Chapter 12: Hiding, No Fooling Around

Chapter 12: Hide Properly, No Cutting Corners

"That’s wishful thinking." Zhang Chenghai hadn’t expected his youngest son to think like that. He glanced at the boy and said, "If you had a mother like that, you wouldn’t get to eat at home—you’d have to eat at the mess hall."

"I’d love that! I’d love that!" Zhang Xiaohu’s eyes lit up at the mention of mess hall food. "Mess hall food!"

"..." Zhang Chenghai was speechless. His son was actually this excited about it. "Isn’t your mom’s cooking good enough?"

"Mess hall food! Mess hall food!" Zhang Xiaohu insisted.

Zhang Xiaohu often ate meals prepared by Auntie Fatty, so whenever he got the chance to have mess hall food, he found it incredibly delicious and wished he could eat it every day. The mess hall offered a variety of dishes, unlike Auntie Fatty’s same few dishes.

All kids are like this—they loved outside food. Eating the same home-cooked meals every day made them seem less appealing.

Auntie Fatty huffed, "Where would we get the money to eat at the mess hall all the time? You think money falls from the sky? Eat your meal and stop dreaming about the mess hall."

"But the mess hall food is just so good!" Zhang Xiaohu pouted. "Mom, you don’t have to cook."

Zhang Chenghai wondered if Qin Zihang, the son of Commander Qin next door, was the same as Zhang Xiaohu, always craving mess hall food.

Qin Yizhou played with his son while occasionally stealing glances at Song Fenglan.

"Dad, you’re looking at Mom again," Qin Zihang said loudly.

Song Fenglan was focused on cutting cloth and didn’t look at Qin Yizhou or their son.

Hearing his son’s remark, Qin Yizhou glanced at Song Fenglan again. Seeing that his wife wasn’t looking his way, he grew uneasy, then a little disappointed. Of course, she was making clothes for them—she couldn’t possibly keep staring at them.

"Shh, keep it down," Qin Yizhou said.

"Mom said if you have something to say, say it loud," Qin Zihang replied. "If you don’t say it, others won’t understand."

"There’s nothing to say," Qin Yizhou said. "Not right now."

Qin Yizhou thought it was already wonderful that his wife and son had come to live with him. He wasn’t in a hurry for anything else—he and his wife could take their time growing closer.

"Really nothing?" Qin Zihang tilted his head. "Dad, are you being two-faced?"

"You even know about being two-faced?" Qin Yizhou was surprised.

"Mom says that’s no good," Qin Zihang said. "At home, with family, you can’t do that."

"But it’s fine with outsiders?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"They’re not family," Qin Zihang said. "Don’t be dumb."

Qin Yizhou wasn’t sure how Song Fenglan had taught their son, but he found the boy quite endearing.

Song Fenglan finished cutting cloth and began sewing on the machine. Without fancy stitching or designs, some clothes could be finished quickly. Simple designs without patterns were pretty plain, but Song Fenglan had bought plenty of embroidery thread earlier that day, so she wouldn’t need to go back to town tomorrow.

"This is it?" Qin Yizhou asked when he saw Song Fenglan holding up a shirt.

"Try it on," Song Fenglan said. She figured her husband’s clothes didn’t need little animal embroideries—Qin Yizhou usually wore uniforms at the military base, and even his summer outfits were uniform sets. But when he went out, he could wear something different.

This was the first time Qin Yizhou had worn clothes made by Song Fenglan. As he put it on, he thought it felt amazing.

"Made it short-sleeved—for summer," Song Fenglan said. "I’ll sew a couple of long-sleeved ones later."

"Alright." Qin Yizhou was reluctant to take it off—this was something his wife had made just for him.

"Go ahead and take it off," Song Fenglan said. "Who knows how many hands have touched this fabric? It needs a good wash first."

"Mom, what about mine? Where's mine?" Qin Zihang asked excitedly, circling around her. He wanted his new clothes too.

"Yours will take a couple more days," Song Fenglan replied.

"Why?" Qin Zihang didn't understand.

"Don’t you want some little designs on yours?" Song Fenglan gently pinched her son’s cheek. "Your clothes are fancier and need more time. Nice things take time."

"Well, mine won’t be as ugly as Dad’s," Qin Zihang blurted out before quickly covering his mouth. "Mom’s clothes are all nice—none of them are ugly!"

"Of course they’re not ugly," Qin Yizhou muttered, frowning. What kind of nonsense was his son saying? His outfit was perfectly fine and fit him well.

"It’s Dad who’s ugly, not the clothes," Qin Zihang added.

