Chapter 60: Ignorance, Boiling Eggs in Warm Water

Chapter 60 Ignorance Simmers Like Warm Water Boiling Eggs

Old Mrs. Guo didn’t know what specific needs Fan Yani had, so she did things according to her own knowledge. These cloth diapers were all made from fabric Fan Yani had sourced, and some were even hand-me-downs from neighbors. Fan Yani had wanted to use disposable diapers for the baby, but since there were none available, they had to use these cloth ones.

A baby's skin is very sensitive, so these diapers had to be handled carefully. Otherwise, they could easily cause diaper rash on the baby’s bottom.

"We'll do as you say," Yue Hongwei said. "Ya Ni and I are first-time parents, so we have no experience and don’t really know how to do things properly."

Yue Hongwei reached out to touch the diapers. They felt dry to him, but Old Mrs. Guo still thought they weren’t dry enough. Yue Hongwei admired how thorough she was—he, as a man, wasn’t as meticulous, and many things he did weren’t as well-handled as Old Mrs. Guo’s work.

"Go and dish out the stewed chicken soup for Ya Ni to eat," Old Mrs. Guo said. "I also bought some vermicelli noodles—later, we’ll scoop some into the chicken broth. Have her eat the meat first. She needs to eat the meat, not just drink the soup."

Old Mrs. Guo had started stewing the chicken early so that Fan Yani could have it sooner.

"I’ll go serve it," Yue Hongwei said.

By the time Qin Yizhou’s family returned home, it was already afternoon. They didn’t go to Fan Yani’s house to deliver eggs that day, planning instead to do so the next morning. Some people had traditions about such things—afternoon deliveries were considered bad luck, and it was better to wait until morning. Qin Yizhou and his wife naturally followed tradition rather than doing whatever they wanted.

"Why can’t we go in the afternoon?" Qin Zihang asked, knowing that the family was supposed to deliver eggs and eager to go.

"It’s tradition. Most people do it this way, so we follow the majority," Song Fenglan said. "Sometimes, it’s okay to stand out, but other times, it’s wrong. Understand?"

"Why?" Qin Zihang didn’t get it. "Sometimes it’s okay, sometimes it’s not."

"Traditions are like the rules in your class—there are certain norms," Song Fenglan explained. "Every situation is different. Some are good, some are bad, and some are neutral. If we can avoid trouble, we should. Following the crowd doesn’t cost us anything."

"But I want to go now," Qin Zihang said.

"Don’t rush. You need to learn patience—you can’t always do things exactly as you want," Song Fenglan said.

Song Fenglan thought about some of the original novel’s plot. Her son, though talented and successful, had ended up as 'cannon fodder.' He didn’t like the female lead—he wasn’t even a supporting male character, just a foil. While others found love, her son was left with lonely wealth without real connections.

"We live in a society where we have to consider many things," Song Fenglan mused. In the original story, her son’s personality had been shaped by the hardships he faced during a turbulent era, as well as subsequent struggles. She couldn’t let her son become like that. She spoiled him now but also showed him important lessons, helping him see that there were many good people around and that he didn’t have to endure constant mistreatment. "If someone made you miserable, would you be happy?"

"No," Qin Zihang shook his head.

"Exactly," Song Fenglan nodded. "We can’t just think about our own happiness—we have to consider others too. Like you and Xiao Hu—you’re friends, right? Don’t you also want Xiao Hu to be happy?"

"Yeah, I want Xiao Hu to be happy too," Qin Zihang said. His friendship with Zhang Xiaohu was very strong. "I want to be happy, and Xiao Hu should be happy too."

"Good, that’s the way," Song Fenglan said. "Little things that don’t matter much—we can still do them."

Her son was smart, but when it came to getting along with people, he still needed guidance. She couldn’t let him grow up completely ignorant—that would only lead to suffering later.

Song Fenglan didn’t want her child to become emotionally cold. Her son deserved a happy life. Being too cold would only make his existence miserable.

