Chapter 22 Wen Mubai’s Parcel

After picking up the group photo from the studio, Tang Banxia tucked the photograph into three letters and sent them out together.

As she was mailing them, she asked Wen Mubai, “Do you want to send one to your family as well?”

Wen Mubai’s smile didn’t falter. “I only have you, Banxia, as my family now.”

Looking at his beautiful face, Tang Banxia suddenly felt a pang of guilt. “It’s alright, you still have me.”

Wen Mubai laughed softly. “Yes, now that I have you, I have family again.”

Hu Jiaguo watched quietly. No wonder his little sister always talked about this educated youth Wen at home; seeing him now, this Wen really did have some skills. There wasn’t a woman he couldn’t win over!

“Educated youth Tang, is there anything else?” he asked.

Tang Banxia shook her head. “No, let’s head back.”

At this moment, Wen Mubai spoke up, “Jiaguo, could you please stop by the commune post office?”

“Alright,” Hu Jiaguo agreed without asking why.

When they arrived at the post office, Wen Mubai went in by himself. He returned soon after, carrying a small parcel.

He tossed it carelessly onto the donkey cart. “Let’s go.”

Tang Banxia looked curiously at the package, and Wen Mubai didn’t try to hide anything. He explained, “It’s my martyr’s subsidy.”

“Aren’t you already twenty?” Tang Banxia blurted out, surprised he was still receiving the subsidy.

She remembered that the martyr’s subsidy stopped once one reached adulthood.

“My situation is special,” Wen Mubai replied, offering no further explanation.

“Oh,” Tang Banxia said, not pressing the matter.

They returned to the village and parted ways with Hu Jiaguo. Tang Banxia and Wen Mubai went straight home.

Once inside, Wen Mubai handed the parcel to Tang Banxia. “Banxia, you decide what to do with it.”

“Alright,” Tang Banxia said briskly.

She opened it right then and there, in front of Wen Mubai. Inside, there was not much—just a set of green military uniform, a military canteen, and two catties of rice. Nothing else.

Tang Banxia didn’t mind; she put the rice away in the cupboard, gave the uniform and canteen back to Wen Mubai, as she had no use for them.

After they divided the contents, Wen Mubai asked, “Banxia, why were you asking about the Revolutionary Committee director and his nephew today?”

Tang Banxia told him what had happened at the examination room, watching as Wen Mubai’s expression turned sorrowful. “It’s all because I’m useless; you have to deal with these troublesome things on your own.”

Tang Banxia was utterly charmed. “What are you saying? I like you just the way you are—even if you’re a little useless.”

“No, that’s not it. I just like that you always put me first,” she corrected.

She stroked Wen Mubai’s lovely face. “Don’t overthink it. I have my ways.”

Her inquiries today weren’t for nothing.

As for the Revolutionary Committee, its reputation was infamous; there were countless eyes watching, and any misstep would be magnified. Especially for the director.

There’s a saying: “The Revolutionary Committee is iron, the directors are water.” The current director had been in office less than half a year, barely able to manage his own affairs, let alone clean up his nephew’s mess.

That Wu Meng’an was simply using his uncle’s name to bluff and cheat; when faced with someone tough, he’d falter.

Wen Mubai was soon comforted, though he still buried his face in Tang Banxia’s neck, nuzzling for attention.

Tang Banxia let him be, knowing his anxiety, and felt even more tenderness toward him.

In her view, Wen Mubai, despite his shortcomings—fond of good food, lazy, sly, and idle—was pure at heart. A simple snack could cheer him up. He had boundaries, only tricked for food, never for affection; he was, after all, a good young man.

Since she’d registered the marriage with him and was still satisfied, she could tolerate these little flaws.

“Alright, enough, nothing to worry about. You have me,” she soothed.

“Mm,” Wen Mubai murmured, his voice still choked.

Tang Banxia gently stroked his back, comforting him.

Meanwhile, Hu Jiaguo drove the donkey cart home, limping into the house. He saw his wife changing the baby’s diaper and his whole demeanor softened. “Xiaoyun, I’m home.”

His wife nodded, “Have you eaten yet?”

Hu Jiaguo, like a magician, pulled two meat buns from his coat. “Little Tang gave these; I saved them for you and the baby.”

His wife looked over, her eyes lighting up. “Ah, meat buns!”

Hu Jiaguo offered them like treasures. “You have one, and divide the rest among the children.”

His wife instinctively swallowed, but said, “Give it to Mother, let her divide it.”

Hu Jiaguo insisted, pushing one bun into his wife’s mouth and putting the other away. “This one’s for Mother.”

The Hu family hadn’t split yet; as per custom, everything should be handed over to the family collective.

But Hu Jiaguo loved his wife dearly. Since his leg was broken, she’d held the household together. This honest man had learned to keep a little for his own family.

His wife was delighted, though she felt for her husband. She split the meat bun in half, sharing it with him, and saved the rest for their eldest daughter and son.

That evening, after the older couple, Hu Dashan and his wife, returned from work, Hu Jiaguo sought them out, handed over the meat bun, and recounted the day’s events in detail.

Hu Dashan puffed his pipe, nodding repeatedly. “I think Tang can do it.”

His wife looked at the meat bun, nodding eagerly. “I agree.”

This girl Tang was trustworthy—she genuinely shared any benefit.

Seeing a meat bun, a treat they rarely saw even once a year, the whole family’s eyes were glued to it.

But everyone knew the score; with so many people, it would only be a bite each. Yet it was a bun filled with white flour and meat—even one bite was satisfying.

Seeing her family’s greedy expressions, Hu’s wife snorted. “Starved ghosts, have I ever made you go hungry or thirsty?”

Hu Chunhua swallowed, urging, “Oh, Mother, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and divide it; Shitou can’t wait.”

“I think it’s you who can’t wait,” her mother retorted, but went to the kitchen for a knife to split the big, tender bun.

No matter how large, a single bun wasn’t much; with so many mouths, everyone just got a taste.

But Hu’s wife favored her grandson, giving him a piece with more meat. The second daughter-in-law wanted to protest, but her husband pinched her hand, silencing her, though she remained disgruntled.

Hu family had four sons, and only her child was still young—wasn’t that unfair?

Hu’s wife ignored her; little schemes were expected as long as they didn’t reach her ears. “Not deaf, not dumb, not meddling!”

With the bun divided, no one could bear to eat it all at once; they held it in their mouths, savoring it, before swallowing.

Even after swallowing, the family felt unsatisfied.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford a meat bun, but having lived through hard times, frugality was ingrained—they couldn’t bear extravagance.

With so many mouths to feed, even regular meals weren’t enough, let alone such precious buns.

That night, every Hu family member dreamed of the aroma of meat buns.

And in Hu Jiaguo’s little household, the joy was even greater!

Meat buns! Their family got to share one!

They were overjoyed!

Little Sister Tang was truly kind!

But soon, kind-hearted Sister Tang encountered trouble...