Hongguo’s period hadn’t come, so she felt she was truly pregnant. A hospital couldn’t confirm yet; she decided to wait.
That morning, Auntie Liu saw her eating stir-fried sweet potato stems with rice porridge—a meal they rarely had with pickles.
“Hongguo, want some fermented tofu? I can dig out a couple pieces for you.”
Feeling pregnant, Hongguo’s tastes had changed. She once loved Auntie Liu’s fermented tofu, but now the thought made her nauseous. “Maybe it’s the pregnancy. I don’t want pickles. Just these stir-fried vegetables—they’re comfortable to eat.”
The sweet potato leaves were nearly out of season. Auntie Liu had spent the morning picking the tenderest ones for Hongguo, feeling a pang of emotion.
Hongguo had a good father, and a perfect husband. She held onto Changzong, keeping him from going out to earn, wondering if he’d regret it in the future.
Auntie Liu said: “If you hadn’t stopped Changzong from going with Kong Eldest, my Yang would have gone.”
Hongguo felt uneasy. If last night’s dream was true, the work in the city with Kong Eldest might not go smoothly. Going for two to three months, if no money came back, expenses would eat the profit—not worth it.
But she didn’t try to argue. Last night, Auntie Liu had already criticized her behind her back; she only wanted to give her heart to Changzong.
She nodded: “If Uncle Yang is willing, let him try.”
She thought Uncle Yang would go, but Kong Eldest secretly left alone. Several villagers who had agreed to go chased him to the bus station. He claimed he’d been boasting after drinking and left quietly, promising to lead them next time.
“Isn’t he just tricking people?” Auntie Liu scolded at the doorstep.
Hongguo thought otherwise. Kong Eldest’s character was honest; it must have something to do with Changzong visiting him last night. Changzong had said he could retrieve the blood he had given before—this time, Meng Qingdai really died.
Her father had warned her: be careful when helping others—one mistake, and your help could create enemies.
Indeed. Meng Qingdai had been obedient to Kong Laosan, yet she died. Hongguo had almost endangered Changzong by helping the girl, finally understanding her father’s earnest advice.
Farming didn’t yield much money, and now with pregnancy, she had to think about earning for the child due next July–August.
Hongguo told Changzong she wanted to set up a small stall at the county bus station. People were numerous there; selling baked flatbreads required just a cart and a charcoal stove. Simple, low-cost, and profitable for just the two of them.
Changzong agreed—making money was easy for him. Ginseng, gold, even buried stones and utensils could be exchanged for cash.
On a previous city trip, they saw antiques—stones, plates, vases—some people bought them at high prices. Many were buried in the mountains. He had just been thinking of telling Hongguo:
“Guoguo, if we can’t dig ginseng or pick gold, we can sell those buried stones and utensils. Can we dig them up?”
Hongguo’s eyes widened. Buried in the soil and sellable… that sounded like antiques.
But they were only in graves, buried as funeral offerings. That would be tomb raiding—definitely not an option.
Jiang Hongguo wanted Changzong to truly understand the value of money and the effort it took to earn it.
“I’ve told you, no picking up or digging things randomly. If you think it’s too hard and embarrassing, I’ll do it myself,” she said.
But of course, Gu Changzong wouldn’t leave Hongguo to go alone. Over several days, he prepared everything—the cart, the hanging stove, charcoal, flour—and placed it all in the courtyard, presenting it to Hongguo with a hopeful grin for a reward.
“Guoguo, I bought this from a baker in the county town. He said adding a bit of meat makes the flatbread more fragrant. I made a batch for you to try.”
Changzong was capable, handsome, and always considerate toward Hongguo. He never got angry with her, obeyed her wishes, and made her feel so happy. Holding his face, she asked shyly, “Changzong, I didn’t let you dig for valuables or go out alone. Does that make you unhappy?”
Changzong had never been unhappy. Meng Qingdai’s in-laws had asked her to do all sorts of things, eventually leading to her demise. Hongguo, however, was genuinely kind to him, and now that he fully understood, he was joyful.
“If you feel guilty, just give me a kiss. That’ll make me happy and you won’t feel bad,” he said.
Easy enough. Hongguo leaned in, touching his lips, and was promptly pulled back into the house. Blushing, she protested, “Weren’t we going to make flatbreads?”
Changzong replied, “Let the dough rise a bit first—then they’ll taste best.”
…
He made a batch of flatbreads, golden and crispy, with a bit of minced meat inside. Slightly salty and savory, topped with sesame seeds, even Hongguo’s small appetite allowed her to eat two.
Auntie Liu had two as well, but felt shy to take more. “Guoguo, are you really going to sell at the county bus station? Will it sell? Aren’t you afraid of trouble from local thugs?”
Changzong’s skill meant no small-time troublemakers could challenge him. With Hongguo by his side, they were safe. She had thought through all this carefully.
“Let’s try a few days first. We’ll see if it’s profitable,” Hongguo said.