"..." Qin Yizhou thought his son might as well have kept quiet. What was that supposed to mean? How was he ugly?

"Your dad isn’t ugly," Song Fenglan explained to her son. "He’s actually pretty handsome."

Song Fenglan glanced at Qin Yizhou, who straightened his posture, then looked back at her son. "You take after him, you know."

"Then Dad isn’t ugly," Qin Zihang concluded. Otherwise, if his dad was ugly, wouldn’t he be ugly too? Neither of them was ugly—no way.

After playing around, Qin Zihang got sleepy. Qin Yizhou carried him to bed in their room and laid him down. He reminded himself to grab some bricks and planks the next day to build a railing on one side of the adjacent bed. The other side already had a railing, but this side didn’t.

Kids wiggle around in their sleep, and without proper supervision, they could easily fall.

Qin Yizhou figured a railing would prevent his son from rolling off. They could put it up when he was sleeping and take it down when he was awake for easier access. Sooner or later, the kid would have to sleep on his own—he couldn’t share a bed with his parents forever.

When Song Fenglan finished tidying up and prepared for bed, she noticed Qin Zihang was already asleep, limbs sprawled out in all directions.

"Did he always sleep like this?" Qin Yizhou whispered to Song Fenglan.

"He’s still little," Song Fenglan replied. "He doesn’t take up much space."

When she slept with their son, he wasn’t always stretched out like this. Sometimes he curled up or slept on his side.

"Let’s get some rest," Song Fenglan said, lying down next to Qin Zihang, who was tucked between her and Qin Yizhou.

Qin Yizhou looked at his son, then at his wife. Tomorrow, he’d fix up the adjacent bed—no, he’d aim to have their son sleeping there within half a month, not a full month. A three-year-old wasn’t that small, and with the rooms so close, there was no need to worry about kidnappers sneaking in.

The next morning, Zhang Chenghai got bricks and stuff ready to fix the doggy door. He had planned to wait, but Auntie Fatty urged him to hurry—if they waited, the neighbors might have to do it instead, which wouldn’t look good.

Even though the doggy door had been there forever and wasn’t their doing, Zhang Xiaohu often crawled through it. Auntie Fatty figured it was on them to repair it, not Qin Yizhou and his wife’s. Besides, Qin Yizhou was technically Zhang Chenghai’s boss. Even if they got along well and rank wasn’t obvious in daily interactions, the boss was still the boss.

Qin Yizhou and his wife never acted stuck-up, unlike Shi Guilan, who was always putting on airs.

Auntie Fatty mused that both Song Fenglan and Shi Guilan had "Lan" in their names, but Song Fenglan was far superior—the real deal: classy and kind, while Shi Guilan was just pretending. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, her country roots always showed.

While Song Fenglan was outside getting the laundry hung up, she noticed Auntie Fatty and her husband fixing the doggy door.

"You’re already fixing it?" Song Fenglan asked when she saw them.

"Should’ve done it ages ago, just kept dragging our feet," Auntie Fatty said with a smile. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Not yet, we’ll eat soon," Song Fenglan replied.

At night, there were many spiders and insects outside, so Song Fenglan didn’t dare hang the clothes in the yard. She was afraid those little bugs might pee on the clothes. Adult clothes were fine, but if children's clothes got contaminated, the child could easily develop allergies.

Once, Song Fenglan had been a spoiled young girl, mostly cared for by others rather than caring for them herself. At most, she would save up some things to send to her parents. Now, she was very considerate of her son, worrying over even minor issues.

"It’s sunny—better hang the laundry out early," said Auntie Fatty.

"Yes," Song Fenglan replied. "I’ve washed all the clothes that were packed in the luggage, and they all need to dry."

"You’re such a hard worker," Auntie Fatty remarked.

"Not all of them were washed by me—Yi Zhou did some," Song Fenglan said cheerfully. She barely had to say a word; Qin Yizhou knew to wash those clothes himself.

Song Fenglan didn’t want to have to ask every time. If she spoke up too often, Qin Yizhou might think she was forcing him to do things. Men hate being nagged. Plenty of men are stuck in their macho ways.

Asking a few times was fine, but asking all the time would kill the mood.

"Your husband washed them?" Auntie Fatty was shocked.

"Yes, he washed some," Song Fenglan said. "He wasn’t even there when I had the baby, and he rarely came home—so much so that the kid barely knew who he was. If he doesn’t take the time to wash his son’s clothes now, when will he?"

