Chapter 9: The Song Family

The next day, Tang Banxia heard that a snake had gotten into Hu Wei’s house. Fortunately, they discovered it in time and no one was bitten. Tang Banxia simply let the news pass without another thought.

Two more days slipped by, and at last, all the weeds in the wheat fields had been pulled. By now, the wheat itself had ripened to a golden hue—summer harvest was just around the corner.

While the summer harvest wasn’t as crucial as the autumn one, it still determined how well the whole village would eat. From the oldest at ninety-nine to toddlers who’d just learned to walk, everyone was expected to lend a hand.

Given Tang Banxia’s and Wen Mubai’s previous performances, Captain Hu very conscientiously assigned the two of them to the drying yard, where they’d help turn the wheat with the village elders. The work was easy, though the work points were meager—only three per person per day—but both Tang Banxia and Wen Mubai were more than satisfied.

By this time, Wen Mubai had stopped causing trouble and followed Tang Banxia to work obediently every day.

“Comrade Tang, off to work?” called out Fifth Aunt.

“Yes, Fifth Aunt. And you? Where are you headed?”

“My daughter just gave birth—I’m going to see her.”

“Congratulations, Fifth Aunt! You’re a grandmother now.”

It was just another unremarkable day heading to work.

But when Tang Banxia arrived at the drying yard, she realized that today was bound to be anything but ordinary.

On the drying yard, Old Lady Song stood with her precious granddaughter, Li Bao, watching coldly as the little girl before her fought back tears. “Qing, so now you blame your grandmother, is that it?” she demanded.

“Grandma, no, I wouldn’t dare,” Song Qing shrank back, looking pitiful. “But why is it that my aunt doesn’t have to work, but my mother does? She’s still running a fever…”

Old Lady Song’s face, never known for kindness, became even more severe as she narrowed her eyes. “What good does it do to whine to me? Am I the one forcing your mother to work?”

It wasn’t my fault, she thought. Her daughter-in-law was the one who tormented herself, always feeling guilty for not having borne a son.

“If you’re truly a filial daughter, go and persuade your mother yourself. Our Song family would never mistreat a daughter-in-law.” The last words she spoke louder, making sure everyone heard.

She couldn’t afford to let the family’s reputation suffer—what would happen to her precious Li Bao then?

Song Qing’s heart burned with indignation, her eyes brimming with tears. “But… but Mother always listens to you, Grandma.”

“Please, Grandma, I beg you—talk to my mother. I can’t live without her.” As she spoke, Song Qing started to kneel. “Li Bao, please help my mother.”

Song Yu, only seven years old and raised innocent and sheltered by Old Lady Song, had never witnessed such a scene before. She stammered, “Sister?”

“Get up!” Old Lady Song snapped, grabbing Song Qing’s arm. “Don’t force me to slap you.”

Tears streamed down Song Qing’s cheeks, hatred boiling in her heart.

All she wanted was for her mother to survive—why did everyone have to push her to this?

She remembered her previous life: how her mother had fallen ill after this summer harvest, and later, during her brother’s birth, hemorrhaged so badly… The hatred in Song Qing’s eyes became uncontrollable.

Song Yu, frightened by her cousin’s gaze, shrank back behind Old Lady Song.

Song Qing shot her cousin a withering glare and ran off.

Tang Banxia was speechless—how had she ended up in the path of all this drama?

“Comrade Tang?” Song Qing asked, startled as if she’d seen a ghost.

Tang Banxia looked down to see Song Qing’s terrified expression and gave her a gentle smile.

She was satisfied to see Song Qing’s fear deepen; the girl scrambled up and dashed away as if fleeing a ghost.

Tang Banxia shook her head with a click of her tongue. This heroine had a fragile mindset indeed.

Afraid of ghosts, even after being reborn?

The commotion on the drying yard was quickly forgotten—everyone returned to their work or their gossip.

“Well, well, Old Lady Song, you finally brought Li Bao out with you?” someone teased.

“No choice—Li Bao can’t bear to be apart from her grandma, so I have to bring her along,” Old Lady Song replied, beaming. “My Li Bao is so sweet and attached to me.”

The woman snorted under her breath. She couldn’t understand why Old Lady Song doted on her granddaughter so much—just another girl, yet she treated her like a precious treasure, never stopped talking about her. It was absurd.

“My Li Bao…” Old Lady Song began, launching into her usual litany of praise (a thousand words omitted).

Most of those in the drying yard were older folk; Tang Banxia and Wen Mubai were the only two young faces among them.

