Chapter 47: Get Lost, Too Ugly

Chapter 47: Go Away, You're Too Ugly

"University?" Song Fenglan looked at her son.

"Yes, I want to go to a really big university," Qin Zihang said. "Mom, can I?"

"Of course, but university isn’t that easy to get into. You have to go to elementary school first, then middle school, high school, and only then university," Song Fenglan replied.

"I can skip grades!" Qin Zihang declared. "From kindergarten straight to university!"

"Even I haven’t gone to university yet, and you want to?" Song Fenglan said.

"Then... high school?" Qin Zihang asked cautiously.

"Just skip from kindergarten to elementary school for now," Song Fenglan said, gently patting her son’s head.

"Your mother is right," Mrs. Su added. "Elementary school is good. Fine, step by step."

"Fine, step by step," Qin Zihang muttered, playing with his fingers. He still wanted to go straight to university, but since his mom hadn’t been yet, he’d wait until she had before he did.

Most kindergarteners missed their parents and didn’t want to go to school, while a few loved it and never wanted to leave. Some even played together after school.

Qin Zihang played with them too, but after school, he rarely joined. Instead, he often played with Zhang Xiaohu, mainly because they lived close by—just next door—and saw each other often.

Mrs. Su had dinner at Song Fenglan’s place before heading home. Professor Su was always pulling the extra shifts, telling Song Fenglan not to overwork herself and to take care of her health while he handled the overtime.

Kids got messy, and their clothes got dirty quickly. In colder weather, they didn’t need changes as often, but when it warmed up, Qin Yizhou and his wife usually changed their son’s clothes every day, sometimes every other day.

Fu Wangwang, the dog in the yard, had grown much bigger. He knew Qin Zihang and Zhang Xiaohu well, often wagging his tail at them. He’d bark at strangers.

When Qin Yizhou heard about Qin Zihang skipping a grade, he asked his wife, "Was it the teacher’s idea?"

"Yes, Auntie said it was the teacher’s suggestion," Song Fenglan replied. She had a good idea why—Qin Zihang was different from his peers. Other kids were quicker to cry, while Qin Zihang spoke his mind, often upsetting them.

She knew her son well.

It wasn’t that her child was bad, but compared to other kindergarteners, he was calmer.

Moving Qin Zihang up to first grade would work. Though he was younger than Zhang Xiaohu, the age difference wasn’t big, and they got along well. Qin Zihang would likely fit in with first graders too.

"First grade is fine. The elementary school is nearby anyway," Song Fenglan said. "Starting early means he’ll reach university earlier."

"You’ve already planned it all out for him?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"I didn’t have to. That’s just how it works," Song Fenglan wouldn’t stop her son from attending university. The college entrance exams were set to resume this year, and once they did, more people would take them.

The exams were relatively fair—it wasn’t about background; even slackers could make it if they tried.

"Only by advancing and learning more can he grow better," Song Fenglan said. "He’s our only son. We have to think a little more for him."

"He’s like you. He should be fine," Qin Yizhou said. He knew his own mind wasn’t as sharp as Song Fenglan’s. He was fine with military missions, but researching fighter jets? No way.

At home, Qin Yizhou never asked Song Fenglan about her work—it was classified. Not even her husband was allowed to ask. He didn’t expect her to share secrets meant to stay hidden.

"We’ll see how things go," Song Fenglan said, watching their son sitting nearby, engrossed in the TV.

Qin Zihang was so focused on the screen he didn’t even glance at his parents.

Soon, Gao Xiuxiu’s postpartum confinement ended. During that time, she could stay indoors, but afterward, she couldn’t hide at home forever. She wasn’t going back to work yet—she still needed time to recover.

Gao Xiuxiu didn’t feel like going out. Earlier, a knitted sweater she had commissioned was taken back by the person who made it. This left Gao Xiuxiu feeling humiliated—how does that person have the nerve to reclaim a gift that had already been delivered? But since she had given birth to a daughter, not a son, she couldn’t really complain about others withholding congratulatory gifts.

Auntie Fatty saw Gao Xiuxiu hanging laundry in the yard. Grandma Fang, seeing that Gao Xiuxiu had another daughter, refused to help with chores, insisting Gao Xiuxiu do them herself. During Gao Xiuxiu’s postpartum confinement, Grandma Fang had pitched in washing some clothes—if she hadn’t, the other military wives might have urged her to take better care of her daughter-in-law.

