A deathly silence fell over the dinner table.
Though Fan Zhenghua and Dong Xiaojuan were Cheng Lang’s cousins, they were not much older than him and had never handled such matters themselves. Only when Cheng Yulan brought it up did the two suddenly realize that it made some sense.
The marriages of young men and women were usually arranged by their parents and matchmakers, but Cheng Lang’s parents had passed away, Feng Man’s mother had died, and her father had remarried without treating her properly. No one had taken the initiative to handle it before.
Feng Man suppressed her surprise and marveled at how the old lady had done a complete one-eighty in a single day. She then quietly shifted her gaze to Cheng Lang.
Unexpectedly, the man met her eyes as well, a hint of amusement on his handsome face.
Feng Man’s eyelashes fluttered a few times as their gazes met. The man then spoke up: “Auntie, we’ll discuss it.”
“Hmph.” Cheng Yulan snorted with the heavy weight of age, “None of you ever give me peace of mind.”
That night, Cheng Yulan did not return to her home in South City and stayed in the same room as her grandson Fan You Shan.
It was only then that Feng Man learned Cheng Yulan’s husband had passed away eight years ago, and the old lady now lived alone. Fan Zhenghua and his wife had repeatedly suggested she come live with them, but she had firmly refused.
She only stayed over occasionally like this.
As night deepened, Fan You Shan was still playing with the kids in the hallway and building. Feng Man and Cheng Lang stood in the corridor, where a gentle breeze brought waves of coolness, scattering their conversation voices into fragments.
“Do you want to get married this quickly?” Feng Man was somewhat surprised. From the first day she met Cheng Lang, she had found him somewhat aloof, uninterested in most things yet exceptionally reliable.
Especially when interacting with her, his baby betrothal partner, he showed little enthusiasm, hardly looking like he liked her much. Feng Man had even planned in her heart that if Cheng Lang wanted to cancel the baby betrothal, she would certainly agree.
Yet tonight, his aunt had suddenly brought up getting married and holding the banquet soon, and Cheng Lang actually seemed willing.
He held a cigarette his cousin had handed him after dinner, unlit. His tall, upright figure leaned slightly forward, dissipating some of his intimidating presence: “You unwilling?”
The already imposing man said it flatly, not like conversation but more like a threat.
Feng Man drifted off, thinking Cheng Lang’s aura had the vibe of a 90s Hong Kong triad boss—able to dominate any scene with just his words.
Of course, Feng Man knew it was all an illusion. Cheng Lang was cold on the outside but warm inside, a good man—soft-hearted and easily swayed, an honest guy.
“Not exactly.” Feng Man hadn’t thought much about marriage before. In her previous life, she had been busy building her career, slaving away dutifully with no chance to enter the halls of matrimony. Now suddenly faced with this life decision, she felt some hesitation. “I just think it’s too fast. Aren’t we not familiar enough yet?”
To be honest, she didn’t think she knew Cheng Lang that well.
Feng Man discussed it candidly: “Can I think about it a bit?”
Cheng Lang nodded: “I’ll be working non-stop with the mining team starting tomorrow for a few days. I’ll come find you when I get back.”
“Okay.” Feng Man reminded him, “Be safe.”
Marriage was no joke and needed careful consideration, but Feng Man’s top priority was her sesame flatbread stall tomorrow.
As dawn broke, people near the Mine District headed out to work early. Breakfast stalls steamed with hot vapors, but Feng Man was in no rush—she sold lunch and dinner.
While baking the thousand-layer fresh meat pancakes one by one, Feng Man pondered that having a flatbread oven would be ideal, though she hadn’t seen where to buy one yet. If business picked up later, she would have someone custom-make one.
It was around ten-thirty. At the Fan house, only Feng Man, Cheng Yulan, and Xiaoshan—who had the day off for Sunday—were home. Feng Man lined two wooden buckets with clean cheesecloth, carefully placed twenty thousand-layer fresh meat pancakes inside, and topped them with a bamboo steamer basket for display later. Once done, with her hands free, she prepared to head out.
