WRS – Chapter 53

After Zhu Ying left, Jin Xiuzhu suddenly found herself with one less person to talk to. Her younger daughter had also started school, and life felt much quieter.

Fortunately, she still had Fang Min to keep her company. Now that the baby had passed the confinement period, he looked completely different — fair, soft, and smelling sweetly of milk. The little one could already recognize people. Apart from Fang Min and Jin Xiuzhu, he would cry whenever anyone else tried to hold him — even Commissar Zhu couldn’t manage it. He could hold the baby for a short while, but if it went on too long, the child would start bawling with that loud, piercing voice of his.

He also fed fiercely, as though someone might snatch the milk from him. Fang Min didn’t have enough milk, so Commissar Zhu had his comrade send over a few tins of powdered cow’s milk. She was worried the baby wouldn’t take it, but surprisingly, he wasn’t picky at all.

And heaven forbid anyone tease him while he was feeding — he’d remember the offense.

Once, He Yan tried touching the baby’s little hand while he was drinking milk. The boy found him annoying; his chubby hand squirmed several times, trying to shake him off. Later, every time He Yan came over, the baby would turn his head away — and once even peed on him while being held.

Fang Min had once hoped to have a gentle, soft little girl, but it turned out the complete opposite — she’d given birth to a hot-tempered little boy. Both she and the commissar were mild-tempered people, so she had no idea where he got it from.

But Jin Xiuzhu thought a fiery temper wasn’t a bad thing at all. She comforted her by saying, “A big temper means he won’t be taken advantage of — that’s a good thing.”

Fang Min could only accept that explanation.

Still, no matter what kind of child it was, a mother always thought her own was the best. Fang Min used to wonder how she’d ever manage to raise a naughty boy, but once she actually started, she found her heart overflowing with love. She wanted to hold him in her arms all the time, kiss him endlessly — even his pudgy little feet smelled sweet.

By now, Jin Xiuzhu’s belly had grown large. Fang Min told her that when she’d been hospitalized, an old doctor had said pregnant women should move around more — it would make childbirth easier. She admitted she’d been lazy about that herself.

Jin Xiuzhu took the advice to heart. Every morning and evening, she would drag Jiang Mingchuan out for a walk, circling the whole residential compound.

When Jiang Mingchuan wasn’t home, she walked slowly on her own. If the children didn’t have much homework, they would accompany her.

Sometimes, she even ran into Zhao Yun — though every time they met, Zhao Yun would already be heading home, wrapped up tightly from head to toe.

Yang Yingxiong told Jin Xiuzhu that his aunt often got angry at home and had even put away all the mirrors. When his little sister took one out to look at herself, Zhao Yun found out, smashed the mirror, and even cut her daughter’s hair short.

No wonder Xiuzhu’s own daughter had come home the other day saying strangely, “Tang Ying’s hair got cut really short — like a dog chewed it.”

At the time, she thought the child had just been mischievous and cut it herself.

But thinking of how Zhao Yun looked these days, Jin Xiuzhu couldn’t quite understand. No matter how angry one might be, why take it out on the children?

The two women had run into each other a few times, but they always avoided each other from afar.

A few days later, Jin Xiuzhu stopped seeing Zhao Yun entirely — it was Yang Yingxiong who told her that his aunt had been sent to the hospital by his father.

Zhao Yun was luckier than Fang Min — she was admitted two days before her due date.

Yang Yingxiong had been taken to the hospital twice by his father. He came back each time looking downcast, and it was He Yan who secretly told Jin Xiuzhu that Aunt Zhao had given birth to a boy, and Yang Yingxiong’s father was delighted.

He Yan added, “Yang Yingxiong said that his dad only liked him before because he was a boy. Now that there’s a new little brother, he’s worried his dad won’t like him anymore.”

Before, when He Yan, Wei Ningqing, and Yang Yingxiong had talked about wanting younger siblings, He Yan said he wanted a little brother — a brother could play with him, while a sister would just argue.

Wei Ningqing didn’t have that kind of problem. All he wanted was for his parents to come home soon.

Only Yang Yingxiong had said softly that he hoped his aunt would have a girl. Everyone else was saying it would be a boy, and his father had been overjoyed to hear that.

