Dong Xiaojuan asked casually, originally just teasing Cheng Lang and Feng Man. After all, Xiaoshan was always thinking about food, so how could anyone take his words seriously.
But with that casual question, Dong Xiaojuan didn’t get a response from the two.
The usually sharp-tongued Feng Man kept her head down counting money, while the habitually taciturn Cheng Lang finally spoke after several seconds of silence in the air.
“I didn’t eat anything spicy, just a mint candy.” Cheng Lang caught with his peripheral vision the slight tremble of the eyelashes of the woman counting money with her head down, and the corners of his thin lips curved up slightly. “But it was the last one. I’ll buy some more for Xiaoshan later.”
“Why buy for him? There’s plenty of candy at home.” Dong Xiaojuan laughed. She hadn’t expected this newlywed couple to be so amusing—grown adults sharing candy together.
That evening, Fan You Shan really received a bag of candy from his uncle, but looking at the colorful assortment of sweet candies, the elementary school student fell into deep thought. How could such sweet candy make his mouth red and spicy?
Sigh, he didn’t understand.
……
Another person who didn’t understand this world was Zhou Yuejin.
Ever since he stumbled upon his wife’s working outside a few days ago, the couple had been in a cold war.
Yuan Qiumei no longer pretended. She went out early and returned late every day, busy with work. Zhou Yuejin seized every opportunity to persuade her, but she blocked him every time.
“Qiumei, we have money at home. Isn’t it good for you to stay inside and manage the household? Why go out and suffer?” Zhou Yuejin truly didn’t understand.
Yuan Qiumei, who had just taken in the laundry from the corridor and entered the inner room, said softly, “Why can’t I go out to work? I want to earn a wage too.”
“Wage? Don’t I give you two hundred yuan from my salary every month?” Zhou Yuejin earned two hundred and fifty yuan a month, handed over two hundred, kept fifty—considered family-oriented among the Mine District workers.
Hearing this, Yuan Qiumei’s eyes flickered, and she seemed to hear again the words her in-laws had said last month when they visited.
Yuan Qiumei and Zhou Yuejin were from the same hometown, married through a matchmaker in the village. Zhou Yuejin felt there was no future in farming, so he went south to work and actually made a name for himself. His monthly wage was enough to make the villagers envious.
Three years ago, with his job stable and some savings, he brought his wife over, so they no longer had to live apart long-term.
Their days passed blandly but harmoniously. Zhou Yuejin handled the outside work, Yuan Qiumei the inside chores. The only worry was that they still had no children.
Recently, Zhou’s father and mother had come to visit. With Zhou Yuejin at the mine all day, Yuan Qiumei served her in-laws at home all day, while listening to their nagging about having a child.
Married for years with no children, both Yuan Qiumei and Zhou Yuejin were anxious. They tried everything but couldn’t conceive. Her in-laws nagged daily, driving Yuan Qiumei to want to flee the house. Even the time she spent buying groceries became her precious moments of peace.
Later, when Feng Man asked her to do odd jobs, five yuan a day—the taste of escaping home was simply too good. No more elders’ urging and nagging in her ears, and working outside became enjoyable.
She even got praised: for her quick hands and feet, for her good dough-kneading, for the nice flavor of her braising broth…
The more Yuan Qiumei worked, the more energetic she became, almost falling in love with such days.
Not long after, her in-laws finished their visit and returned home. Before leaving, her mother-in-law looked at her affectionately, her tone soft, but her words piercing: “Qiumei, Yuejin works hard, and it’s thanks to his ability that he earns so much. Everything you eat, wear, and use—isn’t it all bought with Yuejin’s wage? The family just hopes you’ll give us a big fat boy. You must put in more effort; you can’t let Yuejin reach thirty without an heir.”
Though her in-laws left, Yuan Qiumei felt suffocated. When she received the wage her husband handed her, she spent it hesitantly, always recalling her mother-in-law’s words.
With so much money—two hundred yuan whole—she felt watched spending even a penny. She constantly reminded herself to spend it on the home, on Zhou Yuejin, not on herself.
Until she worked at Feng’s and earned sixty-five yuan in ten days. Yuan Qiumei’s hands trembled as she held it, tasting for the first time the freedom of spending without restraint.
This was money she earned herself—no one could say anything. She could spend it however she wanted.
The usually soft-tempered Yuan Qiumei, for this taste, stubbornly held her ground for the first time, refusing to yield and insisting on continuing to help at Feng’s.
“Old Zhou, you can work and earn a wage, so can I.” Yuan Qiumei wasn’t good at arguing. From childhood, she had been compliant and enduring, and even now she could only reason softly.
“You insist on going out to suffer for that pittance? What about the household chores?” Zhou Yuejin’s temper flared.
“I can do them just the same: cook, wash, sweep—no delay for the home.” Seeing her husband’s anger, Yuan Qiumei’s resolve weakened a bit, but she still persisted softly.
