Before dawn had fully broken, Mai Sui was woken by the luhua chicken in the courtyard. The rooster crowed three times at the top of its lungs, each cry more miserable than the last, as if a weasel had been chasing it for three li.
It wasn’t crowing. It was cursing someone out.
“My eggs! My eggs are gone again! Wang Cuijuan, how dare you! You stole my eggs again yesterday! I haven’t laid a single one for sale in three days! Three days!”
Mai Sui lay on the kang staring at the yellowed ceiling, stunned for three seconds, then laughed.
She’d spent over a decade working in restaurant kitchens—she’d seen every kind of complaint there was. Hair in the food, bugs in the soup, overcooked steak, waiters rolling their eyes. But a chicken filing a complaint because it hadn’t laid eggs in three days?
This golden finger was really something.
On the other end of the kang, Gu Qingye was long gone. His blanket was folded into a neat tofu block, edges crisp and corners sharp, and the bowl that marked the dividing line still sat in the middle of the kang. She got dressed and climbed down.
The moment she pushed open the door to the main room, cold wind mixed with snow dust poured straight down her collar. In the courtyard, a pile of chopped firewood was stacked perfectly neat—it was a whole layer taller than it had been last night.
What time did this man get up, exactly?
Smoke was rising from the kitchen chimney, and a figure was busy at the stove. Her round face was beaded with sweat, and the moment she saw Mai Sui come out, a smile spread across it.
“Big Sister, you’re awake! I figured you’d just arrived and weren’t familiar with our stove yet, so I went ahead and made breakfast for you. Corn grits porridge, with two eggs poached in. Eat it while it’s hot!”
Mai Sui stared for two seconds at Wang Cuijuan’s outfit. On top, she wore a apricot-yellow dacron blouse with little blue floral prints, looking about eighty percent new—a completely different class from the coarse cotton-padded jacket Mai Sui had worn yesterday. Below, she had on navy khaki trousers that also looked recently made, and there was a layer of flour on the uppers of her cloth shoes.
Wearing all this in the twelfth month of winter, and she didn’t feel cold at all.
Mai Sui understood at a glance: this outfit was put on for her benefit.
She walked over and leaned against the kitchen doorway, her gaze sliding from Wang Cuijuan’s smiling face to the stove. The porridge was freshly cooked, the eggs just poached, the stove wiped until it gleamed—even the salt jar was arranged neatly. If she hadn’t personally overheard those two rats gossiping last night, she might almost have believed this was a warm-hearted, kind sister-in-law.
“You’re up early, Second Sister-in-law.” Mai Sui took the porridge bowl but didn’t rush to eat. Instead, she picked up the salt jar from the stove and examined it. “Is this salt jar new? I remember there was half a jar left yesterday, and now it’s nearly empty.”
The smile on Wang Cuijuan’s face froze for half a second, but she quickly recovered. “You’re joking, Big Sister. Salt gets used up fast. I put in a couple extra spoonfuls when I cooked last night.”
Mai Sui smiled and nodded, but didn’t take the bait.
Last night she’d heard plenty from those two rats about Wang Cuijuan, but she didn’t plan on exposing her just yet. For one thing, she had no proof. For another, she didn’t want to boil the frog in warm water—if she was going to do something, she’d do it properly ruthless.
“Big Sister, our mother-in-law said you barely ate anything last night, so I made sure to add an extra handful of rice for you.” Wang Cuijuan pressed the chopsticks into Mai Sui’s hand, warm and affectionate as a real sister. “We’re family now. If anything feels unfamiliar, just tell me.”
“Thank you, Second Sister-in-law.” Mai Sui picked up a bite of porridge, blew on it, and put it in her mouth. She chewed twice, then looked up at her. “This corn grits is from the year before last, isn’t it? It’s got a rancid taste.”
At those words, Wang Cuijuan’s hand jerked, and the ladle clattered into the pot.
“Sister-in-law, you’ve got such a refined palate—I can’t taste any of that.” She said it with an awkward smile, scooped up the ladle, and lowered her head to scrub the pot, the back of her neck turned toward Mai Sui.
Mai Sui drank her porridge unhurriedly. In her past life, she had worked her way up from kitchen assistant to head chef, and the ingredients she’d handled could have piled into a mountain. Whether this corn grits was fresh or had sat in storage for a year or two, she could tell the moment it touched her tongue. But she hadn’t said it to show off her taste buds—she wanted to see how Wang Cuijuan would react.
