He first went to the gate guard post, paid to use the phone, and made a call. The gatekeeper grandpa sat idly, overhearing Mine District Master Cheng tersely discuss a baby betrothal with the other end.
One minute fifty seconds—billed as two full minutes. Cheng Lang paid three mao.
The gatekeeper grandpa pried: “Master Cheng, you have a baby betrothal?”
Cheng Lang hooked his lips: “Yeah.”
Rare to see Cheng Lang like this. After he left, the gatekeeper marveled: “They say Mine District Master Cheng is the hardest to chase—turns out there’s this story!”
Business at the stalls near the Mine District entrance had quieted a bit. Cheng Lang emerged from the guard room and glanced at his cousin-in-law’s stall—half neatly stocked with goods, half empty.
Approaching after the previous customer, Cheng Lang slapped down five mao, twisted open an orange soda, took a few gulps, and casually said: “Cousin-in-law, good business today?”
“Ah, Lang, back from outside? Today I rode Manman’s coattails—business was great. You wouldn’t believe it: she sold thirty pancakes this morning and is prepping tomorrow’s stuff inside now.” Dong Xiaojuan was truly thrilled. Feng Man’s pancake triumph even boosted her own stall—a morning’s four yuan in sales had her grinning ear to ear. “Keep your money—why give it to me? Makes me sound stingy as your cousin-in-law if word gets out.”
Cheng Lang did not move. He screwed the cap back on the remaining half bottle of orange soda and strode outward. “If I don’t take this money, I’ll bring stuff here every day. Cousin-in-law, won’t your stall go bankrupt from me eating it out? I’ll go check on Xiaoshan. He’s at home, right.”
With that, he did not wait for his cousin-in-law’s reply and headed straight toward the Tube Buildings.
Dong Xiaojuan took the money. She knew Cheng Lang was not one to take advantage, but wasn’t her son in school today?
This Cheng Lang, how could his memory be so poor? Today was Saturday; school break was tomorrow.
In front of Room 203 on the second floor of the Tube Buildings, Cheng Lang heard the sound of chopping as soon as he reached the door. When he stepped into the living room, the chopping stopped, replaced by the sounds of kneading dough.
In the kitchen, a slender figure busied herself with her back to him. A deep red floral apron was tied around her slim waist with thin strings on either side, and her glossy black hair was loosely bound with a hair tie, draped obediently down her back.
It was a few minutes later that Feng Man noticed something amiss. She turned around and met Cheng Lang’s deep eyes, her almond-shaped ones rippling in response. “How did you get here?”
“School’s out today. I came to check on Xiaoshan.” Cheng Lang’s gaze fell on Feng Man’s fair face. The once flawless complexion now bore a slight change—traces of flour dusted both cheeks, making her skin appear even more pure white by contrast.
“Xiaoshan’s at school today.” Feng Man suspected that miners like Cheng Lang had irregular days off and had grown muddled from work. “Did you forget it’s Saturday?”
“Mm.” Cheng Lang responded casually, but his gaze remained fixed on her face.
“What is it?” Feng Man sensed the somewhat intense stare and subconsciously wondered if her face was dirty.
“There’s flour on your face.” Cheng Lang pointed at it from afar.
She raised her arm and wiped her left cheek, then her right, nearly cleaning it all off. Feng Man turned back to her tasks. “I need to keep kneading the dough. There’s tea in the cabinet in the living room—Brother Hua brought it back yesterday. He said it’s fresh Pu’er.”
“Mm.” Cheng Lang spotted the last bit of flour she had missed, about the size of a fingernail. His hand at his side twitched, but in the end, he merely rubbed his thumb and forefinger together firmly and took no further action. He turned to the living room to brew tea.
Fan Zhenghua loved this kind of tea—it was just like his mother’s preference for strong brews. Cheng Lang had no such habit and casually made a light cup. A few Pu’er leaves unfurled in the hot water. He blew on his thin lips to cool it slightly, took a small sip, then spoke to the figure busy in the kitchen. “Auntie’s coming over later. You’ve met her before.”
“Ah?” Feng Man, who had just divided the rested dough into evenly sized portions, froze. She instantly recalled that day’s scene.
Cheng Lang set down his teacup. His sword-like brows arched slightly in rare teasing. “Afraid of Auntie? She’s not that scary, actually.”
Feng Man’s face warmed a bit. “Who’s afraid? Your auntie’s a nice person. Why would I be scared of her?”
It was just that she had been called a fraud back then, and Cheng Lang’s aunt had such an imposing presence that Feng Man felt rather awkward.
Cheng Lang’s calm gaze warmed slightly as it lingered on Feng Man’s face. His thin lips parted lightly. “Don’t worry. I’m here.”
For some reason, that simple sentence carried a strange undertone to Feng Man’s ears.
More than an hour later, Cheng Yulan arrived right on time.
Feng Man was stirring the pre-mixed sauce and pork filling thoroughly at that moment. She poked her head out to greet the old lady, then saw the old lady call her nephew Cheng Lang into the room.
Unsure of the old lady’s attitude, Feng Man did not pause her hands but noted how she had nodded and softly acknowledged her just now—seemingly without that day’s sharpness.
In Fan You Shan’s small room, Cheng Lang stood facing his aunt Cheng Yulan. The two generations shared similar features, the same stern temperament, and the same unyielding demeanor.
Cheng Yulan had received a call that afternoon. After her nephew’s brief explanation, she hung up saying only that she would come over to talk in person. “You’re saying your parents really arranged a baby betrothal for you when you were kids?”