"Mom, you know so much," Qin Zihang said.

"That’s because I’ve been around longer," Song Fenglan said. "I’ve experienced many things, so I understand them. When Hangbao grows up a little more, he’ll understand too."

"Will the new baby be as well-behaved as Hangbao was as a baby?" Qin Zihang asked.

"Every child is different, just like you and Xiao Hu—you’re not exactly the same," Song Fenglan said.

"I have school tomorrow, so I can’t go deliver the eggs," Qin Zihang said, puzzled.

"You can visit the baby when you’re on school break. The baby was just born—if you go now, it’ll just be sleeping the whole time anyway," Song Fenglan said.

"Was I like that when I was little?" Qin Zihang asked.

"Yes, when you were little, just a little ball of joy. Looking at you made me so happy, my heart would melt," Song Fenglan said. "Everything felt hopeless, but seeing a glimmer of light ahead made me want to do more for our Hangbao—to get so much done and be a good mother, to keep going."

After becoming pregnant with Qin Zihang, Song Fenglan had already been feeling utterly miserable. The Song family was sent to a labor farm, and she herself was criticized for her family background and class status. Her experiences during that time were far from pleasant. Of course, she wanted a better life, but it wasn’t something she could achieve just by wishing for it.

Song Fenglan thought about how Qin Zihang in the original story had turned out that way, and she realized it had a lot to do with her as his biological mother.

"Our Hangbao must understand that many times, we can’t always have things our way," Song Fenglan said, patting Qin Zihang’s head.

"Mm-hmm," Qin Zihang nodded. Though he didn’t fully understand, he trusted his mother—whatever she said must be right. Listening to her was enough.

The weather was quite cold, not very warm, so the eggs wouldn’t spoil easily. Still, the next morning, Song Fenglan delivered the eggs to Fan Yani’s house and saw how she was doing. She had planned to come back another day if Fan Yani was still asleep, but since Fan Yani was awake, Song Fenglan stayed for a while.

"Are you doing alright?" Song Fenglan asked.

"Not bad," Fan Yani replied. "It was a vaginal delivery, so my body’s fine. Nothing wrong."

"That’s good," Song Fenglan nodded. "I’ve left the eggs here. Eat more of them. I should head to work now."

"Go ahead, go ahead," Fan Yani said. "I’m fine here. My mom’s taking care of me, so no need to fuss."

Song Fenglan left for work without lingering at Fan Yani’s place. She and her husband had gifted twenty eggs—in pairs, for good luck.

Mother Guo brought the boiled eggs into the room and couldn’t help but sigh. "I counted—twenty eggs. That’s quite a lot."

"That many?" Fan Yani was surprised. In those times, eggs were a luxury.

"Yes," Mother Guo said. "They must be worried you won’t have enough to eat, so they sent these for you."

"Feng Lan has always been wonderful. She’s very caring toward the two kids next door too," Fan Yani said. "She’s a really good person."

"Kindness like hers is rare," Mother Guo remarked.

"Very rare," Fan Yani agreed. "Feng Lan’s natal family was sent to a labor farm, but she was lucky enough to stay in the city. Despite that, she never complained and still did everything well."

"That makes her even rarer," Mother Guo sighed. They were from the countryside themselves, where intellectuals were housed in cow sheds. People avoided interacting with them, fearing they’d be implicated. When those people fell ill, it was hard for them to get medicine—some even died from treatable illnesses simply because no one would help.

They could have been saved, but no one dared to step forward. Those who were doctors could at least scrounge for medicinal herbs, but those who weren’t had no idea where to look.

Li Hui didn’t come over again. Instead, she had Guo Peng deliver some eggs to avoid gossip about her being unwilling to share. After all, they were just eggs—she could afford to give them.

