TPW – Chapter 34

Wu Guifang’s new coat was finally finished a week later. She couldn’t resist and put it on a day early, strutting through every alley and street. If there was a single stray dog in the neighborhood that didn’t know she had a new coat, she’d consider that a failure of her marketing efforts.

The new coat earned her plenty of compliments from neighbors and friends, but no matter how you looked at it, it just didn’t resemble Qiao Lu’s. Though the design was copied, the cut and the aura were completely different. No one connected it to the one Qiao Lu wore at her wedding banquet—they just thought Wu Guifang had come up with a new style.

It was fresh, sure, but it somehow felt off—not quite right for winter. It was a bit thin, though it had a layer of velvet lining, making it unclear what season it was actually meant for.

Still, Wu Guifang was thrilled. After all, everyone was complimenting her.

The topic of the new coat stirred up a lot of chatter. While exchanging sewing tips, Wu Guifang accidentally let it slip that the coat was modeled after the one Qiao Lu wore at her wedding. That’s when everyone realized what the inspiration was.

But the more they talked about it, the more they felt that Qiao Lu’s original was the best.

Later, a group went over to the Xu family’s little house to find Qiao Lu. In their words, they hinted whether she could lend them the coat to take a look—promising they’d return it quickly.

It wasn’t just the women from the inner courtyard; even a few from the outer courtyard tagged along. Qiao Lu figured that lending it to the inner courtyard folks was fine, but she wasn’t close with the women from the outer courtyard. If the coat got passed around too much, who knew what state it’d be in when returned? And if someone ruined such expensive fabric, would she ask them to compensate or not?

Thinking it over, she half-jokingly said, “Sure! If you want to see it, come over and get it. But I’ve been stuck at home with nothing to do lately, and I’m thinking of trying my hand at tailoring next year. What do you think? Is that a feasible plan?”

“Huh? You want to become a tailor?” Everyone was shocked.

Qiao Lu smiled. “Yeah, I want to give it a try. I’m just killing time at home anyway.”

A tailor? That meant making clothes for money! Suddenly, everyone felt a bit awkward about borrowing her coat without paying anything—surely they should offer something now?

But no one really wanted to pay. The outer courtyard women, who weren’t close to Qiao Lu, quickly lost interest and drifted away.

Of course, Qiao Lu wouldn’t feel right taking money from her close neighbors. And it turned out that was the right move.

Once all the women from the inner courtyard had borrowed Qiao Lu’s coat, their attitude toward her changed completely—they treated her like family!

With the Spring Festival fast approaching and Qiao Lu and Xu Haizhou planning to spend it in Lian City, the aunties and older sisters eagerly taught her the local customs: how to make rice cakes, write Spring Festival couplets, steam big pot buns, and prepare Lian City’s signature sugar rings. The week before New Year’s Eve, they even woke her up in the middle of the night to queue up together at the provisions store for limited no-ticket sweet potatoes—distributed per person, and gone if you arrived late!

Xu Haizhou had never spent Spring Festival in the south before, so he wasn’t familiar with the customs. Now learning alongside Qiao Lu, he actually found it quite fun. That’s when he realized how different the northern and southern traditions were.

For example, in the north, people liked eating dumplings, while in the south, it was all about sweet glutinous rice balls and pounded rice cakes. Southerners stuck “Fu” characters on their doors, while northerners added paper-cut window decorations, turning windows into a sea of red—southerners unfamiliar with the tradition might think there was a wedding happening!

Qiao Lu couldn’t help but sigh, “Lending out that coat was really worth it—just consider it tuition fees.”

Once the rice cakes were made, part of the dough was set aside to mold into various little animals. Then kids would use food coloring to paint on eyes, noses, and mouths. This was every child’s favorite part. In most families, the kids got to decorate the cakes themselves, making everything from dogs and cats to rabbits—some pretty, some not, but all bringing joy.

On New Year’s Eve, the kids would carry their animal-shaped rice cakes door to door. If they liked someone else’s cake, they’d trade. By the time they returned home, their baskets were filled with cakes from other families. This was known as:

Hundred-Family Cake!

Besides rice cakes, the aunties also told Qiao Lu about another Spring Festival tradition loved by kids in Lian City: making lanterns.