Zhou Yuejin thought of his coworkers teasing him, saying his wife could earn too, so the couple could save a lot. His face burned with embarrassment.
He had worked so many years, honing skills and experience. In all of Ink River, his wage was top-tier. Now he had become a man who let his wife go out to suffer and earn—truly humiliating.
“Fine, I see you insist on making yourself suffer!” Zhou Yuejin threw down harsh words. “Go work then. See how long you last and what you accomplish!”
The couple parted unhappily and slept on opposite sides of the big bed that night, minding their own business.
The next morning, as the sky was dimly lit, Zhou Yuejin got up, washed up, and found breakfast already made on the table.
Yuan Qiumei had boiled two bowls of noodles, dyed an enticing red sheen by red oil chili, steam rising with overflowing aroma, waiting to be devoured.
“I’m off to the mine.” Zhou Yuejin left domineeringly, skipping his wife’s breakfast for the first time.
Yuan Qiumei stared silently at the two bowls on the table, feeling a lump in her chest. In the end, she ate both herself, unwilling to waste them.
That noon, before heading out to sell cooked food, Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan invited Yuan Qiumei to eat, but she waved them off. The noodles were still heavy in her throat. “I ate a lot for breakfast; I’m not hungry. You eat.”
Feng Man didn’t press, seeing she really seemed full, and handed her a cup of water to settle her stomach.
Yuan Qiumei struggled to digest, and even by four or five in the afternoon when it was time for dinner, her stomach still felt stuffed. She just watched Feng Man and Dong Xiaojuan eat.
Coincidentally, Cheng Lang got off work unusually early that day. As Feng Man ate, she told him to add a set of bowls and chopsticks: “You’re in for a treat today—braised beef tendon with daikon radish, fresh from the pot. So fragrant.”
Cheng Lang sat beside Feng Man but noticed Yuan Qiumei wasn’t at the table. After a brief inquiry, he raised an eyebrow. This couple—one stuffed, one with no appetite. Rumor had it Zhou Yuejin had barely eaten two meals that day too. Quite interesting.
But he didn’t meddle in other couples’ affairs, focusing only on his own.
The beef tendon was braised tender and falling apart, its gelatinous shine chewy and refreshing. The daikon soaked up the broth, perfect with rice.
Yuan Qiumei prepared the cooked food to sell at the Mine District entrance later, packing it all into basins and buckets, ready to go anytime.
At the sink, Cheng Lang, having finished eating, brought over his bowls and chopsticks. He rinsed them deftly, wiped the table twice, tidied everything neatly in no time, then swept the hall floor clean with a broom. He seemed very practiced at it all, clearly accustomed to chores.
On the way to the Mine District, after pondering a moment, Yuan Qiumei couldn’t help asking, “Manman, at your house, does Mine Chief Cheng also wash dishes and sweep?”
“Of course.” Feng Man replied casually. “I cook, so he does the rest. Men and women together, work is less tiring.”
Yuan Qiumei was astonished. She hadn’t imagined Cheng Lang, who managed an entire Mine District, would share half the housework at home—unheard of.
Over the next few days, Yuan Qiumei observed her husband. Long habits had rooted their lifestyle: she cooked, washed, cleaned; he worked and earned, hands-off at home.
Occasionally at Feng Man’s, she saw Cheng Lang, the big boss, pitching in willingly—washing clothes and dishes no problem.
Feng Man also noticed these days that Cheng Lang came home much earlier, sometimes around the same time as Fan You Shan after school.
After dinner this evening, Feng Man was pestered by Fan You Shan to tell stories. The elementary student loved all sorts of fantastical myths and dragged over a small stool to sit by his aunt.
When Cheng Lang entered the room, he saw the big and small getting along harmoniously, though it dragged on endlessly.
He fetched a handful of candy from the cabinet in the hall, knocked on the door, and asked Feng Man, “Want some candy?”
Feng Man’s expression sharpened. Looking at the serious-faced man, she instantly understood his meaning.
Her cheeks gradually heated, flushing pink. She coughed lightly and glanced quickly at the innocent-looking elementary student.
Fan You Shan was thrilled: “Yes! Uncle, I want candy!”
Cheng Lang gave him all the candy in his hand and patted his head. “Share with the kids outside. Don’t hog it all.”
“Okay!” After half an hour of myths, Fan You Shan dashed off with his sweet candies.
With Xiaoshan gone, the room fell instantly quiet. Feng Man watched the man approach, instinctively stepping back a bit to lean against the chair back.
“Want some candy?” Cheng Lang leaned in close, his voice low and husky.
Feng Man glanced down at his empty palm, her throat tightening. “Didn’t you give all your candy to Xiaoshan…”
“There’s more.” Cheng Lang drew slowly nearer, his long fingers gently lifting her chin. “Want it?”
Feng Man seemed to smell the cool mint scent again, lingering around her.