However, the eggs Li Hui and her husband sent were fewer than what Song Fenglan had given. Following custom, Mother Guo returned a few eggs to them. She had initially wanted to return some to Song Fenglan as well, but Song Fenglan insisted it wasn’t necessary and told Fan Yani to eat them all. Since Song Fenglan had to go to work, Mother Guo couldn’t give her salted duck eggs either. (Note: Salted duck eggs are a traditional preserved food.)

Mother Guo planned to wait, retrieve some salted duck eggs later, wash them, and send them over. She also gave Guo Peng some to take back home. This was agreed upon with Fan Yani—returning what was due to avoid upsetting Li Hui. After all, Guo Peng was married now, and many things were different. It was better to be cautious.

Fan Yani didn’t lack those few eggs. There was no need to create tension—just hand over the gifts and be done with it.

Guo Peng had no objections. Knowing it was tradition, he took the returned eggs back home. He had the day off and was resting, so he could spend time with Li Hui.

When Li Hui saw the eggs Guo Peng brought back, she counted them. Fan Yani had accepted six eggs and returned four, plus four salted duck eggs, making eight in total. This meant Fan Yani had only kept two eggs from Guo Peng and Li Hui.

"Did your parents say anything?" Li Hui asked.

"What would they say?" Guo Peng was confused.

"Did they mention that we gave fewer eggs?" Li Hui pressed. "This many is generous enough. If they didn’t keep them, they can’t blame us."

If Fan Yani had actually taken all those eggs, Li Hui would’ve called her out, asking if she’d never seen eggs in her previous life and had to take every last egg now. According to tradition, Fan Yani wasn’t supposed to keep all the eggs.

"Mom didn’t say we gave too few eggs, and Ya Ni didn’t either," Guo Peng said. "Relax, neither of them said a word about it."

"They don’t say it, but you know they’re thinking it," Li Hui retorted.

"No, they’re not thinking that way," Guo Peng insisted. "Let’s not overthink it."

"Just giving eggs is plenty. I... I might have trouble getting pregnant in the future. Without a child, they won’t need to give us eggs—so we’re the ones losing out." Li Hui rolled her eyes. "And during New Year, we’ll still have to give that kid a red envelope. No matter how you slice it, we’re getting the short end."

"Yes, we’re at a disadvantage," Guo Peng agreed. "But sometimes, coming up short is a blessing in disguise."

"What kind of blessing?" Li Hui didn’t see it that way.

Auntie Fatty brought some eggs to visit Fan Yani. She also told Mrs. Guo to keep all the eggs and just return four salted duck eggs—one for each family member of four. There was no need to return any more eggs.

"Salted duck eggs go well with rice or porridge, especially these ones made with red wine lees," Auntie Fatty said cheerfully, looking at Fan Yani lying in bed. "We’re like family—no need for formalities. You need to focus on recovering now—you can eat a few more eggs a day."

"I can’t absorb that many," Fan Yani replied.

"Whether you can or not, just eat as much as you can," Auntie Fatty urged. "Eat up! If not now, when?"

"Mhm," Fan Yani nodded. "I am eating, I really am."

"Eat more," Auntie Fatty insisted. "When I had my two kids, there wasn’t as much food back then. I had my husband scrounge up chicken and eggs for me. If a woman doesn’t recover properly after childbirth, she’ll suffer when she’s older. Men don’t suffer—they couldn’t care less—but we women gotta look out for ourselves. Don’t pinch pennies now."

"We wouldn’t cut corners on this," Fan Yani assured her. "Don’t worry, we’d never skimp on this. We’ll eat properly."

"That’s the right attitude," Auntie Fatty said. "If you need anything, just let us know. We’re neighbors—what’s ours is yours."

Auntie Fatty stayed a while longer before leaving, taking four salted duck eggs with her. Mrs. Guo went with her, as she was heading to Song Fenglan’s house to return salted duck eggs. She packed six—since Song Fenglan had given more eggs, it was only fair to return more.

"Feng Lan’s good people—no one can say otherwise," Auntie Fatty remarked when she heard how many eggs Song Fenglan had given. She herself hadn’t brought half as many.

