“Has your fever gone down?”
“It has.”
Liang Xin placed the soybeans, greens, and dried chili peppers behind the door, holding up the oil-paper wrapped salted duck in her hand. “Hello, Yueji. Perfect timing for dinner—I brought pre-sliced duck.”
“Second Sister-in-law, you’re so thoughtful. For Second Brother’s sake, you rushed back overnight from your parents’ home and even brought his favorite salted duck from the Red Star Restaurant in the southern part of the city.”
Lu Yueji’s words hit exactly what Lu Chongfeng had in mind.
He ran a hand through his hair.
The messy strands covered his burning ears.
Reaching out to take the oil-paper package from Liang Xin, he accidentally brushed against her cool, delicate fingers. His fingertips trembled slightly, and he withdrew his hand, running it through his hair again. “It’s so cold outside, and you’ve been on the road for so long. The bus station is so far from the Red Star Restaurant… Hurry and wash your hands, have something to eat.”
Liang Xin glanced down at the salted duck.
Lu Zewei’s favorite?
She said nothing, handing him the duck, then rolled up her sleeves and headed into the bathroom.
“Is Mom not home?”
“Seems one of Dad’s comrades passed away. Dad came back earlier to pick Mom up, and they went out together.” Lu Yueji brought out a double-handled aluminum pot from the kitchen. “Originally, I was supposed to look after Second Brother tonight, but since Second Sister-in-law is back, I’ll head back to the dormitory later.”
Liang Xin pulled out a chair and sat down, picking up a ladle to serve a bowl of plain congee. She added two spoonfuls of sugar and was about to eat it herself when, noticing her sister-in-law across from her and thinking of her own salary, she placed the bowl in front of Lu Zewei.
“Ah? Second Sister-in-law, don’t!”
Lu Yueji, who had been criticized all afternoon, inwardly panicked at Liang Xin’s gesture.
She had earlier served congee that was slightly cooler than this, and Second Brother had still complained it was too hot.
That wasn’t the main issue—the real problem was that plain congee with sugar was Second Brother’s most detested combination.
Ever since falling ill, Second Brother had become extremely irritable.
Lu Yueji feared that an unaware Second Sister-in-law would end up scolded like she had been, and worse, if it triggered Second Brother’s condition, it would be even more terrifying.
Just as she was about to sacrifice herself to save the situation, she suddenly saw the irritable Second Brother pick up a spoon, scoop a full spoonful of congee, swallow it in one go, and then, with slightly reddened ears, look at Second Sister-in-law and say, “It’s delicious. You should eat too.”
Lu Yueji: “?”
“Wasn’t it too hot?”
Lu Zewei: “The temperature was just right.”
Lu Yueji: “?”
“Wasn’t it too sweet?”
Lu Zewei: “The sweetness was just right too.”
Lu Yueji: “But you hate plain congee with sugar! I remember once when I accidentally put sugar in your bowl, you took one bite and yelled at me for ages.”
Liang Xin looked at Lu Zewei.
Lu Zewei scooped another spoonful into his mouth, then set down the spoon and drank half the bowl directly.
Lu Yueji let out an “Oh.” “I get it now. No wonder nothing I did earlier satisfied you. So after getting sick, your tastes changed, and you’ve started liking sugar in your congee. Why didn’t you just say so earlier instead of nitpicking everything I did?”
Lu Zewei: “…”
Liang Xin: “.”
The sound of a car came from outside.
Hu Fenglian froze visibly upon entering and seeing Liang Xin. “Liang Xin, you’re back already?”
Chief Lu, who followed her in, also looked surprised. “She was worried about Second Brother, of course.”
“You always know everything.” Hu Fenglian suddenly noticed the soybeans, greens, and dried chili peppers behind the door. “Liang Xin brought things back? Carrying them must have been exhausting—you should have left them for your family to eat.”
“My eldest sister-in-law asked me to bring these for you to eat.”
“Next time I get the chance, I must thank your eldest sister-in-law in person.”
