February 1990, the second day of the Lunar New Year, Beijing.
The sky was just beginning to lighten when faint, rustling sounds emerged from the tube-shaped apartment building of the No. 2 Cotton Mill’s residential compound—the early risers starting their day. Wispy white smoke curled from the communal kitchen at the end of the corridor, its aroma quickly permeating the entire building.
Just before the New Year, a heavy snow had fallen, nearly half a foot deep. Outside, on the compound’s paths, sanitation workers in military-green cotton-padded jackets swept bamboo brooms back and forth—swish-swish—clearing paths through the snow to reveal the light gray paving bricks beneath. Scraps of firecrackers set off on New Year’s Eve still littered the snowy ground like scattered red plum petals, and the air seemed to faintly carry the lingering scent of gunpowder—a distinct memory of the New Year for many.
“Qingning, time to get up.” Su Guiying gently lifted the cloth curtain over her daughter’s bedroom door and called softly.
The little girl in bed fluttered her eyelids slightly, then turned over, tugging her floral-patterned cotton quilt closer around her shoulders. She wriggled deeper, burying herself in the nest of blankets.
“Qingning, we’re going to Grandma’s today to pay New Year’s visits. Come on, get up now.” Su Guiying chuckled softly, walking to the bedside and sitting down. She continued patiently, “Grandma’s made lots of delicious food today. Let’s go early.”
Hearing this, the girl slowly turned her face, her eyes still bleary with sleep. “Is there cream cake?”
Su Guiying smiled. “Yes, your grandma had your eldest uncle order it from the bakery before the New Year. A double-layered cake.”
Jiang Qingning nodded in satisfaction upon hearing this.
Today was her birthday, so of course, there had to be cake.
Even though the cakes nowadays were made with vegetable shortening, having one occasionally wouldn’t hurt.
In her previous life, not to mention cakes with vegetable shortening, even cakes made with premium whipped animal cream would have been too rich for her taste.
Jiang Qingning was a reincarnated soul. In her previous life, she hadn’t even been born at this point in time. She was a child of the 2000s, born into a family that had already completed its initial wealth accumulation—a standard rich second generation whose most important daily task was eating, drinking, and having fun.
If there was anything unsatisfactory, it was that her parents in that life loved their careers more than their daughter. Both were business-minded, constantly preoccupied with work matters, with little thought to spare for their daughter at home.
Jiang Qingning tilted her head to look at her new mother helping her into a sweater, a satisfied smile curling at the corner of her mouth. Her parents in this life might not have much money, but they certainly cared deeply for their daughter.
“Alright, go out and eat. Your dad got up early to hand-make noodles for you,” Su Guiying said, straightening her daughter’s clothes before turning to fold the blankets on the bed.
Jiang Qingning slipped her feet into handmade “Mom-brand” big red cloth slippers. The soles were thick, layered cloth, and the uppers were padded with cotton—comfortable and warm.
With a couple of tap-tap steps, she reached the living room. Their current home was allocated by her mother’s work unit—a one-room apartment of less than forty square meters, partitioned into two small rooms. In this era, it was sufficient for their family of three; many families had several generations crammed into spaces this size.
As for Jiang Qingning in her previous life, her walk-in closet back then was larger than this entire apartment. But she wasn’t picky. After all, she was small now and didn’t need much space. She’d figure out a way to get a bigger place once she grew up a bit.
The so-called living room was just a tiny area, packed full. The dining table was placed against the east wall, set with a plate of prepared side dishes and a bottle of fresh milk.
Just then, Jiang Lifeng came in from outside carrying a bowl of noodles. Smiling at his daughter, he said, “You’re awake. Go brush your teeth and come eat the noodles.”
Jiang Qingning scampered over to him, her face breaking into a bright smile. “Daddy, thank you for getting up early to make noodles for me. I love the noodles you make the most.”
Hearing his daughter’s praise, Jiang Lifeng felt as sweet as if he’d drunk honey. But being an honest, simple man not given to flowery words, he just grinned sheepishly. “It’s no trouble at all. Hurry up and brush your teeth before the noodles get soggy.”
