Even Feng Jianshe himself had personally certified Cheng Lang as an upright and kind Baby Betrothal partner, yet Feng Man still marveled to herself over the meal that she truly hadn’t misjudged him.
After dinner, Feng Jianshe and Zhang Cuijuan washed the dishes and cleaned up the remnants. Feng Man chatted a bit more with Baozhu before following Cheng Lang and his aunt next door.
The Cheng family house had sat vacant for years. After Cheng Lang’s parents passed away, he hadn’t returned home for many years, and thick dust had accumulated everywhere.
She put the laborers to work cleaning it spotless, and Feng Man deeply admired how Cheng Lang knew how to “use people.”
The rundown house had mottled walls, but its layout was much like the Feng Family’s: a central hall room flanked by side rooms on either side, plus a kitchen and outhouse on the left and right of the courtyard.
Feng Jianshe and Zhang Cuijuan were clearly quite frightened and even thoughtfully laid out two sets of brand-new bedsheets and bedding—truly considerate, saving them quite a bit of trouble.
Of everyone on this trip, Cheng Yulan felt the most emotional. Though the house had been newly built after her brother and sister-in-law married, she had lived there for several years herself, and memories lingered everywhere.
Her gaze swept over the house before her, and Cheng Yulan sank into reminiscence. “Our house next door is the Feng Family’s. Whose house was the one beyond that?”
All three houses in this row stood empty on either side, and Cheng Yulan could no longer recall which family lived in the one farthest to the right.
The air suddenly fell quiet. Cheng Lang didn’t respond to his little aunt, merely glancing indifferently at the vacant Jiang Family house. Instead, Feng Man spoke up enthusiastically. “Little Aunt, that’s the Jiang Family. Their son Jiang Ping is on great terms with A-Lang. Last time, Jiang Ping even sent a letter and package thanking A-Lang for introducing him to a job.”
“Oh.” Cheng Yulan’s impression of the Jiang Family was faint; she vaguely remembered them as an honest, down-to-earth bunch. She just hadn’t expected her aloof nephew to get along well with anyone.
Somewhat surprised.
The three chatted a bit more before returning to the house. Feng Man watched as Little Aunt retired to the left side room, helped tidy up a bit, then returned to the right side room. She sat on the comfortable bed and carefully recalled the day’s events, inevitably sighing. Everything had gone so smoothly—smooth to the point where she had been rubbing her fists, eager for a big fight to tear apart those nasty relatives, yet they hadn’t even appeared before everything was resolved.
By the time Cheng Lang boiled two bottles of hot water, poured them into hot water bottles for use the next morning, and returned to the side room, he was immediately met with Feng Man’s “interrogation.”
“Be honest with me—what exactly did you say to Feng, cough, to my dad?” Feng Man puzzled over it again and again; she just couldn’t see how Feng Jianshe could be so compliant.
Cheng Lang lowered his eyes, his thin lips parting lightly. “Maybe because he saw me as tall and imposing. When I don’t smile, I look pretty fierce, so he was scared of me straight off.”
That made sense. Feng Man carefully sized up the man before her. His tall, sturdy build exuded immense pressure just standing there. When he didn’t smile, his brows and eyes turned sharp, especially with those deep-set eyes—narrow them slightly, and a glint of cold light seemed to flash.
Zhao Gang’s sort of thug relied on throwing his weight around and brawling to intimidate, but Cheng Lang’s presence was far more daunting, an oppressive aura radiating from his very bones.
Still, Feng Man knew the man’s outward appearance clashed hugely with his inner nature; it was truly unfair. She couldn’t help consoling him. “You’re really getting a raw deal. It’s fine—I know you just look fierce, but your heart is actually very kind.”
Cheng Lang smiled faintly and said no more.
……
The days waiting in Nine Mountains Village for the police station to process the formalities passed rather slowly.
Cheng Yulan spent most of her time wandering around the village. Having left her old home for many years, everything she saw filled her with endless emotion.
Feng Man, meanwhile, spent her days playing with Baozhu. She bought plenty of new clothes in town—all the pretty little dresses, outfits, pants, and cute hair ties and clips that a young girl would love. Feng Man combed Baozhu’s hair, tying it into adorable buns and pigtails, dressing her up cute as could be. Baozhu gazed at herself in the mirror and grinned until her eyes curved like crescent moons.