Auntie Fatty’s eggs came from her own hens. To gather enough to give, she had even stopped cooking eggs for Zhang Xiaohu, who’d been whining about why he couldn’t touch the eggs at home.

One of their hens was brooding, and another was laying eggs, but they couldn’t lay fast enough to keep up.

Auntie Fatty had to ration carefully to avoid having to buy eggs to give away—that would cost too much. Every little bit helped, and eggs from their own hens were good enough.

"You all really like her," Mrs. Guo observed. She had met Song Fenglan a few times but rarely spoken to her, as Song Fenglan was always busy, leaving early and returning late.

"We do," Auntie Fatty nodded. "Feng Lan’s good people—of course we like her. To be honest, with my two boys and their father, they eat a lot. I don’t have a formal job—I stay home to take care of them, and our food expenses are high. The kids need clothes, schooling—everything costs money. Xiao Hu plays with Zi Hang, and sometimes Xiao Hu even gets to eat at their place."

Auntie Fatty sighed. "Xiao Hu is a growing boy with a big appetite. A bite here, a bite there—it all adds up. It’s only ’cause Feng Lan’s folks don’t turn him away. Most folks wouldn’t hand out food like that. And it’s not just Xiao Hu—his older brother gets some too."

Though Song Fenglan didn’t treat other children the same way, Auntie Fatty still thought highly of her. Her family had benefited a lot—Xiao Hu got to play with Zi Hang, and she could lend a hand sometimes. Others who didn’t lift a finger but still expected handouts—now that’s just shameless.

"That must take a lot of food," Mrs. Guo remarked. Nobody wants an empty stomach. Just ’cause Song Fenglan and her man had steady work and could afford to buy food doesn’t mean they have to share it with others. No wonder Fan Yani always spoke so highly of Song Fenglan.

"This is it," Auntie Fatty said as they reached Song Fenglan’s doorstep. "I’ll be off now."

"Alright," Mrs. Guo replied.

Mrs. Su was just back with Qin Zihang when she ran into Mrs. Guo. When she heard Mrs. Guo was returning salted duck eggs, she quickly invited her in.

"Feng Lan gave us a ton of eggs," Mrs. Guo said. "And we’re only returning these few salted duck eggs..."

"It’s enough," Mrs. Su smiled. "Feng Lan just wanted Ya Ni to eat well. Childbirth really takes it out of you. Please, sit for a while—let me put on some tea."

"No, no need. I still have to go back and take care of Ya Ni," said Mother Guo. "Ya Ni is alone at home with no one to look after her. I just wanted to deliver these things quickly and return."

"Alright, you go ahead," said Mrs. Su.

After seeing Mother Guo off, Mrs. Su prepared to have Qin Zihang wash his hands, but he had already done so himself.

"I washed them," Qin Zihang spread out his hands.

"Wasn’t it cold?" Mrs. Su hadn’t had time to pour warm water for him, so Qin Zihang had used cold water.

The kettle was full of hot water, but a kid his age shouldn’t be pouring hot water. Song Fenglan always told the children not to pour boiling water themselves and to be careful not to get scalded.

"Nope, not cold," Qin Zihang rubbed his hands together. "They’re warm now."

"Come, it’s time to eat," said Mrs. Su. She’d made the food earlier and kept the dishes warm in the pot or under plates.

Mrs. Su looked after Qin Zihang carefully. He sat obediently and ate without needing to be fed. Now and then, Mrs. Su dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. After he finished eating, she let him rest for a while before putting him to bed.

Qin Zihang wanted to watch TV and knew how to turn it on himself without needing help.

"Ten minutes," said Mrs. Su.

"Mm-hmm, just ten minutes," Qin Zihang nodded. He wanted to grow up just like his mom, so he couldn’t watch TV endlessly. Too much TV turns your brain to mush, and he didn’t want to become a nobody.

Qin Yizhou and others warned him that watching TV for too long would slowly turn him into an idiot, a kid no one liked. Children needed to know their limits and manage their time wisely.