Song Fenglan didn’t care how other families did things. Unless something crazy happens, she was sure her husband had to do these tasks—she wasn’t about to baby him. They’d be together for a lifetime, and she wasn’t willing to endure things forever. Nor could she imagine them living separately their whole lives—that’d mess the kid up.

"..." Auntie Fatty’s jaw dropped. She already knew Song Fenglan wasn’t much of a cook, and now she learned that Song Fenglan even made Qin Yizhou do laundry. It blew her mind.

In the military housing area, how many guys lift a finger to do laundry?

Whenever there was a minor conflict between a couple, if someone came to mediate, they’d just tell the wives to suck it up, not to make a big deal out of things, and to remember how hard their husbands worked. Any self-respecting woman would feel too embarrassed to keep criticizing their husbands—they’d have to be considerate.

Auntie Fatty had lived here long enough to have seen it all. She had never encountered someone like Song Fenglan before, making her almost doubt her own ears—as if Song Fenglan’s words couldn’t possibly be true. But Auntie Fatty knew Song Fenglan had no reason to lie. Then again, maybe it was just because Song Fenglan was new here, and the Colonel was cutting his wife some slack. After a while, he’d surely start making Song Fenglan do the chores instead of doing them himself.

Men were all like that—they could help with housework for a while, but not for a lifetime. If the Colonel kept doing chores, people would talk, and he’d lose face. When a wife followed her husband to the military base, that was her job—not his. Not only that, but he’d have even more responsibilities.

Song Fenglan didn’t linger in the yard. Once the clothes were hung, she went back inside.

Qin Zihang was already awake, and Song Fenglan had him brush his teeth and wash his face.

"Brush properly—no cheating by peeking," Song Fenglan said when she saw her son barely brushing before rinsing. Such careless brushing wouldn’t do. Children ate irregularly, snacking often, so their teeth collected more food residue.

"Okay," Qin Zihang replied, obediently brushing properly this time. No way he’d risk her catching him slacking again.

The family stayed in today. Qin Yizhou cooked some porridge, made fried eggs, and even went early to the canteen to buy three meat buns. By the time he had the porridge ready, Song Fenglan and their son were already seated at the table.

"They’re patching up the doggy door," Song Fenglan said, picking up her chopsticks.

"Let them handle it," Qin Yizhou replied. "Kids shouldn’t be crawling through that thing."

"Did you hear that?" Song Fenglan looked at her son. "If you crawl through the doggy door, you’ll end up stunted."

"I won’t crawl through it," Qin Zihang declared. "There’s a door—I’ll use that."

He thought it was fine to watch others crawl through, but he wouldn’t do it himself.

"That’s right, use the door," Song Fenglan said. "You don’t want to become a little dwarf."

"I’m gonna be tall like Dad," Qin Zihang said, eager to grow big and tall.

"You will," Song Fenglan said, placing a fried egg on his plate. "Eat up if you wanna get big."

Qin Zihang had a decent appetite. One meat bun, some porridge, and a fried egg were enough for him. Any more’d be pushing it.

After finishing the meal, Qin Zihang rubbed his little belly and said, "It's so good to be in our own home—so much delicious food. No more sneaking around or eating under the table."

Hearing her son say this, Song Fenglan felt a pang of sadness. That’s how it is when you rely on others. With so little money, they couldn’t afford much, so she and her son had to hide and eat in secret. It wasn’t just them—her aunt’s son and daughter-in-law did the same, bringing their good food into their room, afraid others would take it.

But the house wasn’t very big, and the rooms were close. Even the smallest whiff could give them away. If they didn’t wipe their mouths clean and were caught with greasy lips, people might even call them out.

"Did Zihang used to hide under the table to eat?" Qin Yizhou’s expression darkened, worried that his wife and son had suffered great hardship.

"Duh! If I didn’t hide, I’d get nothing!" Qin Zihang didn’t understand his father’s concern. "They’d throw a fit, screaming for my food. They’d snatch it—I wouldn’t give it to them!"

"They even snatched your food?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"Yeah! But when they had good food, I never snatched theirs," Qin Zihang said.

"His cousins were the spoiled ones there," Song Fenglan explained. "It was their home. How could our son compete with them? My aunt already did her best. We weren’t part of their family—we couldn’t overstay our welcome."

Song Fenglan was sensible. She never treated her aunt’s belongings as her own just because she stayed there.

Meanwhile, Song Fenglan’s aunt was clearing the dishes and couldn’t help remarking, "Yesterday, Fenglan called to say she arrived. I hope she settles in okay."

"What, is she some princess? Why wouldn’t she adjust?" her cousin sneered.