He Yan used to worry about the same thing, but now he didn’t anymore. Somehow, he just knew that no matter how many siblings he might have, his parents would always love him the same.

So now, he happily hoped his mother would give birth to a little brother.

Jin Xiuzhu nodded. She didn’t think Yang Yingxiong’s worries were unfounded.

If Zhao Yun could treat the daughter she once adored so harshly, how much affection could she have left for Yang Yingxiong?

As for Yang Yao — he’d always been one who couldn’t tell right from wrong.

Sure enough, after Zhao Yun came home with the baby, He Yan overheard his parents talking about names. It turned out that Yang Yingxiong’s new little brother was named Yang Chaoying (“Surpassing Hero”).

Super Hero, Super Beautiful — that slogan had become quite popular lately.

Of course, Jin Xiuzhu had heard it too. But she frowned instinctively and asked her son, “Who came up with that name?”

He Yan shook his head. “Don’t know.”

Jin Xiuzhu complained to Jiang Mingchuan in exasperation. “How could they pick a name like that? The older one’s Hero, the younger one’s Surpassing Hero — sounds like he’s meant to surpass his brother!”

Jiang Mingchuan thought it was just coincidence. “Maybe they didn’t think that deeply.”

Jin Xiuzhu huffed. “If they really cared about Yang Yingxiong, they’d have thought about it plenty.”

Jiang Mingchuan didn’t reply. What she said wasn’t pleasant, but it was true. Their neighbors — the commissar and his wife — had racked their brains to find a good name for their child, and so had Jin Xiuzhu herself, poring over books every day.

She had once thought of naming her baby Jiang Yanyan (晏晏) — calm and gentle, with a beautiful meaning. But realizing it sounded too similar to her second daughter’s name, she immediately gave it up.

Now she’d taken a liking to the name Shengnan (勝男, “Victorious Man”), one their neighbors didn’t use after all. At first it didn’t sound particularly pretty, but the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Who says girls can’t be as good as boys? Her daughter, she believed, would surely outshine them.

Still, after seeing what happened with Fang Min, she decided they’d better prepare some boys’ names too, just in case.

Of course, that was someone else’s business — they couldn’t interfere. The only thing they could do was give Zhang Qiulai more money and ration tickets to help, and make sure Yang Yingxiong came over for meals often.

Zhao Yun was in confinement and needed both money and care. She must’ve called her own relatives to come help. Yang Yao, meanwhile, divided his monthly pay — some to his mother back home, some to Yang Yingxiong, and the rest all went to Zhao Yun.

He couldn’t neglect his own mother — even though he’d once sent her back to the village, he still sent her a fair share of money every month.

And since Zhao Yun was breastfeeding, she needed to eat well and drink plenty, so the eldest son’s allowance had to be cut.

Yang Yao told the boy to come home for meals, but what he didn’t know was that every time Yang Yingxiong did, the aunt who was taking care of Zhao Yun would smile and tell him not to eat too much — that he shouldn’t take away his baby brother’s food. She’d say that if he ate too much, his aunt would go hungry, and if she went hungry, so would the baby.

Yang Yingxiong wasn’t as timid as before. After a few such incidents, he told his father — who defended him. But the woman didn’t change her behavior; she still looked at him with disgust whenever no one was watching.

Later, perhaps because of something that aunt said, even Zhao Yun began treating him coldly. She used to at least speak a few words to him, but now, she wouldn’t even answer when he greeted her.

He’d started to dread going home, feeling like a stranger there.

Jin Xiuzhu noticed all this, so she invited him over for dinner every day. After eating, she’d have him, He Yan, and Fu Yanyan do their homework together. When they finished, He Yan would call him to come sleep over.

Yang Yao probably felt embarrassed. He came downstairs twice to fetch his son, but the boy refused to go. Once, when Yang Yao lost his temper and tried to drag him away, Yang Yingxiong clung to the doorframe and refused to budge.

In a rage, Yang Yao slapped him twice. Yang Yingxiong bit his lip tightly, not shedding a single tear.

In the end, Yang Yao said coldly, “Fine, I won’t care about you anymore,” and stormed off.

