Xiangxiu clicked the courtyard gate shut and turned to Chen Qiao with a sigh, her tone tinged with worry. “Qian Ying really has had a stroke of bad luck. That’s no nephew—it’s more like a debt collector.”
“Let’s hope things don’t get rowdy tonight.”
“Exactly.” After a pause, Chen Qiao continued, “But I doubt there’ll be any trouble tonight. I heard Qian’s old lady went to her daughter’s place and won’t be back for a few days.”
She frowned slightly. “Once that old woman returns, there’s bound to be a scene.”
“Nothing we can do about it.” Xiangxiu pursed her lips. “Which of the nearby households hasn’t suffered at the hands of that grandmother-grandson pair?”
“At first, they act all innocent, but as soon as they realize they can’t take advantage, they flip faster than actors on stage.”
As soon as the words were spoken, both women couldn’t help but recall the losses they’d suffered from that pair when they first arrived. Their enthusiasm for chatting instantly faded.
Muttering about it being time to cook, they each turned and headed back to their rooms.
…
Wen Mingyao went out, asking for directions along the way, and finally made it to the supply and marketing cooperative to buy some oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar, only to realize she hadn’t brought her own glass bottles.
After all that hassle, it was nearly eleven by the time she returned.
Fortunately, her luck wasn’t too bad today. Though the haul wasn’t large, she managed to get everything she needed.
Perhaps on her mother-in-law’s instructions, Zhou Zhuo had even prepared the pots, pans, bowls, and utensils.
While the rice steamed and the dishes simmered, Wen Mingyao tidied up the living room.
By noon, when Zhou Zhuo returned, two sets of bowls and chopsticks were already laid out on the dining table.
“You’re back?” Wen Mingyao pushed aside the curtain and emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large plate in her hands.
The usually overly quiet house suddenly felt a bit more lively, filled with the warmth of everyday life.
Wen Mingyao was wearing a beige Dacron shirt paired with black straight-leg pants, her hair braided into two thick plaits that hung low from behind her ears, resting against her chest.
Her clear, gentle eyes smiled warmly as she looked at him.
Watching Wen Mingyao walk toward him step by step, Zhou Zhuo suddenly thought: If he and Wen Mingyao could keep living like this, it might actually be quite nice.
“Let me take that.” Seeing her puffing out short breaths, Zhou Zhuo stepped forward to take the plate from her hands, but Wen Mingyao sidestepped, avoiding his outstretched hand.
She placed the plate on the table, sat down, and without thinking, said, “Go bring out the rice.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized what she’d just said and instinctively pursed her lips.
Her back stiffened, her heart filled with unease.
Surprisingly, Zhou Zhuo didn’t mock her. Instead, he washed his hands in the washbasin, brought over a small pot of rice, and sat down across from her.
Wen Mingyao had prepared a bountiful harvest dish—the fresh aroma of green beans, the light sweetness of corn, and the soft, creamy texture of potatoes and pumpkin all mingled in the air.
Along with the tender, fall-off-the-bone spare ribs and a small amount of golden broth, just the sight and smell made Zhou Zhuo’s stomach, which hadn’t felt particularly hungry before, suddenly feel a bit emptier.
“Let’s eat.” Wen Mingyao quickly served the rice.
As Zhou Zhuo took the bowl from her, he inadvertently caught sight of a small patch of dark red on her palm, and his eyes darkened.
“What happened to your hand?”
Wen Mingyao lowered her head and took a small sip of rice. Her silent chewing paused for a moment, and the grip on her chopsticks tightened unconsciously.
This time she came over, and although Zhou Zhuo didn’t say anything unpleasant, he was already quite displeased in his heart.
They had been married for two years, yet he had shown no concern for her.
What difference would it make if she told him about today’s incident?
Wen Mingyao lowered her gaze to hide the bitterness in her eyes, not daring to look up at him. She slowly swallowed the food in her mouth, a faint smile on her lips, and said, “It was just a minor scrape.”
Zhou Zhuo stared at her for a few seconds but ultimately said nothing.
Hesitantly, he picked up a piece of potato and took a bite with his rice.
Zhou Zhuo glanced at Wen Mingyao, his expression somewhat complicated.
He had originally thought Wen Mingyao wouldn’t know how to do these things, at least not for his sake.
After a long silence, he finally asked, “How long have you been learning?”
Wen Mingyao’s throat tightened, her fingers unconsciously clenching and then relaxing as she tried to steady her trembling voice. “Three years.”
Three years, indeed…
She really was persistent.
Upon hearing this, Zhou Zhuo immediately let out a cold snort, and the complicated, hard-to-read look in his eyes instantly darkened.
He no longer looked at Wen Mingyao and instead focused on eating by himself.
Wen Mingyao finished eating early and leaned back in her chair.
When her gaze swept over the empty plates and rice bowl, she couldn’t help but feel a little surprised.
Yesterday in the cafeteria, when she saw Zhou Zhuo only eat one steamed bun and half a bowl of stew, she had thought his appetite had simply become smaller.
Now it occurred to her that he had given one of his steamed buns to her, leaving himself not fully satisfied.
“Are you full?” Wen Mingyao stood up to clear the dishes. “If not, I’ll make more next time.”
“No need.”
Zhou Zhuo stood up, wiped the table with a cloth, and left.
Wen Mingyao finished washing the dishes and only relaxed the tension in her body when she heard the sound of Zhou Zhuo closing the door as he left.
Before, when she couldn’t see Zhou Zhuo, she often missed him.
Now that she saw him, she wanted to get closer but didn’t dare.
Wen Mingyao let out a soft sigh, washed her hands, and was about to take a nap when Sun Mai and Wang Xiaoqin arrived, each carrying a small basket.
She welcomed them inside and poured two glasses of water.
Wang Xiaoqin carefully sat down on a chair, supporting her waist, and placed her basket on the table before smiling and saying, “We originally planned to come this morning, but we ended up sleeping until noon.”
Smelling the lingering faint aroma of food, Sun Mai also smiled and placed her basket aside. “Looks like you’ve started cooking at home?”
Wen Mingyao looked at the two of them, her eyes curving slightly. “You two are too kind.”
“Zhou Zhuo often ate in the cafeteria before, but now that I’m here, we can’t keep eating there all the time.”
“So, I went out this morning to buy a few things and made a simple meal for lunch.”
Hearing this, Sun Mai and Wang Xiaoqin exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.
Just from the smell of the food, they could tell this young woman’s cooking skills were not bad.
That was good—at least she could start by winning over her husband’s stomach.
They also thought to themselves that, aside from her background as the daughter of a capitalist family, this young woman was really quite impressive in every way.
The three of them chatted for a while longer, and as the sun gradually moved westward, Sun Mai and Wang Xiaoqin picked up their baskets and headed home.
Wen Mingyao sorted and stored the vegetables and fruits they had brought, then glanced at the three purple eggplants left on the table. She could make a plate of braised eggplant with sauce for dinner.
Perfect—both she and Zhou Zhuo loved it.
By the time the meal was ready, the wall clock in the living room had slowly swung its hands to point at six o’clock.
Wen Mingyao waited a while longer, but seeing that Zhou Zhuo still hadn’t returned, she hastily ate a few bites and left the rest of the food warming in the pot.