Unlike the aloof Tang Banxia, Wen Mubai was quite the charmer, calling everyone auntie or granny, quickly winning over all the old ladies in the yard.

Even Old Lady Song found herself glancing away from her precious granddaughter to take in the sight of the handsome young volunteer.

Everyone loved beauty, regardless of age.

Song Yu was even more enthralled—she’d never seen such a good-looking “brother” before. She trailed after Wen Mubai, calling him “Big Brother” again and again.

Tang Banxia felt a headache coming on. The overwhelming Mary Sue aura was suffocating!

“Cough, cough…”

Wen Mubai was chatting animatedly with Old Lady Song.

“Cough, cough… Cough, cough…”

“Banxia, I have some water here,” Wen Mubai finally noticed. “Is your throat sore?” His eyes were filled with concern.

Tang Banxia bent down to take the water and whispered, “Could you tone it down a bit?”

She really didn’t want any more trouble coming to her doorstep.

Wen Mubai gave her an innocent look—he hadn’t done anything!

But under Tang Banxia’s stern gaze, he could only sit down meekly, feeling as if all the light had gone out of his world.

He’d only wanted to find himself a steady meal ticket—who knew his “meal ticket” would have so many rules? Nothing was allowed, and she even coveted his body.

At that thought, Wen Mubai’s ears reddened a little.

If it weren’t for her delicious cooking, he’d have found a way to handle her by now!

He drew little circles on the ground, grumbling inwardly. It was all her fault for making such good food—being bossed around didn’t seem so bad after all.

“Big Brother Bai, what are you drawing?” Song Yu squatted beside him, her head tilted adorably.

She really was cute—her shiny black hair was tied into two buns by her grandmother, she wore a floral short-sleeved top and black pants, her big eyes blinking up at him. She was the picture of a child anyone would want.

But Wen Mubai was a man of simple tastes—he only cared about food, and was entirely oblivious to the charms of cute children. “Pancake,” he replied.

“Pancake?”

“A big pancake,” Wen Mubai said, sneaking a glance at Tang Banxia. “I’m drawing a big pancake for someone.”

“Wow, Big Brother Bai is amazing! You can draw big pancakes!” Song Yu exclaimed.

Wen Mubai responded modestly, “Not at all, I learned from Comrade Tang. She’s the true master of drawing pancakes.”

“Really, Sister Tang?”

Tang Banxia grinned, “It’s true—your Big Brother Bai loves pancakes. In the future, I’ll make him plenty to eat.”

“Aren’t Comrade Wen and Comrade Tang close?” one of the aunties remarked, unaware of the inside joke.

Wen Mubai, full of grievance, angrily drew crosses all over his pancake, muttering, “The pancakes aren’t tasty, sister…”

Tang Banxia shot him a sidelong glance. “But you seem to like them.”

“Sister…” Wen Mubai leaned in to whisper, “I was wrong…”

His voice was soft and tempting, and Tang Banxia surrendered to his charm, whispering back, “We’re outside—behave yourself.”

“Big Brother Bai, what are you and Sister Tang talking about?” Song Yu asked curiously.

Her question drew the attention of the old ladies in the yard.

“Look at the young couple—even after a little time apart, they’re whispering together again.”

“You have to admit, those two do make a handsome pair.”

“If only they worked harder…”

“Well, that’s true.”

“I wonder what the future holds for them…”

The day passed quickly, filled with laughter and chatter.

That evening after work, Tang Banxia heated a pot of water at home and then said, “Go down to the river and see if you can swap something for a few small fish. Tonight, we’ll fry some fish for dinner.”

Wen Mubai’s eyes lit up at once. “Alright!”

When it came to food, no one was more enthusiastic than he.

There was a river by Guyue Village. In the summer, children played there to cool off, sometimes catching a few small fish, which they often traded at the volunteers’ quarters for sweets.

Not long after, Wen Mubai returned happily, carrying a fish basket. “Banxia, look—great luck today, I got thirteen fish!”

Tang Banxia peered in and praised, “You really are lucky. Let’s fry half tonight and stew the rest.”

“Sounds great!” he replied.

Frying small fish was simple. Once cleaned, the fish were coated in a batter of egg and flour, then pan-fried until golden on both sides. It wasn’t quite the same as deep-frying, but given the circumstances, it still tasted wonderful.

The other half were pan-fried until slightly crisp, then simmered in hot water until the broth turned milky, seasoned with salt and chopped scallions.

When everything was done, Tang Banxia also made a batch of shepherd’s purse and egg pancakes. Dinner was ready.

“Let’s eat.”

Wen Mubai didn’t hesitate. He picked up a pancake and took a big bite.