WRS – Chapter 54

Jin Xiuzhu named the baby Jiang Hanxue. The morning the child was born, a light snowfall began outside. Suddenly, Jin Xiuzhu remembered a poem her son had once recited—“An old man in a straw raincoat and bamboo hat fishes alone in the cold river snow.” She loved the quiet, poetic imagery of it.

Originally, she had wanted to name the baby Jiang Shengnan (“Victory Over Men”), but for some reason, her usually well-behaved daughter objected vehemently.

“There’s nothing good or bad about being a boy or a girl,” she said seriously. “But the name Shengnan feels like a shackle—like you’re locking my sister into a cage the moment she’s born, forcing her to be better than boys. For you, it’s an expectation, but for her, it’s pressure. She can be the best girl she wants to be—why does she have to compete with boys? Do you think boys are the only ones who matter?”

Jin Xiuzhu and Jiang Mingchuan were silent for a long time, staring at each other.

On one hand, they had to admit their daughter made sense—they had never thought about it that deeply. On the other hand, they were stunned that someone her age could think so profoundly.

Only He Yan blinked blankly and asked, “What does that mean?”

He actually thought “Shengnan” sounded pretty cool. Not understanding his sister’s logic, he added helpfully, “Then how about Jiang Shengli (‘Victory’) instead?”

Fu Yanyan lowered her head.

She only thought—if the baby in Jin Xiuzhu’s belly really was a little sister, she hoped that child wouldn’t end up like her former self, constantly compared to others. That kind of life wasn’t happy at all.

Jin Xiuzhu didn’t know what her daughter had gone through before to make her so mature and understanding at such a young age. She reached out to hold her close, gently stroking her little head. Softly, she said, “Mommy thinks you’re absolutely right. Then we won’t call her Jiang Shengnan. Mommy will think of a prettier name, okay?”

Her own memories as the “old Jin Xiuzhu” were hazy—she only vaguely remembered that life with her daughter in the Fu household hadn’t been good. She had known the girl was precocious, but perhaps she had buried too many grievances deep in her heart.

That thought made Jin Xiuzhu feel even more tender toward her.

Fu Yanyan nodded in her embrace.

When the little one was born, she weighed six jin and six liang (about 3.3 kg), so they gave her the nickname Liuliu (“Six-Six”).

Liuliu had a very gentle temperament. No matter who played with her, she never got angry. She nursed quietly, slept quietly, and only made little sounds when hungry or uncomfortable—rarely ever cried.

When Jin Xiuzhu came home from the hospital with the baby, Fang Min brought her own son over to visit. The moment she saw the pink little girl in Jin Xiuzhu’s arms, she couldn’t help but feel envious—she had always wanted a daughter.

But even after just a few days, Jin Xiuzhu could tell Fang Min looked much more worn out. Before she could ask, Fang Min sighed and said helplessly, “This kid wakes up several times every night—it’s driving me crazy. I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in days.”

Jin Xiuzhu couldn’t help asking, “What about the commissar?”

Fang Min shook her head. “Useless. The baby only wants me. Anyone else tries to feed him, he cries his lungs out.”

At night, his crying was so loud that she worried about disturbing the neighbors—this building had thin walls. So she always rushed to calm him down as quickly as possible, which only made the baby more dependent on her.

“He’s adorable, really,” she sighed, “but when he’s fussy, he’s really exhausting.”

Jin Xiuzhu advised, “You should try changing his habits. Otherwise, you’ll wear yourself out. He’s only a few months old.”

Fang Min thought about it, then shook her head. “It’s no use. Zhao Yun’s baby upstairs cries every night—it’s so loud you can hear it all the way down here. If mine starts up too, the whole building won’t be able to sleep.”

Jin Xiuzhu frowned. “Zhao Yun’s baby cries every night?”

Fang Min nodded. “You should put some cotton in your ears at night, or you won’t sleep well. My husband went upstairs to ask about it—Commander Yang said the baby’s been having a fever these past few days, not feeling well.”

Jin Xiuzhu said nothing more.

After Fang Min left, Jin Xiuzhu changed her daughter’s diaper, fed her, and rocked her back to sleep. Then she called He Yan and Yang Yingxiong over to stew the chicken that Qian Yufeng had sent.

Hearing the task, the two boys quickly rushed into the kitchen to get started.

