Cheng Lang clearly hadn’t expected this wrinkle, but having been out in society for years, he had seen it all. “For now, everyone should focus on the wedding banquet. We can get the ID card back later and then go register the marriage.”
Feng Man had heard about such things. In these times, in most people’s eyes, a wedding banquet carried more weight than a marriage certificate. Even twenty years earlier, many in the countryside didn’t bother with certificates at all; a banquet was marriage enough.
She nodded. The ID card would have to be retrieved sooner or later, and they could make it official then.
People said the eighties brought free love, but Cheng Yulan still clung to old ideas. With a baby betrothal set, they needed to marry right away. Fan Zhenghua and Dong Xiaojuan were more open-minded; they had pursued free love themselves.
Now that Cheng Lang and Feng Man had truly settled on marriage, it satisfied everyone. Cheng Yulan saw the baby betrothal come true, fulfilling her late brother and sister-in-law’s wishes. Fan Zhenghua and Dong Xiaojuan felt it was no different from free love; the two were a perfect match.
Late at night, as Fan Zhenghua and Dong Xiaojuan tidied the living room before bed, they were still discussing it. “A-Lang has no parents, and your mom is wearing herself out alone. We need to take this on ourselves.”
Dong Xiaojuan understood perfectly. “Don’t worry, leave it to me. Tomorrow, I’ll check the almanac and pick some good dates. I remember Mom knows how to read it; she chose our wedding day. We’ll start gathering what we need for the banquet too.”
Just then, the door to the small bedroom opened, and a little head poked out. “Dad, is Uncle really getting married?”
Fan Zhenghua eyed his precocious son and bellowed roughly, “What time is it? Bedtime! Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
The small bedroom door slammed shut with a bang, and Fan You Shan’s crisp voice rang out. “I’m asleep, I was just sleepwalking.”
……
The baby betrothal partner had turned into a marriage partner, but nothing seemed to change.
Feng Man slept soundly and woke to the same brilliant golden sun.
Dong Xiaojuan spent the day muttering about picking dates, seeming even more eager and excited than Feng Man. “As a girl, you don’t understand these things yet. Let your sister-in-law tell you: pick a good day for the banquet, and your whole life will go smoothly.”
“Marriage does need a good day,” Feng Man thought. It was a major life event; it deserved extra care.
In less than two days, Cheng Yulan selected several auspicious dates, mainly based on Cheng Lang and Feng Man’s birth years and months. Feng Man only vaguely remembered her mother had died young and her father hadn’t cared, so she could only give the date, not the exact time. Cheng Yulan didn’t mind and pored over the almanac. “I see the twenty-eighth of the fifth lunar month and the twenty-sixth of the sixth are both good, matching your birth charts. You two pick one.”
The lunar fifth month twenty-eighth was the solar calendar’s July eleventh, and the lunar sixth month twenty-sixth was August eighth.
It was late May on the solar calendar now, so neither date was too far off. There was time to prepare the wedding.
Feng Man quietly asked Cheng Lang, “Which date do you think is better?”
Cheng Lang didn’t hesitate. “The fifth month twenty-eighth.”
“Won’t the timing be a bit tight?” Feng Man considered her little business just starting up, Cheng Lang quitting his job to contract the new mine district, and all the things needed for the wedding banquet. One month might be rushed.
Cheng Lang’s face showed no joy or anger, calm as ever. “No, work won’t interfere. For the purchases, have Little Aunt and Cousin-in-law make a list, and we’ll buy them at the Department Store in the city.”
Seeing the man’s confidence, Feng Man had no reason to refuse. The old lady nodded too. “The fifth month twenty-eighth is indeed good. Later, Xiaojuan and I will figure out what to buy. A-Lang, one more thing: you and this girl need a place to live.”
Right, marriage meant a home. The more Feng Man thought, the more tasks piled up: finding a place, furniture and appliances, celebratory wedding items, various wedding outfits… her head spun.
Once the family finished discussing, Cheng Lang stood to leave, and Feng Man followed downstairs.
A cool evening breeze carried voices of people fanning themselves after dinner and children’s laughter and play from all directions.
“When do you have time off? We can go to the city, and about the house—I don’t have connections here. Juan-jie said she’d ask around the nearby Tube Buildings for rentals. If you hear of any good places, let me know.” Feng Man was organized; no matter how many tasks, she unraveled them methodically, one by one.