Every dad would prepare a lantern and a mask for their child. The lantern was easy, but the mask was trickier—it had to match the child’s Chinese zodiac sign. Whatever the child’s sign was, the dad had to make a mask of that animal.

But these weren’t masks you wore on your face. They were hollow helmet-style masks with holes cut for eyes, nose, and mouth. Kids wearing them looked adorably silly.

The custom was a bit like Halloween—children dressed up as all sorts of animals and went house to house, not to ask for candy (since this was the East and it was the 1980s), but just to find friends their age and go play in the streets together.

A week before New Year’s Eve, under the guidance of his neighbors, Xu Haizhou started learning how to make masks. His first attempt was crooked and unrecognizable, but by the second try, he had the hang of it. He crafted a delicate little monkey mask that fit Qiao An’s head perfectly in both color and size.

Wearing it, Qiao An looked just like a little monkey—adorable and bouncy. Everyone who saw him was jealous.

Compared to the half-hearted masks their own fathers had made, the difference was glaring.

…Not that the other dads didn’t want to put in effort. It’s just that making a detailed mask took four or five days, and they weren’t willing to spend that much time. So everyone quietly agreed to be “sloppy.”

Qiao An’s beautiful little monkey mask amazed all the kids—not just from the inner and outer courtyards, but even from the neighboring compounds. They all swarmed around him, chirping excitedly.

“Qiao An, can I wear your monkey mask for a bit? I’m a monkey too!” (Though one full zodiac cycle older.)

But since the mask was made to Qiao An’s exact size, it didn’t fit a ten-year-old at all. Qiao An took it off generously, and the older kid returned it a minute later, disappointed.

“Qiao An, I’m a sheep—can I wear your monkey mask?”

“Qiao An, I’m a pig—I want a turn too!”

“Brother An’an, I’m a horse—I want to try it!”

Watching their son surrounded by a crowd of kids, Qiao Lu proudly said to Xu Haizhou, “Hey, our boy is really stealing the show these days—new coat, new hat, beautiful lantern. Look how happy he is.”

Xu Haizhou glanced over with gentle eyes, his steel heart melting into tenderness.

“It’s great. He’s a lot more outgoing now—not so shy.” He stroked his wife’s hair as he spoke.

“Yeah, he’s changed so much.” In just over three months, it was like he’d been reborn.

…

In the blink of an eye, it was February 10th—two days before New Year’s Eve. Whether or not there was more money to be made from street vending, Xu Haizhou stopped working and stayed home to help his wife and child prepare for the new year.

That morning, as usual, Xu Haizhou was the first to wake up. Breakfast was cornmeal porridge, white steamed buns, and a small dish of cabbage. The day before, Qiao Lu had specifically instructed him that everyone needed to eat a boiled egg every morning for nutrition. The eggs were already cooked and sitting in hot water, so they’d still be warm when mother and son woke up.

Peeling the eggs, the smooth white surface was even more tender than Qiao An’s chubby little face.

The little one took the egg, peeled away the egg white, and began eating with relish. After finishing the white, he held the yolk in his hand, hesitating for a long time, then instinctively handed it to Qiao Lu.

“Mommy, the yolk…”

“You have to eat the yolk too.” This child didn’t like egg yolks, and Qiao Lu used to indulge him. But today, she was already stuffed and couldn’t eat another bite.

Little Qiao An immediately wilted. His eyebrows drooped, and he listlessly held the yolk in his palm, big eyes staring at it — no, glaring at it — like he was having a heartfelt moment with the yolk.

In the end, his eyes were practically popping out of their sockets, but he still didn’t reach a conclusion.

“Mommy, am I a bad kid?” He looked at the yolk, then at Qiao Lu, and asked in a downcast voice.

Qiao Lu was puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t like egg yolks. Wasting food means I’m not a good kid.”

Pfft—becoming a bad kid just for not eating egg yolks? If that’s the case, then there wouldn’t be a single good kid in the world.

Qiao Lu was about to say something when Xu Haizhou chimed in, “Not liking egg yolks doesn’t make you a bad kid. I don’t like eating cabbage. Does that make me a bad dad?”

When he was little, his family was poor. No matter the season or even during the Spring Festival, there was always cabbage on the table — boiled, steamed, and occasionally stir-fried with a little oil… After eating it for twenty years, he developed a psychological aversion. Xu Haizhou swore that whether rich or poor, he would never eat cabbage again for the rest of his life.

