Chapter 19: Didn’t Recognize Him

Just past five o’clock, Lin Wei started steaming the rice.

Since it was brown rice, which tends to be a bit dry, she washed two sweet potatoes, chopped them up, and added them to the pot. This way, the rice would carry a subtle sweetness.

On Yazhou Island, “sweet potato” refers to the red variety. Of course, back in Lin Wei’s hometown, they called it tiao. Though fan shu (sweet potato) and tiao refer to the same thing, their varieties differ slightly upon closer inspection.

In her hometown, most of what they grew were white tiao, with some red ones as well, but not many. Whether red or white, each one could be as big as an adult’s palm and had a rounder shape overall. The white tiao were drier and not very sweet, while the red ones were a bit softer and sweeter.

But the sweet potatoes on Yazhou Island were longer and thinner, with red skins and yellow flesh. When roasted, their flesh turned a yellowish-red, and they were softer and sweeter than the red tiao Lin Wei was used to.

So naturally, she preferred Yazhou’s sweet potatoes, and for the past couple of days, she had been steaming two of them with the rice.

After setting the rice to steam, Lin Wei took the oysters out of the basin, then grabbed an old toothbrush she’d brought from home and scrubbed their shells clean. Then, using a spoon, she pried them open and gave them a rinse.

Once cleaned and seeing that it was about time, Lin Wei arranged the oysters on a plate, ready to cook.

She had only been on the island for three days but had already mastered the “three tricks” for cooking seafood: steaming, garlic sauce, and dipping sauce. Steaming was a must; for the other two, you could choose one or the other.

After all, seafood is tender and not too fishy. Whether it’s sea fish, oysters, lobsters, or crabs, these three tricks never fail.

This was advice from the big sister who worked at the seafood supply station.

Today, Lin Wei was making garlic oysters. Since the two kids couldn’t really handle spicy food, she hadn’t bought any chili. Instead, she finely chopped some garlic, stir-fried it in oil until fragrant, spooned it over the oysters, and then steamed them.

While the oysters were still cooking, she quickly tossed the remaining seaweed into a salad, smashed some cucumbers, stir-fried a plate of greens, and—done.

Just as Lin Wei finished, she heard Mingming calling for “Daddy” outside. Then Zong Shao entered the kitchen and asked if he could help.

Not standing on ceremony, Lin Wei pointed to the rice steamer on the coal stove and said, “There are oysters steaming in there. Could you bring them out?”

Zong Shao replied, “No wonder it smells so good in here—it’s oysters!” As he spoke, he lifted the lid of the steamer, grabbed a cloth, and carried the oysters out.

Lin Wei smiled but didn’t boast. “Maybe it just smells good. It’s my first time making them—not sure how they taste yet.”

“They’ll definitely be delicious,” Zong Shao said confidently as he placed the oysters on the dining table.

The garlic aroma was strong in the kitchen but faded quickly outside. Still, the boys had been thinking about those oysters all day. When they saw their dad walk out, they rushed to the table and took a deep sniff. “Smells amazing!”

Lin Wei followed with the cucumber and seaweed dishes in hand. Seeing the two little gluttons already reaching for food, she reminded them, “Wash your hands before eating!”

Normally, the boys weren’t sticklers for cleanliness, but they never slacked on washing hands before meals. As soon as Lin Wei spoke, they darted to the sink, turned on the faucet, and even remembered to use soap. One of them went to get the soap box.

Then, seeing Zong Shao about to sit down and eat without washing his hands, the boys tattled to Lin Wei as she walked out with another dish: “Mommy! Daddy didn’t wash his hands! He’s being unhygienic!”

Zong Shao: “…”

Seeing him freeze, Lin Wei’s lips curled into a teasing smile. She set the bowls down and said, “Go wash your hands. You’re a grown man—how can you be worse at hygiene than two kids?”

“I just forgot,” Zong Shao muttered with a cough and walked to the sink.

