Lin Ruxia was mainly in charge of cooking, while the firewood and tending the stove were handled by Song Dabao and Song Erbao. She couldn’t help but feel that children in the countryside were really capable—truly, poverty forces kids to grow up early. Although she wasn’t familiar with using a rural stove, she could still cook well. When she studied abroad, she had even spent a few months learning from top chefs, and whenever she had time, she would make something delicious.
After finishing, Lin Ruxia asked Song Dabao and the others to carry the dishes to the main hall and set them on the dining table. She then told Song Liubao to call Song’s parents over for dinner. After all, the meals yesterday and at noon had been cooked by Song’s mother, so this time they had to be invited.
“Third son’s wife, why are you spending money so recklessly? The days ahead will be hard!” Song’s mother clutched her chest in distress when she saw the table full of dishes, as if it were New Year’s.
“That’s enough, old woman. Stop lecturing her. The families have already split,” Song’s father said. “Third son’s wife, you’ll have to rely on yourself from now on. Be mindful of your spending—you still want to buy land, don’t you? You should save where you can. Alright, let’s eat.”
Just as he finished speaking, Song Wan’er’s voice came from outside: “Grandpa, Grandma, Third Aunt!”
“Oh, Wan’er, what’s the matter?” Song’s mother asked.
“I… I…” Song Wan’er clutched the corner of her shirt pitifully. “My mother didn’t give me any food today. Can I eat here, Third Aunt?”
Song Dabao and the others immediately became nervous. In the past, when Song Wan’er came asking for food, their mother would usually give her some. But today there was meat—one more person meant one less share.
“Wan’er, I’m sorry. I didn’t prepare a portion for you today. If I give you some, my children won’t have enough,” Lin Ruxia said calmly. She felt that Song Wan’er was deliberately acting pitiful. Although the eldest sister-in-law was unpleasant, she treated her own children well and wouldn’t really starve her daughter. “How about this—I have a piece of candy. Go back and talk to your mother properly.” She took out a milk candy she had forgotten to give the children that morning.
“I… sob…” Song Wan’er felt wronged at being dismissed with just a candy and began to cry. Lin Ruxia ignored her and called the children to eat. She already had too many children to manage—she couldn’t take care of others as well.
With so many kids, Lin Ruxia simply served each of them a bowl of rice and told them to help themselves if they wanted more. She didn’t portion out the dishes. Although Song Dabao and the others had eaten quite a bit of meat at lunch, who would ever complain about having more meat in this era? Song Sibao and the younger ones rarely had meat, usually only a bite or two during holidays. Even dried meat dropped on the ground would be fought over. So this meal turned into a battle once again. Watching them, Lin Ruxia didn’t even dare pick up her chopsticks. In the end, Song Sanbao placed two pieces of meat into her bowl.
After dinner, Lin Ruxia felt she needed to move out as soon as possible. Otherwise, even eating would be inconvenient. She planned to go check out the farmstead the next day—if it was suitable, she would buy it.
After the meal, she sorted through the large sack she had brought back and prepared washing supplies for all twelve children—things like toothpaste, toothbrushes, and towels. She gathered them in the room, handed out the items, and explained how to use them, making it clear they had to brush their teeth and wash their faces every day. If they couldn’t do that, she wouldn’t bother with them anymore.
“Mom, do you want me to boil your medicine?” Song Dabao asked worriedly when he noticed she hadn’t prepared it.
“No need. I’m too tired today—I don’t feel like taking it yet.” Those herbal medicines were probably extremely bitter, and she wasn’t in the mood.
“Alright… but you must boil it tomorrow!” Dabao insisted.
That night, Lin Ruxia went to the marketplace and found clothes suitable for children aged two to eight. The kids were too thin—though nine years old, they were as small as six- or seven-year-olds. She planned to let them try the clothes the next day, but since they had school, she had to carry a candle and go to their room that night.
Originally, the five older boys slept in the west wing, but after the family split, Sanya insisted that girls shouldn’t sleep with boys. With Song Wan’er also there, the space was too cramped, and boys and girls should be separated anyway. In the village, children around seven or eight already formed their own circles, and boys didn’t like playing with girls. So the older boys had moved to sleep with Liubao and the others.