Qiao An studied him seriously and shook his head. “You’re a good daddy.”

Xu Haizhou ruffled his hair. “That’s right, don’t overthink it, okay?”

Qiao An’s doe eyes lit up, and he happily threw his arms around him. “Okay! But Daddy, I still don’t like egg yolks.”

“Then give it to Daddy.”

With that, Xu Haizhou snatched the yolk from his hand and popped it into his mouth.

Qiao An was stunned, and so was Qiao Lu. When she finally reacted, the father and son were grinning ear to ear, like two mischievous mice who just stole some oil — utterly pleased with themselves.

Qiao Lu pretended to be angry, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brows. “Well, well, you’ve learned to call for reinforcements! Just wait till I deal with you!”

She bent down to catch him, and sensing trouble, Qiao An dropped his little spoon and ran a circle around the dining table before diving into Xu Haizhou’s arms.

“Daddy, save me!”

Xu Haizhou caught him steadily and gave his chubby little cheeks two kisses like he’d just received a treasure. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s got you.”

Qiao Lu walked over, exasperated, and pinched his nose. “Just wait till Daddy leaves, then I’ll deal with you!”

Unexpectedly, not only did Daddy not leave today, but Li Hongjun also showed up, carrying a foldable military cot into the courtyard, followed by another man.

Xu Haizhou stepped forward and took a large square tin box from his friend. He looked closer — it was a radio!

Seeing his wife’s utterly confused expression, Xu Haizhou set the radio down and chuckled as he gently pinched her hand.

“I wanted to buy it last month, but the stall was too busy, and I didn’t get the chance. Since the New Year is around the corner, I brought the radio home so we can listen to programs during Spring Festival. That way the house won’t feel too quiet.”

Most families had elders around; theirs didn’t, which made things feel a bit too calm.

Before Qiao Lu could say anything, Li Hongjun had already carried the cot into the house.

“Coming through! Little one, make way!”

The front door was wide open, and cold air rushed in through the doorway. Qiao Lu hurried to shut it, blocking out the chill and prying eyes.

Qiao An looked at Li Hongjun and the unfamiliar uncle with confusion and then hid behind Qiao Lu.

“Mommy, what are those uncles doing?”

Qiao Lu glanced down at him with a smile. “They’re bringing things into our house.”

“What things?”

Qiao Lu gave his chubby hand a gentle squeeze — so soft and satisfying.

“You’ll see soon.”

Once the bed and radio were set up, Qiao Lu quickly poured hot water for the two guests. Li Hongjun sipped slowly, while the other man downed his and got ready to leave, saying he still had work at home.

Xu Haizhou didn’t try to make him stay. He thanked him and saw him out to the courtyard gate. When he came back, his son was staring at the radio, eyes sparkling.

Apparently, the radio was much more exciting to Qiao An than the cot. He kept touching it and pressing the buttons carefully.

“Daddy, what is this?”

Xu Haizhou patted his head. “It’s a radio. You can listen to programs, music, the weather forecast…”

“Wow, you can hear everything?” As he spoke, he pressed his ear to the body of the radio to listen — but didn’t hear a thing.

Qiao Lu couldn’t help but laugh and picked him up. “Let Daddy show you how to use it.”

There was already a radio back at their northern home, one from the 1970s, at least six or seven years old — older than Qiao An. This new one was a recent model. Same functions as the old one, but easier to use.

Xu Haizhou lightly pressed the power button and twisted a dial, landing on a storytelling channel — it was Liu Lanfang narrating The Story of Yue Fei.

The sudden voice startled Qiao An, but he found it fascinating. His little legs bounced excitedly. “Daddy! Daddy! Can I press it too?”

The adults all chuckled at him. Xu Haizhou stepped aside and brought his son over. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Which one do I press?” The little guy raised his hand eagerly, already itching to try.

“This one’s the power button — press it to turn it on or off. This one controls volume, this increases, this decreases. And this rotating one changes the channel… Got it?”

The little one nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm… I remembered a little.”

It was his first time seeing one, how could he remember everything at once? But that’s okay — he had all the time in the world to learn!

He reached out and pressed the power button gingerly, not using much force. The button didn’t budge.