“Yes.” Cheng Lang’s expression was calm, with only composure between his brows. “Auntie, you married far away and lost contact with them for many years.”
It made sense when he put it that way, but Cheng Yulan still harbored doubts. “If it was really a baby betrothal, why haven’t you mentioned it all these years in Ink River? Even when I tried to introduce someone to you, you never spoke up?”
“It happened so long ago. I thought everyone had forgotten.” Cheng Lang’s broad back was straight as he slightly bowed toward his elder.
“Then why bring it up now, and even bring the girl all the way south?” Cheng Yulan’s phoenix eyes stared coldly. “Don’t tell me you sweet-talked her into it.”
“That’s impossible.” Cheng Lang’s thin lips curved slightly with a hint of playfulness. “I wouldn’t do something like that.”
Cheng Yulan had only said it offhand. How could she not know her nephew’s character?
Especially that pretty girl in the kitchen outside—such a rare beauty, with a good temperament too. Last time, she had accused her so definitively, yet the girl remained composed, showing no anger or panic. Very steady.
Upon reflection, Cheng Yulan felt this girl shared a bit of her nephew’s resilient spirit.
“Fine. Since you say so, I’ll accept it.” Cheng Yulan’s thin lips pressed into a straight line as she finally relented.
After all, she knew Cheng Lang best as his aunt—he never lied to his own people.
Besides, if Feng Man were truly a fraud, Cheng Lang could not have been fooled. A shrewd and capable man like him, tempered by years of hardship, would not be blinded by some clumsy lie.
……
That evening, after Fan Zhenghua got off work, he returned with his wife Dong Xiaojuan to close the stall. Trailing behind them was Xiaoshan, who had been running wild near the Mine District after school.
The family of three chatted and laughed as they went upstairs, only to freeze upon glimpsing a second figure in the kitchen and another in the living room.
Fan Zhenghua’s eyes widened like he had seen a ghost. He could hardly believe his aloof cousin was actually helping Feng Man in the kitchen! And according to his wife, Cheng Lang had arrived around three in the afternoon—it was nearly six now. How could this big man sit idle for so long?
It even dulled his surprise at his mother’s sudden visit again that day.
Feng Man was the head chef, with Cheng Lang assisting by boiling rice and chopping vegetables. They prepared a full dinner.
Fan Zhenghua and his wife asked a few more times about his mother’s health. Cheng Yulan, an old lady who was mostly silent, simply replied that she was fine and urged everyone to eat.
Once it was clear the old lady was alright, Fan Zhenghua’s drifting gaze kept sweeping toward his cousin. His lips parted and closed, hesitant to speak. Dong Xiaojuan, however, saw nothing amiss and cheerfully praised them. “The survey team came back today and bought seven or eight bottles of soda from me all at once. It delayed us a bit, but we’re the lucky ones—coming home to a ready meal.”
Feng Man smiled. “I had just finished prepping the sesame flatbread ingredients, so Cheng Lang and I stir-fried the meat and whipped up a couple of dishes.”
At the dinner table, Fan You Shan shoveled food into his mouth. The garlic sprouts twice-cooked pork that Feng Man stir-fried glistened with oil, golden and crispy, with perfect fat-to-lean ratios paired with fragrant garlic sprouts. It went perfectly with rice—he could eat a big bowl. “Auntie Manman, this is so fragrant!”
As he spoke, he did not forget to show off to his grandma. “Granny, look—I ate so much today!”
Cheng Yulan’s aged face bloomed into layered smiles like a chrysanthemum. “Mm, good. Keep it up.”
Feng Man’s cooking was impeccable, but she did not take all the credit. She teasingly ribbed Fan You Shan. “Xiaoshan, the garlic sprouts were washed and chopped by your cousin.”
Fan You Shan ate with relish but spared only a tiny bit of praise for his cousin. “Cousin’s kinda useful, I guess.”
He gestured with his little hand, pinching out an inch in the air. “Just this much. Auntie Manman’s the real pro.”
Everyone burst into laughter. Cheng Lang, the subject himself, hooked his lips. “Getting praise from you is already a win for me.”
Kids ate fast. In no time, he was ready to leave the table and play. “Mom, I’m going next door to play.”
Dong Xiaojuan tried to stop her ravenous little one but failed, only shaking her head with a helpless laugh. “Just like a little monkey.”
Cheng Lang and Feng Man naturally did not mind, nor did Grandma Cheng Yulan, who merely looked on indulgently.
As the meal neared its end, Dong Xiaojuan saw her mother-in-law in a good mood and eagerly spilled about Feng Man’s feat. “Mom, Manman’s skills are incredible—sold thirty sesame flatbreads in ten minutes, just like a restaurant chef.”
Cheng Yulan had tasted Feng Man’s sesame flatbreads and knew full well. Upon hearing this, however, she turned to her nephew. “Don’t just run around the Mine District every day. Help out with your own partner’s matters too.”
Cheng Lang’s parents had long passed, leaving Cheng Yulan as his only elder. He might ignore others’ lectures with his stern personality, but he could not brush off his aunt. “Auntie, I know.”
Feng Man silently sized up the old lady across from her again. Though her tone was still gruff, her attitude had shifted dramatically—truly surprising.
And the old lady’s next words stunned everyone at the table even more.
Cheng Yulan: “Good that you know. So when are you handling your wedding? Since the baby betrothal was set so many years ago, and you’re finally together now, get it done soon.”
Feng Man: “…?”