When Lin Ruxia entered with a pile of clothes, she found the bed packed with children. The quilt was thin and worn, and they huddled together in the cold early-spring night. Her heart ached at the sight.
The children weren’t asleep—just trying to stay warm together. When a light suddenly shone in their eyes, they opened them.
“Mom? Why are you here?” Song Erbao asked in surprise. Their mother had never entered their room before. Had she visited the younger ones before? A hint of jealousy stirred in him.
“I came to check on you,” Lin Ruxia said gently. “And to give you some new clothes to try on. If anything doesn’t fit, I’ll adjust them.”
“New clothes? For us?” Song Sanbao jumped off the bed and ran over excitedly.
“Yes. Wake the others and try them on.”
The clothes she picked were mostly gray and black—durable and common in the countryside. The children eagerly put them on. Though slightly big, the length was fine.
“Wear these tomorrow. Throw away the old ones—I’ll adjust these now.” With her experience in clothing design, Lin Ruxia finished altering all twelve outfits in less than half an hour.
Seeing the transformed children filled her with satisfaction—though she had to ignore how they kept touching and admiring the clothes, still wearing their worn-out shoes. She hadn’t thought about shoes before, so she decided to measure their feet and find suitable ones later.
Looking at them closely, she realized they all had good features. The two pairs of twins resembled her, especially Liubao and Qibao—their eyes and noses were identical, almost feminine in appearance. As for Shiyibao and Shi’erbao, their eyes and mouths were similar, though their face shapes were a mix of hers and something else.
Dabao and Erbao had more defined features, likely inherited from their father. When she tried recalling her husband, his face was blurry in her memory—only his strong physique and well-built body stood out… and then she quickly stopped herself, realizing those were the only memories left.
“Sit on the bed and stretch out your feet—I’ll measure them.” She couldn’t stand the mismatch between new clothes and old shoes.
Fortunately, the children washed their feet before bed, so they weren’t dirty—though covered in calluses and frostbite scars. She applied some ointment, hoping it would help.
“Oh right, what about breakfast and lunch tomorrow? Do you eat at school?” she asked.
“We handle breakfast ourselves. For lunch, we bring grain once a month and the cafeteria cooks it. We don’t usually eat breakfast,” Song Dabao replied. School started at 7:30, so they had to leave at 6.
“That won’t do! I’ll make breakfast for you tomorrow,” she insisted.
“Mom, no need. You should rest—you’re pregnant with a little sister,” Dabao said hopefully.
“It’s fine. I can sleep after breakfast,” she said.
“Thank you, Mom!” Song Sanbao replied quickly. He was always hungry at school.
“Just study hard,” she smiled. “Now sleep—and remember to throw away the old clothes tomorrow.”
The children were overjoyed. To them, life now felt like a dream—white rice, meat, and new clothes.
After returning to her room, Lin Ruxia found suitable shoes, set an alarm, and went to sleep.
The next morning, she woke early to make steamed buns—stuffed buns would smell too strong. She also boiled twenty eggs and cooked a pot of sweet potatoes.
After breakfast, she gave Dabao and the others their new shoes and packed each of them two eggs, two sweet potatoes, and a bun in lunchboxes she had bought earlier. She didn’t trust the school food. She also gave each of them ten milk candies to share with friends—after all, candy was the easiest way for children to make friends.
Song Sanbao was outgoing, but Dabao and Erbao likely had few friends. School was like a small society—appearance and behavior mattered. With their old clothes and quiet nature, it was hard for them to fit in.
After the three boys left for school, the rest of the household gradually woke up. Work in the production team started at 6:30. Under the work-point system, a full day earned ten points, while women usually earned seven or eight.
As a soldier’s wife, Lin Ruxia didn’t have to work in the fields—she only needed to pay money to make up the points during grain distribution. And she had no intention of working the fields anyway—she might not even earn two or three points a day.
Even five- or six-year-old children could earn points by cutting pig grass. So Sibao to Babao went to the hills to gather it, with Jiubao to Shi’erbao following along. Children didn’t need to register in the morning—just bring the grass back, and the scorekeeper would record their work.