But now that the confinement period was over, Grandma Fang dropped all responsibilities, and the meals became noticeably worse. When questioned, she claimed they had already given all the good food to Gao Xiuxiu earlier. Now, the family had to cut back to avoid spending recklessly.

Staring at pickled vegetables and radishes, Gao Xiuxiu had no appetite. But since she had given birth to another daughter, she bit her tongue and didn’t complain about the poor meals.

"That quilt you sleep with needs washing," Grandma Fang said. "You do it—don’t wait around for me."

"I’ll wash it myself," Gao Xiuxiu replied. She had hoped her mother-in-law would help, but the old woman refused.

"You said it’d be a boy, but it’s another girl. After eating so much, your womb’s no good," Grandma Fang grumbled. "Two children, both girls—not a single son. Later, we’ll find some old wives’ remedies for you to drink, to regulate your body and make sure the next one’s a boy."

Grandma Fang was determined to get a grandson—daughters didn’t count to her, destined to marry out of the family. She worried others would mock Fang Xudong for not having a son.

"..." Gao Xiuxiu didn’t refuse the remedy. If medicine could help her bear a son, she was willing to try.

"Quit dragging your feet," Grandma Fang harped. "You’ve just finished your confinement, yet you’re so slow. People will think I’m bullying you. Work faster—don’t dawdle in the water."

Under her mother-in-law’s harping, Gao Xiuxiu lost her usual energy and avoided speaking to her.

Auntie Fatty overheard the exchange. Gao Xiuxiu’s mood had shifted after giving birth to another daughter. Auntie Fatty thought boys and girls were the same—daughters were still family. Worst case, they could always get a son-in-law to marry into the household later.

But given the current situation, Auntie Fatty couldn’t voice these thoughts. If misunderstood, others might accuse her of cursing Gao Xiuxiu to be stuck with just girls.

---

In the capital, Tian Keshu went to see her children, but they made it clear they wanted nothing to do with her.

"You’re a spy—I don’t have a spy for a mother."

"Go away! Don’t come looking for us."

"Because of you, my classmates laugh at me."

...

Tian Keshu never imagined she’d hear such cruel things from her own children. In the past, she had run down Song Fenglan and Qin Zihang in front of them. Back then, she believed she was right—there was no need to hide the truth from them. She even thought it was better for them to know early, so they wouldn’t get too entangled with Qin Zihang and not get pulled into his mess.

Now, both of her children saw her as the problem. Watching them avoid her in fear, her heart sank. Tian Keshu had divorced Eldest Brother Qin, and now her children wanted no part of her. She feared they might eventually disown her entirely.

Eldest Brother Qin had remarried, and sooner or later, he and his new wife would have more children. Tian Keshu worried for her own children, but their coldness made her feel like a fool. Yet if she didn’t fight for them, who would?

"I’m your real mother," Tian Keshu insisted. "Did your stepmother poison you against me?"

Instead of reflecting on herself, she blamed others.

"You’re not our mother," Tian Keshu’s eldest daughter snapped, yanking her little brother along. They didn’t want to see their birth mother—because of her, they were now laughingstocks.

Tian Keshu could only watch helplessly as her children ran from her. She had become someone her own flesh and blood despised. Her eyes reddened—how could her own children treat her this way?

Children were easily influenced by those around them. Tian Keshu had once badmouthed Song Fenglan and her son in front of them; now, others were doing the same to her in their presence.

It wasn’t Eldest Brother Qin’s current wife, You Yun, who had poisoned them. She didn’t care who her stepchildren associated with—they were old enough to remember their birth parents. You Yun knew her place: as a stepmother, not their real mother, it was better to interfere less. She had her own daughter and planned to have one or two more children.

Only by bearing Eldest Brother Qin’s children could You Yun truly secure her place in the family. Without shared children, she could get kicked out in her old age by Qin’s children from his first marriage.

Don’t expect stepchildren to have much loyalty—that’s just how it goes.

Qin’s mother instructed her grandchildren not to have too much contact with Tian Keshu, as she came from a bad background.