“Auntie Manman, I’ll carry one for you!” Fan You Shan, who had just snuck a bite nearby, eagerly offered to help.
“No need. If you want to play, come along.” Feng Man refused, seeing he was young and might drop the bucket. She turned to the old lady watching TV in the living room: “Auntie Cheng, we’re heading to the stall. Want to come check it out?”
Fan You Shan failed to help but obediently followed Feng Man, calling nonstop to his grandma: “Granny, come to the stall and watch Auntie Manman sell sesame flatbreads!”
Cheng Yulan was usually stern and unsmiling, her eyes and mouth corners drooping downward, giving her some presence. Hearing them, she lifted her eyelids and slowly stood.
Without much talk, Cheng Yulan walked straight to Feng Man. Her wrinkled, slender but strong hands took one wooden bucket from Feng Man and strode ahead effortlessly: “Let’s go.”
Feng Man hadn’t expected to be “outdone” by an elder despite being young. She was about to ask the old lady to hand back the bucket—she could carry it—when she saw Cheng Yulan walking briskly.
Feng Man: QAQ
The stall area at the Mine District entrance was as lively as ever. Many glanced toward Dong Xiaojuan’s spot, but when they saw an old woman, a young woman, and a child carrying two wooden buckets, their gazes intensified.
The nearby food-selling area fell instantly quiet. Vendors selling noodles, rice, and braised dishes couldn’t help but stare. The pretty young girl they thought had no skills despite her looks had set up her stall, and the hot, fresh sesame flatbreads emitted a fragrant aroma, drawing many miners over.
Paying, receiving money, handing out flatbreads… it was a frenzy of buying.
The confidence to let people eat for free had made the thousand-layer fresh meat pancakes famous overnight yesterday. Plus, selling only for twenty minutes had whetted appetites all day. Now it was packed with customers.
Dong Xiaojuan had never seen such a scene and simply came over to help. Even her sodas on the side sold much better—miners with two flatbreads in their bellies were bound to get thirsty.
Customers streamed in endlessly: repeat buyers from yesterday and curious first-timers. In no time, the thirty sesame flatbreads sold out.
He Chunsheng had been thinking about the pretty girl’s flatbreads at the entrance since yesterday but missed lunch again. Hearing there would be dinner sales at five, he was determined to buy some first thing this time.
Feng Man’s stall time was short because the food was so tasty and filling—it sold like hotcakes. In the afternoon, she went back for a nap to recharge for dinner prep. At five, she set up again with another thirty sesame flatbreads, which sold out in a flash.
Busy until five-thirty, Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan packed up and headed home together. On the way, Dong Xiaojuan’s bell-like laughter rang out—the business had been booming today.
Cheng Yulan had gone back to her home in the city after lunch. Fan Zhenghua returned from the mine shift and saw his wife counting money as soon as he entered.
Dong Xiaojuan had benefited today, selling a record number of sodas—five yuan in one day.
Feng Man tidied up and tallied her accounts too: sixty sesame flatbreads total, thirty yuan in revenue. Pork belly was two yuan per catty; Feng Man’s was generous. Other stalls used one catty for thirty flatbreads with just a smear of filling, but hers used it for twenty, evenly and solidly distributed. Plus flour, sesame oil, lard, and over ten spices—the cost per flatbread was about twenty cents, not counting labor and time. She netted eighteen yuan that day.
With business booming and earnings satisfying, Feng Man pocketed the money feeling relieved. She hoped to hire help once it stabilized, keeping the core seasoning secret while others handled basics. That way, she could relax, expand, and scale up.
Over the next few days, Feng Man’s stall remained hot. No matter the era, without filling, tasty food, people had no energy for work. Miners earned decently and were willing to treat themselves. Besides, Feng Man’s flatbreads were substantial—an average miner was full after two or three.
But this time, some odd faces appeared among the buyers.
Feng Man sold as usual, but after a kid bought some flatbreads, Dong Xiaojuan nudged her arm and whispered: “That was Liu Cuihua’s son from the noodle stall. Her family came to buy flatbreads? Something feels off.”
