Chapter 12 Fiery-Hearted Li Lingyu

Li Lingyu held Wei Ci’s soft, delicate little hand, stroking it as she looked the girl up and down with growing satisfaction. She stared until Wei Ci began to shift uncomfortably in her seat before finally sighing and speaking.

“If your mother knew you’d recovered, she would’ve been overjoyed. Back then, she prayed every day you’d get better soon, just so she could hear you call her ‘mother.’ What a pity…”

What a pity she passed away too quickly, never living to hear her daughter sweetly call her “mother.”

Wei Ci lowered her gaze. For some reason, her chest felt tight and suffocating. In her mind, two figures clearly appeared—one tall, one small—leaning against each other, smiling at her with eyes full of warmth, indulgence, and love.

Her nose suddenly stung. Before she could stop it, a crystal tear slid down and fell onto the back of Li Lingyu’s hand, startling her. Hastily, Li Lingyu smacked herself on the mouth—why had her tongue moved faster than her brain? Why bring that up now, stabbing right into these siblings’ hearts?

“Don’t cry, don’t cry! Otherwise when Gou Dan comes in, he’ll think I bullied you and start a fight with me.”

At the mention of Gou Dan (Dog Egg, Wei Qingfeng’s nickname), Wei Ci’s throat tightened with sour grief, almost choking her breath.

Li Lingyu, seeing this, narrowed her eyes with a knowing smile.

That brat—whenever it concerned his little sister—turned into a mad dog who didn’t recognize even his own kin. She still remembered: when Wei Ci was nine, some old bachelor in the village tricked her into pulling down her pants. The moment Gou Dan saw it, that fourteen-year-old boy grabbed a kitchen knife and charged in. If people hadn’t held him back, he really would have hacked the man into pieces. Even so, the old scoundrel didn’t escape lightly—his manhood was nearly chopped off, and his Achilles tendon was slashed. To this day, he still walked with a limp.

Wei Ci wiped away her tears and forced a smile. The sight made Li Lingyu and the other aunties present feel their hearts twist—such a good girl, yet poor Fengling never had the chance to see her like this.

“Don’t worry, girl. We came today to bring you something. You and your brother are still young. Life has to be taken one step at a time. This is your Auntie Wang, this is Sixth Aunt, and this is Seventh Aunt. They were all closest with your mother. We’re here to give you and your brother some bedding. Before she passed, your mother asked me to bring you fabric and new cotton. She wanted to make two new quilts for you herself, but who would’ve thought…”

At this point, Li Lingyu let out a long sigh. Someone poked her in the back, reminding her she had said the wrong thing again. She nearly spat blood—this mouth of hers, hopeless!

The oldest among them, Auntie Wang, shoved Li Lingyu aside and took the girl’s tender little hand in her own rough ones. Her eyes shone with undisguised affection as she studied her.

“Little Ci, do you still remember me? My house is right next to yours, not far at all. When you were small, you loved eating the sticky rice buns I made. In a few days, I’ll make some for you again.”

Li Lingyu rolled her eyes at being pushed aside. As if a child that young really knew what she liked. How could she even remember liking your rice buns?

Wei Ci remained quiet, listening. Their voices were loud, their words filled with a forthright warmth and unrestrained concern unlike anything she had ever known.

Before, every older woman she encountered wore a smile that hid barbs, soft words laced with poison. Every sentence carried a trap, every smile a scheme. One careless step meant tumbling into an abyss, never able to climb out.

But these women—though they shared no blood with her—were overflowing with a fiery sincerity that hit her straight in the heart.

Wei Ci really liked them. The whole day she trailed after the aunties like a little tail, eagerly learning how to stuff quilts and carefully memorizing their endless chatter about saving money and ration coupons.

Only now did she finally understand: in this world, people didn’t use gold ingots or silver taels as currency, but those green paper bills and all sorts of ration tickets.

So that explained it—why her mother had left her a big chest of what she had thought was useless paper inside her space. It turned out that was money—the “Great Unity” notes she had always been curious about.

That afternoon, Wei Ci watched with her own eyes as two thick eight-jin quilts were completed under the aunties’ flying needles. She herself knew some needlework, but only enough to embroider, or to make simple bellybands and undergarments. Anything more complicated was beyond her—quilts, shoes, those were simply out of reach.

Her stepmother used to say: “As long as a woman knows how to cook, she’ll never starve anywhere. As for sewing, even if you learn it, it won’t make you rich. Why bother? Knowing a little is enough, no need for mastery.”

Wei Ci had always listened to her, so she focused on embroidery and cooking. Truly, her skills in sewing were minimal.

Though the aunties all looked thin and weathered, their strength was tremendous. In a single day, they had scrubbed and tidied the siblings’ home inside and out until everything was spotless. By the end, the siblings felt embarrassed, so they divided out a jin of coarse flour to give the women as thanks.

“Don’t bother with such things. Life isn’t easy for you two. Save your grain for yourselves. We all have households of our own—we won’t go hungry!”

Li Lingyu waved her hand, refusing. These days were hard for everyone. True, their own families weren’t much better—because the drought had ruined the harvests, grain yields were sharply reduced. After handing over rations, most families were stretched thin. Still, everyone had a little something tucked away. Vegetables from private plots, wild greens, and mushrooms from the mountains could still be gathered. People might not eat their fill, but they wouldn’t starve—not like in places where famine had already taken lives.

But Wei Qingfeng wouldn’t hear of it. He shoved the bundles of flour straight into their arms.

After all, the women had spent the entire day helping them instead of working their own fields, which meant no labor points earned. Affection was one thing, but he couldn’t let them lose out. Helping was kindness, not obligation—and since they had shown kindness, the siblings couldn’t just pretend not to see.

So the bundles went back and forth, the aunties trying to refuse and the siblings stubbornly insisting, until the whole scene looked like a quarrel to anyone passing by.

“Aunties, please stop pushing it back. If someone saw, they’d think we’re hiding riches here. Just take it. We’re still young, and our elder brother isn’t around. In the future, we’ll need your help for many things. This little bit really isn’t much.”

Seeing the siblings’ firm stance, Li Lingyu sighed and finally stopped resisting. She stuffed the flour into her clothes, already planning to have her daughter bring the siblings some dried wild vegetables and mushrooms later. She couldn’t let them suffer a loss.

“Good girl. If you need anything, come to your aunt. If I can’t decide it, your uncle can. He was your father’s best friend. He’ll look after you.”

Auntie Wang had the same thought. Noticing the siblings barely had any furniture, she thumped her chest boldly.

“I’ll tell your uncle to make you some pieces. You need something to store your belongings. Luckily, your father left some timber at my house years ago. We’ll just use that, and your uncle can provide the labor.”

At the mention of the timber, Auntie Wang let out a sigh. That wood had been chopped and hauled back by Wei Jiandang himself when Ci was ten years old. He’d said it was to build furniture for his daughter’s dowry in the future.

Who would have thought—just a few years ago, he had been smiling and planning her future before their eyes. And now, he was gone, never again able to design the furniture meant for his little girl’s dowry.