Qiao Xingyue heard someone calling her.
She kept kneading the dough in her hands without stopping, and twisted her neck to look back. “Comrade Xie?”
The early morning mist still lingered.
Although the stove was burning, a chill still drifted in through the window.
Standing at the kitchen doorway, Xie Zhongming wore a grass-green short-sleeved shirt.
Early as it was, he was already drenched in sweat. His soaked clothes clung to his body, highlighting the firm muscles of his chest and waist.
This man—he’d gone to morning training before sunrise?
Soldiers really are physically strong.
Last night he’d gotten up in the middle of the night to help Grandma with her chamber pot, then gone to the washroom. Yet here he was, up so early again.
Qiao Xingyue asked with concern, “Comrade Xie, has your wound healed? You’re already starting morning training?”
Xie Zhongming nodded. His eyelids didn’t move, but his back tensed. “Much better.”
By now, the stitches should have been removed for several days. Qiao Xingyue guessed he should be recovered.
Still, Xie Zhongming didn’t lift his eyes, his gaze fixed elsewhere.
The stove fire flickered, the large iron pot boiled porridge, and the honeycomb coal stove held a steamer for buns. Several nails had been added to the cement walls, holding spatulas, ladles, rags, and steaming racks. Two wooden shelves neatly stored oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar. Qiao Xingyue had reorganized the kitchen, keeping it clean and orderly.
Xie Zhongming’s thoughts drifted to the clean white cotton underwear she had washed. His ears tinged with heat. “Comrade Qiao, your clothes fell to the ground and were blown outside into the yard. Go pick them up.”
Qiao Xingyue had finished kneading the dough.
She straightened up and looked at him.
If clothes had blown away, it was easy enough for him to hand them back why call her specifically?
Curious, she said simply, “Okay, I’ll go once I’m done here.”
Xie Zhongming’s ears burned hotter. “Go now. Later, if people pass by, it won’t look right.”
With that, he turned and left.
Qiao Xingyue then walked out of the kitchen, through the main room and the small yard, and finally outside.
By the red brick wall in the yard, a pair of her white cotton underwear hung on a low patch of grass.
It was near the Xie household gate very noticeable.
Anyone passing by would see.
No wonder Xie Zhongming had asked her to pick it up himself. Realizing the “clothes” he meant were underwear, and recalling his flushed ears, Qiao Xingyue found this iron-willed, disciplined man strangely endearing. He clearly had strong boundaries regarding relationships.
She retrieved the underwear, washed it again, and hung it back on the bamboo pole.
The next day, around midday.
In front of the Xie household’s two-story house, An’an and Ningning played marbles in the muddy yard.
In a nearby vegetable patch, Qiao Xingyue turned the soil. She buried fruit peels and spoiled leaves, mixed with twigs, dry leaves, and wood ash, then covered it with soil.
“Aunt Lan, in a few days I’ll transplant all the newly grown cucumbers, bean, eggplant, and loofah seedlings to this empty plot. I’ll set up trellises, and by summer we’ll have an endless supply of vegetables and fruit.”
Huang Guilan had never done much farming. She grew up in a wealthy family combining intellectual and commercial backgrounds.
Her maternal grandfather was a mathematician. Her mother is an optics expert.
Her eldest brother worked on the Two Bombs, One Satellite project; her second brother was a renowned geologist; her third brother was a veteran rubber scientist, leading a team to break imperialist restrictions on domestic rubber.
Her father came from a family of merchants; her grandfather was a match magnate, running businesses in matches, cement, textiles, and coal. Later, the family followed state-owned enterprise policies.
Huang Guilan was the only daughter, pampered since childhood. After marrying Comrade Xie, she continued to be doted on and had never done farm work.
Before Qiao Xingyue came, she only grew some onions and garlic in the yard, which did not thrive.
Seeing Qiao Xingyue’s skill, Huang Guilan looked on in admiration.
“Xingyue, you’re amazing. You can cook, practice Chinese medicine, perform surgery, and even farm. How many things do you know that I don’t?”
