The first move Feng Miao and Jiang Dahe made not only failed, but also got themselves into trouble.
Family scandals shouldn’t be made public. Liu Chunhua didn’t want outsiders watching their family make a scene either. After entering the house, she sat directly on a bench on the east side of the living room.
Liu Chunhua struck first.
“You let Jiang Shan do something so disgraceful, and instead of apologizing, you come here to make trouble. Do you really think my daughter isn’t a person? Only your daughter is precious?”
“Our Zao’er is flesh from my own body. Don’t think you can bully her and then turn around and accuse us!”
Jiang Zao stood to the side, head lowered, feeling no emotional ripple at all.
In her previous life, she had first given up her job, then gone to the countryside in place of her younger brother to help with rural development.
“Educated youth” sounded nice, but in truth it meant working like an ox or a horse. In winter, digging canals; in summer, pulling weeds—her head bent toward the black soil, unable to lift it until night fell.
The crops were watered with sweat. If the work wasn’t good enough, it meant your thinking was flawed.
She had no backing, no money—only a worn-out life to grind through.
Finally, she endured until she could return to the city. Her second brother disliked her for being sick and costing money; her younger brother despised the dirt on her.
And her mother?
Her mother wore thick gold earrings, had her hair permed in the latest style, and held her hand while persuading her: “See? I told you your fate is good. You have such good brothers. They’re still willing to feed you when you come back. Your second sister-in-law even said that if you stay and help take care of the three children, you’ll never go hungry.”
Jiang Zao’s job.
Jiang Zao’s time in the countryside.
All of it evaporated, just like the sweat she shed on that black soil.
If the past were dug up again, the whole family would suffer losses—money, benefits, and relationships—and it might even disrupt family harmony.
So her blood relatives tacitly agreed to forget everything.
In the end, Jiang Zao couldn’t marry because of her poor health. She could only earn food by taking care of children.
Having food was already good enough—don’t even think about seeing a doctor.
How did she end up in a VIP hospital ward?
It was Xiao Shuisheng who flew thousands of miles to take her away for treatment.
When she tried to leave, the children at home would have no one to care for them, no one to cook. Her mother couldn’t go dancing in the square anymore and had to come back to look after the kids. She cried, threw tantrums, and refused to let her go, saying her illness was incurable—better to stay at home and pass away peacefully under the care of her parents and siblings.
Jiang Zao called Liu Chunhua’s tactic: letting the meat rot in the pot.
With Xiao Shuisheng’s background and intelligence, how could he not understand?
He took out one hundred thousand yuan and gave it to Liu Chunhua.
The moment Liu Chunhua got the money, she let her go.
Jiang Zao was so furious she coughed up blood, and not long after arriving at the hospital, she passed away.
Only then did she see the true faces of her family.
The only one who stayed with her until the end and treated her sincerely was Xiao Shuisheng.
Jiang Zao was pulled back from her memories by Liu Chunhua’s sobbing.
Liu Chunhua actually wiped her tears and looked at Jiang Zao with heartache. “My Zao’er has had a hard life since childhood. Wearing her brothers’ old clothes, never having a good pair of shoes—she’s suffered so much. There’s no child more pitiful than her.”
Feng Miao’s eyes widened.
She shouted in her heart—
Your daughter has had a hard life?!
Hasn’t she always had a hard life because of your favoritism and preference for sons over daughters?!
Feng Miao wasn’t stupid. After seeing Liu Chunhua’s second face, she didn’t dare speak recklessly.
Jiang Dashan had always taken care of Jiang Dahe, which gave Feng Miao and Jiang Dahe a lot of confidence. After benefiting from small gains for so long, Feng Miao forgot that Liu Chunhua tolerated this behavior only because her elder brother was the head of personnel at the steel factory.
Seeing Feng Miao quiet down, Liu Chunhua continued her verbal assault.
“Zao’er finally found a good match, and your daughter set her sights on him. What, is your daughter some fairy or noble lady? After doing something so filthy, you still expect my daughter to apologize to you?”
“As a younger sister, she covets her own brother-in-law—shameless!”
Watching Liu Chunhua throw a tantrum, Jiang Zao thought: this is exactly why, when something happened, she persuaded her mother first.
Her combat power was maxed out.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Dahe glanced toward the inner room door. His face flushed red as he slapped his thigh anxiously. “Big brother! Big brother, come out and judge this!”