Qiao An scratched his head in confusion. “Daddy, am I supposed to press it very lightly?”

Qiao Lu laughed. “Nope, with your little strength, you can press as hard as you want.”

The little one believed her and pressed down hard on the button. The radio blared to life, startling him so much that he dove into Qiao Lu’s arms.

“Ahh, Mommy!”

He twisted into her embrace, his little butt sticking out and his body shaking from the sudden movement — ridiculously cute.

“Hahaha—” Li Hongjun laughed heartily, totally unbothered about saving face. The couple couldn’t hold back their laughter either.

“Don’t be scared, you just turned the radio on,” Qiao Lu patted his back, signaling him to get up.

Qiao An lifted his head, and everyone saw his eyes were red, his face flushed, and he was scratching at his mouth — not sure if he was scared or just super embarrassed.

Pfft—how could he be so cute?

After playing with the radio for a while, Qiao Lu got ready to go grocery shopping with Wu Guifang and made sure to invite Li Hongjun to stay for a meal before he left.

Li Hongjun didn’t decline and stayed.

When Qiao Lu returned from grocery shopping, the inner courtyard was bustling with activity. All the children—from the Chen, Tian, and Hu families—had gathered under the loquat tree. As she walked closer, she saw that the center of attention was none other than her precious son, sitting on a small chair with a brand-new radio in his arms, which was playing a children’s program.

“Da-di-da, da-di-da, da-di-da—kids, Little Trumpet is on the air!”

The children were listening intently as if under a spell, not even minding the cold wind blowing through the courtyard.

Qiao Lu initially wanted to invite them all inside to listen, but seeing how immersed they were, she decided against disturbing them.

The residents of the compound generally fell on the lower-middle income scale of Lian City. So far, no one in the inner courtyard owned a radio—though sewing machines and bicycles were common.

There was a thirteen-year-old girl in the outer courtyard named Zou Kuihua whose family had both a radio and a television. Every evening, crowds would gather outside the Zou household. Her family was the envy of the whole compound. Rumor had it that her father had gone into business with a friend in Hong Kong four years ago and now sent so much money back each month that they couldn’t even spend it all. People admired them endlessly.

When lunch was ready, Qiao Lu raised her voice and called into the courtyard. The kids, completely absorbed in the story, only then snapped out of it.

“An’an! Time to eat!”

Little An’an blinked as if waking from a dream. He gave the radio a contented pat, pressed the power button firmly with his small hand, and the courtyard fell silent.

“Okay, I’m going home now. Bye, everyone.” He trotted back into the house with quick, confident steps.

The other kids watched him leave with reluctant admiration.

Xu Haizhou was waiting at the door. As An’an approached, he took the radio from him and scooped him up in one arm, planting a kiss on his chilly cheek. “So, how was the show? Did you like it?”

“Mm! It was amazing, Daddy! I even learned a new song!” The boy had started to speak with a hint of Xu Haizhou’s northern accent—rhotic tones and all.

There’s a saying that northern dialects are contagious, and it rang true here.

Li Hongjun, munching on an apple nearby, laughed and asked, “Well, little guy, you’ve learned to sing too? Let’s hear it!”

With his father holding him, the boy didn’t feel shy at all and belted out the song in a soft, sweet voice:

“La la la, la la la~ I’m a little newsboy~”

Applause followed.

He was praised by his dad, then by Uncle Li, and finally, when Qiao Lu came in carrying the dishes, she praised him too.

He was so proud that he kept his chin high throughout the meal.

Lunch was hearty, and to avoid being seen by curious neighbors, Qiao Lu locked the door.

There was a small bowl of cucumber and century egg soup, a dish of stewed potatoes with pork ribs, and a plate of Mapo tofu. Since her husband and son couldn’t eat spicy food, she used doubanjiang (fermented bean paste) instead of chili peppers—it still looked the part.

At the table, An’an was humming while eating. Qiao Lu reminded him gently.

“An’an, finish your meal before you sing.” He’d barely touched a fifth of his rice after such a long time, distracted by his humming.

“Okay, Mommy.” He stopped singing and began to shovel rice into his mouth with surprising speed—he couldn’t wait to finish so he could sing again!

Watching him, Li Hongjun suddenly remembered something. He opened a cloth bag he had brought with him and pulled out a small box with a mysterious grin.