Among the food vendors, Liu Cuihua had the narrowest mind, always leading trouble. She had spearheaded blocking new stalls from the prime spots recently.
And taking care of others’ business? Impossible! Liu Cuihua was the stingiest. Dong Xiaojuan had vended here for years and never seen her support anyone.
This rubbed many the wrong way, especially since vendors often helped each other out reciprocally. But she always pretended not hungry, never bought, yet eagerly pushed her noodles—truly shameless.
Feng Man glanced toward the distant noodle stall as Dong Xiaojuan said. Sure enough, the boy who bought the flatbreads shared half with Liu Cuihua upon returning. She quickly tore off bites, pondering something.
“No worries, we just sell our honest sesame flatbreads.” Feng Man mused. A quiet competitor likely meant scheming—she had a rough idea.
The sesame flatbreads became the hot topic in the Mine District lately. He Chunsheng had planned to support his crush’s business regardless of taste, but unexpectedly, they were just too delicious!
By now, daily buyer He Chunsheng couldn’t tell if it was for her or pure craving.
“Master, I bought two flatbreads. Try one—super fragrant and tasty!” He Chunsheng thought his master was terrifying: ignoring pretty girls and yummy flatbreads.
Cheng Lang had worked non-stop for days, slept it off, showered at the bathhouse, and emerged in a black tank top, cigarette in mouth, checking a faulty coal mining machine for a coworker.
Right foot braced aside, body bent like a drawn bow, Cheng Lang replied coolly to He Chunsheng: “No need.”
He Chunsheng: “…”
Master was insane—desireless, inhuman.
Nearby Song Guodong stayed silent, eyes darting over Brother Lang, thinking he was too ruthless. Even if Comrade Feng Man tricked him into being baby betrothal partners, refusing a flatbread was overkill?
Minutes later, Cheng Lang pointed out to the coworker: “The coal mining machine is aged, causing a blockage in the coal chute. Clear it and it’ll be fine.”
The coworker had sweated buckets over the malfunction today. Cheng Master pinpointed it instantly. As he thanked him, the man strode away.
He Chunsheng chased: “Master, where you off to? Movie at the Mine District this afternoon! Not watching?”
“Not watching, got things to do.” Cheng Lang headed out briskly, mind on major life matters.
Five days apart, Feng Man saw Cheng Lang again that evening after closing up and eating dinner.
Despite days of non-stop work, the man showed no fatigue—not even stubble on his chin.
They revisited the topic from days ago. Feng Man appreciated Cheng Lang giving her time to think—he knew his limits. She had pondered seriously, but now faced with him, she wondered how to broach it.
Cheng Lang tilted his head slightly, quietly regarding the woman before him.
When thinking, Feng Man furrowed her willow brows slightly. Her usually clear, bright almond eyes swirled like rippling water, her dark pupils shining like black gems. As she considered, her pearly white teeth bit her lower lip, indenting the plump cherry-red petals—like a crimson cherry folded at the edge, or clouds tinged pink.
In that moment of serious marriage talk, Cheng Lang’s mind wandered. His gaze lingered on her biting, thinking red lips—how soft they must be…
“Comrade Cheng Lang, if we marry, will you do housework? Cook, laundry, mopping?” Feng Man was pragmatic. She had hopped onto her fiancé’s “ride,” bluntly acknowledging kinship at first sight—admittedly, his looks and build had charmed her from the window. No need for pretense now; if it fit, marriage was fine.
Especially in this chaotic, fast-developing era, in a crowded place like the Mine District, Cheng Lang gave strong security.
But plenty needed clarifying pre-marriage.
Cheng Lang had no dating or matchmaking experience, answering whatever Feng Man asked.
“Yes.” His deep voice was pleasant, then he hesitated and added, “But my cooking’s not great.”
The latter half dropped in tone, seeming a bit guilty.
Feng Man curved her brows and eyes: “Then we split chores—I cook, you wash dishes and clothes.”
“Mm.” Cheng Lang had no objection, agreeing readily.
“What about household expenses? How should we allocate them?” Feng Man vaguely remembered that many families had conflicts over household expenses or wage arrangements. It was best if husband and wife could reach a consensus.
