More bewildered than Cousin and his wife was Feng Man.
She had clearly picked up one bag containing two family planning supplies that day, so how had it become four bags with eight now?!
In this era, with all sorts of restrictions, condoms were basically reusable. A married couple’s standard monthly allocation was one bag containing two, distributed for free by the Family Planning Office. This showed the nation’s determination for family planning.
But now…
After Cousin and his family of three left, Feng Man’s puzzled gaze swept straight toward Cheng Lang, full of inquiry.
“Yesterday, when I passed by the Family Planning Office, one of the staffers gave them to me.” Cheng Lang showed no embarrassment on his face and explained matter-of-factly. “She stuffed a few extra into my hands, telling newlyweds to heed the national call and delay birth for better birth.”
“Cough cough.” Feng Man’s first reaction was to size him up from head to toe, her gaze lingering on his sturdy build, the bulging muscles on his arms…
Had the Family Planning Office staffer seen that he had particular potential?
Otherwise, why give out so many!
“The Family Planning Office staffer sure thinks highly of you,” Feng Man, who was usually quick with words, stumbled for once. As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt something was off.
Sure enough, the man opposite her sharpened his gaze, and Feng Man hurried out to the courtyard to get some air.
……
They had only moved into the new house a full two days ago. On the wedding day, Feng Man and Cheng Lang had given out some wedding candies to the nearby neighbors, but with so many people and things going on, they had barely had time for more than brief greetings.
Now, after dinner, many people were out in the alleys enjoying the cool evening air, all locals living nearby. However, other houses held larger families—either three generations under one roof with seven or eight people, or parts of the ancestral property rented out for extra income, housing three or four families.
There were plenty of wedding candies left from the banquet, so Feng Man pocketed some and went out to give them to the neighbor kids. The adults smiled and offered congratulations.
“You young couple just got married and moved here—settling in okay?” As the saying went, no one hit a smiling face. Getting off on the right foot meant everyone gave some leeway.
Feng Man smiled. “We’re settling in fine. It’s spacious here, comfortable to live in.”
“That’s right. I always thought it was better than the Tube Buildings—those places are so cramped.”
Cheng Lang was not one for words. At that moment, watching Feng Man chat animatedly amid the crowd of big brothers, big sisters, uncles, and aunties, he couldn’t help but observe her from the side.
The charming and lively woman was a natural conversationalist, able to talk to anyone—from eighty-year-old elders to three- or four-year-old kids. In no time, everyone loved being around her.
As dusk fell and the evening crowds dispersed to their homes, Cheng Lang and Feng Man walked back together under the moonlight. “You seem to enjoy chatting with them.”
“Yeah, chatting is so much fun.” Feng Man had always loved chattering by her grandmother’s side from childhood, a habit that carried into adulthood, letting her strike up conversations with anyone. “Besides, didn’t you hear? Room 7 in our alley houses the slaughterhouse boss who supplies pork to the market. His mom knows I sell sesame flatbread from my stall and even asked if I wanted to get goods directly from the slaughterhouse. She said she could help with wholesale prices—fresh goods at a discount, of course that’s better. Later, I’ll go check it out with Cousin-in-law.”
As she spoke, Feng Man’s eyes sparkled brightly, very pretty. “Plus, we just moved here and don’t know anyone. Making connections can’t hurt.”
More accustomed to going solo, Cheng Lang looked into Feng Man’s clear, bright almond eyes. His gaze shifted inch by inch downward, landing on her unpainted yet still rosy lips.
His heart stirred. The man pressed his thin lips together slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he concealed a deep-seated desire.
“Craving a smoke and can’t hold back?” Seeing Cheng Lang’s odd expression, Feng Man pulled out the remaining wedding candies from her pocket and shoved one into his hand. “Here, suck on this candy! Hang in there! Don’t break your quit— not even one!”
Cheng Lang lowered his eyes to the orange candy in his palm: “…”
＊＊＊
Over the next few days, Feng Man’s life was leisurely. Cheng Lang still had plenty of work at the Mine District, so she simply enjoyed her wedding leave and sorted out the household finances at home.
