Mother Yang felt unwell—her body ached, but her heart ached even more.
Back when Fourth Child got into junior college, he was the first in the whole neighborhood to do so, and crowds of people came around to flatter her and offer congratulations.
Even her sisters-in-law and the old matriarch had to look at her with new respect.
The matchmakers, catching wind of it, practically wore down the doorstep. She and Old Yang had even discussed it specially—Wenping was promising, and they couldn’t be the kind of parents who held him back. In the future, Fourth Child’s wife had to be someone Fourth Child himself was happy with.
But later, when Director Zheng sent word through an intermediary wanting to form a marriage alliance, she was, shamefully, still tempted.
Before Liberation, the Zheng family had been a prominent clan in the city, and the family had produced capable people ever since. Things looked worse these past few years, but the family had gotten through smoothly, without being targeted or struggled against. Moreover, Zheng’s father still worked at the flour mill, and the eldest uncle worked under Zheng’s father as well.
In the old days, the Yang family and people like them weren’t even in the same world. Mother Yang wouldn’t have dared to dream of such prestigious in-laws.
She thought of Third Child leaving for the countryside in tears that spring, not even sending a letter home since. Eldest Child was still in the Northeast, that frozen wasteland in the depths of winter, without a single hope.
If they formed a marriage tie with the Zheng family, couldn’t they perhaps ask Director Zheng to pull some strings and find a way for those two children to return to the city?
Mother Yang thought it over and over, and when Yang Wenping came home for the holidays, she brought the matter up.
She remembered it clearly—just as she had imagined, the moment she mentioned Third Child and Eldest Child, Wenping agreed immediately, as considerate and sensible as ever, without the slightest hesitation.
Afterward she always felt guilty about it. Not only did she give Fourth Child plenty of pocket money, she also encouraged him to spend more time talking with Zheng Yuyin. If the two of them grew to love each other, she could feel somewhat consoled.
What’s more, at the engagement, she gritted her teeth and had the matchmaker deliver five hundred yuan in betrothal money. A hundred was what most people spent on an entire wedding, yet she gave five hundred for the betrothal alone—she didn’t want the Zheng family to look down on them, to look down on Wenping, and she didn’t want the neighbors saying her son was climbing above his station.
Last year, when Fourth Child graduated and came back, the work assignment notice never came, and she was so anxious she couldn’t sleep. When she heard people say, “What’s the use of Yang the Fourth studying all those years? Not a bit of use—just made himself duller, haha,” she nearly rushed over to tear their mouths apart.
That day, when she heard Yuanyuan’s words, her blood surged at once, the world spun around her, and she nearly collapsed on the spot.
This was the child she was proudest of. The Zheng family—Zheng Yuyin—how could they? How dare they??
“Fourth Child is a good boy. It’s me, his mother, who has failed him.” Mother Yang couldn’t stop crying. “When the youngest left back then, I was too caught up in my own grief. Whenever Yuanyuan cried and fussed, it was Fourth Child who comforted her. He was only nine, and he already knew how to care for me—he’d get up before dawn to queue for eggs and boil them with brown sugar water for me to drink.”
“He held that enamel bowl in his two little hands and brought it to my bedside for me to drink. I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”
Mother Yang covered her face, weeping until it was flushed red, tears seeping through the gaps between her fingers.
Father Yang’s eyes were also rimmed with red as he held Mother Yang and stroked her back to calm her. “Fourth Child won’t blame you. This is already for the best. The boy isn’t married yet—he’ll meet someone even better in the future.” Father Yang’s voice was hoarse too.
Yang Yuan tiptoed away from the east room’s door. Beyond right and wrong, which things could truly be sorted out—let alone feelings. Anger could be vented, the engagement could be broken, but the affection that had been given could never be taken back, and the pain it had caused could never be erased.
He glanced at Yang Wenping’s room. It was dark, and Fourth Brother hadn’t turned on the light—maybe he was asleep. He wasn’t much of a talker, a bit slow even, but Zheng Yuyin was the first girl he’d ever taken seriously—seriously as a future wife, a girl he’d once imagined spending a lifetime with.
