Liu Sanjin didn’t go home immediately. She clutched her chest, and cried for a long time, waiting for Lu Mingyang to come outside so she could badmouth Shen Meng. Whether Lu Mingyang and his sidings were her biological grandchildren or not, they were officially registered as part of the Lu family and, as the eldest son’s children, would be expected to honor her in the future. Shen Meng, on the other hand, was just an outsider who’d married in.

Liu Sanjin firmly believed that as long as she had conflicts with Shen Meng, the children would naturally side with her, no matter what.

But after waiting a long time without anyone coming out, she stomped her foot and left in a huff.

Inside, Shen Meng held a letter and a money order. The amount was thirty-five yuan, which made her feel relieved. The money left by the original owner, plus the money from Liu Sanjin and the production team, she had a total of sixty-two yuan saved up—a considerable amount of cash in these times.

She opened the envelope to find a second money order, though this one was only for eighteen yuan, along with five ten-jin grain stamps, an eight-foot fabric voucher, and a few other small ration tickets. Shen Meng frowned—why were there two separate money orders? And why was the package pickup notice mailed separately as well?

As she puzzled over this, Lu Mingyang shuffled over.

“Mom, is there a letter from Dad?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes, your dad sent two money orders, and there’s a separate package too. Do you know why?” Shen Meng replied.

Lu Mingyang’s face grew solemn, and he looked down. “Mom, maybe… it’s something Dad’s friends on the base put together for me, Mingliang, and Mingfang. I guess… they still think of us. They were Dad’s old comrades,” he said quietly, only at this moment did he feel that there were still people thinking about him, caring about him and loving him.

Shen Meng looked at him in surprise, thinking over the allowances Lu Zhenping had sent. Last year, he’d been promoted to deputy commander, which should have increased his monthly pay to around fifty yuan. The original Shen Meng had been thrilled with his promotion, though she hadn’t asked about his exact allowance, assuming it would be generous. Yet, this month, Lu Zhenping had sent only eighteen yuan.

In that moment, Shen Meng understood why people used to say, “serving in the army makes one poor”. Ordinary soldiers earned only six or seven yuan a month, and although their food and housing were covered, many families of fallen soldiers struggled to survive. There must be so many families out there, like Lu Mingyang, Lu Mingliang, and Lu Mingfang’s, who were just barely getting by.

A pang of emotion hit Shen Meng. The letter, the package slip, and the money orders suddenly felt heavy in her hands. She couldn’t quite manage a smile.

“Yes, Mom understands now,” she said. “I’ll collect everything for us soon. In the meantime, why don’t you read this letter aloud to your younger siblings?”

Lu Mingyang’s face froze. Why mention reading now? It wasn’t that long ago she’d said we didn’t need to go to school!

“Mom, big brother can’t read, and I can’t either!” Mingfang chimed in, giggling.

Not funny at all, Shen Meng thought, her irritation rising. At your age, you should be in school! She put on a smile, though her eyes glinted with determination. “After autumn, I’ll make sure Mingyang, Mingliang, and Mingfang all start school. No one’s skipping out! And when Xiao Kai is older, he’ll go too.”

“But Mom, you said school wasn’t necessary. Look at all those city kids—they’re educated, but they’re still working in the fields,” Mingliang protested, recalling his friend Daqing’s stories of being forced to memorize poems. He had no desire to go through that himself.

Shen Meng held up the letter, smiling. “If you don’t go to school, you’ll never learn to read, and you won’t even know what your father’s letters say. Even if I don’t read well myself, I still have to sign for packages at the post office. In recent years, the educated youth have returned to the city one after another. They are all recruited back and will have a stable job and salary in the future. Do you want to farm for the rest of your life? Of course, mom is not saying that farming is bad. The money in mom’s hands is collected by the uncles in the army and sent to you. Don’t you want to repay them? If you can’t read, you don’t know where to go when you go out, right?”

Mingliang and Mingyang exchanged uneasy glances.

Seeing that her point had sunk in, Shen Meng went on, “No arguments. Once harvest season is over, you’re all going to school. I’ll ask the village head to help with your enrollment. And hey, maybe we can get your third aunt to help teach us a few words—she knows more than we do!
I’m having a headache I’ll go rest, Mingliang wash the dishes in the morning.”

Mingliang’s face fell. Why me? he thought. I’m already doomed to school—why am I the one stuck washing dishes too?

When Xie Jinghao came over, she saw the kids looking miserable and felt a pang of concern. Xiaogang, her son, clung tightly to her, reluctant to come out from behind her skirt—he’d seen Shen Meng lose her temper and was wary.

“Mingyang, what’s the matter? Where’s your mother?” she asked.

“Aunt, Dad sent a letter, and Mom doesn’t know how to read it. She got so upset that she said we all have to go to school after autumn, and went back to her room to lie down” Mingliang explained.

Mingyang and Mingfang just sighed. Mingliang certainly knew how to tell a story!

Xie Jinghao relaxed. She’d worried Shen Meng might be mistreating them again, but it seemed her concerns were unfounded.

“Going to school is a good thing!” she said brightly. “Reading and writing will give you all more opportunities in life. When Xiaogang’s older, he’ll go too.” She turned to her son, who was still hiding behind her. “Xiaogang, why don’t you play with your cousins for a while?”

Mingliang looked crestfallen. He’d hoped Aunt Jinghao would side with him, but she agreed that schooling was important. School won’t be half as fun as fishing or sneaking out to roast sweet potatoes in the hills!

Shen Meng reread the letter. The main message was asking how the children were, mentioning that he wasn’t sure if his leave would be granted, and reminding her to look after herself. He also asked her to visit her parents and sent three yuan for his mother, Liu Sanjin. There was a bit about the unique customs and scenery of Yunnan, where he was stationed.

Lu Zhenping had given his own leave time last year to a friend who hadn’t been home in three years. If he wasn’t granted leave again this year, that would make it three years since he’d come home himself. Shen Meng sighed, realizing that while she’d often heard how tough it was to be a soldier’s wife, it was an entirely different experience to live it—to feel the constant, quiet burden.