Hu Fenglian pointed at Lu Yueji, “Come sit over here. I had something to tell you before I went out earlier, but I didn’t finish.”
“It’s not that you just finished arranging a blind date for my second brother and now plan to do the same for me, is it?”
“No.”
“That’s a relief!” Lu Yueji let out a sigh and turned to go upstairs. “I just went to the troupe to collect the fourth-quarter coupons and got my new photos taken. Mom, let me use the household shopping booklet too. I plan to buy some more things to send to Brother Heping all together.”
“The cotton underwear for winter, shampoo, soap, frostbite cream, the old-fashioned bread, peach shortbread, cream crackers, green tea, fermented black bean radish pickles, and bean curd cheese that your Brother Heping likes to eat, the national food coupons, and the wedding candies from your second brother—I’ve already sent everything to Heping. There’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”
Hu Fenglian didn’t let her daughter leave. “Come sit here. Do you remember Aunt Hongyan, whom I often mention to you? Her son is the child left by your Uncle Wei…”
“I have no plans to get married right now.” Lu Yueji stood up and ran upstairs, her voice drifting down from the staircase. “I still want to dance, preferably for my whole life.”
“This child, that’s not what I meant. She’s really getting more and more unreasonable.”
Unable to get through to her daughter, Hu Fenglian looked at Liang Xin. “Liang Xin, you must be tired today. Go upstairs quickly, take a bath, and rest.”
Just as Liang Xin was about to clear the bowls from the table, Lu Zewei stepped in first, stacking them and taking them to the kitchen.
When she went upstairs, Liang Xin saw the washed bedsheets and duvet covers hanging outside the floor-to-ceiling window of the room.
“Reform starts with oneself.” Lu Zewei leaned by the window. “Awaiting inspection by the leader.”
“Your execution is swift, but it doesn’t deserve praise.”
“Why?”
“After being sick and burning with fever all night, you should rest properly.”
Was she worried about him?
Lu Zewei curled the corner of his mouth.
“When you were taking apart and washing the quilt today, did you notice the stitching?”
“…No, why?”
Liang Xin unbuttoned her cotton-padded jacket and glanced back at him. “After it dries tomorrow, we’ll need to sew the quilt.”
Lu Zewei’s face immediately turned ashen.
He carefully considered every corner of the house and decided that when it was time to sew the quilt tomorrow, he would take it to the confinement room upstairs. That way, no one would see him doing women’s work at home.
However, Lu Chongfeng did not get his wish.
Just after noon the next day, Liang Xin carried the cotton batting downstairs to the first-floor living room. She spread a mat on the floor, right in front of the window facing the backyard.
Lu Zewei: “…”
“It’s going to get windy this afternoon; it’ll be cold.”
“The window is closed, no wind.” Liang Xin brought over her mother-in-law’s sewing basket. “Have you ever watched Mom sew a quilt?”
Lu Zewei struggled. “Not really.”
“Then all these years you’ve been in the army, who did the dismantling, washing, and sewing of your quilts in the barracks?”
“The ‘Support the Army and Give Preferential Treatment to Families of Soldiers’ activities are very active in our garrison. We often help local farmers with heavy labor, and the local community also organizes skilled craftsmen to help us with practical difficulties, including tailors. Whenever the aunties came, the soldiers would bring their clothes and quilts to be mended and then collect them later. After I was promoted to the regimental level, some of the older military dependents occasionally helped out as well.”
Liang Xin nodded.
Hu Fenglian happened to come out of her room. “Liang Xin, are you going to quilt? It’s inconvenient to do it alone. Let me help you.”
“Not me, him.”
“What?”
Hu Fenglian looked at the two in surprise. “Chongfeng, quilting?”
Lu Zewei, who had been struggling earlier, stepped in front of Liang Xin. “On the surface, I’m quilting, but actually I’m forging a new revolutionary path.”
Hu Fenglian glanced at the peony flower quilt cover hanging from her son’s arm, then at Liang Xin.