Jiang Qingning was used to her father’s personality. She smiled and acknowledged him, grabbing her toothbrush to head out to the communal washroom in the hallway.
One downside of these tube-shaped apartments was the lack of private kitchens and bathrooms. While it freed up some space inside the homes, it certainly made daily life inconvenient.
As she queued for water at the faucet, Jiang Qingning thought to herself: Looks like we’ll have to find a way to improve our living conditions. Having to wash up and use the bathroom outside every day is just too annoying.
“Qingning, I saw your dad in the kitchen making noodles before dawn. Said it was for your birthday. If you ask me, your dad spoils you kids too much. It’s the New Year, we’re all eating well every day—who isn’t having fish and meat? Was there any need to specially get up and make noodles?” a loud voice boomed from behind.
Without turning around, Jiang Qingning knew it was Auntie Li from next door. With her two kids plus her parents-in-law, six people crammed into one room. She’d always been jealous that the Jiang family of three had so much space to themselves, and never missed a chance to make snide remarks.
Both Jiang Lifeng and Su Guiying were honest, simple folks. Usually, even when provoked, they wouldn’t say anything back, which only made Auntie Li bolder.
Jiang Qingning, however, wasn’t about to indulge her. She lifted her head, smiling brightly. “Auntie Li, you know it’s my birthday today? Did you prepare a gift for me?”
Auntie Li’s expression stiffened. Before she could speak, someone else nearby chimed in, “Yeah, Sister Li, your family’s well-off with all that fish and meat every day. Getting a kid a birthday gift should be easy for you.”
Auntie Li retorted huffily, “It’s just a child’s birthday, not some major occasion. Who gives gifts for that?”
Grandma Zhang, washing dishes by the stairwell entrance, joined in. “That’s different. Qingning’s turning seven this year. In the old days, that’d make her a big kid. It deserves a proper celebration.” She turned to Jiang Qingning, smiling kindly. “Qingning, the smock I’m sewing for you will be done today. I’ll bring it over this afternoon.”
Jiang Qingning said sweetly, “Thank you, Grandma Zhang. I’ve been eyeing the smock you made for Sister Panpan for ages.” Sister Panpan was Grandma Zhang’s eldest granddaughter.
The man who had spoken earlier scratched his head, then fished out two yuan. “Here, Qingning, go buy some candy.”
Jiang Qingning accepted it with a beaming smile. “Thank you, Uncle Yang. When your birthday comes, I’ll buy you KFC.”
Yang Jianhua laughed and patted her head. “Alright then, I’ll be waiting for it.”
“Auntie Li, Grandma Zhang and Uncle Yang both gave me gifts. What about yours?” Jiang Qingning turned back, ignoring Auntie Li’s darkening expression, and asked with a playful grin.
“You… you little girl! How can you be so thick-skinned, asking for things outright? Aren’t you ashamed!” Auntie Li’s face was stormy, silently cursing Grandma Zhang and Li Jianhua for showing off.
“Huh? Auntie Li, your Little Jun and Sister Yanyan always come asking for candy when I’m eating it at home. I thought you taught them to do that. So that’s being thick-skinned?” Jiang Qingning blinked her big eyes, feigning innocence and speaking loudly.
“Pfft—” Yang Jianhua couldn’t hold back a laugh. Pointing to the second shelf of the locked cabinet in the corner, he said, “Sister Li, you just mentioned your family is sick of eating meat during the New Year. Why not give some to Qingning?”
Grandma Zhang added, “Exactly, Xiao Li. I saw you put a piece of ham in your cupboard last night. I reckon your family isn’t too keen on that stuff anyway.”
Auntie Li: “…”
Auntie Li had always been one to flaunt in the building. Her husband worked in the cafeteria—a very enviable position a decade ago. Back then, if her family ate an egg, she’d practically shout it from the rooftops for the whole building to know. Now, being put on the spot like this, the expressions flitting across her face were quite a sight.
After washing up, Jiang Qingning headed home, skipping and humming a tune. In her hand was a palm-sized piece of ham, and in her pocket, two yuan. Her slight grumpiness from waking up early had completely vanished.
