Meng Guyu took the high-quality pork belly she had bought, sliced it, and seared it in a wok until the oil rendered out.
She added seasonings and stir-fried them until fragrant, then poured in water, brought it to a boil over high heat, and let it simmer on low.
After moving the wok to the honeycomb charcoal stove, she started stir-frying shredded potatoes over the main stove.
Within half an hour, the entire courtyard was filled with the aroma of food. Shen Ye, who had been reading picture books in his room, couldn’t resist any longer.
He poked his head into the kitchen and asked, “Hey, is it ready yet?”
He was always a bit huffy and grumpy with Meng Guyu, but she didn’t take it to heart. As the saying goes, “Even a dog hates a seven- or eight-year-old.”
It was normal for a child to be a bit awkward and moody; time would reveal his true character.
She moved the wok back to the main stove. “I’m just reducing the sauce over high heat. It’ll be ready in a moment.”
A few minutes later, she set a plate of glistening braised pork, a plate of crisp shredded potatoes, and a few multigrain flatbreads on the table.
Shen Ye had already washed his hands and was waiting. His eyes lit up at the sight of the food.
With Shen Fengmian away, he couldn’t wait to grab a piece of braised pork and stuff it into his mouth. After just one bite, the tender, savory, and fragrant flavor spread through his mouth.
He couldn’t help but squint his eyes in delight and let out a satisfied sigh. “So delicious~”
Meng Guyu smiled as she watched him eat. To be honest, her cooking was top-notch.
In her last few years of her past life, her sister-in-law had kept urging her to open a small restaurant, saying her skills would guarantee a steady stream of customers. But she hadn’t had the money, and she’d been too afraid to try.
Shen Ye’s sheer delight was the highest praise she could receive—a validation of her work. “If it’s so good, eat up. I’ll go tidy up the kitchen.”
She turned and left the room, determined to give the kitchen a thorough cleaning.
Meng Guyu had already decided: if she was going to be a good nanny, she had to be diligent. After all, someone paying you expects you to work hard. She’d start by tackling the visible chores to make a good impression on Comrade Shen, then carve out some time to study slowly.
The Shen family kitchen wasn’t actually that dirty. There was just some dust piled in the corners. She moved the pots, pans, and dishes aside, then swept and scrubbed the floor until it was completely clean.
By the time she was done, over half an hour had passed. Feeling a bit hungry herself, she washed her hands and went back inside.
When she entered the room, she found Shen Ye sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep and snoring softly. His mouth was still greasy from the meal, and his chubby, baby-fat cheeks radiated innocent joy.
Meng Guyu couldn’t take her eyes off him. In her past life, she had dreamed of having a child of her own—a little one snuggled in her arms, calling her “Mama.”
She had cried countless tears in secret over her infertility. Though she had no plans to marry in this life, she still harbored a lingering longing for a child.
Too bad I still can’t have one, she sighed inwardly.
She picked up the blanket from the sofa and covered Shen Ye with it before moving to clear the dining table.
As she looked at the table, she paused, stunned, then couldn’t help but chuckle.
She had made a generous portion of braised pork, hoping there would be leftovers for the afternoon. But Shen Ye, the little glutton, had polished off the entire plate.
No wonder his belly was so round and full as he slept.
Meng Guyu ate two pieces of mixed-grain pancake with the remaining shredded potatoes. She couldn’t help but feel grateful to have a job.
Even though she was doing the same chores she’d always done at home—washing clothes, cooking, and caring for a child—now she was being paid for it.
She didn’t have to listen to her sister-in-law’s nagging at her parents’ house, nor did she have to endure the passive-aggressive comments at her in-laws’. The feeling was indescribably good.
After quickly finishing her lunch, Meng Guyu felt energized. She washed the dishes and started scrubbing the kitchen again.
After another hour or so, she had scrubbed the cabinets, cutting board, and table and chairs, and tidied the stove and countertop.
She went inside to check on Shen Ye, but he was still sound asleep on the blanket.
Meng Guyu rested for a moment before taking some paper and a pen from her bag. She had brought several elementary school textbooks to the family compound, along with a few notebooks she’d bought, and had been planning to use one for bookkeeping.
She placed the notebook on the clean square dining table, carefully wrote today’s date, and then listed the items she had bought and their prices.
“Hey, you wrote the character for ‘sprout’ in bean sprout wrong.”
The sudden voice startled Meng Guyu. She clutched her chest, turning to see Shen Ye snickering.
“You scared me,” she said.
Shen Ye folded his arms over his chest. “What are you afraid of? You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re a grown-up, so why don’t you know how to write?”
As her heart stopped pounding, Meng Guyu felt embarrassed. Her school had descended into chaos starting in the third grade; the teachers stopped teaching, and the students stopped learning.
With no one at home to teach her, she had only half-learned to write.
She took an eraser from her bag. “There are some characters I’m not sure about. How do you write ‘sprout’? Aren’t you only in the first grade?”
Shen Ye looked at her as if it were no big deal. “So what if I’m in the first grade? I know plenty of characters. You wrote the character for ‘tooth.’ The ‘sprout’ in ‘bean sprout’ has the grass radical on top. Think about it—a bean sprout is a plant, and plants are like grass.”
