Feng Man’s luggage was quite simple, just one cloth bundle containing four pieces of clothing, two pairs of pants, and some seasonings she had bought along the road. She traveled light and followed Dong Xiaojuan to open Cheng Lang’s room door.
Fan Zhenghua went to the Mine District Canteen to get meals, three portions for them, and disappeared in a flash. The idle Dong Xiaojuan, who hadn’t been much help, curiously asked how Feng Man had brought so few things on her trip south. Feng Man naturally couldn’t mention fleeing her marriage or hitching rides, so she vaguely said, “I hadn’t planned to come; it was an accident.”
Dong Xiaojuan understood immediately and affirmed, “You did the right thing coming! You don’t know how many women around here want to get close to A-Lang. You’re his wife; you should come guard him!”
Feng Man tugged at the corner of her mouth. Thinking of Cheng Lang’s reliability throughout the journey, he really was a man who gave a strong sense of security, especially with his rugged exterior but honest and kind interior. He was easily swayed too, presenting a striking contrast.
Dong Xiaojuan enthusiastically put Feng Man’s bundle into the usually vacant room. “A-Lang usually lives in the single dorms in the Mine District and only comes over occasionally when we call him for a meal. We rent this three-room place and kept one for him. I’ll get you new bedsheets and a quilt later.”
The simple Tube Buildings apartment was three rooms and a living room crammed together. Cheng Lang’s room was the emptiest, with only a single bed, a wardrobe, and a dresser. As they spoke, Dong Xiaojuan briskly changed the bedding to clean sheets and laid out a light gray quilt.
After all, Cheng Lang had never gotten this close to any woman before. It seemed this Baby Betrothal partner was about to become his wife, so Dong Xiaojuan put her heart into it.
But Feng Man hesitated. With Cheng Lang not home, was she just moving right in?
“Otherwise, I’ll stay at a guesthouse nearby…”
“What guesthouse!” Dong Xiaojuan quickly stopped her. “Those little guesthouses outside are filthy—who knows who’s stayed there. They’re messy and expensive too. You’ve got a Baby Betrothal with Cheng Lang and came all this way; how could he let you stay outside?”
It wasn’t like ten years ago when even married couples had to keep their distance in public, not even holding hands. Times had changed now, especially for those working south; plenty lived together before marriage.
Dong Xiaojuan used to be conservative too, but after working south for so long, she saw it all and didn’t bat an eye—especially since Feng Man had legitimate status.
“You’re right, Juan’er. No future wife stays outside when she arrives.” Fan Zhenghua could tell at a glance that Feng Man had come to marry. Workers like them didn’t fuss over such things. He carried in three boxed meals. “A-Lang has a dorm in the Mine District, so settle in here comfortably. Don’t go outside; you’re a woman new here and don’t know anyone yet. You need to be careful.”
The nearby guesthouses were indeed hard to describe. Feng Man thought fussing too much with her fiancé was pointless and simply agreed. Saving a few days’ guesthouse money was good, and being new to everything unfamiliar, having someone to look after her was better than not.
Three boxed meals sat on the square table, stir-fried dishes from the Mine District Canteen. They looked average, with meats and veggies mixed into a dark mush, overcooked. When Feng Man tasted it, the flavor was equally mediocre—just food for survival.
Fan Zhenghua, as usual, grumbled while eating, “Those bastards at the canteen take plenty of money every day, but the food gets worse. They keep skimping with rotten stuff.”
They all did hard physical labor, so the workers consumed a lot and naturally ate big portions. But the Mine District Canteen was run by the little leaders’ relatives, growing more brazen: shrinking portions, worse food, and ingredients less fresh by the day.
Because of this, many family men preferred cooking at home, but most times they were too pressed for time to cook, like today. Dong Xiaojuan hadn’t sold much soda at her stall, so she hadn’t cooked and just got meals from the canteen.
Feng Man noted the workers’ complaints; griping about the canteen food was just like students. The difference was school cafeterias were at least cheap, but a two-meat one-veg meal at the Mine District Canteen cost four yuan—truly shoddy goods at high prices.