“….” Qiao Xingyue didn’t know how to respond.
At that moment, the double doors in front of the yard opened. A woman and a young female comrade entered, carrying a leather case. Both had standard oval faces and delicate features, clearly a mother and daughter.
Huang Guilan looked up. “Chunyan, Yingying, what brings you here?”
“What, you’re not welcoming us?” said Jiang Chunyan.
Jiang Chunyan had played with Huang Guilan since childhood and married an old comrade of Xie Jiang, strengthening their ties.
However, Huang Guilan didn’t look pleased to see them. Instead, worry showed on her face. “Chunyan, what’s this about?”
“I’ve come to stay with you. I’m thirsty, so I’ll go inside and drink some water first.” Jiang Chunyan carried her case into the main room.
The young female comrade politely smiled at Huang Guilan. “Aunt Lan, long time no see! How have you been?”
Huang Guilan nodded. “All well. Yingying, you’ve grown prettier in two years. Go ahead and drink water with your mother.”
“Sure!”
This young woman was Deng Yingying. Before entering, she glanced at Qiao Xingyue, who held a hoe. “Aunt Lan, who is this sister?”
Could it be that this was the countryside wife of Xie Zhongming, now brought to the compound?
Huang Guilan introduced, “This is Comrade Qiao, Qiao Xingyue, invited to help cook and take care of Grandma. Call her Sister Xingyue. Those two children are An’an and Ningning, her twin daughters.”
Oh, a housemaid with two children.
Deng Yingying immediately felt no threat; a housemaid could at most cook and clean.
She had heard Xie Zhongming would divorce his countryside wife, so she and her mother came to the Xie household.
She smiled and greeted, “Hello, Sister Xingyue!”
Qiao Xingyue nodded. “Hello.”
When Deng Yingying entered, Huang Guilan sighed.
“What’s wrong, Aunt Lan?” Qiao Xingyue asked.
“These two mothers and daughters aren’t easy to deal with. I don’t know how long they’ll stay here.” Huang Guilan looked troubled.
Qiao Xingyue asked, “Looks like you don’t welcome them?”
Huang Guilan sighed again. “Chunyan’s first husband was your Comrade Xie’s comrade. Old Deng sacrificed himself to save your Comrade Xie. So Chunyan remarried. Over the past twenty years, she’s used this to make our family help her many times, find jobs for her relatives, borrow money, assist her current husband… all sorts of things.”
“If I refused, she would cry and say we’re ungrateful. Before, she wanted to marry Yingying to our Fourth Brother, but he refused.”
“Now they come again, who knows what trouble will arise, sigh!”
Qiao Xingyue understood: in their later era, this is called moral blackmail.
But in the 1970s, the culture encouraged mutual help.
Jiang Chunyan could indeed morally pressure Huang Guilan, a gentle, soft-hearted intellectual, to comply.
“Xingyue, what’s moral blackmail?”
“It’s forcing someone against their will by claiming a moral high ground. Simply put, if someone owes your family a favor, and you don’t help, they call you ungrateful, even if you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Huang Guilan had never voiced her frustration before, always feeling she owed Chunyan for saving Xie Jiang. But after twenty years of demands, she felt oppressed.
Now, sharing with Qiao Xingyue brought relief.
Not knowing why, Huang Guilan trusted her completely.
And since Qiao Xingyue had confirmed she wasn’t wrong, Huang Guilan felt she’d found a kindred spirit. Tears of relief shone in her eyes.
“Xingyue, you understand my heart,” she said.
“Of course, Aunt Lan. You can tell me anything. Even if I can’t help, I can at least help you feel better.”
“Good!”
Huang Guilan regretted that her son hadn’t married such a daughter-in-law but could treat Qiao Xingyue as her own daughter and the twins as granddaughters.
At dusk, the compound glowed golden in the sunset.
Qiao Xingyue cooked dinner in the kitchen, An’an and Ningning played in the yard, Huang Guilan collected clothes from the bamboo pole, and Jiang Chunyan sat on a small bamboo stool, shelling sunflower seeds.
Shells littered the yard.
