Sure enough, Yaoyao was completely distracted by the chocolate cake, no longer worrying about why her meal didn’t taste as good as before.
After finishing lunch, Wen Yining took advantage of the warm afternoon sunlight to scoop hot water from the pot and give Yaoyao a bath and wash her hair.
The family’s soap and toiletries were locked away by Zhang Xue, unavailable to them—but Wen Yining didn’t mind using someone else’s stuff anyway. She pulled fresh shampoo and body wash from her space and gave Yaoyao a proper, fragrant bath.
After the bath, Wen Yining wrapped Yaoyao in a clean, soft, large towel and placed her on a stool. Her previously wild, straw-like hair now lay smooth against her face.
When Wen Yining finished drying her hair, she looked down and met Yaoyao’s big, bright eyes.
Before the bath, Yaoyao’s skin was pale and thin, like a little stick of firewood.
After the bath, she was a soft, fragrant little stick of firewood.
“Our Yaoyao will grow up to be a beautiful girl,” Wen Yining said, putting the towel aside and picking up a comb to brush her hair.
“Let’s see if our Yaoyao has any lice,” Wen Yining said, combing her hair twice carefully. She didn’t find a single louse or egg.
She glanced at the patched-up clothes Yaoyao had taken off and thought to herself: the girl looks dirty on the outside, but she’s actually quite clean.
Wen Yining pulled two clean outfits from the wardrobe for Yaoyao and then picked up scissors to trim her hair.
“We’re going to cut the yellow, damaged hair. The new hair will grow back black and smooth.”
Yaoyao reached up and touched Wen Yining’s hair. “Like yours, Mom?”
Wen Yining nodded. “Yaoyao’s new hair will be even better than Mom’s.”
“I want my hair to be as pretty as Mom’s,” Yaoyao said obediently, sitting still as Wen Yining worked.
This was Wen Yining’s first time cutting someone’s hair. Before coming here, she had wielded a scalpel many times, cutting open many bellies. She had always cut neatly—but cutting hair? It should be much simpler.
Wen Yining snipped a few times, then looked at Yaoyao’s uneven, jagged bangs, and paused in thought.
How could cutting hair be harder than surgery?
Yaoyao closed her eyes, feeling little hairs fall on her eyelids and cheeks, tickling and prickling.
After staring for a while and seeing no further progress from Wen Yining, Yaoyao cautiously asked, “Mom, is it done yet?”
“Not yet!” Wen Yining held Yaoyao’s small head still. “Just one last cut.”
She then grabbed a water scoop, placed it on Yaoyao’s head, and cut along its edge, hoping it would make the hair even.
But when she removed the scoop and looked at her “masterpiece,” Wen Yining gave up.
Professional tasks were still for professionals.
“Yaoyao…” Wen Yining brushed away the tiny hairs sticking to her face with a soft brush, apologetic. “Mom seems to have messed up… I ruined your haircut…”
“It’s okay,” Yaoyao said, holding Wen Yining’s hand with her small, soft, fragrant hand. “No matter how you cut it, I like it.”
Wen Yining sighed. “You should look in the mirror first before saying that!”
She handed a small mirror to Yaoyao.
Yaoyao looked at herself, touching her cheeks. It was her, yet not quite her.
After Mom bathed her, her previously yellow, thin cheeks now had a healthy flush from the steam. Her face was clean, smelled nice, and apart from uneven hair, nothing else had changed.
“I like it,” Yaoyao said, smiling sweetly at Wen Yining. “I like the haircut Mom gave me.”
Seeing the sincerity in the little girl’s eyes, Wen Yining felt her heart melt. “Then Mom will practice on weeds until next time I can give Yaoyao a cute bob haircut.”
Yaoyao reached out her little finger to link with Wen Yining’s. “Mom, promise.”
Wen Yining linked her finger with Yaoyao’s. “Mom promises. I’ll practice, and no matter where I go, I’ll always bring Yaoyao with me.”
Yaoyao blinked, puzzled. “Mom, are you going to leave?”
Wen Yining crouched to meet her gaze. “Yes, I’m leaving here. Will you come with me?”
Yaoyao paused and asked in her soft voice, “Will we come back someday?”
Wen Yining shook her head, careful not to let anyone overhear.
Yaoyao understood. She nodded and covered her mouth, silently promising to keep the secret.
Wen Yining hugged Yaoyao, sealing another secret between them.