Meanwhile, Jiang Mingchuan tidied up the bedroom. While Jin Xiuzhu had been in the hospital, he’d brought over a small bed from the other house. He’d cleaned and sun-dried it thoroughly, then made it up with fresh bedding, ready for when the baby came home.

But after lying down for a bit, Jin Xiuzhu told him to switch the bedding between the big bed and the small one—she would sleep on the big bed with the baby, and he could take the small one.

Jiang Mingchuan quietly switched them as told.

Jin Xiuzhu laid the sleeping baby beside her and lay down too.

Jiang Mingchuan didn’t disturb her—after finishing, he went out to tidy the living room. His daughter was doing homework at the table; his two sons were bustling in the kitchen. A warm sense of satisfaction welled up in his heart. The past few days had been busy and tiring, but with the new baby, the whole family seemed to be working together with renewed energy.

Time had passed quickly. Just two years ago, he had still been living with He Yan in the old house—always busy with work and rarely home. When they did meet, father and son barely spoke.

Now, the house was full of life—almost too lively.

When Commissar Zhu came home, he couldn’t help sighing, “It’s so lively next door. Even when no one’s talking, it sounds noisy.”

Fang Min laughed. “Don’t complain—you’ve got it good. Our place is noisy enough now too. Remember when it was just the two of us?”

Zhu chuckled, stroked his baby’s tiny hand, and said, “I’ll go find a bigger table tomorrow afternoon.”

Fang Min understood—he was worried they wouldn’t have enough space when the neighbors came over for meals. She nodded. “Get a bigger one.”

Then she called out to Zhang Qiulai, who was busy in the kitchen, “Cousin, make a couple extra dishes for lunch.”

Zhang Qiulai answered from the kitchen, smiling to herself. These two families really got along better than most sisters-in-law—so considerate of each other, so uncalculating.

She couldn’t help feeling envious—envious of that kind of equal, easy relationship.

Her own brother and sister-in-law treated her well too, but she always felt guilty around them, like she owed them too much.

Here, though, she felt at ease—free of any burden.

Jin Xiuzhu had thought the noise from upstairs couldn’t be that bad. The hospital had been noisy enough already—after the two neighboring beds were occupied, she’d had to endure snoring every night.

But she hadn’t expected that by midnight, the upstairs baby’s deafening cries would wake her up—and even the little one beside her stirred, almost about to wake.

Jin Xiuzhu patted the baby gently, then irritably kicked the small bed where Jiang Mingchuan was sleeping.

He rolled over groggily and asked in exhaustion, “What’s wrong?”

Jin Xiuzhu pointed upward.

Jiang Mingchuan understood. “It’s been like this the past few days. You’ll get used to it.”

He was also new to all this, not realizing how abnormal it was. He thought babies just naturally cried—a lot—like Commissar Zhu’s son next door, whose cries were just as loud.

Jin Xiuzhu frowned and told him to cut her two small strips of cloth. Knowing what she meant, Jiang Mingchuan tore open the duvet cover and pulled out two handfuls of cotton.

Jin Xiuzhu: “……”

After a moment’s pause, she said nothing more, stuffed them into her ears, then covered her daughter’s ears with her hands.

Even so, she could still hear the crying through the cotton.

But one can only endure so much. After hearing the crying for three consecutive nights, Jin Xiuzhu decided she couldn’t take it anymore and told Jiang Mingchuan to go upstairs and have a look that evening.

Jiang Mingchuan didn’t need her to say it, actually. He had already planned to find Yang Yao. He had gone to Yang Yao’s office yesterday but didn’t find him there, so that night, instead of going home right away, he went upstairs and knocked on the door.

The one who opened it was the woman whom Yang Yingxiong called “Auntie.” She was short, with a square face, long eyes, a flat, wide nose, and short hair cut to her ears. She didn’t really resemble Zhao Yun as he remembered her, but ever since Zhao Yun became pregnant, she had started to look a little like this woman—especially the nose, wide and flat.

It wasn’t that Jiang Mingchuan paid much attention to women, just that he had a good memory. Once he’d seen a face, he remembered it.

Zhao Qing didn’t recognize Jiang Mingchuan, but at a glance, she could tell he wasn’t an ordinary person. She quickly asked politely, “And you are…?”

