Chapter 4: Misunderstanding Their House

Chapter 4: The Misunderstanding Over Their Home

"Divorce? You want a divorce?" Song Fenglan widened her eyes.

"No, I don’t want a divorce," Qin Yizhou emphasized.

"Then why bring it up?" Song Fenglan said.

"..." Qin Yizhou hesitated. "Zi Hang said he wants a new dad."

"You believe a child’s words?" Song Fenglan raised an eyebrow. "If his own father doesn’t treat him well, how can he expect a stepfather to? Who’d raise another man’s kid for nothing?"

Not that Song Fenglan meant to badmouth others, but many men preferred having their own biological children and had no interest in raising someone else’s.

"Would I have dragged our kid all the way here if I wanted a divorce?" Song Fenglan looked at Qin Yizhou. "Do you want a divorce? Am I in your way? Are you—"

"No, no, no," Qin Yizhou quickly said, afraid of upsetting her. "It’s not like that."

"If not, then why mention it?" Song Fenglan said. "Get going—the kid’s still asleep. Don’t slack on the housing application. I want a bungalow. Not to show off, but because a bungalow with its own yard is simpler, more convenient, and fewer headaches."

"Got it," Qin Yizhou said. "I’ll get going now and come early tomorrow. I’m on leave recently. First thing tomorrow, I’ll apply for the family housing, then come over."

"Remember to bring some food," Song Fenglan said. "Don’t show up empty-handed, or Zi Hang might think you don’t like him."

When it came to their son, Song Fenglan was especially attentive. She wouldn’t let him feel unloved, not make him think they were divorcing. She refused to let him become a little pitiful soul.

"I’ve got it," Qin Yizhou said. "Um..."

"Hmm?" Song Fenglan tilted her head slightly, yawning. She was worn out from the long trip alone with their boy, needing to keep a constant eye on him.

"Never mind. If she’d wanted a unit, I’d have asked for one. I’ll apply tomorrow and head back now," Qin Yizhou said.

Hating to go, Qin Yizhou missed the days they’d live together again, spending more time with his wife instead of just looking at her picture. After leaving the guesthouse, he hurried back to his quarters to grab some food and wash up. He needed to apply for family housing first thing in the morning.

Word got around fast about Qin Yizhou’s family arriving, and Political Commissar Zhao had already heard.

First thing the next morning, Qin Yizhou went to the cafeteria to find Political Commissar Zhao, who often ate breakfast there instead of at home. Political Commissar Zhao’s wife was also with him, though she was in poorer health and sometimes didn’t cook breakfast or prepared it late, so he ate at the cafeteria.

Qin Yizhou submitted his application, but Political Commissar Zhao set it aside without reading it.

"The new apartment building—we’ll assign you one..."

"No, we don’t need that," Qin Yizhou said.

"Not necessary?" Political Commissar Zhao frowned, puzzled. "Isn’t this for family housing? Or is your wife planning to take the child back?"

"No, she said a bungalow is fine. No need for an apartment," Qin Yizhou explained. "A bungalow with a yard—more space for the child to play."

"Did she really say that?" Political Commissar Zhao was still confused. "Everyone’s clamoring for the new units. Even those in bungalows are applying to switch."

The final list hadn’t been decided yet. Considering Qin Yizhou’s family had lived in the capital, Political Commissar Zhao assumed Song Fenglan and her son wouldn’t prefer a bungalow, so he planned to assign them an apartment. Though many had applied and housing was limited, applications were still open, and Qin Yizhou’s request was timely.

With Qin Yizhou’s service record, assigning him a new apartment wouldn’t be an issue—he’s earned it.

But while Political Commissar Zhao thought this way, others might not.

"She did say that," Qin Yizhou confirmed. "If she’d wanted a unit, I’d have asked for one."

"Then the bungalow it is," Political Commissar Zhao said. "Turns out there's an empty house next to Zhang Chenghai's family. You can start moving in today, and I'll handle all the paperwork for you."

Political Commissar Zhao had breakfast at the military canteen, not the one in the residential compound. Although no family members were nearby, others still overheard the conversation between Political Commissar Zhao and Qin Yizhou. Due to the distance, they only caught bits and pieces, leading some to mistakenly believe Qin Yizhou and his wife would move into an apartment building. One fewer unit up for grabs made the waitlist longer, leaving some feeling disappointed.

Qin Yizhou was unaware of these thoughts. Starting today, he was on leave. First, he bought some food to deliver to the guesthouse, then he planned to clean up their new house.

At the guesthouse, Qin Yizhou placed the food on the table—meat buns, steamed buns, boiled eggs, and some soy milk.

"Haven't eaten yet?" Song Fenglan eyed the spread, knowing she and her son couldn't possibly finish it all.