Yang Yuan let out a long breath, hoping the snow would stop by tomorrow, hoping a good night’s sleep would make things better.
When she woke the next morning, the sky really had cleared. Sunlight fell on the white snow, dazzlingly bright.
Living the cozy homebody life, Yang Yuan hugged a blanket, curled up on the sofa, roasted sweet potatoes by the stove, and read picture books.
At noon, Yang Wenping made a special trip back to cook for her, and Yang Yuan’s eyes curved into happy little crescents.
Zheng Yuyin really had no luck at all. Just look how good her Fourth Brother was—presentable in the living room, capable in the kitchen, able to write essays with one hand and flip a wok with the other, without a trace of male chauvinism. He’d tidy up the room unprompted and do the laundry on his own initiative.
Forget this era—even in the 21st century, you couldn’t find such a peerlessly good man even if you searched with a lantern.
Yang Yuan gazed at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle. Her standards weren’t high—Heaven, just send her a partner like her Fourth Brother, that’s all.
Just as Yang Yuan woke from a nap, her back aching from lying down, a commotion arose outside. She bundled into her padded coat and trotted out to watch the fun. Wow, another drama from the south courtyard.
It was Officer Hong from the Educated Youth Office. Yang Yuan recognized him—he was the one who kept coming to the house urging her to go down to the countryside.
Officer Hong looked furious. “Comrade, watch your words. We are carrying this out according to policy and regulations. Comrade Ma Yingying meets the requirements for going down to the countryside—it’s a contribution to rural construction. You keep talking about favors and taking money—I could report you.”
“Report me? You report me, and I’ll report you right back! My Yingying is only twelve. The child isn’t getting enough nutrition—she can’t even grow properly. Sending her down to the countryside is pushing her to her death! I’d like to know who signed my family up for this—which blind fool can’t stand to see us do well.” Stepmother Song spat her words all over Officer Hong’s face.
It turned out that someone had also signed Ma Yingying up to go down to the countryside. Officer Hong had come today to deliver Song Can’s ticket, and had casually mentioned that Ma Yingying should prepare herself and wait for notice.
This poked Stepmother’s hornet’s nest, and neighbors clucked and chattered as they all came out to watch.
Officer Hong, a grown man, couldn’t very well argue with a woman. His face turned red. “Going down to the countryside is a response to the Chairman’s call, supporting rural construction. Ma Yingying will prepare herself. Otherwise, if her thinking is not proactive and she sabotages the socialist revolution, she can go off for study and reform.”
Officer Hong turned to leave, but at the word “reform,” Stepmother Song’s face went white. Finally realizing what a huge mistake she’d made, she hurriedly grabbed Officer Hong and clung to his leg, explaining frantically.
“Comrade, leader, I misspoke, I’m not right in the head—everything I said just now was nonsense. Ma Yingying is a good child. Our family are poor peasants going back generations—all good people, comrade. Song Can—Song Can is going down to the countryside voluntarily! Song Can is my daughter. Ma Yingying will go too, down to the countryside with her big sister to help with construction. Comrade, Ma Yingying signed up voluntarily, supporting rural construction, supporting socialism…”
Stepmother Song wailed and cried, snot and tears streaming, and after Officer Hong said a few more words, he pried his leg free and hurried off. She sat down in the street, hands trembling, telling everyone around that it was voluntary, all voluntary—going down to the countryside, building the nation.
Yang Yuan guessed it was Song Can’s doing. After all, it made too much sense. If it were her, she’d have been even harsher—send Ma Yingying to the Northeast, and the stepmother to the Northwest. Building the great Northwest, after all—don’t women hold up half the sky?
But Yang Yuan had guessed wrong—this had nothing to do with Song Can. She was puzzled too, wondering who had done it so neatly.
“You’re the one who signed me up, aren’t you? It was you! You don’t want me taking your job. Yesterday when Mom told us to go handle the paperwork, you didn’t want to, so you went and signed me up, didn’t you? I’ll beat you to death!” Ma Yingying, crying as she spoke, lunged over and grabbed Song Can’s hair.