These days, spy hunts were in full force. If Tian Keshu got into any trouble, their family couldn’t afford to be implicated. Qin’s mother didn’t want her grandchildren associating with Tian Keshu—cutting her off entirely would be best.

If Tian Keshu found out that Qin’s mother had said these things to the children, she would be furious. She thought she’d been decent to Qin’s parents—it was just Song Fenglan and her son she couldn’t stand. But Qin’s mother didn’t care about that. All she knew was that Tian Keshu had turned Eldest Brother Qin against Qin Yizhou and done plenty of harm.

Most people, when they make mistakes, don’t blame themselves—they blame others.

Qin’s mother was no exception. She’d never admit fault, so Tian Keshu had to be the one at fault. If she told Tian Keshu to deliver something, Tian Keshu had to bring it—not pocket it.

When Tian Keshu returned home, her mother urged her to sit down.

A matchmaker arrived with a man for Tian Keshu to meet—a widow with kids, nowhere near as good as Eldest Brother Qin. Eldest Brother Qin had an air of refinement, while this man had yellow teeth that made Tian Keshu sick just looking at him.

"We’re not compatible," Tian Keshu said bluntly. She wouldn’t lower herself like that—she couldn’t marry such a repulsive man.

Her mother tugged at her hand, hissing at her to be polite.

"You’re hideous. No way this’ll work," Tian Keshu added another reason.

She truly couldn’t bear the thought of being with a man like this. She wouldn’t let herself stoop so low or give others a reason to mock her.

"Hideous? Who do you think you are?" the man snapped. "Your family’s harboring a spy, and you still put on airs? Do you think everyone should worship you? If you don’t want me, I don’t want you either!"

The man, livid, turned on his heel and left—he shouldn’t have come in the first place. After a few steps, he even snatched back the fruit he’d brought.

The matchmaker watched the scene unhappily and turned to Tian Keshu’s mother. "You should knock some sense into your girl. She’ll have to marry eventually."

"If I marry, it won’t be to someone like him," Tian Keshu said. "What’s a man like that even good for?"

She pointed at the door. "Out. Now."

The matchmaker scoffed and walked out.

"Wait, sister!" Tian Keshu’s mother chased after her.

"With your daughter like this, I can’t introduce anyone to her," the matchmaker said. "You know your family’s situation. It’s not that I don’t want to find her a better match—it’s that no one wants her. I finally found a working man who can support her, someone willing to take your eldest daughter, but your daughter… Forget it. It’s not like he can’t find a wife elsewhere."

She pushed Tian Keshu’s mother’s hand away and walked off.

Returning to the living room, Tian Keshu’s mother glared at her daughter sitting there, fuming. "What was that about? If you didn’t think he was suitable, fine, but why call him ugly?"

"He really was hideous," Tian Keshu said. "With that rat-like face and beady eyes, who knows what kind of filth he hides? I’d sooner die than wed him."

"Ugly? He has a job and a decent salary," her mother retorted. "You’re unemployed, divorced, and your family’s in this state—do you think anyone would take you?"

The more she thought about it, the more frustrated she became. Having her eldest daughter stay at home wasn’t sustainable. An extra mouth meant more expenses, and not just her daughter-in-law was unhappy—none of them were pleased.

"You’re not too old yet—marry while you still can. Do you want to wait until you’re forty before thinking about it? By then, who’d even take you?" her mother said. "Given our family’s situation, if you don’t marry, are you just going to stay here forever, burdening your brother and his wife?"

She didn’t want her eldest daughter staying home—she was too useless.

"And you—why did you do those things back then?" her mother scolded. "Were you really that desperate for food? For money? Trading jade for bricks?"

"Back then, all of you agreed with me," Tian Keshu said. Her family had been thrilled and even told her to hide the things well so no one would find out.

"Just because we said something, you had to do it?" Her mother refused to take responsibility—it was her daughter’s own fault. "You’re an adult. If you didn’t want to do it, could we have forced you? You started it yourself. And once you did, all I said was to be careful not to get caught."

When she learned what her daughter had done, she could have returned the items to Song Fenglan or talked her daughter out of it. But she didn’t. She took them without a second thought, pretending she didn’t know they were meant for Song Fenglan in the first place.

Song Fenglan wasn't even family, so Mrs. Tian couldn’t be bothered.