"Not yet," Qin Yizhou replied. "I ran into the commissar at the canteen and got the housing settled. I'll head over to clean up soon."

"Where is it?" Song Fenglan asked. "Perfect. Zi Hang and I have nothing to do here anyway. We'll come along. The sooner we tidy up, the sooner we can move in. The weather’s warm—a straw mat and blanket are all we need for now."

Guesthouses back then weren’t as convenient as modern hotels, and Song Fenglan had no intention of staying long.

"Are we going to live in our own home?" Qin Zihang clutched a bun in one hand and a cup of soy milk in the other. "Our very own?"

"Yes, our very own," Song Fenglan nodded.

They had previously stayed at her aunt’s place, but living as guests always felt uneasy. Children are sensitive and easily pick up on others' moods. Even though her aunt treated them well, other family members were less welcoming, some outright making nasty comments in front of them.

Paying rent and food expenses didn’t help—people still accused them of freeloading.

Song Fenglan’s heart ached for her son. Her decision to join Qin Yizhou now wasn’t just because she’d regained memories of her past life, but also because she couldn’t bear to see her child suffer. Childhood hardship leaves marks—no amount of making up for it later would erase them.

Qin Yizhou, based at the barracks, rarely returned home and knew little of these struggles. Besides, people acted sweet when he visited, especially his elder sister-in-law, who played the generous in-law while subtly belittling Song Fenglan as a "‘capitalist’s daughter’" who looked down on their gifts.

"Can I run around? Jump?" Qin Zihang blinked at his mother. "Can we hang clothes outside?"

"We could, but space was tight," Song Fenglan explained. "Others kept their laundry apart from ours, claiming our clothes ‘smelled different.’”

"I had no idea..."

"I never told you before. Now you know." Song Fenglan had avoided mentioning it, not wanting to seem petty.

She also believed adult clothes carried more germs and shouldn’t be hung near children’s clothes. But what could she do? As ‘class enemies’ and unwanted guests, even neighbors looked down on her.

Perhaps because she stayed at her aunt’s after marriage, neighbors whispered the Qins looked down on her and that divorce was inevitable.

Before, Song Fenglan had been too proud to show vulnerability. Now, she refused to let others see her as a pushover—or let her son grow up timid.

"We need our own home," she said, wiping her son’s mouth with a handkerchief.

Children are naturally lively, and a bungalow—unlike an apartment building, where noise travels—would let him jump around freely. Her aunt lived in a crowded courtyard, where every thump brought scowls.

Kids brush off scoldings fast, but repeated reprimands stick. At three, he was old enough to remember. If he kept being criticized, it’d mess him up.

Song Fenglan had once relied on her aunt to babysit while she worked. Her pride insisted she pull her own weight.

"We—"

"Our home! Our home!" Just as Qin Yizhou was about to muse about their new home, Qin Zihang bounced up, chanting, "Our home!"

"..." Qin Yizhou glanced at his son. Did he have to interrupt *now*?

"Mom, mom, in our own home, will anyone still steal my candies?" Qin Zihang said. "Will they take the toys I hide under the bed? Mom, can we not put the potty under the bed? It smells bad."

"You know it smells bad, yet you still hide toys under the bed?" Song Fenglan said with amusement.

"They must not have noses, they can’t smell, and they still steal my toys," Qin Zihang pouted. "That's from me."

Since it was his own pee, Qin Zihang wasn’t afraid of the smell.

When Song Fenglan’s cousin brought her child over, that child loved going through their stuff. If Song Fenglan didn’t lock the door, the child would run in and go through their things. Without asking permission from Song Fenglan or her son, the child would hide things and take them away.

Because of this, Song Fenglan had argued with her cousin, who said Song Fenglan was living in her family’s home and shouldn’t make such a big deal over little things.

Qin Zihang thought that if the potty was placed under the bed, others wouldn’t touch it, but someone still did.

The shared toilet in Auntie’s courtyard wasn’t too far, but it wasn’t exactly close either. At night, Song Fenglan didn’t want to take her child outside to use the toilet, so she kept a potty in the room for Qin Zihang to use. She'd empty it out in the morning.

"Mom, in our own house, can we not have a potty?" Qin Zihang stood up and gestured with his hands. "Look how tall I am now! So tall, so tall, very tall!"

Qin Zihang stood on his tiptoes and even jumped a couple of times, nearly knocking over the cup of soy milk. Luckily, Qin Yizhou was quick to catch it.

"Very tall, very tall," Qin Zihang didn’t forget to look at his dad. "Dad, isn’t that right? I’m tall, so tall!"

"Yes, yes, yes, you’re very tall," Qin Yizhou had a sudden idea. "You're a big boy now. Not only can you do without a potty, but you can also have your own room to sleep in, huh?"