The conclusion she reached: this woman’s composure was mediocre, but her nerve—her thick skin—was more than adequate.
Wang Cuijuan cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Sister-in-law, what did you used to do back at your parents’ home? I heard your family has quite a bit of land. How could your father bear to marry you off here?”
There it is. Fishing for information.
Mai Sui’s tone was perfectly casual. “Everything. Worked the fields, fed the pigs, kept the books.”
At the words “kept the books,” she saw Wang Cuijuan’s hand pause as it wiped the stove.
“Sister-in-law can keep accounts too?” Wang Cuijuan lowered her head, hiding the flash of wariness that crossed her face. “Well, that’s wonderful. This family’s been short a bookkeeper. The household accounts have always been a mess—nobody knows where the money goes.”
Having said that, Wang Cuijuan sighed and began her litany of woes. “It’s not easy for our family, you know. Big Brother’s been a soldier for eight years now, and by rights, with his monthly allowance, we shouldn’t be living this hard. But Father’s health is poor and he needs medicine year-round, and Mother—you’ve seen her yourself—she’s always needing a couple doses of herbs every few days. And with so many children in the house, every mouth is another mouth to feed. The money never stretches to the end of the month. Second Sister-in-law and I, we’ve both been tightening our belts…”
“Second Sister-in-law,” Mai Sui cut in.
Wang Cuijuan looked up.
“That dacron jacket you’re wearing is newly made, isn’t it? Apricot yellow with little blue flowers—the kind that sells for three yuan six a chi at the supply cooperative.” Mai Sui’s tone was so mild that anyone would take her for utterly good-natured. “That color’s picky about who wears it. On someone dark-complexioned it makes them look even darker. But it suits you quite well, Second Sister-in-law.”
Wang Cuijuan froze. The rag dropped from her hand onto the stove and she didn’t even notice. She wanted to say it was remade from an old garment, but Mai Sui had already recited the color, the pattern, and the price. Any more fabrications and she’d be treating Mai Sui like a fool. It wasn’t that she feared Mai Sui knowing about the jacket—it was what Mai Sui might say next that scared her.
“Sister-in-law, what sharp eyes you have.” Wang Cuijuan laughed drily, picked up the rag, and bent over scrubbing the stove for all she was worth. She had just let out half a breath of relief when Mai Sui added another remark.
“Oh, and Second Sister-in-law, yesterday I noticed Mother-in-law’s Luhua hen looking quite plump. Her eggs must be good-sized. Someday we should pickle a jar of salted eggs for Father to go with his wine. I just wonder—has that hen been laying lately?”
Wang Cuijuan’s expression finally cracked. She drew a deep breath, tossed the rag aside, and piled the smile back onto her face. “Sister-in-law, you truly have eyes like fire. Well then, drink your porridge while it’s hot. I’m going to the back yard to fetch a bundle of firewood.”
With that she stood and left. At the doorway, Wang Cuijuan collided head-on with the Luhua hen pecking at food outside. The hen tilted its head and looked at her. Wang Cuijuan kicked it. “Damn chicken! Get out of the way!”
“Cluck! …That hurt! You stole my egg and now you kick me! Cluck-cluck-cluck… What did I ever do to her? I can’t live in this yard anymore!”
The Luhua hen tilted its head, one round eye fixed on Mai Sui, and suddenly went quiet.
Mai Sui stood up, broke off a small piece of dried steamed bun from the windowsill, crumbled it, and scattered it in front of the Luhua chicken.
“So you do know a thing or two.”
The Luhua chicken lowered its head and pecked a couple of times, then raised its head and looked at her with a tilted head. “Cluck? You can hear me talking?”
“I can.”
The Luhua chicken suddenly fluffed up its feathers, flapped its wings twice in place, and spun around the yard three times like it had gone mad.
“Cluck cluck cluck! Sweet heavens! Someone can actually hear me talk!”
It stopped, panted a couple of breaths, and sized Mai Sui up from head to toe with a tilted head, paying special attention to her hands.
“Cluck cluck… So from now on, if I’m wronged, can I come complain to you? You’d stand up for me. I lay one egg a day, three eggs in three days, and that fat hand takes them all. How should that debt be settled?”