Feeling proud, Mingming puffed out his chest and, noticing his dad wasn’t using soap, walked over to instruct him: “You have to use soap! Rub your left hand, then your right hand. Make sure it foams!”

After his tutorial, he returned to his mom and little brother and whispered, “Daddy’s so dumb—he doesn’t even know how to wash his hands.”

Zong Shao: “…” I can hear you, you know!

After washing his hands under his son’s supervision, Zong Shao returned to the table and saw Lin Wei had already handed an oyster to each child. He sat down and waited, picking up his chopsticks.

But Lin Wei didn’t give him one, and when she saw he hadn’t moved his chopsticks, she asked, “You don’t like tonight’s food?” thinking maybe he didn’t see anything he wanted.

Zong Shao replied, “No,” then reached out to pick up an oyster, placed it in front of Lin Wei, and took one for himself.

The oysters weren’t large, so he could have swallowed one in a bite, but he chewed it instead. The garlic and fresh oyster flavor blended perfectly, so good it made you want to swallow your tongue.

Unlike Zong Shao’s subtle nod of approval, the boys showed their delight openly. Not only did they eat the oyster meat and garlic topping, but they also licked every bit of minced garlic from the shells.

The plate of oysters wasn’t even finished when Mingming already started thinking ahead: “Mommy, can we have oysters again tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Lin Wei readily agreed, but then added, “But there’s lots of other seafood on the island—don’t you want to try something else? Like crab, lobster, or different kinds of fish?”

She’d had her eye on those since their first day at the supply station, but hadn’t wanted to splurge. Now that Zong Shao had brought back seafood vouchers, she felt like she could be a little more generous and had bought these oysters today.

If they got their household registration done tomorrow, Lin Wei thought they could go all out—buy lobster and crab and have a proper feast. Well… maybe not a full feast, but at least enough to satisfy a craving.

Mingming paused mid-lick. He wanted lobster, crab, and various fish—but the oysters were so good. What should he do?

The little glutton fell into a dilemma.

Ruirui, although also fond of oysters, was more excited to try new seafood. So he didn’t struggle like his brother and instead eagerly asked, “Mommy, what are we eating tomorrow?”

“We’ll see tomorrow. You two can each pick one type of seafood,” Lin Wei said, then turned to ask Zong Shao what he liked so she could plan accordingly if they got the household registration sorted.

“I eat everything. You just decide,” Zong Shao said, clearly unfussy when it came to food.

The two kids, in contrast, were full of passion. They excitedly discussed what to eat. Mingming wanted too many things and couldn’t make up his mind. Ruirui, however, quickly settled on stir-fried clams.

“Why clams?” Lin Wei asked, surprised.

There were no clams in Shicheng, though the supply station had them. She had never bought any and didn’t know how they tasted.

She had expected them to choose something familiar-looking or already tried, like lobster, crab, or oysters. She hadn’t thought Ruirui would go for clams.

Before Ruirui could answer, Mingming jumped in: “I know, I know! Xiao Shitou’s mom made clams for lunch—they smelled amazing!”

Cut off, Ruirui opened his mouth but quickly closed it again. Once his brother finished, he simply gave a firm nod: “Mm!”

Understanding the reason, Lin Wei readily agreed, “Alright, then clams it is. Mingming, have you decided what you want?”

Mingming’s excitement turned into indecision. “Mommy, can I think about it a bit more?”

“You can think it over slowly, but eat your dinner quickly,” Lin Wei replied.

Mingming immediately agreed, resumed gnawing on his oyster, licking the shell clean as usual, before finally picking up his spoon to start eating his rice.

After dinner, Zong Shao took the initiative to clear the dishes and wash them at the sink. The two kids, after getting Lin Wei’s permission, went out of the courtyard to build houses on the beach.

Lin Wei didn’t feel like moving, so she stayed seated at the dining table, gazing at the sea in the distance.

The sea at dusk was golden, with rippling waves swaying gently, making the boats near the shore rock along. The sound of the waves wasn’t very noticeable, but the cries of seagulls, accompanied by their swift silhouettes darting across the sky, rang out from time to time.