The little girl, separated from her big sister for a while, stuck to her extra closely and retold the recent events several times over.
“Sis, you don’t know—back then Zhao Gang brought a bunch of people to drag you out. I was so worried you’d really get caught.”
“He even said he’d comb heaven and earth to find you. If Nine Mountains Village turned up nothing, he’d search the town.”
Feng Baozhu curiously asked Feng Man, “How did you get away back then?”
Only afterward did the little girl realize the escape plan had been too hasty. Seeing Zhao Gang and his men searching everywhere, she really thought Big Sis would be dragged back—after all, the mountain paths were tough; how far could you get on just two legs?
Feng Man pointed to the tall man chatting with the village chief not far away. “Remember your brother-in-law’s Blue Truck?”
Feng Baozhu nodded; she seemed to recall seeing it in the village on the day of the wedding banquet.
The little girl’s eyes lit up. “You got out on brother-in-law’s truck!”
“Exactly—gotta have wheels.” Feng Man sighed deeply.
“Sis, everyone was saying that night that you and brother-in-law had a Baby Betrothal.” Feng Baozhu had been born years after their mother passed, so she naturally knew nothing of Big Sis’s childhood betrothal. “How come you never mentioned it?”
Feng Man braced herself, fearing she’d slip up. “It was kid stuff, never brought up. I only remembered later.”
Feng Baozhu’s eyes sparkled. “Well, that Baby Betrothal was set perfectly!”
Her brother-in-law was a good man who could even make her dad and little brother toe the line—such skill!
The day before the police station finished the paperwork, Feng Man stuffed a hundred yuan into Baozhu’s hand and carefully instructed her to hide it well. “I’ve given you ten ten-yuan bills—stash them in different spots. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, got it? Don’t let anyone else in the family find it.”
“I understand.” Feng Baozhu knew Big Sis had made money doing business, but she hadn’t expected her to hand over so much at once—it nearly scared her silly.
“Your parents are listening to your brother-in-law now. If anything comes up, tell them we’ve moved out. For big matters, find the village chief nearby first for help, then call us when you can.” Feng Man left Baozhu the number for a small shop near their place and Cheng Lang’s number at the Mine District, and mentioned it to the village chief as well.
Feng Man looked at the thirteen-year-old girl and worried a bit about her future, but with her real parents there, Feng Man couldn’t intervene directly and could only keep an eye out.
Fortunately, the book had mentioned that while Feng Jianshe and Zhang Cuijuan favored their own son, they weren’t utterly awful to their daughter.
Feng Baozhu nodded obediently. “Sis, you’ll be staying down south from now on? Not coming back?”
The two places were over a thousand kilometers apart—a distance unimaginable to Feng Baozhu, who had never traveled far.
Feng Man ruffled Baozhu’s round little head. “I’ll probably stay there. If you miss me… why not aim for university and get into Ink River University? It’s pretty famous—a good school.”
University?
It felt awfully distant to Feng Baozhu; she was only in first year junior high now and knew little about it, growing up in a small mountain village where the biggest thing folks talked about was vocational school. Still, she nodded vigorously. “Okay, Sis—wait for me! I’ll go to university there!”
Feng Baozhu, the first-year junior high student, usually spent her days with classmates climbing hills and catching fish, never idle during breaks or after school.
But from that day on, when her classmates called, “Baozhu, let’s go catch fish!”
She shook her head. “Nah, I gotta head back first.”
She had a new goal: get into university! She had always known her parents preferred her little brother Tianbao. She feared one day they’d arrange another “Zhao Gang” for her just for the bride price. She wanted to be like Big Sis—to go wherever she pleased.
After sending Baozhu back to the Feng Family, Feng Man turned to hear Little Aunt calling her.
Cheng Yulan had returned this time specifically to visit Cheng Yufeng’s grave on his death anniversary.
With paper money prepared, Cheng Yulan called for Feng Man to fetch Cheng Lang from the village chief’s house.
Seeing Little Aunt’s expression, Feng Man vaguely sensed something off. Sure enough, when she raised the matter of visiting the grave at the village chief’s, Cheng Lang’s face darkened, his cold aura fully on display.