“Did Liang Xin ask you to do this?”
Liang Xin spoke before Lu Chongfeng could open his mouth. “Mom, I told him to do it.”
“This…”
Just as Hu Fenglian was about to speak, she remembered the chili peppers Liang Xin mentioned during their first meeting and swallowed her words. “Then, do you need my help?”
“I know how to quilt.” Liang Xin retrieved the quilting needle and white thread from the sewing basket. “I’ll help him.”
Hu Fenglian said nothing more.
At this point, Lu Zewei stopped resisting. He took off his slippers and stepped onto the mat in clean white socks. “What’s the first step?”
“Step down.”
“…”
Lu Zewei, who had just stepped onto the mat, walked off and stood aside in his slippers.
“First, the bottom layer, then the cotton batting, and finally the quilt cover. Start by spreading the bottom layer.”
Liang Xin unfolded the white bottom layer on the mat, holding two corners. “You hold the two corners on that end. I’m just assisting you, but let me remind you in advance: the bottom layer must be spread evenly, and the cotton batting must be aligned properly. Otherwise, even if it’s sewn, it’ll have to be undone and redone.”
Lu Zewei grabbed the two corners, lifted the sheet, and gave it a vigorous shake. The white bottom layer billowed in the wind, gently lifting the strands of hair from Liang Xin’s forehead. She closed her eyes, her long lashes trembling slightly, her skin nearly translucent in the sunlight. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was the color of amber—clear and serene.
The white bottom layer settled slowly onto the mat, unevenly spread.
Following instructions, Lu Zewei carefully smoothed the bottom layer across the mat with Liang Xin’s help securing the corners.
Two minutes passed.
Lu Zewei still hadn’t managed to spread it evenly.
He had underestimated this bedsheet. He straightened the two corners, but the middle bulged with several wrinkles. When he smoothed out the middle, the corners became uneven again.
It was even harder than folding his military quilt into a perfect block.
Liang Xin watched him circling the mat, tugging at the sheet, then picked up a wooden ruler and tapped his shoulder, signaling him to move aside.
Lu Zewei stepped back a few paces and watched as Liang Xin used the long wooden ruler to smooth the sheet from top to bottom. The sheet quickly lay flat, without a single wrinkle, as if it had been ironed.
“…”
On purpose.
Again, on purpose!
Lu Zewei broke into a sweat but didn’t question her. Instead, as he laid the cotton batting on top, he asked, “Any tricks for this stage?”
Liang Xin leaned on the wooden ruler against the mat, like a landlord’s wife leaning on her cane in the fields, supervising the farmhands. “Align the cotton batting, spread it evenly, and make sure it’s perfectly flat—no lumps or bumps. There are no tricks. Use your eyes to see and your hands to adjust.”
Lu Zewei crouched on the mat, carefully arranging the cotton batting. The mat was slippery, and with the slightest effort, the cotton batting would shift, dragging the painstakingly spread bottom layer along with it. Once it shifted, he had to lift the cotton batting and re-smooth the bottom layer underneath, which was bound to be even more troublesome than the first step.
Liang Xin stood behind Lu Zewei, whose white shirt was tucked into green military trousers. As he crouched on the mat, his broad shoulders and narrow waist formed a silhouette where the muscles of his back subtly gathered, seeming on the verge of straining through the white fabric.
But what was most arresting—or rather, what made Liang Xin most uneasy—was the curve between his waist and hips. A single glance was enough to stir an inexplicable dryness in the throat.
Lu Zewei pushed himself up with one hand and turned to see Liang Xin’s face, then glanced up at the sun outside the window. “Is this straightened out now?”
Liang Xin pointed with a wooden ruler at a few stray threads. “Did you just yank and tear when you removed the stitches? Rip off the raised parts and lay it flat again.”
Without a word, Lu Zewei dropped as if suddenly ordered to do push-ups. Not bending his knees an inch, he pressed his hands into the cotton batting. Before he could tear anything, his buttocks were tapped several times with the ruler. His spine instinctively tensed, and he knelt on one knee atop the cotton, turning to look at Liang Xin. “What’s wrong?”