Cheng Lang pondered briefly. He hadn’t cared much about days off before, even covering shifts for coworkers whose wives visited. Now he thought seriously. “Day after tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at eight in the morning. Don’t worry about the house; I’ll handle it.”
“Good.” Feng Man liked Cheng Lang’s concise, no-nonsense style. A glib, oily-tongued man would seem flashy but empty.
Their relationship wasn’t widely announced, but his handsomeness and her beauty drew eyes to their strolling figures.
Tong Jiayu, living on the fourth floor of the Tube Buildings, had just returned from visiting family. In half a month, everything had changed dramatically.
She’d heard a beautiful woman had moved into Cheng Lang’s cousin’s home. Her glimpse revealed stunning looks she couldn’t hide. More shockingly, she’d never seen Cheng Lang walk and talk so intimately with a woman; even his usual sharp, cold features seemed softened.
She’d asked around: the woman was a relative of Fan Zhenghua and Dong Xiaojuan, though which side wasn’t clear. But looking at Cheng Lang’s cousin and wife, they didn’t seem blood-related to such a beauty.
Tong Jiayu wondered if the woman was involved with Cheng Lang, but then again, he’d never been close to any woman.
She had pursued him for over half a year without getting more than a few words; he was like a wooden post!
As the mine manager’s daughter, Tong Jiayu had never endured such frustration, yet Cheng Lang matched her taste perfectly—looks, build, and that first meeting when, at her father’s request, he fixed her little sedan. The muscles under his undershirt made her heart race…
She clacked downstairs in fine high heels, the stone stairs echoing crisply. Spotting Fan You Shan tossing a sandbag, she called him over.
The Tube Buildings housed many mine acquaintances who spoiled the kids with treats, especially Xiaoshan for his handsome uncle.
Sure enough, sweaty-headed Fan You Shan ran up and offered a bag of dried figs and two lollipops.
“Xiaoshan, your favorite—take it. Tell me, who’s that woman living at your house? Who’s she to you? Related to your uncle?”
Fan You Shan gritted his teeth, face twisted in conflict, then pushed back the treats. “Auntie Tong, that’s my aunt-in-law. Don’t buy me snacks, or she’ll misunderstand.”
Aunt-in-law?
Not even girlfriend, already aunt-in-law?
Tong Jiayu’s pupils dilated. Ignoring the now-departed boy, she stared in disbelief.
How could Cheng Lang suddenly… Impossible!
“Little Tong, why are you standing there dazed?” A nearby neighbor saw the ethereal white-dressed Tong Jiayu pale in the road and called out. “You sick?”
“No.” Tong Jiayu held it together, glancing at the neighbor’s paper bag and smelling fragrance, suddenly hungry. “Sister He, what’s that?”
She’d gotten off the train today, gone straight to the Mine District for Cheng Lang, then rushed here. To pursue him, she’d refused her father’s mine dorm offer and rented here for the indirect approach.
No dinner yet, the smell tempted her sorely.
“Oh, this? Sesame flatbread! So fragrant!” Sister He’s family loved it; sometimes they’d buy one for dinner, slice it up as a meat dish. “It’s from that relative of Xiaojuan’s on the second floor. Wow, Comrade Feng Man is something—gorgeous and great cook. Her stall’s been the hottest lately.”
Stall?
Tong Jiayu hadn’t expected her rival to be a street vendor. She stomped, scorning Cheng Lang’s taste!
……
Fuming, Tong Jiayu rose early to check Cheng Lang’s fiancée at the Mine District entrance, only to learn she sold only lunch and dinner, so she arrived ten minutes early.
After half a day in the finance office, she left at shift end, searching the hot food area for the flatbread stall, lost amid the aromas.
“Accountant Tong, here for food?” Noodle stall owner Liu Cuihua greeted warmly. “What’ll it be?”
Everyone knew Tong Jiayu, the mine manager’s daughter and accountant—beautiful with a great background; all were polite.
“Sis, isn’t there a sesame flatbread seller? Supposed to be super tasty.” Tong Jiayu didn’t see the glimpsed beauty; Dong Xiaojuan’s stall had only sodas and snacks.
“Sesame flatbread…” Liu Cuihua pointed to her own stall. “You found the right place—ours! Look, authentic thousand-layer fresh meat pancake, smells amazing!”