“I’ll listen to you.” Cheng Lang naturally had even less experience. Thinking of his cousin and the other married men in the Mine District who always complained about their daily lives, he spoke up immediately. “I can hand over my wages and keep a little pocket money each month. You handle the household expenses.”
All the married people Cheng Lang knew loved to complain that their wives controlled the money too tightly, holding onto all the wages without giving enough for cigarettes or drinks…
But Feng Man was different.
“There’s no need to hand everything over to me. Just give me half your wages each month. Besides household expenses, we can save some money…” As Feng Man spoke, she suddenly thought of something. “How much is your monthly wage now?”
“Two hundred eighty, sometimes up to three hundred with night shift bonuses.”
Cheng Lang had good skills and seniority, so his wages were quite impressive. He was definitely among the high earners in the Mine District.
Feng Man nodded, somewhat satisfied.
She recalled how, in her previous life at work, she often heard married female colleagues chatting idly, sharing their art of taming husbands.
You had to be sometimes tight, sometimes loose with men. This man was like a balloon—if you didn’t pat him, he wouldn’t move, but if you patted him too hard, he’d bounce too wildly. You had to master the right degree yourself.
The married female colleagues were experienced and chimed in one after another. If a man proactively offered to hand over his wages the first time, you had to refuse. Otherwise, you’d suffer during future arguments. It was also a test—if he truly meant it, he would offer again later.
This was called a test!
Feng Man had no experience and only pondered learning from these experienced married folks. She immediately rejected Cheng Lang’s proposal to hand over all his wages.
But when these words fell on Cheng Lang’s ears, they sounded a bit strange. The other married men all said their wives at home controlled them too much, but with Feng Man, it was the exact opposite.
Recalling his own resignation from the job, Cheng Lang clenched his cheek slightly but still revealed, “However, I just submitted my resignation to the Mine District and plan to contract it out on my own. You…”
About to lose his stable iron rice bowl job, Cheng Lang rarely lost some composure—not for himself, but as he sized up the woman before him.
After all, to most people, such an action was no different from going mad.
Unexpectedly, Feng Man’s almond eyes lit up slightly. That reaction clearly had nothing to do with disdain or lack of understanding.
Feng Man smiled brightly. “Working for others has no future. Going solo is the right way!”
If she remembered correctly, the fiancé mentioned in the book had started out working at the large state-owned mine in Ink River before moving to a private mine and making his fortune.
For the good progression in the book, Feng Man naturally supported it.
Cheng Lang lowered his gaze into Feng Man’s eyes dotted with smiling intent, a barely perceptible arc tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Feng Man’s final question pondered her fiancé’s one glaring flaw: too soft-hearted, soft behind the ears—putting it nicely, honest and straightforward; put less nicely, easily deceived, prone to being bullied.
She blinked. “If we disagree in the future, whose words do we listen to?”
Cheng Lang read a hint of slyness in Feng Man’s eyes, his mind turning quickly. “Yours.”
The standard answer.
Feng Man pursed her lips, her smiling face full of playfulness. “Don’t fool me. It sounds good now, but who knows what’ll happen later. How about this: for big matters, listen to me; for small matters, listen to you.”
These words seemed a bit different from ordinary family situations. What Cheng Lang heard was the opposite. But confident there wouldn’t be many big matters at home, he nodded. “Deal.”
Cheng Lang agreed too straightforwardly and crisply. Even as Feng Man racked her brains wondering if there was anything else to confirm, she saw the man, rarely smiling, speak up. “If you think of any other questions, just tell me anytime.”
“Oh.” Feng Man nodded, but then saw Cheng Lang staring fixedly at her. The surroundings instantly quieted down. Even the sounds of children playing and frolicking upstairs and downstairs vanished. Only her heartbeat thumped louder.
The marriage was settled amid this wondrous atmosphere and these questions.
But in the next instant, Feng Man suddenly remembered an important issue she had overlooked. “I fled in a hurry back then, and my dad and stepmom took my ID card and Household Registry. They’re still back in Nine Mountains Village. If we get married, how do we get the certificate…?”