Yang Yingxiong watched his father’s back, took two hesitant steps forward — and then stopped.

Jin Xiuzhu and Jiang Mingchuan didn’t know about this; they’d been out walking and only heard about it later from their son.

Jiang Mingchuan frowned deeply after hearing it. Jin Xiuzhu glanced at him and said gently, “We’ve already taken Yingxiong as our godson. If Yang Yao doesn’t want him, we will — what do you say?”

To her, this was a blessing — a well-behaved child just falling into their laps. Apart from being a bit self-conscious, there wasn’t a single flaw in him.

She thought Yang Yao was being incredibly foolish. Between a nearly grown, sensible son and a newborn baby, he was choosing the latter.

In the Great Jing dynasty, the eldest or legitimate son held the highest standing. No matter how much you spoiled the younger one, he could never surpass his elder brother.

People’s memories sure were short — all those promises Yang Yao once made had already faded.

Jiang Mingchuan looked hesitant. In his heart, he believed a child should stay with his real parents. Yang Yao wasn’t a bad man — except when it came to how he treated his son.

Still, thinking about the situation, he finally said, “From now on, this will be his home. He can go back whenever he wants.”

Hearing that, He Yan’s face lit up instantly. “I knew you two were the best!” he said, before running off to tell the good news to Yang Yingxiong.

Jin Xiuzhu heard it and felt uneasy. A godson was one thing — a real son was another. If they raised him like their own, only for him to grow up and go back to care for his birth parents, wouldn’t that be raising someone else’s child for free?

Maybe Yang Yao was thinking the same — that no matter how well they treated him, the boy was still his son.

But since Jiang Mingchuan had said it, Jin Xiuzhu didn’t stop him.

Inside the room, when Yang Yingxiong heard that his godfather and godmother were letting him stay, he couldn’t help feeling deeply moved. He’d always known they only took him as a godson back then to protect him — not because they needed another child. So he had never dared to actually call them godfather or godmother, still sticking to “Uncle” and “Auntie.”

But now that He Yan had told him they would truly be one family from now on, his heart—besides fear and panic—was filled even more with joy and anticipation. He was terrified his father really didn’t care about him anymore, yet at the same time, he was happy that this place would become his home.

He thought for a moment, eyes red, then walked out. Under the astonished gazes of Jiang Mingchuan and Jin Xiuzhu, he suddenly knelt down and kowtowed three times.

Jiang Mingchuan froze for a moment, then quickly rushed over to pull him up in a panic. “What are you doing? Get up, quickly.”

Yang Yingxiong didn’t listen. He stubbornly finished the three kowtows before getting up, a red mark on his forehead.

Jin Xiuzhu looked at him, her expression complicated.

Jiang Mingchuan patted his shoulder, at a loss for words.

Yang Yingxiong lowered his head, wiping his tears, and choked out softly, “From now on, you’ll be my dad and mom. I won’t have anyone else.”

Jiang Mingchuan rubbed his head. “Don’t overthink things. Go to bed. As long as you study well, and grow up to be an honest, kind person, that’ll be enough for us.”

Yang Yingxiong nodded hard and turned to go back to his room.

He Yan was waiting for him at the door. When he saw him, he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until they were both lying in bed that He Yan said comfortingly, “I used to have it even worse than you. I was lucky I met Dad later on.”

Yang Yingxiong closed his eyes and softly hummed in response, tears slowly sliding down from the corners of his eyes.

What He Yan didn’t know was that before he’d told him the news, Yang Yingxiong had been planning to go home and apologize to his father.

But in his heart, that place was no longer his home.

His father had a new wife, and now even a new biological child. He was no longer the only family left in his father’s eyes.

That feeling was something He Yan would never understand—seeing the father who once loved him gradually grow distant, watching him have someone more important than him. That pain was even worse than when his grandmother used to bully him. And he didn’t even have the right to say “no.”

He didn’t want to go back because he wanted his father to see—he was also his son, and his father had once been good to him too.

But his father didn’t. He’d said he wouldn’t care about him anymore.

Maybe he’d been planning to do that all along.

Adults are always this cruel—they bring you into the world, and then can just decide they don’t want you anymore.

