After several months of effort, the issue of Liu Xiaolei’s household registration was finally close to being resolved.
Fang’s father had pulled every connection he could find, filled out stacks of forms, and now all the documents were ready. All that remained was the final step—official approval.
Liu Xiaolei was full of anticipation. Once his registration was in Shanghai, he could attend school legitimately, no longer worrying about his student status.
But just as everything was about to succeed, Fang’s mother unexpectedly grew hesitant and uneasy.
These days, she often appeared lost in thought; sometimes when she looked at Liu Xiaolei, complicated emotions flashed in her eyes.
Lately, neighbors had indeed been asking more frequently about Fang Yuming’s divorce.
Fang Yuming was a university graduate, well-spoken, and worked at a good unit—the Planning Bureau. Though he had a daughter, the child lived with his ex-wife, Su Minzhi. In many people’s eyes, that wasn’t much different from a first marriage.
“Your Yuming’s conditions are so good—finding a nice wife won’t be hard at all.”
Auntie Wang from next door had said just a few days ago, smiling.
These words stirred ripples in Fang’s mother’s heart.
If Liu Xiaolei’s registration was moved to their household, would it affect Yuming’s chances of remarrying?
That night, after the couple returned to their bedroom, Fang’s mother finally spoke up.
“I’ve thought and thought, and I still feel… maybe we should pause Xiaolei’s registration?” she whispered, afraid the boy watching TV in the living room would overhear.
Fang’s father frowned impatiently. “What’s the matter? Didn’t we agree already? The sooner Xiaolei gets registered, the sooner he can go to school. We’re almost done—why are you backing out now?”
Fang’s mother pursed her lips and gave him a sideways glance. “Do you even know what the current policy says?”
Fang’s father blinked. “What policy? What does it have to do with Xiaolei’s registration?”
Fang’s mother sighed, closed the bedroom door tightly, then spoke solemnly:
“Think about it. Under the current family-planning rules, if Yuming marries a girl who hasn’t had children before, they can apply for and receive a birth permit. It’s legal.”
She lowered her voice further:
“But once Xiaolei’s household registration is moved to our family, Yuming will be counted as having two children—Niannian, and Xiaolei. That means, by policy, he won’t be allowed to have more.”
Fang’s father’s expression grew serious.
He hadn’t thought of that.
Seeing this, Fang’s mother continued, her tone anxious:
“Tell me, which girl wants to marry and then not be able to have her own child? If people know Yuming already has two, and marrying him means she can never have her own… who would be willing?”
Her voice trembled with worry.
“Yuming is just a little over thirty—this is the age to build a family. If Xiaolei’s registration delays that, we’ll regret it for the rest of our lives.”
To Fang’s mother, Xiaolei’s registration was important—but her son’s future happiness mattered more.
Fang’s father fell silent, realizing the gravity of the issue.
“But what about Xiaolei?” he finally asked. “He’s been with us for so long. If we suddenly refuse to register him now, isn’t that playing with the boy’s feelings?”
“I know, I know, I’m torn too.” Fang’s mother sighed. “But think—if Yuming can’t find a wife because of this, won’t he blame us in the future? Won’t he regret our decision?”
Fang’s father sank deeper into thought. The worry made sense. In this era, family-planning quotas were sensitive and very real.
“So what do we do now?” Fang’s father asked anxiously. “Everything is already processed. If we pull out now, all that effort goes to waste!”
“I’ve run to the police station so many times, asked so many people for help, and now you’re telling me we can’t complete it?”
He grew more agitated, his voice rising:
“Xiaolei is waiting to go to school! If we delay again, what will happen to him? Look at Niannian—she’s a year younger and already in fourth grade! And Xiaolei is still stuck at home. Isn’t that harming the boy?”
Fang’s mother listened to her husband’s frustration, her heart twisting in conflict.
After a long pause, she tentatively suggested,
“What if… we wait two years? Let Yuming marry and have a child first, then deal with Xiaolei’s registration?”
Fang’s father rejected it immediately.
“That’s going in circles! What if he marries another strong-willed woman like Su Minzhi, who refuses to accept Xiaolei? Do you want Yuming to divorce twice?”
His voice sharpened. “Do you know what a double divorce means for a man in this era? His reputation? His job?”
Fang’s mother realized her suggestion was indeed unrealistic. She fell silent, helpless.
Seeing she no longer argued, Fang’s father’s tone grew firm.
“I think Xiaolei is a smart kid. He learns fast. Look—every time I give him a first-grade textbook, he flips through a few pages and already understands them. He’s sensible, never causes trouble.”
He paused, then added:
“And even if Yuming remarries, who says he’ll definitely give us a grandson? Xiaolei is a boy—he can carry on the Fang family name.”
At that, Fang’s mother rolled her eyes.
“You old man, thinking about grandsons all day! Look at Niannian—so bright! She’ll be successful too!”
Fang’s father waved dismissively.
“I’m talking about continuing the family line. Girls are wonderful, but they marry out. Xiaolei wouldn’t—he’d be our Fang family child.”
Fang’s mother stared at her stubborn husband. She didn’t like it, but she knew she couldn’t win.
After so many years of marriage, she knew his temperament too well—once he made up his mind, not even ten oxen could drag him back.
“Fine, fine. Do whatever you want.” She sighed, resignation heavy in her voice. “But if Yuming blames us later, you explain it to him.”
Privately she thought:
This old man is obsessed—completely crazed for a grandson.
All this talk of bloodlines, heritage…
What era was this?
How could he still cling to such outdated notions?