"This one won’t do. What kind of man do you want? Someone like your first husband?" Mrs. Tian said. "It’s not like the old days. Back then, we had a solid background—working class, decent standing. Now, your father has no job, your brother’s work is affected, your sister is about to get married, and the house is a mess. Even if you don’t think for yourself, think about the family."

Mrs. Tian was fed up. With her eldest daughter staying at home, the neighbors kept asking, "When is your eldest daughter getting married?"

What could she say?

Mrs. Tian would brush it off, unsure when her daughter would remarry. She had hoped her daughter could reconcile with her first husband, but he had already remarried. This really got to Mrs. Tian, knowing the Qin family had completely given up on Tian Keshu—they would never take her back.

"Your first husband has already remarried. Stop thinking about him," Mrs. Tian reminded her daughter. "There’s no going back. Remarry soon and spare yourself the embarrassment."

Tian Keshu’s eyes welled up. She wanted to run away, but where could she go? She had no choice but to come back and stay put.

The Song family didn’t give a damn about Tian Keshu’s affairs or how the Tian family fared afterward. They lived peacefully, unaware of Tian Keshu’s troubles—Song Fenglan knew even less.

Qin Zihang was a total show-off who loved bragging about his mom. When Mrs. Su took him to the residential compound’s big square to play with other kids, Qin Zihang would often boast about his mother’s achievements.

"My mom is going to college soon. Once she goes, I can go too," Qin Zihang told the other kids. "College is so cool!"

Mrs. Su heard him but didn’t stop him—kids talk big.

"Your mom’s going to college?" a child asked in surprise.

"Yeah, my mom’s going to college," Qin Zihang said. "She said so herself—no way she’d lie!"

"But doesn’t your mom already have a job?" another child wondered.

"You can work and go to college!" Qin Zihang declared.

"Wow, your mom’s amazing!" a kid exclaimed. "Can you take me to college with you?"

"Tell your mom to go to college and take you," Qin Zihang replied.

"I want to go to college too!" Other children started clamoring, insisting they and their mothers would also attend college.

Now everyone *had* to go—so cool! They all wanted to go, and their mothers too. Everyone had to go.

Some mothers overheard and wanted to hide their faces. They thought if Song Fenglan wanted to attend college, it might be possible, but for the rest of them? Yeah, right!

Worker-Peasant-Soldier University (a special program during the Cultural Revolution) required certain qualifications and contributions—not just anyone could get recommended. Most of these mothers were housewives, never considering college, and unlikely to be recommended. Thankfully, at least they were all in it together.

Some laughed it off; others bought it.

Eventually, the rumor spread that Song Fenglan was being recommended for college, and some even congratulated her.

"What?" Song Fenglan nearly choked when Fan Yani congratulated her on the street. Was this time-traveler about to reveal the restoration of the college entrance exams?

"A recommendation’s fine," Fan Yani lowered her voice, glancing around before pulling Song Fenglan aside. "But if you could take the entrance exam and get in yourself, that’d be even better."

Fan Yani hoped Song Fenglan would take the exam. If she attended Worker-Peasant-Soldier University, she’d hit a glass ceiling later—some said it barely counted as a real degree. Fan Yani had heard stories of people regretting not taking the exam. She thought, *Like they’d have passed anyway.*

Some got handed everything and still whined.

"Policies are changing, and the college entrance exams could be reinstated this year," Fan Yani said. "Getting in on your own merit—I’m not saying being recommended for university is bad. What I mean is, passing the exam on your own proves your abilities better and makes you more respected later."

The key thing is, the exams will be reinstated by year’s end—it’s happening fast.

Fan Yani respected Song Fenglan. She understood how tough it was for women at work, especially in research institutes where men were often promoted more easily. If Song Fenglan got held back later because of her credentials, it would be such a shame. Song Fenglan was clearly outstanding—just look at her landing a job at the institute. Fan Yani didn’t want her to regret anything in the future.

"I haven’t been recommended for university," Song Fenglan said.

"Really?" Fan Yani was surprised. "But everyone’s saying you were recommended! Even your son keeps talking about you going to university."

"..." Song Fenglan’s lips twitched. She had a feeling Zi Hang might have said something like this. "I do want to go to university."

"Then you can review after work," Fan Yani said. "I got my husband to track down some books—I’ll bring them to you later."