After that, he asked Meng Guyu, “You didn’t even go to the first grade, did you? How can you be so dumb?”
Meng Guyu cleared her throat awkwardly.
She always told people she’d graduated from elementary school, but now she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She could only awkwardly erase the word and rewrite it.
“I just forgot,” she murmured.
To keep Shen Ye from saying anything else, she quickly spoke up, “But Xiaoye, you’re amazing! You can recognize and write so many characters, and you’re only in the first grade.”
Hearing this, Shen Ye lifted his chin proudly. “Of course I am! I know a ton of characters. I can even read picture books. When I run into a word I don’t know, I look it up in the dictionary myself.”
Meng Guyu was truly impressed. She struggled to read books, often having to guess the meaning of words, which made her reluctant to read at all.
Her voice filled with even more admiration. “Xiaoye, you’re incredible.”
If Shen Ye had a tail, he’d be wagging it all the way to the sky right now.
After a full meal and a nap, he would normally be out in the courtyard calling his friends to play. But today, none of that seemed important.
Looking at the clean, square table, he took his cloth schoolbag off the wall. “I have to do my homework now.”
Meng Guyu was even more astonished. “Xiaoye, you’re taking the initiative to do your homework?”
When she was in school, she’d play wildly after class and never think about her homework. She always waited until bedtime to start, studying by the light of a kerosene lamp and earning a scolding from her parents.
And it wasn’t just her—most of her peers were the same. Even her nephew Yingguo, now in the second grade, had always hated doing homework.
So she watched Shen Ye with a mixture of surprise and admiration.
Look at that, she thought. Comrade Shen’s child is so exceptional. No wonder Comrade Shen became an officer in the army and got a house all his own.
Shen Ye then went on to complete the happiest homework assignment of his first-grade year.
What kind of homework could a first grader possibly have? It was nothing more than writing numbers and tracing a few pages of characters.
But perhaps because she was seeing him through a new lens, Meng Guyu noticed how straight Shen Ye sat, how well he held his pen, and how neat his characters were.
She said her thoughts aloud, which filled Shen Ye with pride. By the time he finished his homework, he still felt like he had more to do.
The little guy felt a surge of annoyance. His teacher was always piling on so much homework that he’d be up doing it half the night. But now, when he actually wanted to do more, she had assigned so little.
He handed his homework book to Meng Guyu. “Can you check it for me?”
Meng Guyu took the book, praising him as she looked through it. “Xiaoye, you’re amazing! You did your homework so seriously. If I’d been like you when I was little, I’d definitely know more words now and write as beautifully as you do.”
Even though it was just a few simple characters, Meng Guyu was already certain that this child would eventually write better than she ever could.
She remembered the chicken scratch she had produced at six or seven years old—it couldn’t even begin to compare to this.
Shen Ye had originally thought that the newcomer’s only good quality was her cooking. Now, however, he decided she had a good eye.
He had always been a child who responded better to kindness than strictness, so he gave a modest nod. “It’s okay. As long as you study hard from now on, you can still catch up to me.”
Meng Guyu nodded, an idea suddenly taking root in her mind. “Then, how about I study with you on Saturdays and Sundays? If I come across characters I don’t know, I can ask you for help. You can teach me how to use a dictionary and be my little teacher.”
Shen Ye had always found homework dreadfully dull, but the title “little teacher” made his heart swell with pride.
He swung his legs beneath the square table, his expression one of feigned reluctance. “You really don’t even know how to use a dictionary? Fine. Miss Meng, I’ll be a good samaritan and help you out.”
Meng Guyu beamed. She gently traced the pencil marks on his homework, her touch full of reverence.
Looking up at Shen Ye, she promised, “I’ll study hard.”
For the rest of the afternoon, in a rare turn of events, Shen Ye didn’t run wild in the family compound. Instead, he stayed inside and pored over his comic books.
Meng Guyu, having just arrived, didn’t rearrange anything in the main room. She simply wiped down the surfaces she could reach. As she cleaned, she listened to Shen Ye’s commentary on the comic book’s plot, his earnest and formal tone adding to the charm of it all.
As she cooked dinner that evening, Meng Guyu couldn’t see her own face, but she knew she was smiling.
She decided to make braised pork again. It didn’t make sense for her son to eat it while his father went without.
Fortunately, half of the pork she’d bought that morning remained. She didn’t hold back, using it all.
After all, Comrade Shen had told her that when it came to cooking, she shouldn’t scrimp—eating well and feeling full was what mattered most.
This freedom made cooking a joy. After all, what cook wouldn’t love to use oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and meat without restriction?
The savory aroma of braised pork once again wafted from the kitchen.
Meng Guyu used the rendered pork fat to sauté soybean sprouts. She also reheated the extra multigrain pancakes from lunch and served them with a pot of freshly cooked millet porridge.
While tidying the kitchen at noon, she had discovered a ceramic jar of pickled vegetables in the corner. There wasn’t much left, so she took out a few pieces to slice, making a mental note to pickle more when she had the time.
Just as she finished, she heard the front door open. Assuming it was Shen Ye returning from playing, she peeked out with a smile, only to meet Shen Fengmian’s cool, clear gaze.