Tong Jiayu didn’t know the seller had changed, but the name sounded good. Assuming it was the woman’s, she paid for one.
But… it lacked last night’s aroma. The crust was soggy, not crisp; the meat filling had a gamey taste, overcooked, poorly fired…
Used to fine foods, Tong Jiayu spat it out after two bites—inedible! What kind of woman had Cheng Lang picked!
That afternoon, Dong Xiaojuan noticed the issue. When Feng Man arrived around four to sell flatbread, she pulled her aside. “Look over there—three stalls selling noodles, rice, and braised meats are peddling your flatbread, same name, shouting ‘thousand-layer fresh meat pancake’ everywhere.”
For a week, Feng Man’s flatbread sold like hotcakes, netting seventy or eighty yuan daily, often sold out. She refused overtime to avoid exhaustion.
Thus, copycats sprang up using the name.
Imitation of good goods was common. Feng Man knew the score; those stalls hawked flatbread alongside, yelling enthusiastically. She smiled and reassured Dong Xiaojuan. “Let them, Juan-jie. We can’t stop it—anyone can sell flatbread; no rule against it.”
“You’re so laid-back.” Dong Xiaojuan knew it was true but fumed; they were riding her coattails, like snot you couldn’t shake off.
Feng Man’s almond eyes sparkled with an idea. “Tomorrow, I’ll make a sign with a name for distinction, and custom oil-paper bags. I saw small shops printing logos on peach pastry and shaqima bags; I’ll do that—no mix-ups.”
Better safe than sorry; distinguishing products was best.
Dong Xiaojuan agreed. “I’ll ask around!”
With a shopping trip tomorrow for wedding goods, Feng Man prepped meat that night, taught Dong Xiaojuan the wrapping technique, baking, flipping times, and entrusted sales to her.
Dong Xiaojuan wasn’t great at stir-frying but excelled at dough and rolling. She learned earnestly, succeeding first try. “Go shop worry-free; I’ve got it tomorrow.”
“Juan-jie, thanks.”
++++
Ink River welcomed early summer’s mild heat in early June. Feng Man woke to slightly rising temperatures and, heading to the city, changed into a cool dress.
Blue-and-white checkered sundress, Soviet sarafan style from a decade ago—wide skirt, layered pleats, not bad.
They agreed to meet at the bus stop. Without a watch, Feng Man recalled the living room clock showed 7:40 on leaving; she’d arrive before eight.
However, someone had arrived even earlier than Feng Man. Lifting her gaze, she spotted a tall figure among the people waiting at the bus stop nearby.
Cheng Lang wore clothes so clean they practically shone—black short sleeves and black trousers. Simple attire, yet it subtly revealed his broad back and waist, giving him an imposing presence.
Feng Man, who had recently grown accustomed to seeing him in the deep blue work uniform from the mine, felt a bit unaccustomed for a moment.
She then wondered what this man would look like in a suit and white shirt.
Cheng Lang had a tall, upright build, straight as a pine. Though he was facing away from Feng Man, he suddenly turned around as she approached.
Their gazes met. Feng Man smiled at him, her cherry lips curving up slightly, just like when they first met. “Comrade Cheng Lang, good morning. Have you been waiting long?”
Cheng Lang’s deep-set eyes and stern features softened a touch. “No, I just got here too.”
The two, who were not yet very familiar despite being marriage partners, took the bus into the city, heading to the most bustling commercial street in Ink River City.
After the reform and opening up, Ink River developed rapidly. Shops had sprung up around the mine district, but when it came to the liveliest, most prosperous place with the widest variety of goods, it was still the Red Star Department Store in the city center.
Built five years ago, the Red Star Department Store stood tall and imposing, its four stories painted spotlessly white. Goods filled the display cases in dazzling array, and it even had dedicated counters for goods from Port City and foreign imports—though rare and thus expensive.
Holding the shopping list for wedding supplies compiled by Cheng Yulan and Dong Xiaojuan, Feng Man strolled through the department store, carefully selecting items. The man walking beside her was mostly silent, leaving all the decisions to her and mainly serving as a bag carrier.
For the wedding, they needed a new custom-made four-piece bed set. Feng Man discussed fabrics and styles with the counter staff. Pure cotton was popular these days—good quality and affordable, though the prints carried the era’s distinctive flair, a bit flashy. Higher-end options used silk, with a smooth feel and simple, elegant patterns. The price difference was double, so fewer people bought the silk four-season sets.