“An’an, look what Uncle brought for you!”

He placed the object on the table—a small silver box with two buttons on top, one longer silver one and a shorter red one. There were some faded English letters on the bottom, but Qiao Lu couldn’t make them out.

“What is it, Uncle?” An’an asked, squinting. It kind of looked like… a small lunch box?

Xu Haizhou raised an eyebrow. “A cassette player?”

“A what?” Qiao Lu repeated in confusion. The thing must’ve been from way back—she had never even heard of it!

Seeing her puzzled expression, Li Hongjun looked even prouder.

“Well, at least he knows,” he said, nodding toward Xu Haizhou. He slid the player closer to Qiao Lu. “This is a real gem. Don’t be fooled by its size—it’s more expensive than a radio! Two hundred and forty yuan!”

Though it looked like a lunch box, the music it played was excellent. It used cassette tapes to store audio that couldn’t be broadcast on the radio, and it was palm-sized and easy to carry around. What more could you ask for?

“I made a good bit selling gloves lately, and with New Year around the corner, I thought I’d treat myself. Gotta have some festive tunes.”

Qiao Lu teased him, “Weren’t the songs on the radio festive enough for you?”

Li Hongjun clicked his tongue. “Nah, radio songs are too limited. You can’t pick what you want to hear. Not good—not as good as my cassette player.”

At the time, cassette players were absolutely considered luxury items. With them, you could hear many songs that were banned from public broadcast in mainland China, including classics by Teresa Teng.

Growing up on red anthems and stirring revolutionary marches, people found the occasional sweet, melodious love song refreshingly novel. Especially for single young men like Li Hongjun, listening to Teresa Teng’s voice was like being tickled by feathers in the heart—sweet, soft, and a little unbearable.

“Took me over half a month to get it. It’s a Sanpai brand—solid quality!” With that, he pressed the play button, and sweet, lilting music flowed from the speaker: “Little darling, listen!”

An’an was so excited he stopped eating entirely. Holding his chopsticks, he swayed to the music, his little legs swinging, occasionally humming along.

Qiao Lu couldn’t help but laugh. Did her kid actually have artistic talent?

“On that beautiful night Two lovers walked side by side Holding hands and whispering sweet nothings…”

It was Teresa Teng’s A Night in Hong Kong.

“Do you like it?”

“Mm! I love it!” An’an didn’t really understand the lyrics—he was just enjoying the melody. To him, any song coming out of that little box sounded wonderful.

The little guy kept humming along with the mono cassette player. Seeing this, Xu Haizhou reminded him, “An’an, you can’t sing this song outside, okay?”

Qiao An stopped singing. “Why not, Daddy? I think it sounds really nice.”

After thinking for a moment, Xu Haizhou made something up. “This song isn’t for kids to sing outside. If you do, your mouth will get ‘shanghuo,’ got it?”

In the early years of the 1980s’ reform era, pop stars from Hong Kong like Teresa Teng started making their way into the mainland. But in 1982, the People’s Music Publishing House released a book called How to Identify Obscene Songs.

It labeled things like rock music and love songs as “crazy disturbances,” seen by conservatives as dangerous influences—so much so that people could only listen to them secretly.

At the time, Teresa Teng’s sweet ballads were considered “decadent music.” Compared to the revolutionary anthems of the past, they really were soft, cloying, even bone-meltingly tender.

“Huh? Shanghuo? My mouth will get shanghuo?” Qiao An was confused. “What does that mean?”

Xu Haizhou paused. “It means… your mouth will get blisters. Very painful.”

Qiao An touched his lips in alarm. “Ah! Daddy, I don’t want my mouth to hurt!”

If his mouth hurt, how could he eat?

Xu Haizhou put on a stern face. “Exactly. So you mustn’t sing that song outside, understand?”

Qiao An nodded. “Then can I sing other songs outside? Like I’m the Little Paperboy?”

Xu Haizhou: “Sure. Songs from the radio are fine.”

“Okay then.” He gave up on the forbidden tune. There were still plenty of other nice songs—he definitely didn’t want a sore mouth.

Because he had heard such beautiful music, Qiao An was in a great mood. Not wanting to enjoy it alone, he brought out his treasured stash of snacks—ones he’d been saving and hadn’t even eaten himself—to share with Uncle Li.