"No need—"

"Don’t be modest," Fan Yani insisted. "For someone like you... You’d need biology and chemistry books, right? And physics—you’re a researcher, so you must know that. Or should I just bring you one of each?"

"No, keep them for yourself. I can go to the library or read the books at our institute," Song Fenglan said. "It must’ve been hard for you to get those books, wasn’t it?"

"Not too bad. They’re still pretty easy to get now. But if we wait any longer, it’ll probably get difficult," Fan Yani said. "Those intellectuals, professors—they’ve been rehabilitated. The college entrance exams will definitely be reinstated sooner or later. Once word gets out, everyone’ll be scrambling for these books."

"Are you planning to take the exams?" Song Fenglan asked.

"Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it," Fan Yani admitted, a little embarrassed. "Do you think I’m reaching too high?"

After all, in most people’s eyes, Fan Yani was someone who hadn’t even finished elementary school.

The original host had attended school for a few years, but conditions in the countryside were poor, and she’d had to work as well. Just getting a few years of school was already a big deal. Many rural children were like that—very few made it to middle school.

"No," Song Fenglan said. "If this opportunity really comes, you should take the exams. Whether you pass or not is another matter—at least you’ll have tried."

"I’ll probably fail," Fan Yani said, already mentally prepared.

"Failing’s not the end of everything. There’s more than one way to succeed," Song Fenglan said. "You don’t have to go to university to make something of yourself. You can make it in other ways too."

"Sister-in-law..." Fan Yani thought Song Fenglan had a good head on her shoulders. She never looked down on her.

"That’s just reality. There are so many people in the world—not everyone can go to university. And even those who do might not necessarily stand out," Song Fenglan said. "If you want to take the exams, go for it. If you don’t pass, it’s fine. Look around here—most people haven’t been to university. Give it your all—no regrets, no matter how it turns out."

"Mm, I’ll definitely give it my all," Fan Yani said. "Right now, I’m just helping in the cafeteria—not much else."

Fan Yani was currently working in the cafeteria, at least earning some money. She hadn’t planned on staying jobless forever. If she were naturally brilliant at studying, it’d be one thing, but the books she was reading were so complicated that they gave her a headache. She pushed herself to study daily, but it was a struggle.

Fan Yani hadn’t completely given up, but she couldn’t afford not to work either. A woman needed her own income—it gave her confidence.

"I’ll bring the books over later," Fan Yani said again.

"No, keep them for yourself," Song Fenglan refused once more. "Worry about your own studying. I have ways to get those books myself. Spend more time on your own preparation instead of worrying about others."

In Song Fenglan’s eyes, Fan Yani was a very kind-hearted transmigrator. She wasn’t here to cause trouble. Some transmigrators immediately started fights and arguments, making a big deal out of everything, as if others couldn’t make even the slightest mistake.

Song Fenglan disliked that kind of trouble. She believed life wasn’t some nonstop drama. She didn’t want to waste time on meaningless conflicts. Sure, arguing and fighting might feel satisfying in the moment, but Song Fenglan had more important things to do.

"Alright," Fan Yani didn’t press further about the books. "Sister-in-law, you should start preparing early. When the time comes, you’ll definitely pass the exams. By the way, where’s your household registration?"

"It’s here now," Song Fenglan said.

Song Fenglan and her son had moved here for military family relocation, so their food rations and residency paperwork had been transferred too. But in Song Fenglan’s case, her household registration could be moved back to the capital anytime—it wasn’t an issue.

"If you take the gaokao, will you apply here or in the capital?" Fan Yani asked. "But your work is here..."

"It depends," Song Fenglan replied. Barring any surprises, she would most likely apply to universities in Nancheng.

She still had work here to finish, and Song Fenglan couldn’t return to the capital now. Even by the second half of the year, she would still need to stay here.

"I’m serious—you should start prepping early," Fan Yani said. "Your family’s so well-connected; they must have ways to get some advance notice."

Fan Yani couldn’t tell Song Fenglan that she was a transmigrator—people wouldn’t necessarily believe her anyway. Since arriving in this era, Fan Yani had realized that people here were quite intelligent. Just because she had transmigrated didn’t mean she could automatically surpass everyone.