“If you press down like that, won’t the spots under your hands sink lower than the rest?”
“…”
Lu Zewei lifted his hands and indeed saw depressions beneath his palms. He realized that quilting was a delicate, highly demanding craft.
And this was only the beginning.
Once the cotton batting was straightened and smoothed, they covered it with a red silk duvet cover embroidered with golden peonies. Under Liang Xin’s direction, they began stitching around the edges.
Lu Zewei’s hands—which could handle any firearm with an envy-of-the-army skill—now felt as if frozen, clumsy and inept. The slightest misstep, and the calluses on his palms snagged the golden threads of the peonies, ruining the fabric.
He felt a sense of agonizing helplessness, even verging on collapse.
This helplessness wasn’t the kind of being the only sober one among drunks, unable to rouse them. It was the helplessness of never having struggled so profoundly with learning a skill in all his life.
Lu Zewei forced the quilting needle through the three layers of the six-jin quilt. The slender needle numbed his fingers, piercing even through his thick gun callus as if it were nothing, driving straight into the flesh beneath, probing the very seams of his bones.
Each stitch was a fresh torment—worse than taking a bullet!
Suddenly, a small, ring-like object was held out to him.
Lu Zewei frowned, recognizing it as a thimble, the kind his mother and local aunties often wore on their middle fingers. “You forgot again?”
“Sorry,” Liang Xin said, though not a trace of apology showed on his face. “You should have familiarized yourself and prepared thoroughly before starting. Otherwise, you learn through pain and blood.”
“…The logic always bends your way.”
Deep down, Lu Zewei agreed. He took the thimble and tried to slip it on, but it caught on his middle fingernail and wouldn’t go further.
“It’s adjustable. Pry it open.”
After this instruction, Liang Xin inspected the quilt. “Take out the crooked stitches you just made. If the edging’s this messy, how can it serve as a guide later? Also, when you push or pull the needle, watch for cotton caught in the eye. Before each stitch, use the needle to smooth the cotton evenly.”
Without the thimble, if not for his calluses, his hands might have been a bloody mess by now. Lu Chongfeng, who had painstakingly sewn a few inches, could only stare in silence.
Suddenly, a burst of laughter came from the doorway.
Liang Xin looked up and saw two officers in four-pocket military uniforms standing at the doorway, doubled over with laughter as they pointed at Lu Zewei on the mat.
“Hahaha, Chongfeng, hahahaha!” The officer on the left laughed so hard he couldn’t straighten up, clutching his stomach. “Hero Lu Chongfeng who’s always strutting around like a fighting rooster—married less than two days and already reformed by his wife, wearing a thimble and learning to sew quilts like a woman!”
Lu Chongfeng’s face instantly darkened as he stared at the two men.
“Just two days ago I praised you, saying real men should be like you. Who would’ve thought you’d be such a woman at home!” The officer on the right didn’t let him off either—not only that, he raised the camera hanging around his neck and suddenly snapped a photo of Lu Zewei.
Lu Chongfeng pointed his quilting needle at the photographing officer. “If you dare publish that, I’ll smash you and your camera together!”
The soldier on the left burst into laughter again, tears streaming from his eyes.
“Chongfeng, I used to be afraid of you—even hearing your name would scare me. But seeing you like this, I’m not scared of your threats at all!”
Though the cameraman said this, his feet were already retreating toward the door. The moment he saw Lu Chongfeng spring to his feet, he immediately turned and fled.
The laughing officer wasn’t slow either, following closely as they dashed out. Even after reaching outside, his exaggerated mocking laughter could still be heard, like a loudspeaker on a telephone pole, soon to spread throughout the entire Military Compound.
“Who’s there?”
Hu Fenglian, awakened from her noon nap by the noise, came out.
