered crisply with a smile.
In the blink of an eye the sun set behind the mountains, and dusk shrouded the entire village.
Country folk sleep early. After dinner, once the villagers had tidied up, they turned in by seven or eight.
After taking a shower, Qiao Qingyan sat in the wedding room that had been carefully decorated.
The room wasn’t large—a single kang bed piled with several new quilts, among them the new bedding she had brought from home.
Against the wall stood a wooden wardrobe, clearly newly made. She had already put her clothes inside.
The room smelled clean. The newspaper pasted on the walls was new, a double-happiness character was stuck on the window, and a small pot of beautiful orchids sat on the windowsill.
Qiao Qingyan noticed a door on the inner wall, connecting to another small room. Earlier that day she had asked her mother-in-law what that room was, and Zeng Yumei had said it was where Xiao Jinye used to live, and told her to look around as she pleased.
It was already this late—looked like Xiao Jinye wasn’t coming back tonight.
Qiao Qingyan slipped on her slippers and gently parted the dark blue floral-print cloth curtain.
The inner room was even smaller than the wedding room, also fitted with a small earthen kang. The bedding was folded neatly, with a few changes of clothes set beside it.
On the small square table by the window sat several molded clay figurines—probably Duoduo’s toys.
Soon, keen-nosed Qiao Qingyan immediately caught a masculine scent lingering in the air.
It wasn’t unpleasant—rather, it was crisp and clean…
Qiao Qingyan touched her burning cheeks. Idiot, why was she looking at his bedroom?
A smelly man’s sleeping quarters—what was there to see?
She turned, drew the curtain shut, and went back to lie down on her own new kang.
The thin quilt draped over her slender waist, red lips and lotus-white arms, her hair falling lazily across the pillow.
Before long, drowsiness crept over her, and Qingyan drifted into sleep.
No one knew that in Shidianzi Village, in the wedding room of Jiang Runsheng’s house, an entirely different scene was playing out at this very moment.