They had received quite a few gifts on the banquet day—relatives gave a few yuan in cash or enamel cups and basins, or fine tea and liquor as congratulatory presents. After inventorying the gifts and stowing them in the cabinet, Feng Man counted the cash received: a total of twenty-two yuan.
Adding Cheng Lang’s just-submitted five hundred yuan for household expenses and the money she had saved from two months of business, she had a good amount on hand. But there was a problem—her ID card wasn’t with her, so she couldn’t even open a bank account.
She couldn’t very well open a passbook in Cheng Lang’s name to stash her pocket money.
With her ID card in someone else’s hands—and no such thing as remote loss reporting or replacement in this era—it was truly worrisome.
Thinking of Nine Mountains Village, the only two things on Feng Man’s mind were her ID card and her sister Feng Baozhu, from whom bad bamboo had yielded good shoots. It had been two months since they parted; she wondered how things were.
Around five in the afternoon, Feng Man manned the stall with Cousin-in-law. When Fan You Shan and his playmates, out for summer break, strolled by, she called out: “Xiaoshan.”
“Auntie!” Fan You Shan bounced over to Feng Man. She fed him a sesame flatbread, and he chomped away happily with his little mouth. “So good!”
“Tasty, huh?” Feng Man ruffled his small head. “Come on, help Auntie out.”
…….
With a full mouth softening his resolve, elementary-schooler Fan You Shan stood on a small stool by the shop door, diligently dialing the number. He carefully reviewed Auntie’s instructions in his head and declared confidently: “Auntie, don’t worry—I’ll say it perfectly. Hey~ Hello, I’m a student from the elementary school next to Nine Mountains Village. I’m looking for Feng Baozhu in Class 3, Grade 7. I’m her pen pal.”
The remarkably talented performer Fan You Shan lived up to expectations. He chatted a bit with the old man at the Nine Mountains Village middle school gatehouse without drawing attention. Once the old man fetched first-year student Feng Baozhu, Feng Man took the receiver.
“Baozhu, it’s me. Don’t call me sis—just treat me like Xiaoshan, the elementary school kid who just called you.” Feng Man worried that Baozhu might arouse suspicion from her scumbag dad and stepmom, so she devised this discreet method.
Feng Baozhu was initially surprised at the mention of a pen pal—those were popular these days, but she had only exchanged letters with a middle schooler from the neighboring town, never an elementary kid.
Taking the phone half in doubt, her eyes lit up at the somewhat familiar voice. She swallowed the “sis” on the tip of her tongue and played along perfectly: “It’s me, Xiaoshan. It’s been so long since your last letter—I almost forgot you. How’s your studying going?”
Seeing how quick-witted her sister was, Feng Man chuckled lightly. “Pretty good. But my ID card got taken—do you know where it is now?”
Feng Baozhu thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean that little comic book? I think it got lent out—it’s not at home.”
That one sentence made it clear to Feng Man: her ID card was still with Zhao Gang! Back then, Feng Jianshe had taken his eldest daughter’s ID card and household registry ahead of time, planning to get married right after the banquet—just in case she ran.
“Okay, got it. Be careful not to get caught. Next time there’s a chance, I’ll write to you as Xiaoshan.”
“Okay!” Feng Baozhu smiled, eyes curving into crescents. “Xiaoshan, bye. Remember to write.”
The call ended, and the gatehouse old man asked cheerfully: “Got another pen pal?”
“Grandpa Yang, yeah—everyone at school has pen pals.” Feng Baozhu greeted the old man, returned to class to pack her bag, and headed home.
In the middle of a depression on the east side of Nine Mountains Village, the Feng Family windows still bore faded red double happiness paper cuts, reminding everyone of the lively wedding two months prior.
Even now, folks occasionally gossiped about the bride who had bolted from her marriage.
Feng Baozhu got home, dropped her bag, and went straight to the kitchen to rinse rice and start cooking. She helped her mother Zhang Cuijuan light the fire and stir-fry vegetables, while Feng Tianbao, also just out of school, had vanished to play outside.
After bustling a bit, while Zhang Cuijuan was frying vegetables, Feng Baozhu slipped into her parents’ room. She deftly opened the wardrobe, pulled out the middle small drawer, and saw the red-covered household registry and ID cards.