Jiang Mingchuan asked, “Is Yang Yao at home?”

Zhao Qing shook her head. “Not yet.”

Jiang Mingchuan nodded. “I see. When he comes back, could you please tell him that Jiang Mingchuan from downstairs was looking for him?”

After saying that, he gave a polite nod and turned to leave.

Zhao Qing watched his back until he disappeared from sight, reluctantly closing the door. Then she hurried into the room where Zhao Yun was lying on the bed reading a book and asked eagerly, “Didn’t you tell me the couple downstairs had a bad temper? Which one were you talking about?”

Zhao Yun frowned and looked up. “Why?”

Zhao Qing smiled. “Someone just knocked on the door, said he was looking for your husband.”

Thinking of the way Jiang Mingchuan had spoken just now made her heart itch. He was good-looking—of all the men she’d seen since coming to the military base, he was easily the most handsome.

One look at her expression, and Zhao Yun could already tell what was running through her mind, and she couldn’t help a cold sneer in her heart.

She had clearly told her mother to come stay and help for two months, but somehow, it was her cousin who came instead.

Zhao Yun knew exactly what her uncle’s family was thinking. Her cousin had been divorced for years and was hoping to find a new partner in the army.

Still, the cousin did take good care of her, so Zhao Yun pretended not to notice the rest.

“The couple downstairs are called Jiang Mingchuan and Jin Xiuzhu.”

The moment she heard the name Jiang Mingchuan, Zhao Qing’s expression fell. So he was married. And Jin Xiuzhu—that name she remembered well. Her cousin had mentioned it several times, always with an unpleasant tone.

Zhao Yun, sensing something, asked calmly, “Was the person just now Jiang Mingchuan?”

Zhao Qing didn’t hide it. She nodded. “Yes.”

Zhao Yun asked again, “What did he want with Yang Yao?”

Zhao Qing replied, “He didn’t say. Just told me to let my brother-in-law know he was looking for him.”

Zhao Yun said nothing more. She couldn’t guess why Jiang Mingchuan was looking for Yang Yao—perhaps it was about Yang Yingxiong, though deep down, she hoped it was because of her.

But when she thought about how ugly she had become since her pregnancy, resentment burned in her chest. Why was it that even after giving birth, she still looked so terrible?

When Yang Yao came home, Zhao Qing told him that Jiang Mingchuan had come looking for him.

Yang Yao nodded. “I already ran into him.”

Zhao Qing didn’t ask more about that. Instead, she pressed him about her own matter. “Brother-in-law, about that thing I asked you before—any progress? I’ve been taking care of my cousin for nearly two months now, it’s not easy.”

Then she added under her breath, “Someone like that Captain Jiang downstairs would be perfect, I think he’s really nice.”

Yang Yao almost got a headache at that. Zhao Yun’s cousin was thirty-eight. In the army, there were plenty of older unmarried women, but rarely beyond thirty. Anyone older was usually divorced or had difficult family circumstances. And as for someone like Jiang Mingchuan? She sure dared to dream.

“I’m still looking,” he said vaguely. “Need to pick carefully.”

“Fine, but make sure you’re serious about it,” Zhao Qing replied.

Yang Yao humored her and went to the bedroom to check on his son. As soon as he entered, Zhao Yun asked what Jiang Mingchuan had wanted.

Yang Yao squatted by their younger son, watching him sleep. Without looking up, he said, “Jiang Mingchuan said his wife and baby can’t sleep because our son cries at night. He suggested I take him to the hospital.”

Zhao Yun pressed her lips together, not expecting that to be the reason.

Yang Yao hesitated. “Maybe we should take him on the weekend?”

Zhao Yun said indifferently, “What’s there to check? All babies cry.”

Yang Yao’s hand, which had been gently tickling the child, paused, then continued as if nothing had happened.

In the past, he would’ve been upset by Zhao Yun’s attitude, but now, somehow, he didn’t feel much anymore.

Zhao Yun noticed the change in him and felt disgusted. She thought it was because of her looks—that her ugliness made him cold to her. She blamed everything on him: that because he wasn’t handsome, their son wasn’t either, and even she herself had become ugly.

Otherwise, how to explain that she hadn’t become ugly when she was pregnant with Tang Ying? Or that Jin Xiuzhu and Fang Min hadn’t changed either?