"Alright," Song Fenglan chuckled. "If the gaokao comes back, I’ll definitely take it."

She thought that if she got into college, she could apply for exemptions later and still continue working at the research institute.

"The gaokao is really important," Fan Yani said. "It’s no big deal if I fail, but you, Sister-in-law, should definitely aim to succeed. It’ll help with promotions later."

She didn’t want people to keep saying Song Fenglan relied solely on her uncle’s influence. Her uncle had long passed away—how long could that connection last? Over time, as the older professors faded away, fewer would pay attention to Song Fenglan, and her situation wouldn’t be as favorable as it was now.

"I know," Song Fenglan nodded. "Don’t worry, everyone in our family values education. We aim for elite schools."

"Right, you have that scholarly heritage," Fan Yani said, feeling a little embarrassed again. "I think I’ve been talking too much."

"Not at all," Song Fenglan reassured her. "You’re just being kind. Did you just come back from grocery shopping?"

"Just bought some flour and stuff," Fan Yani replied. "Store-bought cookies are expensive, so I thought I’d make some at home. That way, if I get hungry, they can hold me over."

Since she worked in the cafeteria, Fan Yani would sometimes bring food home. She and Yue Hongwei didn’t have children yet—he could eat at the military canteen, and she could eat at the family canteen. This way, they saved money on meals and could even save up some.

"Sister-in-law, I’d better get going," Fan Yani said. "Once I finish making the biscuits, I’ll bring some over for you."

"You keep them," Song Fenglan said.

"It’s just a small thing. I’d better go ahead," Fan Yani replied.

Happily swinging her bamboo basket, Fan Yani headed home. Earlier, she had worried that Song Fenglan might resent her for hindering her future, but Song Fenglan didn’t. Fan Yani genuinely admired people like her—she found Song Fenglan pure-hearted, never gossiping or speaking ill of others. To her, Song Fenglan was pretty much perfect.

If Song Fenglan knew what Fan Yani thought, she would have laughed and said she was nowhere near perfect.

It wasn’t just Fan Yani who brought it up—others had mentioned it to Qin Yizhou too.

So when Song Fenglan returned home, Qin Yizhou brought up the topic of college.

"No, I wasn’t recommended for university," Song Fenglan explained. "It’s just that your son wants to skip ahead—he says he doesn’t want to attend elementary school but go straight to college. I told him I haven’t even been to college yet, and he said he’d wait until I went first. When he went out to play, he told people I was going to college, so now everyone misunderstands."

"Going to college wouldn’t be a bad thing," Qin Yizhou said. "Do you want to?"

"If I can, then of course," Song Fenglan replied. "In college, just passing is enough. If I have other commitments, I can apply for exemptions. Some professors at our institute also teach at Nancheng University."

"Who knows when the gaokao will resume," Qin Yizhou sighed.

During his time in the military, Qin Yizhou had been recommended for university and had attended. His qualifications were quite solid, which was part of why Song Fenglan had chosen to marry him after being framed by others.

Waiting for a recommendation to university was difficult—too many people were competing for those spots, and the process was rigged.

"It might even resume this year," Song Fenglan said. "Things are changing fast—we just have to wait. Another year or two won’t hurt."

She wasn’t afraid of waiting. She had the time.

"You’ve got this." Qin Yizhou thought that if it weren’t for that chaotic period, Song Fenglan would’ve done even better.

"Zi Hang, Qin Zi Hang." Song Fenglan wanted to find her son and make sure he’s careful and doesn’t go blabbing about it.

Even though she had that idea herself, her son just went and spilled the beans...

Her son had no shame—didn’t care if people laughed at him. Song Fenglan went to look for him and found him in the backyard.

Qin Zi Hang had mud on his head, grime under his nails, and a few earthworms wriggling on the ground.

"..." Song Fenglan flinched at the wriggling earthworms.

"Mom, these are for the chicks," Qin Zi Hang said. "Xiao Hu’s chicks love these."

"Zi Hang, pleeease can we get one too? One for you, one for me," Zhang Xiaohu said. "I’ll go catch them."

Song Fenglan looked at the dirt on the two boys and thought, *Eh, whatever. At least it’s just earthworms—could be worse.*

"We’ve got two at home," Zhang Xiaohu said, holding up two fingers. "A whole two!"