“Mom, Grandma Zhang said the smock she’s making for me will be ready today. She asked you to pick it up from her place this afternoon.”
Su Guiying nodded. “Alright, I know. Sit down and eat your noodles now.”
The smock was something Su Guiying had specially asked Grandma Zhang to make before the New Year. Her own needlework was average; she was decent at making shoes, but clothes and trousers she made, while wearable, weren’t particularly fine or pretty.
“Dad, Uncle Yang gave me two yuan to buy candy.”
“Oh,then you keep it. Next time I see his Xiao Ming, I’ll give him two yuan as well.”
The dining table at home wasn’t big. To save space, it was placed against the wall, with the remaining three sides just right for one person each.
“Huh, where did this ham come from?” Su Guiying asked curiously, looking at the piece of ham her daughter had placed on the table.
Jiang Qingning pulled out her chair and sat down to explain. “I ran into Auntie Li at the washroom. She heard I was going to Grandma’s today and gave me this piece of ham to feed Big Huang at the compound gate.”
Who knew how long that piece of ham had been stored; the outer layer had already turned yellow. Only someone like Auntie Li would still treasure it, locked away in her cabinet. Jiang Qingning definitely wouldn’t eat it. She’d asked for it just to annoy Auntie Li, who had started the day by getting on people’s nerves.
Jiang Lifeng pushed the bowl of noodles toward his daughter. “Sister Li’s family is really well-off. Not only do they eat meat every few days, but they even use such good meat to feed dogs.”
Su Guiying said, “Sister Li’s husband is a head cook at the cafeteria. Her family never lacks for food.”
“Being a cook is really good,”the couple mused. Both born in the 1960s and raised in that era, food was practically an obsession for people of their generation.
Jiang Qingning took a bite of the chewy, hand-pulled noodles and gave a thumbs-up. “Dad, I think the noodles you make are way tastier than any chef’s.”
Jiang Lifeng chuckled. “My skills are just for the family to eat. How can I compare to a real master chef?”
Jiang Qingning insisted, “Chefs make food in large batches. How can that compare to the care you put into making a special small portion just for me? Food only tastes good when it’s made with heart.”
Jiang Lifeng loved hearing his daughter praise him. He grinned happily. “If you like eating noodles, I’ll make them for you every day from now on.”
“Come on, wouldn’t you get sick of eating noodles every day?” Su Guiying interrupted him.
Jiang Lifeng widened his eyes. “Hah! How could anyone get sick of noodles made with fine flour?”
“Qingning isn’t like us when we were kids, only getting to eat refined grains a few times a year,” Su Guiying said, unscrewing the lid of the fresh milk and handing it to her daughter. “Eat slowly. Drink the milk after you finish. I heard this milk is really nutritious; drinking it helps you grow tall.”
Jiang Lifeng laughed. “Drinking milk makes you taller? None of us brothers drank a drop of milk growing up, and we all turned out tall.”
All the Jiang brothers were over six feet tall, quite an impressive sight standing in a row. Back then, Su Guiying had been drawn to Jiang Lifeng precisely because of his height, his strong eyebrows and big eyes, and his honest nature, insisting on marrying him despite her parents’ objections.
Su Guiying, however, spoke with an air of authority. “I heard some expert on TV say that eating meat and drinking milk helps you grow taller. Look at those foreigners who come here as tourists these years—men and women alike, they’re all so tall.”
Jiang Lifeng nodded. “That’s true. Yesterday, I saw a few foreigners at Shichahai. Goodness, the woman looked even taller than me.”
“See? So we should keep ordering the milk.”
“Right.We just got the New Year bonus. In a few days, I’ll go to the milk station and place the order for the whole year.”
“Good.”
The couple were usually frugal, but when it came to their daughter, they gave her the best within their means.
Jiang Qingning sipped her milk in small mouthfuls. Both her parents in this life were tall, so she probably wouldn’t be short either.
In her previous life as a “Southern petite potato,” she had always envied tall people the most!