As she looked out, Lin Wei’s thoughts gradually emptied. Though the family quarters behind her were bustling, she felt a rare quietness around her, which made her feel very relaxed.

So when Zong Shao finished washing the dishes and walked into the yard, he saw Lin Wei leaning against a bench, staring blankly into the distance.

He pulled over a stool and sat beside her, asking, “What are you looking at?”

“Huh?”

Lin Wei snapped out of it, glanced at him, then turned back and said, “Just looking at the sea. I suddenly realized—it feels really nice just sitting here, not doing anything, not thinking about anything. It’s very comfortable.”

Zong Shao responded, “It is comfortable. Sometimes I do the same—stare at the sea and empty my mind.”

So the two sat side by side, staring at the sea in a daze, until their neighbor Zhao Feng came out and, seeing them like that, asked in confusion, “What are you guys doing?”

Zong Shao turned his head and replied, “Watching the sea.”

Zhao Feng: “…You two are really at leisure.”

No wonder people say a short separation is sweeter than a new marriage. Only newly reunited couples like Zong Shao and Lin Wei would enjoy something this boring.

With that thought, Zhao Feng went back inside to find Gao Xiulian. “Honey, the weather’s great out. How about we go for a walk?”

Gao Xiulian, who was washing dishes, shot him a glance and said, “If you have nothing to do, go get those cadets back and have them take a shower. It’s already late and they’re still wandering around. One’s more careless than the next!”

A chastised Zhao Feng: “…Alright, got it.”

While Zhao Feng went off to find the kids, Lin Wei also called Mingming and Ruirui back, then cut up a mango and arranged some rambutan and bananas on a plate as after-meal fruit.

Xiao Shitou also came back with them—he had come over from home after dinner and joined the brothers upon hearing from Lin Wei that they were building houses outside.

However, the spot they picked today wasn’t ideal—there wasn’t enough sand, and it wasn’t moist enough. They barely managed to set up a rough courtyard wall, let alone a house.

But the three kids were quite pleased with themselves. While washing their hands, they were still excitedly boasting about how sturdy their “construction” was and agreed to continue after eating fruit.

Lin Wei interjected, “No more playing after this. It’s bath time and then bed. That goes for you too, Xiao Shitou—your mom will start worrying if you keep playing.”

The kids were a little disappointed. Mingming, the most cheerful of them, said, “It’s okay. My house is super sturdy—no wind can blow it down. We can keep building tomorrow.”

Ruirui then asked, “Mom, can we keep building tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Lin Wei agreed and called, “Come eat your fruit.” Then she handed a slice of mango to Zong Shao.

Zong Shao took it but didn’t eat it right away. Watching Lin Wei distribute the remaining slices, he asked, “You’re not eating?”

Lin Wei picked up the mango pit in the center. “I am.”

But before she could peel off the skin around it, the pit was snatched from her hand, and a slice of mango flesh was pushed into it instead. She looked up at Zong Shao, who was already peeling the pit and eating it.

Zong Shao didn’t eat particularly gracefully, but he wasn’t sloppy either, and he didn’t smack his lips. In that sense, he was better than many men Lin Wei had seen.

Still, no matter how nicely someone eats, eating around a mango pit is always a bit messy. Mango juice smeared around his mouth and all over his hands.

Clearly aware of this, Zong Shao turned around while eating. Even when he went to wash his hands at the sink, he kept his back turned to Lin Wei.

Noticing this, Lin Wei couldn’t help but smile.

When Zong Shao returned, freshly washed, he saw her smile and looked a bit self-conscious. With a stern face, he asked, “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. The mango is just really good,” Lin Wei said as she looked down and took a bite of mango.

Zong Shao: “…” She hadn’t even touched her mango earlier.

But he didn’t say anything in the end. He just sat back down next to Lin Wei, peeled a rambutan, and naturally offered it to her.

…

Although Ruirui had run over to sleep in the main house for two nights in a row, Zong Shao hadn’t given up on encouraging independence.

