Father Yang and Mother Yang searched for a long time but still couldn’t gather much cotton. It had just turned the first month after the New Year, and the weather was still bitterly cold. Finding cotton at this time of year was nearly impossible—even going to the black market to buy at high prices wouldn’t get you much.
Later, Mother Yang bought a cotton quilt from a coworker at the nursery school. Sister Ma, who cooked alongside her at the nursery, had married off her daughter last year, and the daughter still had a thick dowry quilt that hadn’t been used. Mother Yang paid a high price for it and gave it to Song Can.
“To be honest, Sister Ma’s craftsmanship is really fine. Look how tight and even these stitches are, and the printed fabric is lovely too. I can hardly bear to give it away—it would be nice to keep it for you or send it to your third sister.”
Mother Yang told Yang Yuan to air out the quilt the next day, running her hands over it with a reluctant look on her face. After all, it had cost her a whole month’s allowance.
Yang Yuan couldn’t tell one stitch from another, and she couldn’t appreciate the patterns of this era either. But the quilt really was quite thick—if only she could use it on her bed. The bed she slept in always felt hard. Having grown used to modern mattresses, sleeping here gave her backaches.
Today was a rest day. Father Yang had gotten up early to queue for shopping. In this era of scarce supplies, goods were all rationed and limited in quantity—if you went too late, you wouldn’t even see the scraps.
Father Yang had already made one trip back, buying meat and vegetables and bringing home big steamed buns for breakfast. Once he’d warmed up a bit, he headed out again to try to buy coal.
By the time Yang Yuan sluggishly got out of bed, she was the only one left at home. The buns were wrapped in cloth and still warm. She poured hot water to mix a bowl of malted milk and ate them with the buns.
Today she planned to do a thorough cleaning. She was about to become a busy working woman, and she couldn’t leave household chores piling up as a burden. She scrubbed all the common areas of the house, then gave the pots, pans, and dishes in the kitchen a meticulous cleaning and disinfecting.
She had always been like this—she didn’t much like tidying up on ordinary days, but every so often her obsessive-compulsive tendencies would kick in, and she’d have to organize the whole house immaculately. Back home, if she left even a single strand of hair on the floor after mopping, it would make her whole body uncomfortable, yet on regular days she could ignore the hair scattered all over the floor.
Yang Yuan found herself rather amazing.
She was unusually domestic today—chopping vegetables and marinating meat. The shredded potatoes were neatly soaking in water, and she steamed mixed-grain buns. Water was boiling in the pot below, ready for egg soup—one beaten egg with some leafy greens would be enough soup for the whole family.
But when Mother Yang was due back to stir-fry and make soup, she never showed. Snowflakes began drifting outside, and Yang Yuan couldn’t sit still any longer. She put on another padded jacket, closed the door, and headed toward Zheng Yuyin’s home.
That’s right—Mother Yang had taken Yang Wenping to the Zheng family.
A few days earlier, the Zheng family had sent a matchmaker to discuss the wedding. That was just when Yang Yuan had revealed that Zheng Yuyin was pregnant. When Mother Yang heard the news, her liver ached with rage—the Zheng family was simply treating them as fools.
She was too angry to swallow it. But she showed nothing on the surface, even happily telling the matchmaker that they should prepare the invitations and set up the bridal chamber, looking as if she had finally been waiting for this day.
In truth, Mother Yang was also testing the waters. Yang Yuan had said Zheng Yuyin was having an affair, and even though she was her own daughter, once Mother Yang calmed down, she hadn’t fully believed it. She harbored a sliver of hope—what if Yuanyuan had mistaken the person or misheard the voice?
What Mother Yang told the matchmaker was also the truth. Marrying into the Zheng family was climbing up the social ladder. The Zheng Yuyin’s family background, character, and looks—the Yang family was a hundred percent satisfied. If it weren’t for the fact that their fourth son’s job still hadn’t been assigned since graduation, making them too embarrassed to bring it up with the Zheng family, Mother Yang would have long wanted to get her son married.
If the Zheng family had agreed to the marriage readily, without stirring up trouble, then at this critical juncture, Mother Yang would have been willing to go around to every relative’s house again, even kneeling to borrow money.