Auntie Liu left with the remaining flatbreads, showing them to her husband. “Guoguo said she wants to sell at the bus station. Changzong’s willing to go with her. Isn’t that something?”
Old Yang replied, “They don’t even need to leave home to do a little business. Guoguo has a plan—just found out she’s pregnant, yet she’s already thinking of earning. Changzong listens to his wife, they can manage. Even without farming, life can be good.”
Auntie Liu said, “The couple is comfortable now. After the baby is born, they’ll need help and money. It won’t be this easy.”
Old Yang frowned, “You’re close to Guoguo, yet you gossip? Isn’t that contradictory?”
Auntie Liu didn’t know why—maybe it was human nature. “The village talks. I just tell you; I won’t speak outside.”
…
Hongguo and Changzong went to the bus station to sell. Last time, she had been too rushed to notice much. Now, the station was almost fully lined with small stalls—lively and crowded.
Changzong had already paid the management fee for a good spot near the entrance. The adjacent stall owners, seeing the young couple, assumed they were timid and moved over a foot into Hongguo’s space.
Polite at first, Hongguo’s words were met with rudeness. Changzong, with his strength, simply pushed their stall back exactly a foot.
The man wanted to fight; the woman tried to push Hongguo’s stall.
Hongguo scolded sharply, “Don’t act tough without knowing the situation! You’d better check next time.”
The man hesitated, already swung his fist—but Changzong caught it, twisted, and immobilized him in pain so intense he couldn’t move.
The neighboring stall owners apologized and quieted down, eyeing the thriving flatbread business and thinking better of causing trouble.
The meat-filled flatbreads sold well. Many passengers bought some before departure. At five cents each, it wasn’t a huge profit per piece, but small gains accumulated—today, they sold 200, earning 10 yuan and making 5 yuan profit.
The money was small change, piling up in the bag. Hongguo tracked every flatbread sold, marking each with a tally. By the end of the day, one page of tallies filled, and she felt incredibly happy.
The neighboring stall had poor sales and packed up early, glaring angrily at them before leaving.
Changzong packed up, wheeled the stall to the state-owned restaurant, and ordered a bowl of fresh meat dumplings for Hongguo.
“Guoguo, eat first. I’ll be back after.”
Hongguo worried, “What are you going to do? Don’t cause trouble.”
Changzong didn’t plan to. But if others provoked him, he would respond. The couple at the neighboring stall had even been attacked by a wild dog before. He explained to Hongguo that he went to ensure they wouldn’t continue harassing them.
Hongguo worried, but recognized the logic and supported it.
The next day, the neighboring stall didn’t appear. It took several days before they returned—this time politely, even calling Changzong “brother.”
Turns out, Changzong had helped them fend off a wild dog without holding a grudge. They were grateful.
Hongguo smiled, realizing Changzong’s strength wasn’t just brute force. He had cleverly handled the situation—and the dog’s cooperation added to his talents.
Auntie Liu, seeing Hongguo and Changzong returning early each day, all dough and meat used up, asked, “Guoguo, how much do you make selling flatbreads?”
Hongguo estimated—after costs, they earned five or six yuan a day.
“Small food business, cash in hand—better than day labor,” she said.
Auntie Liu calculated—over a month, more than a hundred yuan. Safer, easier, and able to care for home.
Her mind worked quickly. “Guoguo, my family struggles. Could Changzong help us set up a stall too?”
Hongguo sighed, expecting this request.
“Sure, Auntie, what will you sell?”
“I’ll sell pickled vegetables. People say mine are tasty. I’ll give it a try.”
Hongguo suggested pairing the pickles with steamed buns for the bus station, selling a few days on her stall first—no need to rent a separate stall. If successful, they could expand.
After trying for a few days, sales were decent—earning one to three yuan per day. For farming families during the off-season, this was a significant gain. Renting a small stall was worthwhile. Auntie Liu eagerly set up a tiny stall selling hot buns.
After closing, she counted the money at home. In just a few days, they had earned her son’s semester high school tuition—she teared up with joy.
“Guoguo really helped. Without Changzong, I couldn’t have managed at the bus station. Early on, I would’ve been bullied out,” she said.
Uncle Yang was happy too. “Knowing Guoguo and Changzong’s goodness, you must be sincere with them.”
Auntie Liu counted the money twice, satisfied.
“I know. I truly care for Guoguo. She no longer wants pickles; the smell makes her nauseous. I don’t have much to give her now, but next year, I’ll save some fresh sugarcane brown sugar for her confinement. Homemade is always better than store-bought.”
Outside, it was snowing—hard to sell. With the New Year approaching, the two families agreed to stop selling.
Uncle Yang realized, “Guoguo must be over three months along. Why isn’t it showing? Nowadays, everyone goes to the hospital. You should urge her to check.”
Auntie Liu, now genuinely concerned, said, “I’ve already urged her. She’s young and doesn’t take it seriously.”
The day after they stopped selling, she urged again. Hongguo still refused, worried something might be abnormal with her baby.