Even when his parents weren’t around, Qin Zihang never whined or begged Mrs. Su to watch more TV. In this regard, he knew how to behave—listening to his parents and not giving his aunt any grief.

There was no fridge at Fan Yani’s place, so eggs wouldn’t keep long. But not many people brought her eggs—just Li Hui and her husband, Song Fenglan and Auntie Fatty, and also Mrs. Zhao from the Women’s Federation who delivered some eggs to military wives.

Anyway, the number of eggs wasn’t excessive. Fan Yani didn’t eat just two eggs a day; Mother Guo boiled five or six for her daily, so the eggs wouldn’t stay uneaten for too long.

Fan Yani forced herself to eat, believing Auntie Fatty was right—whether she could absorb the nutrients or not, she should just eat. What if she had nothing next time? Although Yue Hongwei wasn’t the type to withhold food from her, Fan Yani still had to be cautious—men could flip on you.

Her past experiences had taught her not to idealize military men too much. Life was hers to live, not others’, so she had to think for herself.

Fan Yani’s first child was a son, which made Gao Xiuxiu green with envy.

Gao Xiuxiu hadn’t brought Fan Yani any eggs—they weren’t that close.

"Look, her first child was a son. And you? Two daughters," said Grandma Fang, watching Gao Xiuxiu eat. Gao Xiuxiu’s belly had failed her.

"I’ll take lunch to the shop tomorrow," said Gao Xiuxiu. "It’s cold outside..."

"The food will get cold," said Grandma Fang. "You don’t work far—just nearby. Why not just eat at home?"

Grandma Fang knew Gao Xiuxiu was trying to avoid her. With two children at home, Gao Xiuxiu’s brief return wouldn’t cause too much fuss.

"Two daughters mean no dowry to save up for. What’s the rush?" said Grandma Fang. "A son means future wedding expenses—that’s when you’ll need to prepare a lot."

"No son now, but there will be one later," said Gao Xiuxiu. "I still need to work and save up."

"Auntie Fatty next door stays home," said Grandma Fang.

"That’s why their family is so stingy," retorted Gao Xiuxiu. "If I stayed home, you’d have nothing to do. Would you go back to the countryside?"

"I say one thing, and you bite my head off. Fine, take your lunch. You’re the one eating cold food, not me," said Grandma Fang. "But you should still have more children—preferably a son. No son, and you’ll be the laughingstock."

"I know," said Gao Xiuxiu. She was well aware of what people said behind her back—that she couldn’t bear sons, that she only had daughters.

Gao Xiuxiu hated being talked about that way—she was determined to have a son.

"The medicine I brewed for you, drink some," Grandma Fang said. "It's to balance your system, not something you have to drink every day. Don’t pour it out—those are valuable herbs."

To ensure Gao Xiuxiu could conceive and give birth to a son, Grandma Fang worked tirelessly to brew the medicine. Gao Xiuxiu disliked the bitter taste, but Grandma Fang, concerned about the efficacy, wouldn’t let her add sugar.

The sugar was a precious commodity—it couldn’t be wasted so carelessly.

Grandma Fang also liked watching Gao Xiuxiu drink the medicine, leaving her no chance to pour it away. She had no choice but to swallow it.

"If you’re not coming back for lunch, then drink the medicine in the evening from now on," Grandma Fang said.

"How long do I have to drink it?" Gao Xiuxiu asked. She had already endured several days of it and couldn’t take the bitter taste anymore.

"At least a month," Grandma Fang replied. "Unless you drink it that long, how can it work? You’ve already had it for days—don’t waste it. Hang in there—it's for your son."

Grandma Fang believed she was wearing herself out for her eldest son’s sake. If not for ensuring he had an heir, she wouldn’t have bothered preparing those herbs for Gao Xiuxiu.

Gao Xiuxiu had no choice but to keep drinking.

