Chapter 49: Punishment

Lin Wei had often heard people say that waking up with a hangover gave you a headache, but when she woke up, she didn’t feel any pain—just an uncontrollable urge to curl her toes and dig at the sheets. It was embarrassing.

It wasn’t that she had drunk herself into unconsciousness the night before, but rather that she’d woken up in the middle of the night.

Thinking about what had happened then, Lin Wei couldn’t help but let out a soft groan and raise her hands to cover her face. But within three seconds, she quickly lowered her hands, closed her eyes, and pretended to be asleep.

As soon as she shut her eyes, the door to the master bedroom opened from the outside. Zong Shao, freshly washed, stepped in, walked over to the closet, picked out the shirt he planned to wear, and slipped it on.

Just as he was about to button it up, he heard a faint sound and turned his head to see Lin Wei rolling over and turning her back to him. He asked, “Are you going to class today?”

“Yes.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Lin Wei smacked herself internally for her stupidity.

Trying to salvage the moment, she forced a smile and turned back over to look at Zong Shao. “How did you know I was awake?”

“I just took a guess,” Zong Shao replied calmly, buttoning up his shirt as he walked over. “When did you wake up?”

Lin Wei sighed. “Just now.”

“It’s not good to sigh first thing in the morning.”

Lin Wei narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s such a feudal way of thinking.”

Zong Shao nodded in agreement but still insisted, “Even so, it’s not good.”

Lin Wei chuckled, but her smile froze the next second. “Your neck?”

“Oh, this?” Zong Shao reached up and touched the scratch marks on his neck. “You scratched me last night.”

Lin Wei covered her face again. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll cover it with the collar. It shouldn’t be noticeable,” he said as he buttoned the topmost button.

“Really?” Lin Wei sounded skeptical. She propped herself up on one elbow and said, “Turn your head. Let me see.”

Zong Shao obliged.

The scratch marks were on the lower side of the back of his neck, just to the left. They weren’t high up, and the collar covered most of it, but it wasn’t low either. If Zong Shao tilted his head to the right and someone happened to be standing next to him, they might still catch a glimpse.

Lin Wei thought for a moment and said, “Can you just not tilt your head to the right today?”

Zong Shao paused in the middle of tucking in his shirt and said honestly, “If I’m busy, I might not be able to control that.”

“Then what if someone sees?”

Zong Shao smiled and said, “If someone sees it, I’ll just say it was the cat. Not my wife.”

Lin Wei: “……?!!!” You might as well print my name on it!

Seeing her eyes widen in alarm, Zong Shao laughed even more, then bent down and gave her a quick kiss before she could get mad. “Even though it might be hard not to look to the right all day, I can at least keep my distance from people. Feel better now?”

She did feel better.

But… Lin Wei glared at him. “You did this on purpose!”

Zong Shao nodded without shame. “I was teasing you.”

He was so honest about it that Lin Wei couldn’t even bring herself to scold him. As she watched him take his military jacket from the closet and throw it on, he suddenly remembered something and said, “By the way, you were drunk yesterday and I didn’t pay attention when I carried you upstairs… Ming Ming and Rui Rui ended up sneaking some glutinous rice wine and got drunk too.

Lin Wei almost thought she had heard wrong. “What?”

“They stole and drank some glutinous rice wine. Don’t worry, it wasn’t much—just a thin layer at the bottom of the bottle. But since they’ve never had it before and their alcohol tolerance is nonexistent, they got drunk after just a little.”

“They’re only just over three years old!” Lin Wei sat up from the bed and shuffled into her slippers, heading to the next room to check on the children.

The two kids were sound asleep, clearly unaware of what they had dreamed about. One even stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, making barfing noises. Looking at them, Lin Wei felt both amused and exasperated. She reached out, pinched his cheek, and muttered, “Little glutton!”

Even though the kids were fine, Lin Wei still gave Zong Shao a serious scolding. How could he leave the table without taking the wine with him?

Zong Shao accepted the criticism sincerely and said that when the kids woke up, he hoped Lin Wei would make sure to give them a stern lecture so they would understand their mistake.

But Lin Wei wasn’t quite satisfied. “Why don’t you lecture them? Why wait for me?”

Zong Shao replied earnestly, “When I caught them drinking last night, I did want to scold them, but they were already drunk. No matter how seriously I lectured them, it wouldn’t have worked.”