"Mom," Qin Zi Hang clung to his mom. "Mom, can we raise one?"

"Of course," Song Fenglan said. They could have two for all she cared.

"I’ll fetch some!" Zhang Xiaohu took off before she could finish.

"No need. Later, Zi Hang’s dad can bring a couple back," Song Fenglan said.

"My family has some," Zhang Xiaohu insisted. "Mom promised me a puppy once—still waiting."

Zhang Xiaohu thought grown-ups were all talk. They always said they’d do something later but never followed through. But now he wasn’t interested in a puppy anymore—he could raise chickens instead.

"Don’t trouble yourself—" Before Song Fenglan could finish, Zhang Xiaohu had already dashed off.

Song Fenglan stifled a laugh. Kids—always rushing into things.

Zhang Xiaohu ran home and shouted, "Mom! Catch a chick! Auntie Fenglan said yes too!"

Song Fenglan, standing in the yard, could only sigh. She hadn’t actually agreed to anything.

Zhang Xiaohu was already rolling up his sleeves to grab one.

*Enough with the ‘catching’ already!*

They could handle getting chicks themselves. No need to take from Auntie Fatty’s.

"You want to raise chicks?" Auntie Fatty walked into the yard.

"Yes! Pleeease?" Qin Zi Hang clung to his mom.

"That’s right, two of them," Song Fenglan said. "He’s already out here digging up worms for ’em. If he wants to raise them, let him have two."

"Do you know where to get chicks?" Auntie Fatty asked.

"Well... we’ll figure it out," Song Fenglan said.

"If you really want them, I’ll fetch you a couple tomorrow," Auntie Fatty offered.

"This... won't it be too much trouble for you?" Song Fenglan felt somewhat embarrassed.

"No trouble at all," said Auntie Fatty. Through the fence, she worried someone might overhear, so she gestured toward the neighbor Gao Xiuxiu's house—five over there.

The policy had changed, but whether households could raise more chickens or ducks was still up in the air. Granny Fang raised her chicks in the backyard, not the front yard. At most, the next-door neighbors might notice. If they were kept in the front yard, more people would find out.

Song Fenglan understood Auntie Fatty's gesture.

"Then let's get two," Song Fenglan said. "We're usually not home, but if he wants to raise them, let him. If he can raise them into full-grown chickens, that'll be something he can be proud of."

"You really spoil the child," Auntie Fatty remarked. "But chicks are easy enough. Just plant some vegetables in the yard, and they can eat the leaves."

She thought raising chicks was much simpler than raising a dog. Dogs are bigger and eat more.

"Tell Xiao Hu to stop," Song Fenglan said.

"Auntie, take ours—we can always get more," Zhang Xiaohu offered.

"..." Song Fenglan was taken aback by his offer.

"Auntie, if we give them to you, my mom will catch more," Zhang Xiaohu insisted.

"No need to hurry," Song Fenglan said.

"Auntie’s not rushing, but I am! Zi Hang is too," Zhang Xiaohu argued. "Auntie, you can’t be like my mom—saying she’d get me a dog and then backing out."

"You want a puppy? I’ll get you one," Auntie Fatty said, looking at Zhang Xiaohu.

"No, no! I don’t want a puppy anymore," Zhang Xiaohu refused. "Mom, give those two chicks to Zi Hang instead."

He didn’t want Zi Hang to end up like him, disappointed by empty promises.

"Your aunt won’t skip getting chicks," Auntie Fatty said, fed up. "You..."

"Another day," Song Fenglan suggested. "Raising them from the start builds a better bond."

"Xiao Hu, don’t catch any," Qin Zihang quickly added. "We want to raise them from when they’re tiny. Yours have already grown some."

It wasn’t that Auntie Fatty minded giving away the slightly older chicks—it was just that Zhang Xiaohu was all talk and no follow-through.

In the end, Zhang Xiaohu didn’t catch any chicks. He reminded Song Fenglan, "Auntie, you *gotta* get Zi Hang two chicks. Don’t be like my mom."

"Time to eat," Auntie Fatty said, pulling Zhang Xiaohu inside. He never knew when to quit.

"Mom," Qin Zihang called as Song Fenglan turned back. He waved two worms in his hand. "Can we raise worms? Lots and lots of worms, for the chicks to eat!"