But the gloom didn’t last; in an instant, Cheng Lang returned to normal. “Let’s go.”
Cheng Yufeng’s grave was desolate, nearly buried under dead branches and leaves. Cheng Yulan used roadside twigs to sweep left and right, gradually revealing the grave’s true form.
Feng Man had no memory of her father-in-law, of course, but this ancestral worship felt especially unusual—no bereaved kin beside her shed a tear or showed emotion.
Cheng Yulan and Cheng Lang vied with each other in stone-faced composure.
Instead, Feng Man—the one who had never even met Father Cheng—became the only one to show a touch of sorrow for the departed.
Cheng Yulan watched the paper money burn, flames blazing hot, and murmured wistfully, “Well enough. You spent your life stealing chickens and dogs, never doing an honest day’s work. The only right thing you did was set that Baby Betrothal for A-Lang.”
Cheng Lang curled his lip in a cold sneer, utterly emotionless. A breeze scattered his whisper. “The only right thing might’ve been building the house in the right spot.”
Feng Man: QAQ
Was this how you honored the dead?
How did it turn into aunt and nephew cold-mocking together—so disrespectful!
Feng Man bowed three times at the grave. No offense, no offense.
By evening, back at the Cheng family house, Feng Man was still curious. After hesitating—considering they were husband and wife after all—she finally asked, “You and your dad…”
Cheng Lang wasn’t one for affectation. He grasped her curiosity from half a sentence and summed up the past concisely. “My dad wasn’t a good man.”
Feng Man: QAQ
So direct right off—left her feeling oddly unsettled.
Cheng Lang’s thoughts drifted back. “He was a mess from childhood to end, never did anything proper. After marrying my mom and having me, still no real job—just loved stealing chickens and dogs, gambling, boozing, fighting. Total deadbeat. Mom couldn’t take it and left. Dad barely bothered with me. Then one time, drunk off his ass, he fell in the river and drowned. Body floated up the next day before anyone found it.”
Cheng Lang spoke calmly and detachedly. In a few short sentences, he encapsulated the chaotic, absurd family life of the past.
Feng Man hadn’t expected Cheng Lang’s home to have been like that. She pressed, “But folks outside say your mom passed away?”
“No, she left and remarried later. Dad was vain, claimed she died out there—wouldn’t admit she ran because she couldn’t stand him.” Cheng Lang’s deep eyes flickered as his thin lips parted. “Good riddance. She should’ve run.”
In such a family, Cheng Lang had still grown into an upright, kind man—Feng Man felt it hadn’t been easy. She reached out, lightly grasping his hand and kneading his palm twice.
“Little Aunt hated him too—hated him and…” After all, when the Japanese devils captured her, her good-for-nothing brother Cheng Yufeng had risked his life to save his sister. Cheng Yulan’s feelings toward the brother who always bullied her were complicated. “I hated him too.”
Yet Feng Man had clearly heard that after years away, Cheng Lang had still emptied his savings to pay off all his father’s debts.
Talking of his late father, Cheng Lang suffered his first nicotine craving in over three months of quitting.
The unusual emotional turbulence stimulated his nerves, craving that nicotine solace.
Feng Man saw his fingers twitch, reaching toward his pocket, and instantly understood. “Craving a smoke? I’ll find some candy for you.”
On this trip, neither had thought to bring candy. They’d only bought some for Baozhu in the village and gifted smokes, liquor, and candy at the village chief’s. This late at night, Feng Man truly couldn’t find any.
“Shoot, seems like we don’t have any.” Feng Man tilted her head, observing Cheng Lang’s expression, searching his stern brows and thin, cool lips for signs he could endure. “Can you hold out?”
Cheng Lang’s breathing grew a touch heavier. The strange, twisted mix of pain, hatred, and sorrow from speaking of his father gradually faded, replaced by an odd stir from Feng Man’s concerned gaze.
The woman staring intently at him drew near with a faint, alluring fragrance, asking if he could hold out?
Cheng Lang’s arm wrapped around Feng Man’s waist. He leaned down, desire deepening his voice to a husky timbre. “Can’t hold back.”