Su Wanning followed Chen Xiulian into the Lu family’s main house. The heavy wooden door creaked “squeak” as it closed behind them, shutting out the noise and prying eyes from the courtyard. Inside, the light was dim, and a faint smell of smoke mixed with the dry, cold northern air hit her lungs, slightly warmer than outside but still biting.
On the wall directly opposite the door hung a slightly faded portrait of Chairman Mao. Below it stood an old eight-immortals table, its legs polished smooth from years of use, reflecting faint shadows. The room was tidy and uncluttered, but that very tidiness made it feel unusually empty and cold—a clear sign of a poor northern farm household.
Li Cuifen and Wang Qin also followed inside, attempting to move further into the room, but Chen Xiulian’s cold glance froze them in place. Her gaze was like shards of ice. The two daughters-in-law immediately turned back, sulking, and retreated to the side rooms, casting one last malicious look at Su Wanning as they left.
Soon, the large main room contained only Su Wanning and Chen Xiulian.
“Come in,” Chen Xiulian said and strode toward the east room, the brightest spot in the house. She didn’t look back or slow down for Su Wanning, her back straight, exuding both distance and authority, asserting ownership of the room.
Su Wanning carried her satchel and followed at a measured pace. The east room was the Lu family’s main living quarters and Chen Xiulian’s space. A large brick kang stretched from the east side to the west, taking up half the room. On it lay a patched yet clean reed mat, rough to the touch but sturdy. Against the wall stood two large wooden trunks painted red, the paint chipped in many places. A neatly folded quilt sat atop one, clearly arranged by someone accustomed to hard work.
Chen Xiulian didn’t invite Su Wanning to sit and instead went straight to the kang, crossed her legs, and sat down. She picked up the half-stitched shoe sole and the half-spun cotton thread from the sewing basket on the kang table, lowering her head and letting her fingers fly. The thread scraped over the coarse fabric with a “shhh,” as if Su Wanning didn’t exist.
Su Wanning stood quietly in the center of the room, holding her satchel. She waited—for Chen Xiulian to speak. She knew well that this future mother-in-law would be far more formidable than the two gossipy sisters-in-law.
Minutes passed, one by one, and Chen Xiulian’s patience was longer than Su Wanning had anticipated. She focused on stitching, each stitch rhythmic and precise, just like any ordinary farm woman at work. Yet Su Wanning could feel a sharp gaze occasionally flicking from under her lowered eyelids—Chen Xiulian was watching her, measuring her reactions, her posture, every subtle expression.
Su Wanning remained upright, her face neutral. She showed no discomfort from being ignored, no irritation at being overlooked—like a young poplar rooted in the center of the room, calm and upright, possessing her own quiet strength.
Finally, Chen Xiulian tied off the last stitch, placing the finished shoe sole aside, and ran her fingers over the thread ends. She lifted her head slowly and looked directly at Su Wanning. Her dark eyes no longer hid anything—they were sharp, scrutinizing, and commanding, as if she were seeing through Su Wanning from head to toe.
“Comrade Su,” Chen Xiulian said, her voice neutral yet filled with unchallengeable authority. “We are a farming family, no need for beating around the bush. Since you’ve come here yourself, there are some things I need to say upfront.”
She paused, her gaze sharpening: “You should know the situation with our third son. His leg… he’s basically crippled, can’t work the fields, can’t earn work points, and has to take medicine year-round. In short, he’s a burden. You’re a girl from the city, valuable and precious. In our poor, remote place, we may not be able to accommodate someone like you.”
Her words were blunt and harsh, like a dull knife slicing at the heart. Su Wanning said nothing, listening calmly.
Chen Xiulian continued: “If you regret coming now, it’s not too late. Just nod, and I’ll have Dazhu take you back to the sent-down youth dormitory, as if… none of this ever happened.”
Then she fell silent, quietly watching Su Wanning, waiting for a response. Her words were both a test and a pressure tactic, meant to force Su Wanning to back down. This way, she could resolve the potential trouble while preserving the Lu family’s face.
Su Wanning listened, her mind completely calm. Chen Xiulian’s reaction was entirely expected, even gentler than she anticipated—at least it gave her a choice. Then, Su Wanning spoke plainly:
“Auntie,” she said. She didn’t call her “Mom” or “Mother-in-law,” signaling the current relationship between them. “Since I’ve come, I never intended to leave.”
Her voice was clear and firm, carrying an undeniable strength: “I know the situation here. Before my father passed, he told me the Lu family is honorable, and I trust his judgment.”
By invoking her father, she subtly asserted the legitimacy of her visit while blocking Chen Xiulian’s opportunity to push for a “cancellation” of the engagement.
“I’m modest and without great skill,” Su Wanning continued sincerely, “but from now on, I will live in this household, quietly and properly, doing my part.”
Chen Xiulian’s sharp gaze softened, replaced with deep surprise. She had imagined countless possible reactions: the Shanghai girl might cry, make a scene, argue, or negotiate—but never this. Calm, composed, even bearing a sense of responsibility.
Could this really be an eighteen-year-old girl from Shanghai who had never traveled far? Chen Xiulian, for the first time, felt a genuine curiosity about her future daughter-in-law.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Chen Xiulian remained silent for a long moment, then nodded lightly, uttering a single word: “Fine.”
That one word represented her tentative acceptance of Su Wanning’s presence.
“Then you can stay in the west room for now,” Chen Xiulian said, indicating the room opposite the east chamber. “It’s empty; you can make yourself comfortable.”
She picked up the sewing basket again, lowered her head, and resumed stitching the shoe sole, as if she didn’t want to say another word. Yet Su Wanning read a deeper meaning in her subtle expression—Chen Xiulian was thinking: “This one has backbone, unlike the first two daughters-in-law who only know scheming. But we’ll see what she’s really made of.”
“Thank you, Auntie,” Su Wanning said, picking up her satchel, giving Chen Xiulian a slight nod before turning toward the west room.
The door was ajar. She pushed it open, and a puff of dust greeted her. The room was indeed empty, containing only a worn wooden table and two chairs, with a few items stacked in the corner.
Su Wanning put down her satchel and walked to the window, opening it. The cold wind blew in, scattering some of the dust. She looked out at the yard piled with corn stalks, quietly planning: first, tidy up the room, then retrieve the sent packages in a few days. From now on, life would need to be handled step by step.
From the east room came Chen Xiulian’s voice: “Dinner’s in the kitchen. Serve yourself.”
Su Wanning replied, “Understood, Auntie.” She knew this was only the beginning—her days in the Lu household would have to be earned through her own efforts.