Seeing Lu Chongfeng standing on the quilt with a small cotton fluff drifting in his hair and a white thread dangling precariously near his ear like an earring—combined with his gloomy expression—the contrast made Hu Fenglian pause momentarily before she immediately burst into laughter.
Lu Chongfeng’s face darkened further.
“Is sewing a quilt that funny?”
Only following her mother-in-law’s gaze did Liang Xin notice the cotton fluff and thread on his head. Her attention had previously been focused below his neck. She stepped forward and pinched the dangling thread near his ear.
She didn’t notice her fingers had touched his ear, nor did she notice how Lu Zewei’s dark face suddenly flushed red.
Was this comforting him?
Mom’s still here…
Lu Zewei stood stiffly upright and coughed unnaturally.
There was a twenty-centimeter height difference between them.
Liang Xin couldn’t be bothered to stand on tiptoe. “Bend your head down.”
“No!” Lu Chongfeng straightened his back even more. “In the process of reform, difficulties and mockery are inevitable. If I can’t overcome these myself, how can I correct other distorted notions!”
Liang Xin: “……”
Lu Zewei sat cross-legged on the mat, adjusted the thimble, slipped it onto his middle finger, and continued sewing the quilt.
After being mocked, instead of becoming discouraged, he worked more diligently than before.
“Rip it out.”
“……” Lu Zewei looked at the stitches he’d just sewn. “……Oh.”
Hu Fenglian, who had been watching from the sidelines, looked at her son with surprise, then at Liang Xin. Without saying anything, she quietly retreated to her room.
“Chongfeng!”
A female soldier rushed in through the doorway, her two braids still flying from running so fast.
The moment she stepped inside, she saw Lu Chongfeng—the same hands that had gripped a gun to win countless shooting competitions—now wearing a thimble as he carefully stitched a quilt. Her pupils trembled, and in the next second, her anger swept toward Liang Xin.
Liang Xin was lounging in a recliner by the window, a wooden ruler leaning against the chair. She held an enamel teacup, leisurely sipping tea, while a plate of orchid beans and another of sunflower seeds sat on the nearby tea table.
When Lu Chongfeng looked up, the girl’s furious expression instantly softened into one of heartache. Clutching two jars of tangerine preserves, she hurried to the mat.
“Chongfeng, I just got back from a performance in the countryside and heard you’re married. Even before marriage, I never saw you doing household chores. How come married life is worse than being single—you even have to sew your own quilt?”
Lu Chongfeng glanced at who had arrived, then lowered his head to pull the needle through. “What’s the matter?”
As he bent his head, Liang Xin noticed the girl’s pained expression vanish, replaced by a fierce glare directed her way.
“Chongfeng, if no one’s helping you, I’ll help.”
The girl set the preserves on the telephone tea table, crouched down, and began unfastening the buckles of her leather shoes.
“You’ll help?”
Lu Chongfeng looked up. “You’re a female comrade, aren’t you?”
The girl froze, glanced down at her ample chest, and asked, “Is… that hard to tell?”
“Female comrades can’t help with this.”
With the thimble, things were much easier.
Lu Zewei quickly finished one side of the quilt and moved to the other.
Confused by his remarks, the girl questioned, almost doubting her own understanding, “Isn’t quilt-sewing always done by women?”
Hearing this, Lu Chongfeng lifted his head again, his eyes subtly disapproving.
It seemed feudalistic notions weren’t exclusive to men—even female comrades held them.
“A quilt is shared by both husband and wife, so sewing it should be a shared domestic task. If women can do it, men should be able to as well. Comrade Xiao Wang, that mindset of yours won’t do.”
The girl’s face darkened, much like Lu Chongfeng’s had earlier. “…My surname is Li.”
Liang Xin couldn’t help but chuckle.
Hearing the laughter, Xiao Li’s expression grew even stormier. “Chongfeng, we grew up together. Did you just slip up? Don’t you remember who I am?”
Lu Chongfeng’s gaze shifted from Liang Xin to Xiao Li. “Oh, it’s you, Chunlai.”
“…Chunlai is my brother! I’m Chunjiao!”
