Once everyone had left, Su Jiuyue gave a subtle nod. Jiaojiao understood right away; she tiptoed to the door and clicked the latch firmly shut.
Su Jiuyue moved quickly to the chest of drawers beside the bed, pulled open one of the drawers, and took out a small box. When she opened it — three bank passbooks, twenty neatly stacked silver dollars, and a pair of heavy dragon-and-phoenix gold bracelets were all still there.
Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a long breath of relief. She put back the cheap, trivial items, then carefully wrapped the passbooks, silver dollars, and gold bracelets in an old blue handkerchief printed with white flowers.
Just as she was about to tidy up, Jiaojiao tugged gently at her sleeve and led her toward the inner room. The little girl was straining to lift the board of her tiny wooden bed, but she was too small — her face turned bright red with effort.
Though confused, Su Jiuyue helped her daughter lift the board. The moment it came away, she froze — hidden beneath the wood was a cleverly concealed secret compartment!
This…
She reached in and her fingers brushed something cold and hard. Pulling it out, she saw twenty solid gold bars, neatly stacked! Big yellow fish!
Su Jiuyue gasped, her heart pounding wildly. She looked sharply at her daughter, eyes wide with shock and question.
Jiaojiao leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Uncle told me. He said these are Jiaojiao’s dowry. Don’t tell anyone — not even Daddy.”
Her brother…
Tears instantly flooded Su Jiuyue’s eyes. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from sobbing aloud.
No one knew that Su Jiuyue was actually the youngest daughter of the Su family in Sijiucheng. Back then, because of the family’s political standing, when the movements began, her parents had sent her away to be raised by a distant cousin in a rural village in Liaoning — to keep her from being dragged down with them.
Later, when she came of age, they’d arranged this marriage: the Li brothers were all soldiers, of impeccable background and standing.
When Jiaojiao turned three, the Su family could not escape fate. They were exiled to the countryside. Before they left, her brother had disguised himself as a peddler buying old furniture, snuck into the military compound, and left this seemingly ordinary little bed.
At the time, Li Yanchuan had been annoyed. He’d complained that she was being unfair — his older brother had a child too, so why buy a bed only for Jiaojiao? He’d insisted on giving it to Li Tao instead.
Jiaojiao had cried so hard she could barely breathe, clinging to the bed with all her strength. In the end, Su Jiuyue had paid out of her own pocket to buy Li Tao a new bed, just to end the argument.
She realized now — even back then, her brother had been paving a way to keep her safe.
For two years, she’d searched everywhere for news of her father and brother, learning only that they’d been sent to Heilongjiang Province. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never find out exactly where.
She never imagined her brother would leave them a lifeline… like this.
Su Jiuyue put the gold bars back exactly as they were, added the things wrapped in her handkerchief, carefully covered the compartment, and smoothed the bedding. When everything looked untouched, she quietly opened the door and lay back down.
Just then, the door swung open. She instinctively pressed a finger to her lips for Jiaojiao to be quiet, and both pretended to be asleep.
She felt someone step inside — their gaze fixed on her face. After a long while, they turned to leave. But then their footsteps stopped right in front of the chest of drawers.
A drawer was pulled open, slowly and carefully. There was a rustle of movement, followed by the faint clink of keys.
Eyes still shut, Su Jiuyue’s lips curled into a cold, bitter smile. Go ahead. Take it. They’re nothing but empty boxes now.
Before long, the sounds stopped. Footsteps faded away.
She opened her eyes to find Jiaojiao staring at her, big eyes full of worry.
“It’s alright, baby,” she whispered softly. “Mama’s hidden everything valuable away safely.”
The little girl let out a breath she’d been holding. They lay still for a little longer, then Su Jiuyue made a show of waking slowly.
Forcing herself to her feet, she let others help her walk, playing the part of the grieving widow to perfection.
At the burial the next day, she wept so bitterly she seemed ready to collapse. No matter how anyone tried to soothe her, she clung to the headstone and refused to leave — until several military wives finally had to gently but firmly carry her away.