“Fine,” Lin Wei said, “It’s past the best time for it anyway. You can teach them a lesson when you get home tonight.”

Zong Shao hesitated, then said, “…Alright. I’ll talk to them tonight.”

Although Lin Wei had left the responsibility of being the “strict parent” to Zong Shao, once the kids woke up, she still scolded them a few times and warned them, “Because you drank in secret, Dad’s very angry. When he gets back tonight, he’s going to have a serious talk with you—so be prepared.”

In many families, parents take on different roles—one stern, one lenient; one sings the red face, one sings the white. Although the Zong family didn’t go to those extremes, the kids were definitely more afraid of Zong Shao.

While Lin Wei had her serious moments, she was mostly easygoing and playful with the children. Zong Shao, on the other hand, though he rarely lost his temper, naturally carried a more serious demeanor. Unlike Lin Wei, the children couldn’t easily detect the gentleness behind his stern expression, so they were more restrained in front of him.

Especially Mingming. When he heard what his mother said, he immediately remembered the time right after they moved to the island, when his father made him walk up and down the stairs repeatedly.

What was even more terrifying was that after the physical punishment, Dad made him write an 800-character reflection essay.

He didn’t even know what 800 characters looked like!

Although after writing some sincere lines like “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have climbed the stairs that way, and I won’t do it again,” he resorted to repeating “I was wrong and I won’t do it again” to fill the count, and Zong Shao had let it pass. Still, if it hadn’t been for how scary his dad was, he would have cried on the spot!

So when he found out that Zong Shao would be talking to them in the evening, Mingming’s legs and stomach started trembling.

He was terrified!

Ruirui was a little nervous too. He wanted to get some reassurance from his older brother, but after seeing Mingming’s expression, he gave up on that idea.

His brother was no better off than he was.

…

Because of Zong Shao’s looming “talk,” the two brothers were on their best behavior all day. Especially Mingming—just yesterday, he had been sighing at the thought of having to go to school with Lin Wei. But today, when he got to school, he didn’t even dare to speak. He sat straight as a rod on the bench, chin raised high.

But he couldn’t understand a word his mother was teaching. It went in one ear and out the other. By the end of the morning, he was dizzy, seeing things floating in front of his eyes.

Ruirui did better than Mingming. Even though he didn’t understand everything either, he had a good memory. In the second-grade textbook Lin Wei was using, he managed to recognize many more words as the morning went on.

Not only could he recognize the characters Lin Wei had just taught, he also recognized many others that she hadn’t covered yet.

Although Lin Wei had only explicitly taught him a few dozen characters, she often read storybooks to them at bedtime when Zong Shao was away. Ruirui would always lean against her side, listening while peeking at the pages, so in reality, he knew far more characters than anyone expected.

Second-grade texts, while longer than first-grade ones, didn’t use especially complex vocabulary. Many words were repeated frequently. Ruirui, even when guessing, could understand the general meaning. For anything he really couldn’t grasp, he just skimmed over it—after all, he wasn’t under any pressure to learn, just browsing casually.

And Ruirui truly did appear casual—his eyes didn’t linger on any one page for long. Mingming, observing this, doubted whether his younger brother could actually read anything at all.

Ruirui, for his part, didn’t like to show off. So by the end of the morning, no one but himself knew how much he had actually understood from the textbook.

Lin Wei hadn’t expected it either. She thought that when Rui Rui got the book, he had only read the one text she had gone over with him.

She had also quizzed Rui Rui a few times, asking him to memorize passages and explain the meanings of key words she had taught, and he was able to answer almost everything correctly.

But Lin Wei had always known that he had a high IQ and a good memory. Plus, he had been able to recall almost everything she said during yesterday’s trial lesson, so she hadn’t thought much of it, let alone asked any deeper questions.

On the contrary, it was Huang Aiyun who, after hearing that Lin Wei had tested Rui Rui and hadn’t found any gaps, asked in surprise, “Your son has studied second-grade texts?”

Although every mother hopes her child will be exceptional, Lin Wei had been giving her children early education mainly because she wanted them to have a good start in life.

At the same time, she also wanted Rui Rui to have a normal childhood. She brought the children to school and had them sit at the back of the classroom simply because it made it easier to look after them and avoided troubling Teacher Chen too much. It wasn’t because she expected them to listen attentively or absorb a lot.