Jiang Dashan had long since lain on the kang, pretending to be dead.
If a son couldn’t get married, the father would be a sinner for all eternity.
At critical moments, he had to be clear-headed.
Thinking of Jiang Shan being arrested, Jiang Dahe refused to give up and shouted again, “Big brother, I only have one daughter—my only child! You can’t just watch my family line end. Let Zao’er take Xiao Shuisheng to help get Jiang Shan out!”
“Please, big brother. We don’t need an apology—we just want Shan’er released.”
Thump!
Jiang Dahe knelt down. “Big brother, I’m begging you!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He kowtowed heavily.
Jiang Dashan opened his eyes. The summer heat made sweat bead across his dark, shiny face.
Just as he was about to move, Liu Chunhua’s voice rang out from outside: “Zao’er and Professor Xiao aren’t even engaged yet, and we haven’t accepted any betrothal gifts. She hasn’t even shown her face at her future in-laws’ home, and you want her to drag Xiao Shuisheng over to explain things for you? What will people say about her?”
Hearing the words “betrothal gifts,” Jiang Dashan shut his eyes tightly again and pulled the blanket over his head.
Out of sight, out of mind. Out of hearing, out of irritation.
The bride price from the eldest daughter, Jiang Xing, had been used for the second son’s marriage.
The third son’s bride price would have to fund the fourth son’s marriage.
Whether the third son lived well after marriage didn’t matter—but what about the fourth?
The fourth had been clever and sweet-talking since childhood, calling him “Father, the best father in the world.” He was Jiang Dashan’s treasure. If the fourth son couldn’t get married, it would break his heart.
A younger brother and a son weren’t the same.
A brother was flesh on the back of the hand—but a son was flesh of the heart.
Feng Miao snorted coldly and pulled Jiang Dahe up. “You fool. Can’t you see your big brother and his wife think you’re useless and don’t want to help you? Why are you still embarrassing yourself here? Come back with me—we’ll find someone to save Shan’er. Do you think the Feng family has no one, that you can trample over us? My Shan’er can get out just fine without you!”
Force didn’t work, and neither did reason.
Feng Miao didn’t want to waste time and decided to go find help.
Feng Miao and Jiang Dahe left.
Liu Chunhua raised her chin. “You’ve delayed things so long dinner isn’t even made yet. Your second brother will be off work soon, and your younger brother will be back from school. Clean up and get the meal ready.”
Jiang Zao responded and went to the kitchen, lighting the kerosene lamp to start cooking.
The Jiang family lived in an alley. Too many people, too little space—two generations crammed together. With the men marrying and having children, there was even less room.
The kitchen wasn’t big either—just a few square meters.
All around were mud walls. In the left corner were two connected stoves with two large iron pots side by side, each about twelve “yin” in size.
Back then, pots and jars weren’t measured by standard units.
Pots were measured in “yin.” Farming households typically used 12-yin, 10-yin, or 8-yin pots. Families making tofu could use ones as large as 100-yin.
Water jars were divided into large, medium, small, and smaller ones.
The large jar stored pickled cabbage or water. The second jar held pickled mustard greens or radishes. The third stored animal fat. The smallest jar was for small batches of pickled chili or coriander.
In the corner of the Jiang home sat a large jar filled with water. That morning, Jiang Zao had carried over a dozen buckets from the front courtyard pump just to fill it halfway.
Next to the jar stood a wooden rack holding bowls, chopsticks, and pickles. Above it were pots and utensils, and the remaining corner space was stacked with firewood.
There was a small patch of land in the yard for growing vegetables, but in summer, many hadn’t matured yet, so there wasn’t much to eat.
Usually just potatoes and eggplants—or potatoes with green peppers.
Jiang Zao grabbed a basket and was about to head to the back cellar to get some potatoes, planning to stir-fry sliced potatoes again. The new potatoes would cook quickly, and leftovers could be reheated.
“Mom! Mom!!”
“Why didn’t Third Brother bring me food?”
The second brother, Jiang Ming, stormed in angrily from outside.
The summer heat clung to him as he strode into the kitchen, bringing a wave of warmth that made Jiang Zao feel even hotter.
Seeing Jiang Zao, he shot her an unfriendly glare.
“You’re at home? Then why didn’t you bring me my meal?”