——

From then on, Yang Yingxiong started going to school together with the siblings.

He had already been spending a lot of time at Jin Xiuzhu’s house, so at first no one noticed anything unusual. But the neighbors, living so close, gradually started realizing something was off.

Commissar Zhu couldn’t ask directly, so he sent Fang Min to find out what was going on. Fang Min was straightforward, so she simply asked Jin Xiuzhu about it.

Jin Xiuzhu told her what had happened a few days ago. “The child chose to come live with us himself. Mingchuan and I both like him very much. We’re not trying to take Yang Yao’s son—Mingchuan said the boy can stay as long as he wants, and he can leave whenever he wishes.”

Then she sighed. “It’s the hardest age—he understands everything, but can’t do anything, can’t support himself. Mingchuan and I just want to help however we can.”

Fang Min thought back to when she’d first been brought back to the capital as a child—the polite coldness of her parents, her sister’s resentment and hostility. No matter what she did, it seemed wrong.

Fortunately, she’d later met her grandparents. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t be who she was today.

To that boy Yang Yingxiong, Jin Xiuzhu and Jiang Mingchuan must be like those grandparents were to her back then.

Fang Min said, “From now on, don’t pay extra for dinners anymore. You’ve already got two kids—Commissar and I can cover this small expense.”

Once someone has kids of their own, they can’t help but soften.

Jin Xiuzhu smiled. “I knew you’d say that.”

Fang Min sighed. “He’ll be fine when he grows up.”

Jin Xiuzhu later told Yang Yingxiong about it. He didn’t say much, but afterward, every day after school, he would go next door to help Zhang Qiulai with chores and prepare dinner.

Aunt Jin and Aunt Fang were kind to him, and he wanted to be kind to them too.

When He Yan saw this, he joined in helping.

At first Zhang Qiulai tried to stop them, but Jin Xiuzhu said, “Let them help. Boys should learn to use their hands and feet—then they’ll never worry about going hungry.”

Jin Xiuzhu always knew how to draw boundaries between closeness and distance—she spoiled her godson, but her own son was raised with both affection and discipline, and she wasn’t softhearted when it came to teaching.

But Yang Yingxiong liked this life better—it made him feel like he wasn’t just eating for free, that he wasn’t there out of pity. He could help the family too.

He truly was helpful. When Jin Xiuzhu was about to give birth, he and He Yan took turns taking leave from school to care for her in the hospital.

Jin Xiuzhu hadn’t agreed at first, but the two had already planned it out. Both had good grades, so missing a day or two wouldn’t matter. One would stay at the hospital, the other go to school. Yang Yingxiong, being one grade below He Yan, would copy Wei Ningqing’s notes and homework after class and bring them to the hospital. At night, they would study together.

Jin Xiuzhu gave birth on December 9th.

Everything went smoothly before that. She went to the county hospital two days early because the weather was cold. Jiang Mingchuan brought a lot of things with the three kids, but he couldn’t stay overnight, so he left after dark.

Only He Yan and Yang Yingxiong stayed with her.

Her daughter was still young, so Jin Xiuzhu let her go home with Jiang Mingchuan.

Before leaving, Fu Yanyan looked back anxiously again and again. In her past life, Jin Xiuzhu and Dad Jiang hadn’t had children—this baby was an unexpected gift.

But she hoped, desperately, that nothing would go wrong.

This was the family she’d worked so hard for across two lifetimes—she wanted everyone to be safe and well.

The hospital bed next to hers was empty, so at night, He Yan and Yang Yingxiong slept there. Whenever Jin Xiuzhu needed to use the restroom in the middle of the night, she didn’t even need to call—they would both jump up to help her.

The next morning, before dawn, He Yan went to school. Yang Yingxiong walked him to the gate and bought breakfast on the way. There was a state-run restaurant across the street from the hospital, and Jiang Mingchuan had left them plenty of money and food coupons.

He Yan bought two steamed buns and two stuffed buns—ate half and saved the rest for his sister.

Yang Yingxiong didn’t eat; he bought food to bring back and eat with Jin Xiuzhu.

They parted at the hospital gate.

After two days, in the early hours of the third morning, Jin Xiuzhu’s labor pains began.