Today, Qin Zihang was especially happy at school. Earlier, Song Fenglan’s university acceptance letter had arrived during his winter break. He hadn't told all his classmates yet that his mother had been admitted to the top university in their province. Now that school had resumed and everyone was in the classroom, Qin Zihang wanted to share the news with the other kids.

"My mom got into Nancheng University—you know, the top university in our province!"

"What? You don’t know? Don’t you want to get into the best university in the province someday?"

"Mom said Dad is here, our whole family is here, so she chose Nancheng University. She could've gone to one of the capital's top universities, but she didn’t."

"I’m telling the truth! My mom really could’ve studied in the capital. We lived there for years. She just wanted to stay in Nancheng."

...

Some of the kids didn't get it, and one kept saying Song Fenglan’s college entrance exam scores weren’t that impressive—that she could only get into a university in Nancheng.

"Your mom's not that special. She's lying to you."

"Your mom didn’t do well—that’s why she could only study in Nancheng, not the capital."

"Your mom's awful!"

...

Qin Zihang had never heard anyone call his mother awful before. He thought the kid was badmouthing his mom, and that wasn’t acceptable. So, he argued back. The angry kid swung at him, and Qin Zihang fought back. Then, Zhang Xiaohu joined in.

Zhang Xiaohu thought his little brother Zihang was being bullied, so he had to help.

Fortunately, the teacher noticed quickly and broke them up before it got worse.

After hearing what happened, the teacher didn't quite know what to say. Though Qin Zihang was telling the truth, first-graders might not understand—they were still very young.

"I’m telling the truth!" Qin Zihang insisted to the teacher. "My mom really scored high—she could’ve gone to the capital. She decided not to go because she wanted to stay with me and my dad."

"Liar! That's not true!" the other child shouted.

"Zihang isn’t wrong. His mother aced the city’s exams," the teacher said. Living nearby, she knew exactly how well Song Fenglan had performed—she'd ranked third in the province. "She decided not to go to a university in the capital."

The teacher had to explain this to the child. This wasn't about who was right or wrong; this needed to be cleared up so the kids knew the truth.

"Zi Hang, everyone knows how amazing your mom is, and we're all happy for her and for you," the teacher said. "There's no need for Zi Hang to say more, okay? The other kids' moms aren't as impressive as yours, and it might make them sad."

"What's there to be sad about? We should face reality," Qin Zihang replied. "One is one, and two is two. If their moms aren't great in this aspect, they might excel in others. My mom always says, 'Every trade has its master.'"

Qin Zihang couldn’t quite recall the full saying—"Every trade has its master."

"He's just a primary school student and doesn’t understand college entrance exams. Don't hold it against him," the teacher said.

The teacher calmed both children down and had them apologize to each other—no, wait, there was also Zhang Xiaohu involved.

The three of them apologized to one another and said sorry.

That settled the matter.

After dinner, Qin Zihang told Song Fenglan about what had happened at school.

"The teacher said the other kids are still too young to understand," Qin Zihang said. "But I insisted I wasn’t lying—Mom really could have gone to a prestigious university in Beijing, but she decided not to."

"The kids are indeed still too young to get it," Song Fenglan said with a chuckle. "Don’t bring it up with them anymore. That’s all in the past—we should look forward, understand? Focus on what’s ahead."

"I won’t talk about college stuff with them anymore," Qin Zihang waved his little hand. "Even if I explain, they won’t understand. It's such a drag."

Qin Zihang wanted someone to agree with him, people who knew about these things, but his classmates were just too young.

"They’re so ignorant," Qin Zihang said.

"It’s not that they’re ignorant—they’re just young," Song Fenglan explained. "You understand because your mom and dad explained it to you."

"Don’t their parents explain things to them?" Qin Zihang wondered.

"It’s not that their parents don’t explain—maybe their parents don’t know either," Song Fenglan said. "We shouldn’t keep pointing out what they don’t know. It’ll make them feel bad. As long as our precious Hangbao understands, and that's what matters."