In the evening, when Cheng Daqing and Zhang Xue returned from work, Wen Yining had already tidied the yard and led Yaoyao inside.
Seeing Wen Yining hadn’t made dinner again, Zhang Xue shot a sneering remark toward her room. “A hen that can’t lay eggs, acting like a madam! You lazy brat! Sitting at home doing nothing, just eating, and now not even making dinner? And expecting me, your mother-in-law, to serve you? What kind of upbringing did your dead mother give you?”
Wen Yining didn’t even glance at Zhang Xue.
Frustrated, Zhang Xue saw Yaoyao in her semi-new clothes squatting in the yard and kicked her.
“Your mother didn’t teach you manners? No one taught you?” Zhang Xue’s kick missed; Yaoyao dodged, and Zhang Xue almost fell.
Seeing Yaoyao’s small face resembling Wen Yining’s only made her angrier.
“You useless brat! Can’t cook or even boil water? Just like your unlucky mother!”
She reached for Yaoyao’s arm. “I’ll teach you. You dare dodge me? Then you won’t eat tonight!”
Wen Yining had intended to ignore Zhang Xue, but seeing her attack the child was unacceptable.
She grabbed a firewood knife and stepped out, pointing its tip at Zhang Xue’s nose. “Try touching Yaoyao, and you’ll see how sharp this knife is.”
Zhang Xue screamed in fright, let go of Yaoyao’s hand, and stepped back.
“If you dare touch her, I’ll show you exactly how sharp this knife is,” Wen Yining sliced the air, the wind forcing Zhang Xue back two more steps.
It was clear Zhang Xue wouldn’t dare make a move. Wen Yining wasn’t joking—if she did, Wen Yining really would cut her.
Swallowing nervously, Zhang Xue stammered, “I…I’ll…go cook!”
She ran into the kitchen, powerless against the “madwoman” Wen Yining.
Since Wen Yining moved in, Zhang Xue hadn’t cooked in a long time. No one expected this diligent, obedient woman to suddenly go crazy and refuse to do anything.
Cheng Daqing took a few bites and said, “A little salty, huh? Did you kill the salt vendor?”
Zhang Xue, already furious, snapped at him, “Eat it if you want! Don’t eat? Fine!”
Cheng Daqing glared, scooped some vegetables into his bowl, and muttered, “Why wouldn’t I eat? I’m not poor!”
Zhang Xue yelled, “Then shut your mouth! If you complain again, you’ll cook tomorrow!”
That night, Zhang Xue tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, her mind full of the recent bizarre behavior of Wen Yining.
She was more certain than ever: Wen Yining had gone mad. Otherwise, how could someone so timid suddenly act like a completely different person, ready to wield a knife at any provocation?
No wonder her son returned to the army before the holiday ended—he probably couldn’t handle this “madwoman.”
With her son gone, she didn’t know when she’d see her grandson again. Zhang Xue was already planning: since Wen Yining couldn’t bear a son, she might as well divorce her.
…
Late at night, Wen Yining, who had been sleeping, suddenly opened her eyes.
She looked at Yaoyao sleeping soundly on the bed, tucked in, and gently covered her before quietly slipping out of the room.
Wen Yining paused outside Cheng Daqing and Zhang Xue’s bedroom, listening to their snores, then turned to another direction.
She planned to empty the Cheng household while everyone slept.
She started in the living room—tables, chairs, thermos flasks, glasses, tea trays—everything useful or not went into her space.
In the blink of an eye, the living room was emptied, leaving only bare support walls.
Then she moved to the kitchen. When she emerged, the stove area had a huge empty hole.
Finally, she entered Cheng Daqing and Zhang Xue’s bedroom. The two old fools were snoring soundly, unaware.
Wen Yining made no compromises, putting everything into her space—not even leaving a bed plank.
People these days like to hide treasures at home, so Wen Yining carefully checked for secret stashes: corners, floorboards—everywhere she could think of.
Sure enough, behind a broken brick in the corner, she found a wax paper bundle filled with neatly organized cash: food coupons, ration tickets, meat tickets, a few industrial coupons, and cash sorted by denomination.
She roughly calculated: it amounted to several hundred yuan.
Looking at the two sleeping fools, she had no idea whose secret stash it was.
Who cared? It was hers now!
Wen Yining gave the two a wicked smile and, before leaving, didn’t forget to pick the lock on the front door, then returned to her room under the moonlight.