When Lin Wei came upstairs after her shower, she heard Zong Shao’s deep voice coming from the second bedroom, coaxing the kids to sleep. And to be honest, he sounded quite the part.

But as she got closer, Lin Wei felt awkward. She heard Zong Shao reading aloud: “Turn the handle to the left, pull the bolt back all the way…”

She stood stunned for a moment before hearing Mingming’s sleepy voice bargaining, “Dad, can I not listen to this?”

“What do you want to hear?”

Mingming perked up and said, “Then I want to hear the story of the Monkey King’s journey. Dad, do you know it?”

“No.”

“Oh… okay,” Mingming sounded disappointed but pressed on. “How about the Farmer and the Snake? The Tortoise and the Hare? The guy who waited by the tree for another rabbit? Mom told me all of those—do you know them?”

Zong Shao’s answer was just as curt: “No.”

“That’s okay! If you don’t know them, I can tell you! Let’s start with the Farmer and the Snake. A long, long time ago…”

But the story had barely begun when Zong Shao cut in, “You need to sleep now. If you’re not going to sleep, I’ll keep reading.” And then he resumed his book.

Not long after, a weary Mingming said, “Don’t read anymore, don’t read—I’m going to sleep!”

Two minutes later, Zong Shao’s voice stopped. Lin Wei peeked into the room and saw the two kids already asleep.

Zong Shao, still seated inside, noticed her, closed the book, and walked over. At the door, he turned off the light and said, “Let’s go. They’re asleep,” and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Lin Wei didn’t turn away right away. She stared at the book in his hand and asked quietly, “What book were you reading them?”

Zong Shao didn’t hide it. He showed her the book.

Seeing the words “Military Training” printed boldly on the cover, Lin Wei asked, “Why are you suddenly reading them military books?”

“It’s good material.”

Lin Wei knew it was a good book, but she asked, “Do you think they can even understand it at their age?”

Zong Shao remained unfazed. “If they can’t understand, all the better—they’ll fall asleep.”

Lin Wei: “…” So that was your goal, wasn’t it?

As they spoke, they returned to the room. Lin Wei sat down at her vanity, picked up a jar of snow cream, twisted it open, scooped a little into her palm, and rubbed it on her face.

While applying it, she glanced sideways at Zong Shao, who was leaning against the headboard reading again, and suddenly asked, “Do you want me to set up a bookshelf for you?”

She’d seen the luggage he brought from his barracks dorm—barely a few sets of clothes, but a whole box full of books, all stacked under the wardrobe.

Since he had been placing them like that before she moved in, she hadn’t helped organize them. But seeing him reading now, she finally brought it up.

Zong Shao put the book down and said, “Not for now. Later, I’ll see if I can get some wood and build a cabinet and a few stools.”

“Isn’t wood hard to get?” Lin Wei asked while combing her hair and braiding it.

Zong Shao replied, “I know people in the nearby brigades. I’ll ask around when I see them.” He didn’t need much—just enough for a cabinet and some stools.

Lin Wei gave a soft “oh” and took two hair ties from the drawer of her dressing table to tie the ends of her braids.

Zong Shao, watching from the side, asked, “Didn’t you wear your hair down to sleep the last couple of days? Why the sudden change to braids?”

Lin Wei answered matter-of-factly, “Exactly because I wore it down the past two days—it was a mess to brush in the morning. That’s why I’m braiding it now.”

Lin Wei still had some vanity. Ever since giving birth to Mingming and Ruirui, she hadn’t worn double braids in public, worried it would make her seem like she was trying too hard to look young.

It was the same in front of Zong Shao. In fact, because they were husband and wife who barely saw each other and weren’t too familiar, she was even more conscious of her appearance in front of him. So whenever he returned to Shicheng, she would always leave her hair down at night—it gave a softer, more mature look.