If she really wanted them to grow up quickly, she could’ve enrolled them in school already. Although there was a minimum age for enrollment at the time, many schools weren’t very strict. As long as a child could keep up, even four- or five-year-olds could be admitted. Ming Ming might struggle a bit to keep up, but Rui Rui certainly wouldn’t.

Perhaps someday Rui Rui would skip grades and go on to study in a junior class in the capital like the kids in novels. But for now, Lin Wei didn’t want to put a halo on him too early.

So she smiled and said, “After I wrote my lesson plan yesterday, I gave the kids a trial lesson first.”

Huang Aiyun didn’t think much of it. She had also been nervous when she first started teaching, often practicing her lessons several times in private. She nodded and said, “I get it, I get it. But your child is so smart to still remember so much now.”

“He has a good memory,” Lin Wei replied.

Hearing this, Huang Aiyun said, “That needs to be cultivated.” But she didn’t elaborate. The college entrance exams had been suspended for years, and she didn’t really know what good grades could lead to these days.

While the two women were chatting, the brothers were whispering to each other.

Ming Ming was confused. “Did Mom give us a lesson yesterday?”

The question made Rui Rui doubt his brother’s intelligence. “We were drunk.”

“Yeah, we were drunk, and Mom was drunk too. How could she have given us a lesson?” Ming Ming said, completely unaware of his brother’s contempt, frowning in thought.

It wasn’t until after lunch that Ming Ming had a flash of insight. “I know! Mom must’ve given us lessons in her dream!”

Looking at his brother’s excited expression, Rui Rui held back but still didn’t say the word “idiot” out loud.

---

Because they were afraid of their father’s scolding, the two children behaved especially well—not just at school, but also after coming home. They even took the initiative to help Lin Wei set the table.

But Lin Wei didn’t let them carry any dishes. There were no cold dishes that day, and she was afraid they might get burned, so she only let them bring over stools.

So when Zong Shao came home, he saw the two brothers huffing and puffing while moving stools around and couldn’t hide his surprise. “Why are you two being so helpful today?”

Ming Ming, proud to be praised, immediately said, “Because we’re good kids!” He looked up at his father with sparkling eyes, hoping for leniency.

But Zong Shao remained stern. “Good kids don’t steal wine and drink it.”

The brothers hung their heads and admitted their mistake. “We know we were wrong.”

“It’s good that you know,” Zong Shao said, satisfied with their attitude.

Sniffling, Ming Ming looked up and asked hopefully, “Then can Dad forgive us?”

But Zong Shao was a man of principle. “You can reduce a punishment, but not eliminate it. But it’s dinner time now, so the punishment will wait until afterward.”

Although Zong Shao’s approach was reasonable, the brothers both felt that it would’ve been better to be punished first. Otherwise, they’d be on edge through the entire meal—it really affected their appetite!

In the end, even with their diminished appetites, the two kids still managed to each eat a big bowl of rice. If they were going to die, at least they’d die full!

Of course, death was out of the question—at most, it would be corporal punishment.

Zong Shao found the bottle that had held the bulk wine from yesterday, finished the remaining lychee wine, screwed the cap back on tightly, and handed one to each of them. He told them to spread their feet apart, raise their arms, and hold the bottles above their heads.

When the punishment was announced, both brothers let out a sigh of relief. They had imagined something much worse, but it was just lifting bottles—how easy.

For the first five minutes, they truly believed that.

By the tenth minute, their arms began to ache, their foreheads were damp with sweat, and Ming Ming couldn’t help but ask, “Dad, how much longer do we have to hold this?”

Zong Shao glanced at his watch and said, “Ten more minutes.”
He had originally planned for thirty, but seeing how they admitted their mistake with good attitudes, he decided to cut ten minutes off.

By the fifteenth minute, the brothers were struggling. Their arms trembled, and Rui Rui couldn’t hold back anymore. “How much longer?” he asked.

Zong Shao checked the time again. “Five more minutes.”

The brothers groaned and turned to Lin Wei, pleading with her for mercy.

But Lin Wei never interfered when it came to disciplining the children, especially when they needed to learn a lesson. Stealing alcohol at such a young age—what would they do when they were older?

So she refused their pleas coldly.

The boys turned to look at their father. Seeing his stern expression, they gave up begging and bit their lips in silence.

In those final five minutes, Rui Rui and Ming Ming finally understood what it meant to feel like every second dragged on for eternity. Though they didn’t yet know the idiom “a day feels like a year,” they would one day recall this very moment when they learned it.