She flipped through quickly. The registry had the whole family’s, but one ID card was missing—no eldest sister’s.
“Baozhu, where are you? Always slacking off when there’s work.”
“Coming!” Feng Baozhu put the items back, shut the wardrobe, and hurried to the kitchen to help.
Soon, Feng Jianshe returned from the village committee, slamming down kitchenware with a clatter and grumbling curses: “All because of that damn girl—ran off with who knows what wild man. Now Zhao Gang suspects we colluded with her!”
Two months after the eldest daughter bolted, Zhao Gang had turned Nine Mountains Village upside down without a trace. Over time, suspicion fell on Feng Jianshe. He outright accused them of teaming up just to scam his betrothal gifts.
After a big fuss, the original fifteen hundred yuan betrothal money was demanded back. Feng Jianshe fumed silently but dared not speak—who would’ve thought they’d end up targeted afterward? The village committee allocated less phosphate fertilizer to their land than others.
Who else but Zhao Gang!
What was meant to be a marriage alliance had bred an enemy. Feng Jianshe fretted until blisters formed on his lips. Zhao Gang, humiliated, now demanded he find the girl—or the Feng Family could forget peaceful days.
He had searched Nine Mountains Village, even the home of Zhaodi’s late birth mother—nothing. Worried about Zhao Gang’s next move, he had invited him for dinner today to plead.
Seeing his wife and daughter had cooked two veggie dishes, Feng Jianshe hurriedly instructed Zhang Cuijuan: “Steam the old cured meat, make a fish dish and some braised pork belly. I’ll buy two bottles of beer.”
“Got it.” Zhang Cuijuan seethed inwardly—the betrothal money gone, now targeted by Zhao Gang. She cursed Feng Zhaodi a thousand times over in her heart to vent.
The sunset crested the hills, sinking slowly westward. Golden light bathed the yard, illuminating the only lively spot in the Feng Family home.
Zhao Gang downed a glass of liquor, eyes fierce: “Uncle Feng, we almost became family, but don’t take me for a fool. With Zhaodi’s temperament, you saying no one helped—you expect me to believe she hid this long on her own?”
His words still dripped with suspicion that the Feng Family had played him.
Feng Jianshe broke out in cold sweat, protesting innocence: “Gangzi, how could Uncle let that girl run! I was sincere about making you my son-in-law. That damn girl Zhaodi… no idea where she went…”
Smack!
The glass slammed hard on the wooden table. Golden liquor sloshed with Zhao Gang’s rising fury: “Don’t feed me pretty words! She vanished from your house, made me lose face big time! Find her yourselves—or don’t blame me for getting nasty!”
“I…” Feng Jianshe knew Zhao Gang’s ruthless reputation—the town’s infamous bully no one dared cross. His eyes darted, replaying the day he discovered his eldest missing, combing through memories until he latched onto a scapegoat. “When Zhaodi disappeared, Cheng Lang happened to drive by. Could he have taken her?”
Zhang Cuijuan, stunned by the menacing Zhao Gang, now clutched at this lifeline: “Right! It was Cheng Lang—definitely Cheng Lang!”
Neither Feng Jianshe nor Zhang Cuijuan had ever considered Cheng Lang’s involvement. The Cheng boy was cold by nature, aloof even to his own parents—why meddle in Zhaodi’s affairs?
Besides, Zhaodi was timid and always feared the neighboring Cheng Lang, who never smiled. The two were the least likely to have any connection.
But desperate times—they needed a fall guy, or Zhao Gang would hound them endlessly.
“Cheng Lang?” Zhao Gang furrowed his thick brows, face twitching as he pondered.
Zhang Cuijuan spilled the day’s events: “Really! I always thought it too coincidental—Zhaodi vanishes just as Cheng Lang drives off in his big truck! Had to be him—drove off with Zhaodi.”
As long as Zhao Gang targeted someone else, anyone but them—it was fine!
The shrewd little Feng Tianbao chimed in with his parents. Only Feng Baozhu, quietly eating her vegetables, turned her eyes thoughtfully but said nothing.