"But if they never know, won’t they seem silly?" Qin Zihang asked.

"As they grow older little by little, they'll come to understand," Song Fenglan said. "The more they study and learn, the more they’ll know. Just like how you know more now in primary school than you did in kindergarten."

"Yeah, I know more than I did in kindergarten," Qin Zihang said.

Qin Zihang always referred to others as "little kids," but he himself was still just a kid, not much older.

Song Fenglan glanced at Qin Yizhou, who immediately got the hint. "Hangbao, have you finished your homework?"

"Done! I finished it while Auntie was making dinner," Qin Zihang said. "It wasn't much work—I finished it really quickly."

"Mm, very fast," Qin Yizhou said. "Then practice your handwriting—try to make your writing neater."

"Fine," Qin Zihang said.

When Zhang Xiaohu came over and saw Qin Zihang practicing writing, he tried to leave. But Qin Zihang called out to him, "Brother Xiaohu, come write with me!"

So Zhang Xiaohu joined Qin Zihang in writing—since Zi Hang called him "brother," he had to set a good example.

While the two boys practiced writing, Qin Yizhou signaled for Song Fenglan to come with him to their room. He had something to give her—a hair clip. Song Fenglan didn't wear her hair with bangs, just long hair that sometimes fell over her forehead. Her old hair clips had seen better days, so Qin Yizhou had bought her a new one, along with a silk scarf.

The scarf was perfect for the current weather, and many women loved them.

Earlier, Qin Zihang had said Qin Yizhou hadn't bought Song Fenglan a gift—but he had, he just hadn't given it to her yet.

A hair clip alone seemed too simple, so Qin Yizhou paired it with a scarf, which was quite pricey. The scarf was light blue—the sales clerk had recommended pink, but Qin Yizhou knew Song Fenglan wasn’t fond of pink, so he chose the blue of the sky instead.

Song Fenglan studied airplanes, which complemented the blue sky.

"It wasn't Zi Hang who said it. I wanted to prepare this for you myself," Qin Yizhou said, afraid his wife might misunderstand.

"Zi Hang is still young," Song Fenglan replied. "Why are you holding it against him?"

"He never misses a chance to badmouth me in front of you," Qin Yizhou said. "Am I really that terrible?"

"No, not at all," Song Fenglan chuckled lightly.

"In his eyes, Mom is the best," Qin Yizhou remarked.

"Feeling jealous?" Song Fenglan raised an eyebrow. "Zi Hang used to be with me, he—"

The next moment, Qin Yizhou wrapped her in a tight hug. "I’m not jealous of him. I’m just afraid you might not like me."

Song Fenglan felt Qin Yizhou’s strong frame and quietly leaned into his arms. Of course she liked him. She didn’t have feelings for anyone else, nor would she dislike Qin Yizhou. As long as he handled things well and kept their family happy, she’d keep loving him.

Qin Yizhou knew Song Fenglan’s thoughts—she liked him, but not yet deeply in love. He also understood that for someone like Song Fenglan to have even a bit of affection for him was already remarkable. Still, he wanted more—for her to love him deeper. He would love her even more than she loved him.

After a while, Qin Yizhou gently released her. As Song Fenglan was about to head to the living room, he asked her to put on the scarf.

"Let Zi Hang see it," Qin Yizhou said, fixing her hair.

"Alright," Song Fenglan replied with a smile.

Zi Hang adored his mom and immediately noticed the change in her appearance.

"Mom, you have a scarf!" Zi Hang exclaimed.

"Your dad bought it," Song Fenglan emphasized. "A present from your dad."

She glanced at Qin Yizhou after saying this—there, happy now? Qin Yizhou’s lips curled slightly. Yes, this was the scarf he had given his wife. His son had seen it.

"Oh," Zi Hang pouted, looking at his father and noticing the smile on his face.

"See it?" Qin Yizhou cleared his throat. "Does it look nice?"

"Mom looks nice," Zi Hang said. "The scarf looks nice because Mom is wearing it."