But now Lin Wei felt it was just too exhausting to keep putting on appearances. After all, they weren’t just going to be together for a few days or a couple of weeks anymore, but for a year. And if she lived past next summer, that one year might turn into ten—or even a lifetime.

Lin Wei thought: I should just do whatever feels natural.

With her hair in two braids, Lin Wei indeed looked younger, a look that overlapped with Zong Shao’s memory of her.

Even though she had changed her hairstyle a long time ago—and Zong Shao had seen her since—what stuck with him most was how she looked with two braids.

It wasn’t that she didn’t look good with a single ponytail or her hair down. It was just that the only photo he had—one that was hers and hers alone—was of her wearing two braids.

That photo had been given to him by his mother before he met Lin Wei on a blind date. At the time, he hadn’t been too keen on the idea—he was barely in his twenties. Who would want to tie themselves down so early in life?

Let alone to a childhood engagement that sounded completely absurd.

But his mother had gotten stuck on the idea due to some past grievances and insisted he at least meet the girl. She even asked Lin Wei’s mother for a photo, hoping he would be “smitten by her looks.”

He wasn’t smitten. But staring at that photo, he did pause for a moment.

He had seen this girl before.

It was his first year at military school. The campus was far from home and strict, so he hadn’t returned home that entire semester. When he finally did, he found the familiar home had changed—his mother was gone from the capital.

His father wouldn’t tell him where she had gone, so eventually, he learned her whereabouts from one of her old coworkers. He packed a bag and made his way to Shicheng, where his mother worked at a textile factory.

But when he got there, he learned his mother was in the hospital. So he asked for directions and went straight to her ward.

That’s where he first saw her.

She had come with her mother to visit his mother.

Listening to the laughter coming from inside the ward, he hesitated for the first time in his life and didn’t go in.

Then the two mothers wanted to chat privately and sent her out of the room. Seeing him loitering outside, she found him suspicious and cornered him, asking what he was doing there—threatening to call someone if he didn’t explain.

Afraid she really would, he said he was there to see his mom, but when he got to the door, he didn’t have the courage to go in.

She was confused and asked, “That’s your real mom—why wouldn’t you go see her?”

Maybe it was because they were close in age, or maybe it was because his mother seemed to like her so much, or maybe he was just too emotionally bottled up—he didn’t hold back and said, “My parents are divorced. My mom left home. I only found out when I got back from school… I don’t even know if she still wants me.”

Back then, divorce was rare. She probably hadn’t heard of such a thing before. Her eyes filled with sympathy.

Maybe she was afraid that sympathy would make him feel worse, because when their eyes met, she quickly looked down and said, “I don’t know what happened between your parents, but I don’t think any mom would willingly abandon her child. So… I think you should go talk to her.”

After she left with her mother, he went into the ward and spoke with his mom for a long time.

That winter break, he stayed in Shicheng. Every now and then, he’d think of that girl and wonder if she might come visit his home again.

When he had told her those things, he’d deliberately avoided mentioning his mother’s identity. And she didn’t seem to realize they were both visiting the same woman.

If they met again, she’d probably be shocked—eyes wide and puffed cheeks glaring at him.

Or maybe, once she knew he’d patched things up with his mom, she’d be happy for him and proudly say, “See? I told you so.”

But he never saw her again—not until he returned to school.

Not until his mother handed him that photo.

It must have been taken not long after their encounter. She hadn’t changed much in it. Her lips were tightly pressed in a mock seriousness, trying to look grown-up.

But she hadn’t quite pulled it off—her bright eyes and slightly upturned lips betrayed the mood she was in and added a girlish charm to the photo.

Looking at that photo, he finally nodded and agreed to meet her.

And when his mother asked for a photo to send in return, he didn’t choose an old picture that might jog her memory. Instead, he picked a recent one—him in his military uniform.

In the years since, his features had matured, his skin tanned from the sun on the island, giving him a more grown-up appearance. But if you looked closely, you could still recognize the boy from before.

So after mailing the photo, he couldn’t help but wonder—would she remember him? Would she recognize him?

Oh. She didn’t.