The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. But she also knew she couldn’t afford to lose Yang Yao. So she said deliberately, “No. I’ll take the baby back to the city tomorrow.”

Yang Yao softened immediately. “Forget it. I’ll take him to the clinic in the 3rd unit tomorrow afternoon. There’s an old Chinese doctor there.”

He didn’t want their younger son to be sent away too—his eldest was already not living with them.

Thinking of his eldest, he suddenly remembered what he’d seen downstairs earlier: through the doorway, three children sitting in the living room doing homework—Yingxiong among them. Snacks were spread on the table, and the three of them were eating and writing, the atmosphere warm and cozy.

And yet, for some reason, the sight made him angry.

He realized, with a jolt, that part of him didn’t want his son to be doing well.

Ashamed of the dark thought, he had quickly cut the conversation short with Jiang Mingchuan and left—almost as if fleeing.

Zhao Yun said nothing more.

And perhaps because Jiang Mingchuan had spoken to Yang Yao, a few days later, the crying upstairs finally stopped.

Jin Xiuzhu could finally sleep peacefully with the baby. Maybe because she was a girl, Liu Liu was especially well-behaved—she only woke twice a night: once around 11 p.m. for milk, and again around 2 a.m., then slept straight until five or six in the morning.

She and Jiang Mingchuan took turns feeding her. Around 2 a.m., he got up to feed her formula. Commissar Zhu had given them several tins of milk powder, saying to ask for more if they ran out.

Sometimes when the baby couldn’t finish it, Jiang Mingchuan would drink the rest himself.

Maybe because of that, he felt he’d put on some weight recently.

But their baby girl had also grown chubbier and cuter—after her first month, she was fair and plump, like a rosy-cheeked New Year’s doll. Her big round eyes, black and shiny like Jin Xiuzhu’s, melted your heart when she looked at you.

When Bai Jingzhi came home for winter break and saw her little niece, she could hardly bear to put her down even at night.

But Liu Liu’s favorite was her big sister. She let anyone hold her, but only when her sister did did she laugh brightly, showing her pink gums.

At first, Fu Yanyan hadn’t felt much affection toward her new sister, but now, seeing how much the baby loved her, she began to soften. Every day after school, she would go straight to play with her for a while.

He Yan also came to play with Liu Liu, but Liu Liu’s gaze always followed her sister instead.

Each time, He Yan would huff to Yang Yingxiong, “Liu Liu only likes my sister!”

Yang Yingxiong comforted him, “Liu Liu doesn’t look at me much either. Maybe we’re just not as good-looking as your sister.”

He Yan: “…”

He should’ve just kept quiet.

With Bai Jingzhi back, Jin Xiuzhu felt much more relaxed. After feeding the baby, she’d hand her right over and go paint or read.

Sometimes, Bai Jingzhi would sit beside her sleeping niece. Other times, she’d hold her and sit across from her sister-in-law, chatting about school when Jin Xiuzhu wasn’t busy.

Jin Xiuzhu suddenly remembered something Bai Jingzhi had mentioned during the summer—how her adoptive mother had invited her out for a meal—and asked, putting down her pen, “Did your adoptive mother ever come find you? You never wrote about it.”

Bai Jingzhi froze for a moment, then said, “She did. She brought a strange man with her and took me out to eat. Afterward, she wanted to walk around the school with me, but I told her I had to study and ran off.”

Jin Xiuzhu’s eyelid twitched. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Bai Jingzhi quickly said, “It’s fine now. She hasn’t come again.”

Actually, she had come again. Bai Jingzhi hadn’t wanted to see her, but her adoptive mother had contacted her teacher, who didn’t know the situation and called her over. Only when she reached the door did she realize who was waiting there—her adoptive mother and that man. She’d tried to run, but her adoptive mother grabbed her. Luckily, a passing soldier had shouted at them, scaring them off.

Later, that soldier had taken her to see her teacher and told her that if anything like that happened again, she should go straight to the police.

When she thought of this, Bai Jingzhi’s face turned a little red.

But she didn’t want to tell her sister-in-law any of it. If her brother and sister-in-law found out, they’d only worry again—there were already enough things going on at home.

Because of this incident, she no longer felt any affection for her adoptive parents. She didn’t know whether her adoptive father knew about it, but even if they came looking for her in the future, she didn’t plan to see them again.