Feng Man had been earning well lately, with her business booming and plenty of profit. She didn’t need to worry about the price difference—what mattered was what she liked. But just as she was about to speak, the man beside her said, “Get the silk ones, right?”
This seemingly cold man actually understood a woman’s heart?
After buying plenty of wedding supplies at the department store and placing an order for the silk four-piece set to arrive by month’s end, the two left the building. Feng Man finally voiced her curiosity. “How did you know to get the silk?”
“You looked at the silk longer than the cotton.”
Tsk tsk, quite observant.
Feng Man was quite satisfied with Cheng Lang’s performance today. He was a man who noticed things, carried full bags without complaint, and even insisted on paying.
At noon, they settled lunch at a nearby small diner.
Ink River had plenty of migrants, all from the south seeking work, so the local diners offered all sorts of cuisines. Feng Man scanned the shop’s layout, her occupational habit kicking in as she quickly spotted the inefficient flow lines. She then chided herself inwardly for overthinking.
She only had half a stall herself right now—why was she eyeing this diner?
Cheng Lang said nothing, but he quietly took in Feng Man’s scanning gaze.
In the late afternoon around three, they returned to the mine district, stowing the items at home for later. Feng Man, thinking of her business, prepared to head to the kitchen to make sesame flatbreads for the evening rush, but Cheng Lang spoke up. “Let’s find a single-story house. No apartments.”
Feng Man, who had been washing her hands and kneading dough, paused in surprise at his words.
In this era, everyone dreamed of apartments. The family housing from major state factories was all tube buildings, and people believed living in an apartment meant a good, respectable life.
She hadn’t expected Cheng Lang to go against the grain.
“You prefer a single-story house?” Feng Man asked curiously.
She herself wasn’t picky either way. After all, in her previous life, she’d slaved away like an ox or horse, returning each day to a tiny room trapped in a high-rise.
“With all this stuff, a single-story house would be more convenient.” Cheng Lang was concise. “The boss at the mine I’m planning to contract has a single-story house for sale. I didn’t think about it before, but now it seems suitable.”
Cheng Lang planned to inquire about the house tomorrow, which truly shocked Feng Man.
Hadn’t this fiancé only gotten rich later on? He already had the means to buy a house now?
……
After Cheng Lang left, Feng Man baked twenty sesame flatbreads. She’d lost some time today, so fewer sales it was.
Money couldn’t be earned endlessly—no need to work herself to death.
She arrived at her stall on time with the flatbreads, did a quick setup, and customers soon streamed in.
In the evening, He Chunsheng dragged his master, who had the day off, out to treat him to flatbreads. “Master, really, trust me! These flatbreads are insanely good, super fragrant!”
They arrived early and waited while four people ahead bought theirs. Finally, it was their turn. He Chunsheng squeezed through the crowd and handed over three yuan. “Comrade Feng Man, two flatbreads!”
Slender fingers opened a paper bag, and a hot, golden thousand-layer fresh meat pancake went in. She repeated the motion, then looked up to hand them over—and spotted a familiar handsome face beside He Chunsheng.
Their gazes met for an instant, then both tacitly said nothing.
The next second, other customers called for change and bagging, keeping Feng Man too busy to pause.
Cheng Lang took the flatbread and, under He Chunsheng’s excited urging, took a bite.
The worker friends crowded around, space tight, and He Chunsheng’s voice rose and fell. “Master, how is it? Super tasty, right? The meat is so tender and fragrant, not a hint of gaminess.”
“Mmm.” Cheng Lang had tasted Feng Man’s handiwork before—it really was delicious.
He Chunsheng kept praising. “Comrade Feng’s skills are just too good. I think about this taste every day…”
It was just that Comrade Feng treated everyone the same—polite and mild. He Chunsheng hadn’t found a chance to get familiar yet.
“What do you call her?” Cheng Lang suddenly interjected, cutting off He Chunsheng’s train of thought.
“Comrade Feng,” He Chunsheng replied, puzzled. He wanted to use a less formal term but worried it might leave a bad impression on the female comrade.
He’d just have to come buy more, get familiar soon, and pursue Comrade Feng.
Cheng Lang’s dark eyes sized up his apprentice, thin lips parting as he dropped a line. “Call her Master’s wife.”
He Chunsheng: ???