Mai Sui crouched down and scattered another pinch of bun crumbs. “Go on, tell me more.”
The Luhua chicken pecked a couple of bites, then suddenly seemed to remember something and jerked its head toward the east.
“That fat hand that kicked me just now went out toward the east end. And that old woman who came to our house yesterday and left in a huff—she’s from the east end too, right? Cluck cluck… Anyway, when those two get together, nothing good comes of it.” It pecked a few more crumbs off the ground and added, “That quiet skinny one on the west side likes to go through the cellar in the backyard. She never comes out of that cellar empty-handed.”
Mai Sui narrowed her eyes. So they were already in cahoots? Wang Cuijuan certainly moved fast.
She brushed the crumbs off her hands and stood up, her mind racing through the calculations.
Wang Cuijuan was a leaky sieve—her mouth had no filter, and a couple of taps would spill everything. But Li Ming’e was different. She held the key to the cellar, and she knew the accounts better than Wang Cuijuan did. Wang Cuijuan was probably off getting her story straight with Aunt Zhang right now. Before she came back, Mai Sui should pay a visit to Third Sister-in-law first.
Mai Sui turned around, fetched half a bowl of pickled vegetables from the kitchen, and walked unhurriedly to the door of the west room, raising her hand to knock twice.
The door opened a crack, revealing Li Ming’e’s long, thin face. Her thin lips were pressed together, and her eyes made a slow, deliberate sweep over Mai Sui. Unlike Wang Cuijuan’s warm familiarity, Li Ming’e didn’t smile first when she looked at people—she sized them up first. She was composed, a whole level above Wang Cuijuan.
“Big Sister-in-law? Is something the matter?”
“Nothing serious.” Mai Sui smiled and pushed the bowl of pickles into her hands, her tone as casual as making small talk. “I was just chatting with Second Sister-in-law in the kitchen. She said the household accounts are a mess and nobody knows where the money’s gone. It occurred to me that Third Sister-in-law manages the vegetables in the cellar, so with all the comings and goings, you must have a good idea of things. When we do the inventory, I’ll have to trouble you to help me keep an eye on things.”
Li Ming’e took the bowl, her expression not moving a muscle. “Big Sister-in-law wants to do an inventory?”
“Mm. Father’s health is poor, and Mother needs medicine every few days. Your eldest brother’s allowance is sent home every month, but we’ve seen neither the money nor the grain. It has to be going somewhere, doesn’t it?” Mai Sui’s tone was gentle and mild as she spoke, looking like an innocent young girl who hadn’t seen the world. “I told Second Sister-in-law that back at my parents’ home, I did everything—worked the fields, fed the pigs, kept the books. And when it comes to bookkeeping, once you start counting, every single entry has to add up.”
The fingers Li Ming’e held the bowl with tightened ever so slightly.
But she didn’t panic the way Wang Cuijuan had. She only fell silent for a moment, then lifted her eyes and pulled the corners of her mouth up into a smile. “Sister-in-law is right. We should take inventory. The family only has so much, with things coming in and going out—there ought to be a proper count.”
“It’s good to hear you say that, Third Sister-in-law.” Mai Sui nodded and turned to leave, then stopped, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh, right, Third Sister-in-law—I heard your brother back home has been seeing a match and is saving up to build a house? Your mother carrying that burden all alone—it can’t be easy.”
The smile on Li Ming’e’s face didn’t waver; if anything, it deepened. But the fingers holding the bowl of pickled vegetables had gone white at the knuckles.
Mai Sui didn’t wait for an answer. She smiled and walked off.
Li Ming’e shut the door and looked down at the pickles in the bowl, her gaze turning colder bit by bit.
Take inventory? Go over the accounts? Did they think she couldn’t hear what was really being said?
Sister-in-law had talked with Second Brother for so long today—she’d probably already gotten a good picture of his situation. Now she’d come knocking on her door, and all that talk was just her way of saying she meant to audit the books.
Wang Cuijuan, that fool, had given everything away over a single dacron blouse. She was different—she never sent things to her family through the front gate.
She didn’t believe Mai Sui had any proof, but she had no intention of being the first one cut down.
Li Ming’e set the bowl of pickles down on the kang, then turned and fished a key out from under the wardrobe.