Jin Xiuzhu’s expression grew serious. “If they come to you again, don’t go alone. If they keep bothering you, call the police.”

Bai Jingzhi nodded earnestly. She seemed to think of something, looked at her sister-in-law who had lowered her head to continue painting, as if wanting to say something—but after hesitating for a moment, her face flushed again and she closed her mouth, thinking it wasn’t the right time yet.

Jin Xiuzhu didn’t notice anything strange about her sister-in-law.

While painting, she said casually, “We’ll spend this New Year here. When there’s a chance later, I’ll take you to the capital.”

Bai Jingzhi replied, “No rush.”

Jin Xiuzhu smiled. “Your brother said there’ll be a movie screening on New Year’s Eve, and a performance at the auditorium that night. We’ll go watch it together.”

Bai Jingzhi also smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

In previous years, their family of four would just huddle in their tiny house during the New Year, eat dinner, and then go to sleep—it wasn’t much different from any ordinary day.

Sometimes her younger sister would fuss about going out to play, and only then would her adoptive parents take them to see fireworks or buy a single stick of candied hawthorn. She and her sister would have to share it, and she usually only got one berry.

This year was bound to be different.

And indeed, it was. On New Year’s Eve, they had dinner with the neighbors.

Jiang Mingchuan and Commissar Zhu had gone out early in the morning, without even eating breakfast. Since there were few people next door, it wasn’t cost-effective for them to prepare a full New Year’s Eve dinner alone—especially since both families had newborns. So they had already planned to celebrate together.

Fang Min got up early and brought her son over to the neighboring house. Jin Xiuzhu dressed up Liuliu, then began assigning tasks—Fang Min would watch the two babies, Bai Jingzhi would take He Yan and the three other kids to clean and hang couplets, while Jin Xiuzhu and Zhang Qiulai handled the kitchen.

By noon, He Yan, Yang Yingxiong, and Fu Yanyan had finished cleaning both houses. Bai Jingzhi pasted up the couplets she had written and then went to help Jin Xiuzhu in the kitchen.

When Zhang Qiulai saw them come in, she wiped her wet hands on her apron and told Jin Xiuzhu she was heading back.

Jin Xiuzhu said, “Alright, you can go back alone?”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve walked this route several times.”

“Good then.”

After she left, Jin Xiuzhu took down a piece of cured pork, two sausages, a chunk of fresh meat, and a small bag of flour. She also went outside to grab two paper-wrapped parcels of pastries she had made yesterday, then found an old bag and packed everything neatly inside.

In the living room, Fang Min wasn’t around. She had handed the baby to her daughter for a bit. Fu Yanyan said, “Auntie went next door.”

Jin Xiuzhu carried the bag to the doorway and immediately heard sounds of rustling and fussing from next door. When she entered, she saw Fang Min stuffing two tins of malted milk and a big bag of biscuits and candies into Zhang Qiulai’s bag.

Zhang Qiulai, not used to such a scene, said anxiously, “You really don’t have to—it’s too much!”

Last time she went home, Fang Min and Jin Xiuzhu had already given her meat and vegetables, and she had thought that was already incredible. Every time she went back, her sister-in-law would say those two families were far too generous.

Jin Xiuzhu insisted she take it, then handed her the additional bag. “It’s New Year’s—you should bring something home. We’ve both been too busy to send you off earlier. Besides, by the time you get back to the city, the supply and marketing cooperative will probably be closed.”

Seeing the large bag Jin Xiuzhu had brought, Zhang Qiulai waved her hands. “It’s really unnecessary—you already gave me my wages and a red envelope yesterday! That’s more than I ever earned at the factory.”

Jin Xiuzhu smiled. “That’s because you’re such a good worker. You’ve been doing work for two families, so even with that pay we still feel bad. Take it and go—if you don’t leave soon, you’ll miss the boat.”

Fang Min chimed in, “Take it and come back soon—Fanfan can’t be without you right now.”

Zhang Qiulai finally took the bags, a little embarrassed but smiling gratefully. “Then I’ll come back early.”

Jin Xiuzhu said, “No need to rush. Come back after the sixth day of the New Year—spend time with your family. You barely saw them all year.”

Zhang Qiulai nodded.

The two women escorted her all the way downstairs.

