Chapter 31

Wang Yuan’er ordered Madam Liang to stay in bed and rest. She was forbidden from doing any heavy labor or tiring herself out. Wang Yuan’er even instructed her younger sister Lan’er to look after and accompany Madam Liang. The level of caution was astonishing—after all, in farming households, which wife doesn’t work until the moment of childbirth?

This careful treatment caused dissatisfaction in Madam Zhang’s heart, and even Grandma Wang had some complaints. However, seeing Madam Liang’s pale face and frail body, they ultimately said nothing. Nothing was more important than a safe delivery, especially since this was Wang Da’s last descendant. After a few days of rest, Madam Liang’s complexion finally became slightly rosy.

As the weather grew colder, several snowfalls blanketed Changle Town. With the New Year approaching, the Changle River developed a thin layer of ice, and the docks ceased operations. Travelers mostly resorted to land routes.

Wang Yuan’er, having emptied her carrying pole of goods to sell, prepared to return home. Passing by Butcher Zhang’s stall, she stopped and reconsidered.

“Uncle Zhang, please give me a piece of meat with more fat,” Wang Yuan’er said with a smile, pointing to a bone with very little meat on the table. “Could you throw in this big bone as well?”

“Sure! But there’s hardly any meat on this bone—what will you do with it?” Butcher Zhang quickly cut the meat, weighed it, and tied it with a straw rope.

“The radishes this year are huge. We just dug them up yesterday, and I thought I’d use the bone to make soup to nourish my mother’s health,” Wang Yuan’er replied with a smile.

“You’re such a filial daughter,” the butcher said.

After paying, the sky began to snow again. Wang Yuan’er hurried to lift her pole and head home. As twilight deepened, snowflakes danced in the air. Smoke rose from chimneys, dogs barked in front of doors, and housewives stood with arms akimbo, calling their children back home.

As she neared her home, Wang Yuan’er quickened her steps. Suddenly, someone called out to her. Turning her head, she saw to her left a man covered in a thin layer of snow that had fallen on him—he appeared almost white.

Wang Yuan’er squinted to get a better look. When the man approached, she was stunned.

“Why are you here?” Wang Yuan’er asked in astonishment, looking the visitor up and down before adding, “And what on earth are you wearing?”

Zhao Dali brushed off the thin layer of snow on him, glanced at his clothes, and said calmly, “They’re my father’s old clothes.”

“Your father’s? Why aren’t they…” Wang Yuan’er paused, taken aback. According to the customs of Changle Town, when someone passes away, all their clothes are burned, so they won’t go without clothing in the afterlife. It’s a way of ensuring they leave the earthly world with nothing lingering.

Zhao Dali seemed to understand her thoughts and curled one side of his lips in self-mockery. “The dead are gone—who knows if there’s even a next life? But I still have to live.” He then handed something to Wang Yuan’er. “Here.”

“What is this?” Wang Yuan’er instinctively took it. Opening it, she was stunned—it was the deed to the Zhao family house.

“The deed to that dilapidated house of mine. It’s yours now, as repayment for the money you lent me before,” Zhao Dali said in a detached and emotionless tone. “I’m leaving.”

Wang Yuan’er was shocked. “How could I accept this? And where are you going?”

“None of your business!” Zhao Dali snorted coldly, feigning indifference. “The world is vast. I don’t believe there’s no place for me, Zhao Dali, to make my way.”

Wang Yuan’er grabbed his sleeve, demanding, “Tell me, are you mixing with shady people?”

In her previous life, didn’t he suddenly disappear after his father’s death? Could it be for this reason?

Chapter 32

“Yuan’er, what are you thinking about?” Madam Liang tugged on Wang Yuan’er’s sleeve, puzzled. This girl had been absent-minded all evening, not responding despite being called several times.

Wang Yuan’er snapped back to her senses. Under the lamplight, Madam Liang’s face appeared exceptionally soft, but at this moment, her eyes were full of concern. “Nothing, Mother. I’ve told you so many times not to do needlework at night. You should rest now,” she said.

“I’m just passing the time,” Madam Liang smiled slightly, tightening the shoe thread in her hands.

Wang Yuan’er glanced at the shoe in her hands and pursed her lips. She had lost count of how many pairs of shoes Madam Liang had made for her and her sisters recently; she even made some for the unborn child as if preparing for something.

Feeling suffocated, Wang Yuan’er snatched the shoes from her mother’s hands and forced her to sleep. After much effort, she managed to coax Madam Liang to lie down. Then, she took out the property deed from her pocket and examined it by the lamplight.

No matter how much she refused, Zhao Dali insisted on giving her the deed. According to him, it was just two shabby houses worth very little. Once he left, they would simply fall into disuse. Wang Yuan’er could do whatever she wanted with them.

But Wang Yuan’er knew that, despite their current state, the houses, with their front and back yards combined, spanned an acre of land. In the future, the land prices in Changle Town will be astronomical. Many people would fight over such a residential plot.

Though she refused, Zhao Dali was determined to hand it over. Helpless, she gave him some coins as payment and advised him: “No matter what happens in the future, remember this: humans are inherently kind. Don’t lose sight of that. There’s always goodwill in the world.”

Whether Zhao Dali understood or not was unclear. He appeared impatient but still said he would remember her, then disappeared into the wind and snow.

Looking at the yellowed paper of the deed in her hands, Wang Yuan’er recalled the small, thin figure walking away in the snow earlier that evening. Her eyes stung slightly. She put the deed away, extinguished the lamp, and lay down to sleep. The night passed in silence.

It was already the 18th day of the twelfth lunar month. Every household was slaughtering pigs and drying cured meat. The Wang family didn’t raise pigs, so their cured meat was usually made from pork bought at the butcher’s stall.

This year was no exception. Grandma Wang had ordered fifteen pounds of meat from Butcher Zhang early on, which was to be cured today.

“Mother, I’ll go to Butcher Zhang’s to pick up the meat,” Madam Zhang offered enthusiastically after breakfast.

When she said this, Wang Yuan’er raised her head and arched her eyebrows. In past years, Madam Zhang always found excuses to slip away whenever it was time to make cured meat. But this year, she was eager to help?

If Madam Zhang wanted to lend a hand, Wang Yuan’er wouldn’t stop her. It was rare to see someone so diligent!

But when the meat was brought back, and everyone was about to start working, the second sister, Wang Chun’er, gently said, “This meat seems a bit off.”

Among the Wang sisters, Wang Yuan’er was the eldest and naturally steady in character. However, in terms of attentiveness and diligence, it was the second sister, Wang Chun’er.

“Second Sister, this meat looks fine. What’s wrong with it?” Wang Qing’er picked up a piece of meat and examined it from all angles, unable to find anything amiss.

“Exactly! Chun’er, if you’re lazy and don’t want to work, go back to your room and rest,” Madam Zhang said with a displeased expression, her voice heavy.

Blushing, Wang Chun’er softly retorted, “Second Aunt, I’m not trying to shirk work.”

“Oh, am I wrong then? Fine, fine, you all go and rest. I’ll handle this task by myself,” Madam Zhang said, shoving Wang Chun’er aside as she bent down to carry the meat away.

Wang Yuan’er glanced over and saw Madam Zhang’s shifty eyes and anxious expression. Narrowing her eyes, she blocked her, “Second Aunt, Chun’er is always meticulous. If she says something’s wrong, then there must be something wrong. Why are you in such a hurry? Chun’er, tell me, what’s wrong with this meat?”

Wang Chun’er hesitated, glancing at her sister and then at Madam Zhang. After a while, she finally said shyly, “This… this meat is short. It’s definitely not fifteen pounds.”