But Mother Yang’s heart had little by little gone completely cold. So many days had passed, and the Zheng family still hadn’t sent word. Mother Yang took a deep breath. If the Zheng family won’t act in good faith, then don’t blame the Yang family for acting in kind.
Yang Yuan wrapped her clothes tightly around herself. Once snow started falling, who knew when it would stop—it would only get heavier, most likely. She jogged along, worried about how Mother Yang was doing and miserable about the freezing weather.
Everyone in the Zheng family’s neighborhood had family money—their houses were visibly better than theirs. But no matter where you went, Chinese people’s universal love of watching a spectacle was exactly the same.
Scattered groups of onlookers had gathered near the Zheng house, craning their necks to peer in, whispering among themselves in twos and threes.
“What could they possibly be saying that we can’t hear, that they have to shut the door?”
“With a fight that loud, there’s no way this marriage is still happening. I don’t believe it.”
“Hey, what did they even start fighting about? Could it be that Yinyin girl doesn’t want to get married, and it kicked off from there?”
All sorts of things were being said outside. Yang Yuan squeezed into the courtyard and heard Mother Yang’s voice arguing with someone. Her face went cold, and in three quick strides she kicked open the door of the main room. “You’re bullying my mom just because you’ve got more people on your side. Have you no shame?”
The onlookers seized the chance to crane their heads and look inside. My, what a crowd indeed—a sea of heads packed in tight.
Before Mother Yang could even lay eyes on her daughter, the men sitting in the room all stood up, and one woman immediately started shouting, “Where did this little hussy come from, kicking the door the moment she walks in? Whose family are you from? Who are your parents? What kind of upbringing is that?”
“Upbringing? When it comes to upbringing, who can compare to you Zhengs? This engagement you call off when you please and confirm when you please—does the whole world revolve around your family? Where’s Zheng Yuyin? Come out and let me see—how many heads do you have to grow to have a face that thick? A five-hundred bride price would be enough to marry ten wives, and this is what we get in return? Marrying a living ancestor?”
Yang Yuan rolled up her sleeves, spittle flying. “And you talk to me about upbringing? Do you even have any? A whole roomful of men and women, a dozen of you, ganging up on my mother alone. What, just because you’re a factory director you can bully people and abuse your power? Do you dare open the door and let the neighbors judge for themselves who’s really in the wrong? Let them see what you really look like?”
Mother Yang was stunned by her daughter’s torrent of words, then quickly patted Yang Yuan on the back to calm her down. She’d never noticed it before, but this child could be this fiercely protective of her brother—for her brother’s sake, she’d been carrying all this anger inside.
“You can’t just say whatever you like. What evidence do you have? This is all a misunderstanding—” one of the men began, frowning. Accusing someone of abusing their power was no joking matter these days. But before he could finish, Yang Yuan cut him off.
“A misunderstanding? What misunderstanding? Did we not pay the five hundred bride price? Did Yang Wenping not come calling on his father-in-law and his fiancée at every holiday? Or did she sneak around with another man behind his back? Two years of engagement, every big holiday and small, even when Yang Wenping couldn’t be there himself, the gifts never stopped coming, big bundles and small. Where did we ever fall short? Where did my brother ever fall short? Right before the wedding, you pull this on our family and humiliate us like this—Zheng Yuyin, is this how you conduct yourself?”
Yang Yuan pointed her finger at the girl standing in the corner. Zheng Yuyin hung her head, weeping torrents of tears, overwhelmed with shame.
Seeing that Yang Yuan was about to speak again, Mother Yang stopped her with a hand. “Sister Zhang is our witness. In-laws, I brought Wenping here today with the sincere intention of discussing the marriage. All Yu Yin says is that he won’t agree—what is that supposed to mean? Just like our Yuanyuan said, we feel we’ve done nothing wrong to you, nothing that wronged Yu Yin. We were about to discuss the wedding, and now you won’t agree. If it were you getting married, you’d be the ones refusing too. What exactly do we have to do for Yu Yin to be satisfied?”