Zhang Qiulai urged them to go back inside, saying it was cold outside. Carrying the two big bags, she walked lightly, joyfully, glancing back now and then. When she saw the two women had gone back inside, she looked down at the bags in her hands, her heart full of warmth and anticipation.

Meanwhile, in the city, the Zhang family was also full of anticipation.

Their two children had been asking since morning when their aunt would be home.

She had raised them since they were little, and they were deeply attached to her. This was the first time she’d been away so long—almost a whole year, only coming home three times.

Her brother and sister-in-law were getting anxious. By the afternoon, she still hadn’t arrived. Liu Chunmei finally said, “Is she really not coming home for New Year’s? The job’s good and all, but it’s too much work. She must be exhausted.”

Zhang Ping, peeling garlic nearby, replied, “Why don’t you mention how much she’s earning? Even if she’s doing double the work, it’s worth it.”

Liu Chunmei didn’t bother arguing—those siblings were both too stubborn. They never slacked off, and if someone treated them kindly, they’d give back with their whole heart.

But it was exactly because of that that the family she worked for kept her on, paying her more than an ordinary factory worker.

When Zhang Qiulai finally returned home, it was already three in the afternoon. She had even stopped by the department store to buy everyone new clothes, her hands full of large shopping bags.

The Zhang family lived in a communal building. Their two kids were playing downstairs and, spotting their aunt, immediately dropped their stones, shouting proudly, “My aunt’s back!”

The younger one ran ahead, yelling from afar, “Mom! Auntie’s back—!”

Their long-time neighbors poked their heads out curiously. Those next door even opened their doors to look.

Liu Chunmei and Zhang Ping came out to meet her. Seeing their sister-in-law laden with bags, Liu Chunmei was so pleased she could barely hide it, deliberately saying loudly, “Oh my, you brought so much again! We’ll never finish all this food—the longan and dates from last time are still here, almost turning moldy!”

Zhang Qiulai’s face flushed—she found that a bit embarrassing.

But she knew her sister-in-law was just showing off for her sake. Before she started working, her brother and sister-in-law had supported her completely, and the neighbors had mocked them for it.

The neighbor, Sister Wang, thought Liu Chunmei was exaggerating—longans don’t mold that easily. But since her family didn’t have enough longans to know, she laughed and said, “Oh, Qiulai’s back! Haven’t seen you for half a year. You’ve filled out! What kind of good job did you find? You always bring so much every time you visit.”

Before Zhang Qiulai could answer, Liu Chunmei cut in, “What good job? Just a factory worker, that’s all. The factory’s far, so she lives there. My sister-in-law’s generous—she spends money on us like water.”

“Come on in, come on in—let’s see what goodies you brought this time!”

Not wanting to attract too much attention, she pulled Zhang Qiulai inside, and soon, sounds of delighted exclamations filled the room.

Sister Wang next door curled her lips. She thought the Zhangs were overdoing it just to show off. Who knew what junk was even in those bags?

But before long, the two Zhang children came out wearing brand new clothes, each holding candy and biscuits in their hands.

Then came the rich smell of meat from the Zhangs’ apartment, wafting continuously into the hallway until it even reached Sister Wang’s home.

While the Zhang family buzzed with excitement, Jin Xiuzhu’s house was equally lively—the kitchen was full of white steam, so thick that people could barely see one another.

By evening, they had prepared ten dishes in total, symbolizing “perfect completeness.”

Just as Jin Xiuzhu was finishing the last stir-fry, Jiang Mingchuan and Commissar Zhu returned, their hands full of items—enameled mugs, towels, and washbasins.

Outside, the crackle of firecrackers began to echo through the neighborhood.

He Yan wanted the washbasin and towel in his father’s hands, but Jiang Mingchuan raised them high, out of reach, and tossed him an enamel mug instead. “Here, this one’s yours.”

Then he took the towel and basin into the kitchen.

Seeing her brother come in, Bai Jingzhi smiled and walked out.

When no one else was around, Jiang Mingchuan held out the towel and basin toward Jin Xiuzhu and said casually, “See if you like them—I picked them especially for you.”

Jin Xiuzhu, still holding the spatula, glanced over. When she saw the large red flowers on the towel and basin, the corners of her mouth twitched.

She said she liked flowers—but not those hideous ones.