Casually asking a few questions, Feng Man got the lay of the land and asked, “No stalls at the Mine District entrance selling food?”
“Hardly.” Fan Zhenghua revealed an inside story. “The canteen folks worry about losing business. They colluded with the management to make a rule: no stalls at the entrance can sell boxed meals. Real bastards!”
Dong Xiaojuan had plenty to say. “They’re petty as hell. When I have time, I cook for Old Fan to eat back here, and A-Lang too when he’s free.”
Cheng Lang had no other relatives in Ink River except his little aunt Cheng Yulan, who had married out over a dozen years ago. They reunited in Ink River later, and now Cheng Lang’s cousin Fan Zhenghua worked in the same Mine District, so they looked out for each other.
But beyond daily help, Fan Zhenghua listened to Cheng Lang on everything else.
After the meal, Fan Zhenghua, who had taken two hours off, returned to work in the Mine District. Feng Man followed Dong Xiaojuan around to get her bearings and bought some pastries at a nearby shop. Dong Xiaojuan refused to take them at first, but Feng Man smiled brightly. “Sister Xiaojuan, these are for the kid. Don’t stand on ceremony with me.”
Dong Xiaojuan’s son Fan You Shan was six and a half, just starting first grade at the nearby Mine District Primary School—a ten-minute walk. School wasn’t out yet.
Unable to refuse, and seeing how genuine Feng Man was in speech and action, Dong Xiaojuan grew even fonder of her.
After familiarizing herself with the Mine District area and buying some daily necessities, Feng Man settled into Cheng Lang’s vacant room that night.
Dinner that evening was just for Dong Xiaojuan and Feng Man. Fan Zhenghua and Cheng Lang were working in the Mine District; there was a mining issue, so everyone was on overtime for repairs. Xiaoshan had gone to his godfather’s in another building to play with his godfather’s son after school and sent word he wouldn’t be back tonight.
After tidying up post-dinner, as the night cooled, Dong Xiaojuan told Feng Man to rest. “You must be uncomfortable after sitting in vehicles so long; go to sleep early. Old Fan and the others have a special situation and won’t be back till late. I’ll wait for him.”
Hearing how tough miners had it, Feng Man nodded and headed to the room Cheng Lang occasionally used.
The single bed was rock-hard. It was the turn from spring to summer, so a thin quilt sufficed. Feng Man smelled a faint soap scent on it—fresh and clean. After over a week’s long journey, she finally relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile, in the living room, when Fan Zhenghua returned home late under the stars and moon, Dong Xiaojuan warmed up dinner for her husband and added a beer, sitting by the table with him.
Nibbling a few crispy peanuts while keeping him company, Dong Xiaojuan couldn’t help muttering, “A-Lang quietly brought back a wife. No wonder he never responded to any introductions before.”
“That kid has sharp eyes. No wonder he turned everyone down before; looks like he only goes for the prettiest.” Fan Zhenghua ate meat and drank, using the late-night meal to shake off the day’s fatigue. Casually, he added, “But I never heard A-Lang had a Baby Betrothal.”
If he did, why would his mom keep introducing girls to her nephew?
Miss Dong didn’t mind. “True… But A-Lang brought her back, so it must be right.”
Fan Zhenghua polished off the three dishes, stacked the plates, and washed them in the sink. His hoarse voice blurred amid the running water. “When we’re free, we’ll report the good news to Mom.”
While Fan Zhenghua was home grabbing a late snack, Cheng Lang was in the Mine District’s public bathhouse.
Ink River’s largest mine—the Liberation Mine District—had thousands of workers and was massive, producing over ten million tons of ore annually across its fields.
The Mine District had night shifts, and this was an emergency, so Cheng Lang and others worked overtime, only finishing now to wash away the fatigue in the bathhouse.
After showering and changing, as he headed out, Cheng Lang ran into a few coworkers also on overtime. They were either single or had wives back home, all living in the single dorms.
A worker with wife and kid back home teased Cheng Lang. “Cheng Lang, you’re not young anymore. How come no girlfriend yet?”