Her performance cemented her reputation as a devoted wife. And it wiped away every last trace of doubt Li Yanchuan and Bai Lili might have held.
She really believes he’s dead, they thought.
They had no idea that once they were back behind closed doors, mother and daughter gathered every passbook and document together. Then, summoning all her strength, Su Jiuyue took Jiaojiao by the hand and stepped out.
“Sister-in-law, where are you going?” Bai Lili held out a bowl of porridge, feigning sisterly concern. “You’re still so weak.”
“My chest… feels so tight,” Su Jiuyue said, her face as pale as paper, voice barely audible. “I need to take Jiaojiao out… for some air.”
She didn’t even lift her eyes. She walked straight past the porridge — and past the woman who was putting on such an act.
As they brushed past, she caught the flash of triumph in Bai Lili’s eyes. So you want him? Fine. Take him. Money is what truly matters.
Once out of the compound, her step steadied at once. She headed straight for the Political Affairs Office to handle the compensation paperwork.
The officer who saw her knew her, and his sympathy was genuine. “Comrade Su Jiuyue, please accept my deepest condolences. Battalion Commander Li died in the line of duty. This is the five hundred yuan compensation granted by the organization — please take it.”
He handed her a thick envelope. “As the child of a martyr, Jiaojiao will also receive a monthly living allowance of ten yuan, which will be transferred directly to this designated passbook. You may come collect it each month.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Su Jiuyue said, eyes glistening. She took the envelope with both hands and tucked it deep inside her inner pocket.
Five hundred yuan — a fortune in those days. Blood money, bought with Li Yanchuan’s life.
In her past life, she’d held that money for barely half a day before Li Yanchuan had taken it, claiming he’d “keep it safe so you don’t spend it while you’re upset.” In the end, every last cent had gone to fill the bottomless pit of Bai Lili and her son.
Not this time, she thought coldly. Over my dead body.
Hand in hand with Jiaojiao, she walked straight to the post office savings bank near the military compound. She pulled out three fixed-deposit certificates, all bearing Li Yanchuan’s name, and slid them through the window.
“Comrade, I’d like to withdraw these.”
The teller glanced at them and said gently, “They haven’t matured yet. If you take them now, interest will be calculated at the current deposit rate — you’ll lose quite a bit. It’s a shame.”
“Withdraw them,” Su Jiuyue said firmly, without the slightest hesitation.
A shame? Compared to leaving that money in the name of a “dead man” for others to eye greedily — or worse, letting it fall into the hands of the “ghost” who was still alive — this small loss of interest meant nothing at all.
The three certificates came to a total principal of five thousand eight hundred and seventy yuan. With the small amount of interest accrued, she walked away with six thousand and seventy-three yuan, fifty-two fen.
Adding the five hundred yuan compensation she’d just received, the two hundred yuan she’d saved secretly, and the fifty yuan Li Yanchuan had left for “household expenses” before his last mission — she now held six thousand seven hundred and seventy-three yuan, fifty-two fen.
She set aside two hundred and twenty-three yuan, fifty-two fen in small change, wrapped it carefully in a clean handkerchief, and put it in her outer pocket.
The remaining six thousand five hundred yuan — a thick stack of large bills — she pushed back through the window.
“Comrade, I’d like to deposit this in a new account.”
She handed over the money along with her household register. On the page listing the head of household — Li Yanchuan — a bold blue stamp reading DECEASED — REMOVED had already been marked. Now, the head of household was her: Su Jiuyue.
“Current or fixed deposit?”
“Fixed. Three years,” she said clearly, then added: “And set a password.”
The teller looked up, surprised. Passwords had only just been introduced, and very few people knew about them — let alone asked for one.
“There is a ten-yuan deposit for setting a password,” the teller explained. “All future withdrawals will require the password, and the process will be more cumbersome. Are you certain?”
“I am certain,” Su Jiuyue answered without hesitation. Ten yuan for absolute safety. For peace of mind. It was worth every penny.