Time crawled by. Their arms trembled violently, their shirts soaked with sweat, and tears mingled with perspiration as they streamed down their faces.

Lin Wei, who had just firmly rejected their pleas, finally softened and called out, “Zong Shao, how about—”

But Zong Shao calmly interrupted, “You told me to teach them a lesson.”

Lin Wei closed her mouth and turned to go back inside.

Zong Shao continued watching the time. When the final minute arrived, he called out firmly,
“Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One. You may put the bottles down.”
He emphasized, “Put them down—no throwing.”

The two children, who had nearly dropped their arms in relief, froze when they heard his tone. They carefully set the bottles on the ground.

Zong Shao didn’t look at the bottles. He calmly turned his gaze on the sweaty, exhausted children and asked, “Will you ever steal alcohol again?”

The boys shook their heads vigorously. “We don’t dare. We won’t ever again!”

Worried that his father might think their response was lacking, Ming Ming tacked on a few more sentences of remorse. But after running out of things to say, he stopped, remembering how scary his dad had been this time. Unlike the last time, he didn’t dare to babble on.

Fortunately, his dad didn’t ask for an 800-word reflection this time. After listening to his self-review, Zong Shao said,
“If you’re tired, sit down and rest.”

Ming Ming blinked in disbelief. “That’s… it?”

Zong Shao nodded with the same calm demeanor. “Unless you think it’s not enough. I can add another twenty minutes.”

Ming Ming immediately shook his head like a drum and bolted out of his father’s line of sight, collapsing dramatically onto the living room couch.

Rui Rui had been sitting on the old wooden stool outside. After a moment, he realized the bench had no backrest and wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his brother’s lounging position. Despite the fatigue, he forced himself to get up and quietly sat beside his brother on the couch.

Seeing them both choose the more comfortable seat to rest on, Lin Wei realized her earlier worry had been a bit unnecessary. Still, she asked gently,
“Tired?”

The brothers replied in unison,
“Exhausted!”

“Then will you two still dare to steal alcohol in the future?” Lin Wei asked again.

The brothers shook their heads in unison. “We don’t dare anymore!”

Mingming couldn’t help but mutter, “Mom is so strange. The wine clearly tastes awful, and she still drinks so much of it.”

Although Mingming’s voice wasn’t loud, the sofa wasn’t that big, and Lin Wei couldn’t help but hear him. She was both furious and amused. “If the wine tastes so bad, why did you steal it?”

Mingming defended himself. “I’d never tried it before!”

Lin Wei asked, “So in the future, are you going to try anything you haven’t drunk before?”

Mingming was about to answer when he spotted his dad coming in from outside. He jolted upright and blurted out, “I’ll drink whatever Dad lets me drink, and I won’t drink anything he doesn’t!”

Even though he was her own son, Lin Wei couldn’t help but think Mingming was being such a little bootlicker that she couldn’t bear to look. She had just covered her eyes with her hand when she heard Yang Yi’s voice from outside: “Weiwei, are you home?”

“I’m here,” Lin Wei called back, then pointed outside and said to Zong Shao, “I’ll go check it out. They’re all sweaty—give them a bath soon.”

Zong Shao nodded. “Got it.”

Lin Wei got up, walked through the dining room, and followed the voice to find Yang Yi.

The moment she saw her, her brows furrowed. “What happened? Is your mother-in-law giving you a hard time again?”

Although Yang Yi hadn’t looked great the last time they met, she looked even worse now. Her eyes were dull, there were greenish-black circles underneath them, her lips were pale, cold sores had erupted at the corners of her mouth, and her whole expression seemed muddled.

Hearing Lin Wei’s question, Yang Yi paused for two seconds before finally focusing her gaze on her friend’s face. Then she gave a bitter smile and shook her head. “She’s upset about it, but… what’s really bothering me isn’t that.”

Lin Wei vaguely guessed the reason, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she asked gently, “Then what is it?”

Yang Yi didn’t answer right away. She lowered her head, thinking for a few minutes before looking up and saying, “I still want to know whether he knew about it or not.”

At first, she had thought she could turn a blind eye for the sake of her marriage and let the issue go. But as time went on, she realized she couldn’t.

Whenever she saw him, she couldn’t help but wonder if he knew. And when she didn’t see him, she wondered whether everything she had poured into this relationship over the years was even worth it.

She had to know—was it really a person, or just a ghost, that had been lying beside her all these years?