“Really? Someone from the factory asked her to work?” Mother Han glanced outside, making sure her daughter-in-law wasn’t nearby, then pressed her son for details.
She already knew people from the county had come looking for Yang Dai.
When Han Lin and Yang Dai hadn’t been home, neighbors had run over to tell her. But Yang’s mother had been out collecting firewood at the time and missed it. By the time she actually heard, the two visitors had already left Huangzhuang Brigade.
She’d wanted to ask her daughter-in-law directly, but feared it might make Yang Dai overthink. Now that her son had brought it up, she wasn’t going to let the chance slip.
“It was a leader from the food factory. They asked your wife to do artwork for packaging. If it turns out well, the county food factory can do business with foreigners and earn foreign exchange for the state.” Han Lin explained as simply as he could.
Mother Han froze, the kitchen silent except for the sound of stir-frying.
“Yang Dai’s drawings… can really be used for foreign trade?” She instinctively suspected Han Lin was boasting again. He had a history of big talk.
But then she looked at the basin of pork and recalled how much he had changed lately. Doubts remained unspoken.
“Foreigners would actually come here? And what do they look like? Have you seen them?” she asked, her hands moving briskly again. “Turn on the other stove too. Tonight I’ll do the cooking. We have to celebrate properly. Your cooking’s no good.”
Her spirits lifted as she pushed him from the kitchen. In her heart, her opinion of Yang Dai climbed higher still, even leaving her faintly grateful she’d had such good judgment.
Before marriage, Yang Dai’s reputation had been terrible. She’d even overheard gossipy tongues saying Yang Dai would never marry.
When Yang Dai wed her youngest son, the two worst reputations joined together.
Those days before the wedding, Mother Han had been sleepless with worry. More than once she’d considered breaking the match entirely—better, she thought, that her son remain a bachelor for life than take such a daughter-in-law.
But Father Han had stopped her. Backing out after the betrothal would have turned the families into enemies.
Now, she no longer remembered her fears of starving under this couple. All she saw was her own “good eye”—recognizing that beneath the bad reputation were truly capable hands.
“If Yang Dai paints well, could she get a job at the factory?”
She had seen her daughter-in-law’s murals on the brigade wall. She didn’t understand technique, but she could tell beautiful from ugly. To her, those drawings had been the best in the world.
She had never dreamed her daughter-in-law could be so skilled, drawing for a factory—drawings for foreigners, no less.
“Whether she gets hired depends on the factory. But they’ve already said, they won’t shortchange her.” Han Lin happily spoke of Yang Dai’s merits, hoping to improve harmony between her and his mother.
While they talked, the rest of the family gradually came home.
His eldest sister-in-law, Sun Qiaoyun, and second sister-in-law, Huang Fengxia, entered the kitchen one after the other.
Seeing Han Lin chopping vegetables, both looked as if they’d seen a ghost.
“Third’s here again,” Sun Qiaoyun raised her brows, her distaste plain.
She’d thought that after dividing the household, she could avoid this scoundrel of a brother-in-law. Yet her in-laws kept inviting him back to eat.
Before marriage, he’d never stepped into a kitchen, except to beg for food. Now here he was chopping vegetables. No doubt, she thought, he’d be asking favors after dinner.
She resolved to drag her husband away right after eating to avoid trouble.
“Third caught a wild boar today and brought meat for the family,” Mother Han said coolly, her earlier cheer gone. She had no patience for Sun Qiaoyun.
Even since the split, whenever her youngest son came to eat, he brought his own grain. They hadn’t taken advantage of anyone. Yet Sun Qiaoyun still refused to show a pleasant face.
“Third can hunt wild boars now? How impressive.” Sun Qiaoyun had already heard about the division of pork, but she didn’t believe for a moment that the kill was his doing.
“If you don’t want to eat, we’ll eat separately tonight,” Han Lin said evenly. He knew his sister-in-law resented him, and though he was trying to change, he wasn’t about to grovel for her favor.
Sun Qiaoyun pressed her lips shut. She hadn’t changed her household registration after marriage, so she wasn’t entitled to pork from Huangzhuang Brigade. Han Lin’s words implied she’d be stuck eating vegetables while others had meat. She wouldn’t tolerate that.
With more people crowding in, Mother Han eventually shooed Han Lin from the kitchen and busied herself with her daughters-in-law.
Yang Dai had been sketching ideas quietly in the courtyard, but when she saw her sisters-in-law helping in the kitchen, she washed her hands and prepared to join.
She had barely stepped in when Han Lin emerged, catching her by the wrist.
“Mother, Yang Dai and I are going back for a bit. Start dinner without us.”
Yang Dai pulled back slightly but followed him outside.
“The kitchen’s smoky, and with so many helping, one less won’t matter,” Han Lin said, slowing his steps to walk beside her.
She rolled her eyes. One more or less made no difference, but appearances mattered, and she knew it.
“Let’s bring those biscuits Comrade Zheng left for my parents to try.” She changed the subject smoothly.
“No need to rush,” Han Lin murmured. He didn’t want her made uncomfortable by Sun Qiaoyun’s barbs.
By now, dusk had fallen. Families were busy cooking, and the roads were empty.
Yang Dai squinted toward the distance. A field of tall sorghum swayed gently in the wind, like maidens whispering in silence.
Watching the shadows ripple, inspiration struck her for the biscuit packaging design. Excited, she stepped closer—only to feel Han Lin’s hand clamp around her arm again.
“Someone’s there,” he mouthed, pointing toward the sorghum.
Yang Dai froze, shrinking behind him, listening intently.
At first, only a murmur reached her. Then a man’s voice, low and irritable: “Why are you here instead of eating meat at home?”
“I’d love to eat,” a woman’s voice, plaintive and tear-tinged. “But you know my mother-in-law. With the old so old and the young so young in our house, how could any meat reach me?”
“I checked before coming. Everyone’s busy cooking. Not even kids are out playing. No one will notice. And it’s been half a month since we met. Why so angry? What, do you think your sister-in-law can scold you in my place?” She gave a breathy laugh before turning serious again. “I came for a reason. That account book you left with me—when will you take it back? My mother-in-law’s gone mad, always searching my room. If she finds it…”
“A few more days. Just a few.”
Their voices dropped again. Yang Dai caught fragments only, but Han Lin heard every word.
When the sorghum fell silent, he led her away to another road, waiting at the junction.
“That man’s the brigade accountant, isn’t he?” Yang Dai whispered. She hadn’t caught all the words, but the voice was vaguely familiar.
They didn’t wait long. Soon a woman emerged first. Yang Dai didn’t know her, and the woman, seeing them, hurried off.
Taking the original road back, they found the accountant, Huang Ping, crouched, pretending to pull weeds.
“Uncle Huang, why aren’t you home eating?” Han Lin called casually.
Startled, Huang Ping jumped up. “Third Han? What are you doing here?”
“My mother isn’t done cooking yet. My wife and I came out for a walk—emptier stomachs, bigger appetite,” Han Lin joked lazily.
Huang Ping clearly wanted no conversation. He mumbled a few words and left in haste.
Han Lin narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure, then turned home with Yang Dai.
At dinner, he shifted the topic. Yang Dai followed his lead, bringing up her propaganda murals.
She mentioned how, while painting, she often saw a young woman from another brigade—someone she didn’t recognize, only vaguely heard had lost her husband and lived with her children and mother-in-law.
“I’ve seen her a few times from a distance, but never before. Is she new to the brigade?” Yang Dai described the woman’s features and hairstyle.
“You must mean your Aunt Huang’s daughter-in-law. Her only son died a martyr, so now she lives with her three grandsons and the widow.”