Xiao Li couldn’t keep up the act any longer and burst out, “Are you so ill you can’t even tell men from women?”
“Chunjiao?” Lu Chongfeng suddenly recalled. “Oh, Chunlai’s younger sister. Didn’t you marry someone in the countryside?”
Xiao Li closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “The one who married in the countryside was Chunlai’s elder sister, Chunhua. I’m Chunlai and Chunhua’s younger sister, Li Chunjiao!”
Lu Chongfeng paused. “Really?”
Liang Xin, rarely amused, laughed so hard the tea in her enamel cup rippled.
She set the cup aside, stood up, and said, “Please, have a seat.”
Xiao Li bristled at being addressed as a guest by Liang Xin and ignored her, picking up the tangerine preserves from the net bag.
“Chongfeng, I heard canned fruit is good for sick people. I specially brought these two jars from the Supply and Marketing Cooperative. It’s sunny today, and you’ve been sweating—this is the perfect time to have some.”
Liang Xin raised an eyebrow, sat back in the recliner, and picked up some sunflower seeds.
“Good stuff,” Lu Chongfeng remarked, glancing at the preserves. “Canned goods are rare. You should keep them for yourself.”
“It’s precisely because it’s a rare item that I’m giving it to you specially. If it were anything else, I wouldn’t have brought it. You and my brother are such good friends, and I’ve enjoyed many treats from you since I was little, so please don’t stand on ceremony.”
Little Li took out a can of fruit, slapped the bottom a few times, and forcefully twisted open the lid before setting it aside. Then, with the familiarity of an old friend, she dashed to the kitchen and brought out a spoon. “Chongfeng, eat this quickly—it’s really sweet.”
Seeing Little Li’s sincere gesture, Lu Chongfeng accepted the sweet tangerine canned fruit.
Little Li immediately broke into a smile, casting a triumphant sidelong glance at Liang Xin.
She and Chongfeng were the same kind of people.
Opportunists who took advantage of others’ misfortunes—even if they married, it wouldn’t amount to much.
“The sun is strong; having this sweet canned fruit now is quite refreshing,” Lu Chongfeng said, standing up. He carried the can along with the spoon over to Liang Xin, who was reclining on the lounge chair. “There’s more here when you finish. Chunlai is my childhood friend, and his sister brought two cans.”
Under Little Li’s furious, green-faced glare, Liang Xin accepted the can and spoon, scooped up a piece of tangerine in syrup, and put it in her mouth. “So sweet, and the tangerine melts in your mouth. Thank you, Little Li.”
“Lu Chongfeng!” Little Li was on the verge of tears from anger. “I gave that to you to eat.”
“You gave it to me, and I’m sharing it with my family,” Lu Chongfeng replied, looking puzzled. “Is that not allowed?”
“You…”
“Little Li.”
Liang Xin handed the sweet canned fruit back to Lu Chongfeng and calmly watched the flustered girl. “Come visit again sometime.”
Li Chunjiao clenched her fists, her face filled with resentment as she locked eyes with Liang Xin.
They stared at each other for a long time. Li Chunjiao strained to keep her eyes wide open without blinking, unwilling to back down, while Liang Xin leisurely rocked the lounge chair.
Confident, utterly unbothered confidence.
The kind of confidence that showed she didn’t even consider Li Chunjiao a threat.
What did that mean?
It meant she had Lu Chongfeng completely under her thumb. It meant she had firmly established her place in the Lu family.
Li Chunjiao didn’t want to believe it, but seeing Lu Chongfeng use the spoon Liang Xin had used, tasting the sweet canned fruit she had eaten, sneaking bites and secretly delighting in it…
“In broad daylight, you two have no shame!”
“Why is she cursing?” Lu Zewei watched as Li Chunjiao ran off. “So uncivilized.”
Liang Xin rocked in her chair, picked up a sunflower seed, cracked it open, and pinched out the kernel. She held it out toward Lu Zewei’s lips. “Want some?”