"You cheeky kid," Qin Yizhou teased.

"So, can Xiao Hu and I watch TV for a bit?" Zi Hang asked. "We didn’t sneak and turn it on while practicing writing earlier."

"Go ahead," Qin Yizhou said, turning on the TV for the two boys.

One reason Xiao Hu stuck around was that afterward, they could watch TV together. Even Auntie Fatty could tell that Zhang Xiaohu’s handwriting had improved significantly. She thought that without Zi Hang, Zhang Xiaohu’s grades would be a disaster.

With Zi Hang around, Zhang Xiaohu had become much more into studying.

When Zhang Xiaohu returned from Song Fenglan’s house, he made a point of telling his mom that he had practiced writing.

"You went there to eat and even used their pencils and notebooks," Auntie Fatty said. "And you didn’t even pay."

"Mom, buy some for me, and I’ll bring them over," Zhang Xiaohu replied. "After Zi Hang and I finish writing, we watch TV. Auntie said we did good."

"You should learn from Zi Hang—study more, improve your grades, so you won’t end up breaking your back in the future," Auntie Fatty said. Though her own education was limited, she knew the benefits of higher learning, like Song Fenglan, who even had people to take her to work and protect her when she went out.

Auntie Fatty was jealous of Song Fenglan’s life. She didn’t expect Zhang Xiaohu to surpass Zi Hang in the future, but she hoped he wouldn’t end up clueless about everything. Women could get by with chores even without much knowledge, but for men, ignorance was far worse. Women who remained ignorant were deceiving themselves. The whole "men out, women in" thing was old-fashioned—women wanted power too.

Although Auntie Fatty always stays at home doing housework, she has her own aspirations, but she just doesn't have what it takes. She can't be like Song Fenglan, so she can only focus on doing the household chores well and hoping her two kids will do better.

"You're only getting by because your younger brother Zi Hang is helping you learn," Auntie Fatty said. "You'd never manage studying alone."

Zhang Xiaohu's older brother, Zhang Wen, isn't doing well in school. Even though Zhang Wen studies diligently at home, so what? Sometimes, effort alone isn't enough—but not trying isn't an option either. Auntie Fatty doesn't understand these things herself and can't guide Zhang Wen properly.

"I am studying," Zhang Xiaohu said. "Mom, can we have eggs tomorrow?"

"All you think about is eating eggs," Auntie Fatty replied. "Fine, tomorrow you and your brother can each have one boiled egg."

"Can I have a fried egg instead?" Zhang Xiaohu asked. "Fried eggs are delicious, whole and round."

"Sure, as long as you study hard, you can have it," Auntie Fatty said. "We don't have eggs at home—I'll go buy some, just for you."

Auntie Fatty also needed to check on the hen tending the eggs, as it had been a few days already. She wouldn’t let Zhang Xiaohu keep peeking at the hen, afraid it might get startled and stop tending the eggs properly. She needed to candle the eggs under candlelight to see how they were developing. If any eggs weren’t progressing well, she’d adjust their positions to help the hen incubate them better.

It takes about twenty days for the eggs to hatch, and Auntie Fatty had to keep an eye on them—there were so many, and she hoped as many as possible would hatch into chicks.

While Auntie Fatty was checking the eggs, Zhang Xiaohu quietly followed behind. When she turned and saw him, it gave her quite a start.

"These are for hatching chicks, not for eating," Auntie Fatty scolded her younger son. She knew some people ate balut, but the idea turned her stomach—she’d never let her family eat such things. "Don’t look now. Wait until the chicks hatch. Don’t forget, you promised Zi Hang you’d give him a chick."

"I’m just looking, not touching," Zhang Xiaohu said.

Auntie Fatty held the eggs up to the candlelight, and Zhang Xiaohu watched closely. She even tested them in warm water to check their condition.

"Mom, you said you weren't cooking them—but that's hot water!" Zhang Xiaohu stared at his mother.