Huang Guilan walked past Jiang Chunyan, holding clothes. “Chunyan, don’t spit shells on the mud; use a dustpan.”
She handed the dustpan over.
Jiang Chunyan spat on the ground. “What’s the worry? You’ve got a maid, let her handle it. You pay her, she’ll clean it.”
Then she shouted at An’an and Ningning, “Hey, you two, clean up these shells!”
She looked at Huang Guilan again. “The maid comes here to eat and drink for free with her kids. They should work more; otherwise, you’ll lose out. Two kids, two mouths, how much food will they eat?”
Clearly, Jiang Chunyan was freeloading.
Huang Guilan’s gentle nature made her afraid to offend.
But when it came to An’an, Ningning, and Qiao Xingyue, her expression darkened. Still, she didn’t correct her. “They can eat as much as they want; we’re willing.”
“Besides, Xingyue works hard. She shouldn’t do everything.”
“If you don’t want to use the dustpan, don’t eat the seeds. Saves cleaning.”
Huang Guilan took away the jar of roasted sunflower seeds on the chair.
Jiang Chunyan muttered, thinking Huang Guilan was unusually strict.
Minutes later, Xie Jiang and Xie Zhongming returned.
Seeing Jiang Chunyan and Deng Yingying, the father and son knew trouble was coming.
Old Deng had saved Xie Jiang’s life; Xie Jiang always remembered, so he would comply with unreasonable requests.
Xie Zhongming disliked this mother-daughter pair. Coldly greeting them, he went straight to the kitchen where Qiao Xingyue cooked.
“Brother Zhongming, where are you going?” Deng Yingying asked, still wanting to speak.
Xie Zhongming’s voice was icy, “To help in the kitchen.”
Deng Yingying stayed put, feeling sour: why would Brother Zhongming help the maid?
In the main room, Jiang Chunyan complained, “Aunt Lan, your men are officers. Why not buy a leather sofa? These benches are old; I’ve seen them twenty years ago. Change them!”
Xie Jiang didn’t want to listen. He took his enamel cup to the kitchen.
Jiang Chunyan whispered to Huang Guilan, “Aunt Lan, Xie Shi Zhang and Zhongming go straight to that maid. Maybe she’s bewitched them. Be careful, she might be a seductress.”
Huang Guilan, gentle even when angry, said softly, “Don’t speak nonsense. Xingyue is upright and kind. I’m really angry at you for saying that.”
“Hey! I’m warning you; she’s just a maid. Why defend her?”
“A maid deserves respect too.”
“Enough, let’s talk about the main issue. I’ve divorced Old Zhao. Yingying will return to high school. She will live at your house.”
“What? You divorced Old Zhao? Weren’t you fine?”
Deng Yingying’s father, Old Deng, had died saving Xie Jiang. Afterward, she married Old Zhao. She said remarriage was acceptable and didn’t shame her.
She said, “Old Zhao will be sent down. If I didn’t divorce, Yingying and I would go too. Better I stay here as a widow of a martyr. Aunt Lan, please recommend Yingying to Yingcai High School again.”
Deng Yingying was twenty this year. Huang Guilan had previously recommended her, but she stopped attending.
The main issue: Jiang Chunyan and Deng Yingying would now live long-term in their house—troublesome.
Xie Zhongming carried two dishes Qiao Xingyue had cooked to the table.
“Aunt Jiang, Yingying’s high school placement can be recommended. But it’s crowded here. Since you are relatives of a martyr, I’ll request separate housing. You and Deng Yingying should get separate rooms.”
“That won’t do. The compound’s single rooms have outhouses, washing and cooking are shared. How can we stay? You have to study; we’ll make it there.”
Staying at the Xie household was convenient. They could eat for free, and the maid would serve them.
Xie Zhongming said firmly, “No. The study is for Qiao Xingyue and An’an and Ningning.”
Jiang Chunyan was dumbfounded. “What? A maid gets a room? She’s just your servant; she can sleep on the floor in the main room. Make her give up studying.”
Xie Zhongming again said firmly, “…”