Your mother is simply an angel, the finest woman beneath heaven — the meaning was plain: stop ordering further investigations. Jiang Yuan had set her sights on your household — and there was no deep, dark scheme. She simply… wished to marry a city man and live a better life.
Lu Qinian’s gaze drifted to the stack of letters in the corner drawer. Letters Lu Ze had written home during his two years posted to the companies. Aside from polite inquiries after his health, every page overflowed with Jiang Yuan’s ardent, impassioned declarations of love for him.
Xu Qianjin watched his expression carefully, and continued: “I passed the drillground just now. That boy Lu Ze — training as though his life depends on it. Anyone with eyes can see his heart is heavy. Shen Yi looked ready to send someone over and talk him down. To my mind? A young man fallen for a pretty girl — nothing more ordinary than that. And as for Jiang Yuan… when one chooses a husband, does one not choose carefully, as one chooses a coat or a pair of shoes? She wants a better life. That does not mean she does not care for Lu Ze, or will not strive to build a good life with him. What I cannot fathom… is why you have made everything so complicated.”
Xu Qianjin assumed Lu Qinian had forbidden the match — and that, to make Lu Ze abandon hope, he had acted decisively and himself obtained a marriage certificate with Jiang Yuan.
Lu Qinian’s face showed clear struggle. At last he spoke: “Jiang Yuan forced me to obtain that certificate.”
Ardent declarations of love… those can be acted, can be performed.
“…” Xu Qianjin took several seconds to absorb the words. Then he ventured boldly: “Then it must be Lu Ze’s mother — Song Yuhua — who objects. Lu Ze is too filial, too respectful — he dares not oppose her. And Jiang Yuan… she has spirit. She thought of it — marry you, his father — just to provoke him! A bold move! Though… to be fair. Standing, looks, bearing… compared to you, Lu Ze falls short. She has excellent taste! Were she a man, she would strike fear into every enemy’s heart!”
Lu Qinian cast him a cold glance. “You are enjoying this entirely too much.”
Xu Qianjin did not deny it. He clapped him on the shoulder. “I worry only about the scandal. Father and son torn apart over one woman… whispers about a father-in-law and his daughter-in-law… rumours that would feed every gossip’s hunger…”
Lu Qinian’s expression remained unreadable. He gave a short, sharp huff of amusement, and tapped his cigarette against the ashtray’s rim. “Have you ever seen a father-in-law and his daughter-in-law sharing the same marriage certificate?”
Jiang Yuan took the money, found Wang Yajuan, and together they visited a distant cousin employed at the dyeing factory — purchasing remnants and scrap cloth at steep discount. They carried everything back to Wang Yajuan’s home. Larger pieces were cut into silk scarves; smaller scraps became hair ornaments and patchwork pouches. Working together through the night, they produced two large bundles of finished goods.
Wang Yajuan suggested selling outside the cinema — young couples on dates, she reasoned, and men would not refuse when pressed gently by the girls they courted. Jiang Yuan disagreed — the railway station was the better place.
Educated youth were returning en masse from the countryside, pouring into the capital by the trainload. Away for years, they would suddenly feel shabby and out of fashion — and could hardly buy whole wardrobes on arrival. But a scarf, a hair flower… such small adornments could instantly transform an outfit and make one look polished and fashionable. And with Jiang Yuan — who could model how even the plainest dress became elegant with but a scarf and a flower — customers would flock.
They decided to try both. First — the station. Within minutes they were surrounded. Every last piece sold in under two hours.
“Jiang Yuan — you are extraordinary!” Wang Yajuan counted their earnings, wide-eyed. “Those youth are so careful with money — they hesitate even over a seven-cent tea egg! I expected them to hold back… yet they paid freely!”
After deducting costs, they had earned one hundred and twenty yuan — a fortune, when an ordinary worker earned barely twenty in a month.
Jiang Yuan explained: “Every young woman wishes to be beautiful. A tea egg vanishes in minutes. But a scarf and a flower? They turn a country girl into an elegant city beauty. And these youth… they will soon seek husbands. To appear well-dressed and pleasing improves their chances of a good match. Is that not worth far less than buying a whole new outfit?”
Wang Yajuan’s eyes shone. She raised a thumb in genuine admiration. “Brilliant! Simply brilliant!”
I learned this from a ghost, Jiang Yuan thought silently. From the one who died in that cemetery and told me everything. Aloud she said: “Let us keep the money together. Tomorrow we buy more cloth, make more goods — before competitors catch on and prices fall.”
“Yes! Whatever you say!” Wang Yajuan agreed, looking at her with utter devotion.
Jiang Yuan had prepared multiple strategies before borrowing. The ghost had taught her: not every trade turns profit. Some flourish while others fail. One must test — again and again — until one finds what works. Had scarves and ornaments failed, she had planned to buy cloth and sew dresses — which required greater capital, hence the two hundred yuan borrowed from Lu Qinian. But this… this had succeeded beautifully.
Elated, they dined together at the state-run restaurant before parting for home.
Returning home, Jiang Yuan found the household gathered — Lu Ze had returned, and Song Yuhua had ordered a lavish feast prepared. The walk home had been long; she had digested much, and was ready to eat again. As she sat, Lu Ze frowned.
“Where have you been? Returning so late?”
“Breakfast this morning was far too generous,” Jiang Yuan replied smoothly. “I ate so heavily I had to run about the city to walk it off! By the time I did… it was already evening. And your mother — she is simply an angel, the finest woman beneath heaven!”
Pure fabrication from start to finish.
Aunt Liu retorted at once: “When Young Master Lu was not here, you spoke quite differently! Nothing but insults! Called her names to her face! ‘Old woman’ this and worse! Do not speak of ‘finest woman beneath heaven’ — Comrade Song deserves no such praise from you!”
Jiang Yuan nodded earnestly. “Oh! So you are capable of self-awareness! Then I take back what I said.”
Whether feigned or genuine, Song Yuhua gasped, clutching her chest for breath. Even so, she turned to her son: “You hear her? That is how she speaks to me ordinarily! She is no daughter-in-law learning propriety — she is a vengeful spirit sent to torment me!”
Aunt Liu added: “Comrade Song is goodness itself — you know that better than anyone. She bears it all in silence, never speaking ill behind backs. Today she showed remarkable restraint! On other days… she has used words far worse. She threatens blows! A daughter-in-law such as this… Song Yuhua will be hounded to her grave. I ought not speak so — but Division Commander Lu taught us all are equal. And Comrade Song has treated me as family all these years. Your father died so young… she raised you alone, sacrificing everything. Since this girl arrived… she has swallowed every insult, endured every slight. She is proud — she will not complain. But her health… it declines by the day. If this continues… you will not merely have married and forgotten your mother. You will have married and lost her entirely.”