“Uncle, do you eat sunflower seeds?”

“Yes!”

“Uncle, do you eat cakes?”

“Yes!”

The little guy suddenly felt something was off. His expression grew serious as he tilted his head and asked, “Hmm… then do you eat cookies?”

Li Hongjun nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

Qiao An pouted. “Uncle, how come you eat everything?”

Pfft—

His parents burst out laughing without restraint.

Li Hongjun: “???”

“Qiao An, wasn’t it you who asked me if I eat them? As a polite person, of course I said yes!”

Qiao An blinked and held up a finger, stating seriously, “A polite person should say: ‘Thank you, Qiao An. I’ll have just one.’”

If someone ate everything, the host wouldn’t get any themselves. That’s not okay.

His mom had taught him: when visiting others, you shouldn’t eat up all their food. Many families were still struggling, and you had to be considerate.

Li Hongjun left laughing, saying that Qiao Lu’s kid was just too funny—he’d definitely come back to tease him again.

Qiao An stood at the door watching Uncle Li leave. Staring at the nearly empty box of cookies, he bit his lip and muttered, “Don’t come tease me again, you meanie.”

“Hahahaha—” His mother couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

That night, after getting ready for bed, Qiao An lay on the bed humming along to the radio. After a long time, he noticed his mom still hadn’t come in.

He slipped on his little slippers and toddled into the outer room.

“Mama, what are you doing?”

Qiao Lu was unfolding a folding cot leaning in the corner. It was a simple military-style cot, easy to set up. A small single bed—more than enough for Qiao An on his own.

“I’m making your bed,” she answered.

Qiao An asked, “Mama, why do we need another bed here?”

Qiao Lu replied, “Because when our An’an grows up, he’ll need to sleep here. He won’t sleep with Mama anymore.”

“I want to sleep with Mama,” the little one clung to her leg.

“You can’t when you grow up,” Qiao Lu gently pried him off and pinched his chubby cheeks. “See, does Mama still sleep with Grandma? Does Daddy sleep with his mom? Grown-ups sleep by themselves.”

There was a two-second silence.

“…Okay then.” He sounded a little defeated. “So when will I be grown-up?”

She patted his little head while continuing to make the bed. “Very soon. Just a couple more years.”

“Then why do we need the bed now?”

She glanced at him guiltily and sped up her work. “We’re just getting ready early.”

After finishing the bed, Qiao Lu still had to tell him a bedtime story. Even after the story, Qiao An was still buzzing with energy, nowhere near sleep.

“Mama, why doesn’t our radio have the same songs as Uncle Li’s little box?”

“Because… Uncle Li’s songs aren’t in our radio.” Qiao Lu, too, could be a master of stating the obvious.

Qiao An blinked and dug at his ear. “Mama, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

She laughed and patted his butt. “Good. Now go to sleep.”

She pulled the blanket up to his chin, but the little guy suddenly grabbed her wrist. “Mama, are you sleepy?”

“I’m okay.” She lay down beside him.

He rolled over and wrapped his little arms around her waist. “Mama, I’ll sing you a song, okay? I learned a new one today.”

Intrigued, Qiao Lu propped her head on her hand. “Oh? A new one? Let me hear it.”

She was expecting a sweet, innocent children’s song. Instead, her son snuggled up and, in his soft milky voice, began singing a love ballad: “They go on dates, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings, Flirting and doting, love never-ending…”

In the other room, Xu Haizhou—who had been changing into his pajamas—heard this and sprinted over, clapping a hand over his son’s mouth. “An’an, what are you singing?!”

“Mmm mm!” The little one blinked innocently, pushing his hand away and chirping, “Daddy, I’m singing a song!”

“You…” Several stress lines appeared on Xu Haizhou’s forehead. “You remembered the whole thing after hearing it once?”

Qiao An nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! It’s so pretty, Daddy! I remembered it right away!”

Xu Haizhou rubbed his forehead in defeat. “Didn’t Daddy say you’re not supposed to sing that song outside?”

“Daddy,” Qiao An argued seriously, “But I’m not outside. I’m inside.”

Qiao Lu was laughing so hard she cried.

Xu Haizhou: “……”

A sharp memory and a clever tongue—was that a blessing or a curse?