By looks, Cheng Lang was top-tier in the Mine District—tall, handsome, just too aloof. If he wanted, he could easily find someone he liked.
The others joined in. “Yeah, Brother Lang, don’t you get lonely alone in the dorm?”
Cheng Lang slanted a glance at the winking teasers, lips curving slightly. “As if you guys don’t live in dorms.”
“That’s different; we have wives, just back home. We get family visits yearly. You’re the lone bachelor!”
Cheng Lang strode ahead, leaving the noisy bunch behind. Unexpectedly, a smiling face popped into his mind.
He fiercely shoved the irritating face out. At his dorm door, he opened the iron gate. The other five inside weren’t asleep yet, playing cards by night.
“Master! You’re back!” Seventeen-year-old He Chunsheng had been assigned under Cheng Lang when he entered the Mine District last year. Regardless of else, he idolized his master. “Hungry? I have cookies on my table; grab some to tide you over.”
“Brother Lang, wanna play a round?”
“Da-Zhu, move.” Another roommate kicked the skinny guy to make space for Cheng Lang.
“No.” Cheng Lang felt irritable, shook his head, and sat straight on his bed.
The six-man dorm stayed lively. They played cards, betting small—about seven or eight yuan win or lose. He Chunsheng won a buck fifty and left the table to whisper by Cheng Lang. “Master, you were gone nearly a month. You didn’t see how much I improved. The blasting was steady, accurate, ruthless…”
“You’d probably be good at selling watermelons outside.” Cheng Lang had returned exhausted from travel, then unloaded cargo, returned to work till late night, and now endured the chatter. His temples throbbed.
He Chunsheng caught the jab but didn’t mind, then shyly asked like a smitten boy, “Master, heard your cousin’s family has a relative visiting. What’s her deal?”
Feng Man’s image intruded again. Cheng Lang’s suppressed emotions erupted. He furrowed his thick brows and shot his apprentice a sideways glare. “Mind your own business. Sleep.”
He flipped onto his bed and coldly told the still-chattering card players, “Work tomorrow. All rest.”
His low voice carried authority. The four roommates packed up and went to their beds.
In the dead of night, snores rose and fell in the six-man dorm. Cheng Lang lay in the dark, pondering his next steps.
He had scrimped for years, saved some money: part repaid Cheng family debts, the rest for contracting mines after quitting. But contracting needed caution—one slip and it was all gone.
Much to do, but lying on the wooden bunk amid the annoying noises, Cheng Lang closed his eyes yet couldn’t sleep. That smiling face appeared in his mind.
Having traveled far and wide for years, he’d seen too many people. At first, he thought he’d met a skilled con artist, insisting she was his Baby Betrothal with a straight face, lying without blushing.
Later, Cheng Lang gradually realized the Feng family neighbor’s eldest daughter had likely mistaken him for someone else—her Baby Betrothal.
As for who that was… not hard to guess.
The scene shifted in his mind: the woman at the guesthouse door, shedding shyness and panic, her almond eyes sparkling as she proposed sharing a room with ease.
Those round, bright eyes flickered with light when looking at him, clearly teasing and flirtatious. Her red lips parted gently, as if leaving a lingering fragrance. Now, it felt like an invisible hand gripped his heart, pounding.
His body tensed, blood surging south. Irritated and restless, Cheng Lang pulled out his cigarette pack, lit one, and clamped it in his mouth to calm down.
The dorm noises disturbed intermittently. Cheng Lang pillowed his head with one hand on the bed, deeply inhaled from the cigarette in his other fingers amid swirling smoke. It seemed he saw again the head on the truck stealthily inching to the window to avoid the smoke.
Like haunted by an invisible “female ghost,” open-eyed or closed, that deep red camisole strap… Cheng Lang crushed the cigarette butt and muttered a low curse. “Fuck.”
Early next morning, the workers rose one by one. Seeing Cheng Lang’s sour face, no one knew what happened. None guessed he’d been entangled in his dreams the whole night.