Yang Yingxiong panicked, but still did everything as she’d instructed—kept all the money on him, gathered the baby’s clothes, and when the nurse came to wheel her to the delivery room, he followed closely behind.

Before going in, Jin Xiuzhu handed him her watch.

Afraid of losing it, he fastened it tightly to his left wrist.

From time to time, he looked up at the delivery room door, then down at the watch, silently praying.

The cries from the delivery room grew louder and louder, finally turning into Jin Xiuzhu’s cursing—she nearly cursed out all of Jiang Mingchuan’s ancestors.

Yang Yingxiong had never known that the gentle, kind Aunt Jin could swear like that.

He stared fixedly at the watch. She had gone in at four in the morning. When the hands pointed to seven-thirty, a sharp, piercing baby’s cry came from inside.

At that sound, all the tension drained from him; his legs went weak.

Soon, a nurse came out and asked, “Do you have the baby’s clothes?”

Yang Yingxiong quickly handed them over. The nurse took them and disappeared back inside.

A short while later, she came out again—this time holding a baby wrapped in soft clothes—and handed her directly to him.

“Six and a half jin. A girl.”

Yang Yingxiong froze.

He stiffly held the baby in his arms, not knowing what to do.

Soon after, Jin Xiuzhu was wheeled out too, her face pale.

Yang Yingxiong followed as they brought her back to the ward. She lay down on the bed and immediately fell asleep.

The baby in his arms was asleep too. The nurse told him to put the baby next to her mother since it was cold outside.

After tucking the baby into the blankets, Yang Yingxiong didn’t dare leave. He wanted to call Uncle Jiang, but he was afraid that if he left, Aunt Jin might wake up and not find him there.

So he stayed quietly by her side.

He waited until nine in the morning, when Jin Xiuzhu finally woke up, before going out to make the call.

At noon, Jiang Mingchuan arrived with Zhang Qiulai, carrying lunchboxes. The baby had just finished nursing and was asleep. Jin Xiuzhu was awake, waiting for Yang Yingxiong to return with food.

In the end, the lunch he’d bought was eaten by him and Jiang Mingchuan, while Jin Xiuzhu ate the food Zhang Qiulai had brought.

She stayed in the hospital for three days. On the day she was discharged—a Sunday—not only did Jiang Mingchuan and the three kids come, even Commissar Zhu came to visit.

Not long after they got home, Qian Yufeng and Wang Ling arrived with big bags and baskets—Qian Yufeng brought half a basket of eggs, two hens, and a new quilt; Wang Ling brought two tins of malted milk and two bolts of good fabric.

Knowing Jin Xiuzhu needed rest, they didn’t stay long—just looked at the baby, left the gifts, and went home.

And they weren’t the only ones. In the evening, Wei Ningqing came with a big bag too, saying his grandmother had sent it—inside were red sugar, longan, and malted milk, all nourishing things.

Fang Min, busy at home with her own baby, couldn’t go out to buy things, so she sent a thick red envelope instead.

That reminded Jin Xiuzhu of Zhong Xue—before giving birth, she’d received a package from her too, with new baby clothes and a letter containing a single sheet of paper and a hundred yuan inside.

It had scared her at the time.

But later, as she kept receiving gifts from Jiang Mingchuan’s comrades, she got used to it.

Now, their house was overflowing with things; she had to store everything in the baby’s room.

During her postpartum confinement, the boys no longer had to take turns asking for leave. In the mornings, Jiang Mingchuan made breakfast; during the day, Zhang Qiulai came to help; and in the evenings, the two boys came home to cook and help care for the baby.

It was quite an easy routine.

But on their first night back from the hospital, Jin Xiuzhu told Jiang Mingchuan seriously, “Four kids are enough. We can’t afford more.”

The main reason—it hurt too much. She never wanted to go through that again.

Taking care of a baby all day was exhausting too—life had been easier when she was alone.

Jiang Mingchuan didn’t even think before nodding. “Whatever you say.”

He still remembered Fang Min’s labor, and this time he hadn’t even been there for Jin Xiuzhu’s delivery.

She’d once said she wanted seven or eight children—now just thinking about it made him shiver.