Kneading dough, rolling wrappers, and preparing the stuffing that had been marinating since morning—a fragrant mixture of cabbage and pork topped with hot oil—filled the kitchen with an enticing aroma. The four children sat around the low kitchen table, watching eagerly.

In her past life as a small office clerk, Shen Meng had spent her weekends experimenting with cooking. Though rusty at first, her skills had gradually returned, and now her dishes were starting to look and taste as they should.

“Mom, can Aunt Xifeng have one? She used to sneak me boiled eggs,” Lu Mingkai said, swallowing hard as he spoke.

Worried that her mother might feel bad, Mingfang quickly chimed in, “When the dumplings are ready, Mom should eat first. You’ve been working hard every day and still haven’t fully recovered, right, Mingkai?”

Shen Meng glanced at Mingfang, her heart warming. Girls truly were their mother’s Little cotton padded jacket. Over the past two weeks, Mingfang had always considered her mother’s well-being first in everything.

“It’s okay. Mingkai is a good child for remembering Aunt Xifeng’s kindness,” Shen Meng reassured. “I’ve prepared two kinds of dumpling wrappers: white flour for us and mixed flour for others. One bowl will go to Daqing, Erqing, and Gaogao, and the mixed-flour ones will be delivered to their mothers using the bag I prepared. The rest will be sent to Grandma Chang.”

Mingyang frowned in confusion. “Mom, why use two kinds of wrappers? Shouldn’t we give others the best?”

Shen Meng smiled and explained, “It’s not just about giving—it’s about whether they’d feel comfortable accepting it. Life in the countryside is tough. If you gave someone white-flour dumplings filled with meat, shameless people might exploit your generosity. But kind souls like Daqing’s mom, Aunt Xifeng, and Grandma Chang, who’ve struggled to make ends meet yet still help us, wouldn’t feel at ease accepting such a luxury. Don’t worry—the filling is the same, and the mixed flour is mostly white flour with just a bit of cornmeal. They won’t even notice.”

Hearing this, Mingyang nodded, realizing the wisdom in his mother’s words. He silently regretted his earlier comment. His former mother, the one who would hoard even the tiniest resources, was a stark contrast to the woman now standing before him—one who not only made delicious meals but also repaid the kindness shown to their family. This mother was a blessing.

Shen Meng pretended not to notice Mingyang’s change in expression. Her hands moved swiftly, and soon she had wrapped two batches of dumplings. Lu Mingliang, always the first to notice opportunities, had already started tending the fire while Shen Meng worked. By now, it was time to cook the dumplings.

As the first batch of white, plump dumplings hit the boiling water, the sounds of crackling firewood and the children’s eager gulps filled the air.

Once the water boiled three times, the dumplings were done. Shen Meng scooped out a large bowl for each child, along with a simple dipping sauce, then started cooking the next batch. The children hesitated to eat as they watched their mother continue working, no longer out of fear but out of care.

Mingkai, however, pierced a dumpling with his chopsticks and carefully carried it to Shen Meng, blowing on it as he walked. His small hand, placed protectively under the dumpling, had turned red from the heat.

“Mom, eat this first,” he said earnestly.

Shen Meng smiled warmly. “Thank you, Xiao Kai. You’re such a good boy.” She blew on the dumpling and took a bite.

She wasn’t one to say things like, “Mom doesn’t want to eat; you eat it,” or, “Mom doesn’t like it; it’s all for you.” Love, she believed, was mutual. While parents often wanted to give the best to their children, children, too, wanted to show their love by sharing what they cherished. Shen Meng felt it was important to accept that love.

After finishing the dumpling, she ruffled Mingkai’s hair. “Good boy. Go back and eat. Mingyang, you all should eat too. This batch is for us, and the next one will be mixed-flour dumplings. Once this batch is done, call Daqing, Erqing, and Gaogao over to eat while it’s hot. The next batch can be packed for them to take home.”

“Got it, Mom,” Mingliang responded before Mingyang could say anything. He grabbed his chopsticks and enthusiastically started eating.

---

The fact that the Lu family no longer provided meals for Shen Meng’s household was old news in Lu Village. Shen Meng had also requested to reclaim her own section of farmland, but the village leadership had yet to approve it, citing the absence of her husband, Lu Zhenping, who was technically the head of the household.

For now, Shen Meng relied on the allowance Lu Zhenping sent and wasn’t in a hurry. Her recent behavior, devoid of tantrums or harsh discipline, had even put worried neighbors at ease.

When Lu Zhanghong received Lu Zhenping’s letter, he immediately headed home. He had been busy with medical cases outside the village and was unaware of recent events. As he approached his house, someone called out to him.

“Uncle Zhanghong, you’re back?”

“Mingyang? What brings you here?”

Mingyang proudly held up a container. “Uncle, Mom made dumplings and told me to bring some for Grandma Chang. You should try some too!”

“Your mom made these? And sent them here? I find that hard to believe.”

Mingyang hesitated but then grinned sheepishly. He felt more at ease around Lu Zhanghong compared to others, not as tense as he was at home. Yet, he still didn’t quite know how to navigate his mother’s sudden change.

“It’s true, Uncle. Mom has been really nice lately. She bought us clothes, shoes, and even enrolled Mingfang and me in school. She’s made cotton-padded coats and all kinds of delicious food. She doesn’t hit or scold us anymore. She’s really changed, Uncle.”

Lu Zhanghong recalled the determination in Shen Meng’s eyes when he had treated her illness. At the time, he had believed her, though he had worried she might just be putting on an act to move back into the brick house. But now, it seemed she truly was treating the children well.

“Keep the dumplings for yourselves. Grandma Chang and I have food at home.”

Before Lu Zhanghong could finish, Mingyang had shoved the container into his hands and bolted.

“Uncle, you eat them! I’ll come back for the bowl later.”

“Mingyang, hey! You little rascal.” Holding the warm dumplings in one hand and his brother’s letter in the other, Lu Zhanghong let out a sigh of relief. All these years, he had kept quiet about Shen Meng’s past actions. Now that she had changed for the better, he felt he hadn’t let Zhenping down. He just hoped she would stay on the right path and not revert to her old ways.

---

Meanwhile, Daqing, Erqing, and Gaogao had been called to Shen Meng’s house, where Mingliang greeted them with an air of mystery.

“Why are you acting so secretive?” Daqing asked, puzzled. “Your brother rushed out with something earlier—what was that about?”

“He had something important to do. Don’t ask,” Mingliang replied. He led them inside and unveiled a bowl, grinning.

“Dumplings! White-flour dumplings!”

“Not just any dumplings—these are meat-filled,” Mingliang said proudly. “Mom saved a bowl for you. Eat up! And here are two more bowls to take home for your moms. Daqing and Erqing, don’t let your dad eat them—he’s too careless. Gaogao, you can give them to your dad. He loves your mom, so make sure she locks the door and eats in peace.”

Gaogao, taking after his father, Lu Yongjun, nodded dumbly. Dumplings were a rare treat even during festivals; he never imagined eating them on a normal day.

As Erqing and Gaogao reached for the dumplings, Daqing held them back.

“Mingliang, why would your mom save dumplings for us? She used to hoard even cow dung from the yard. Why’s she so generous now?”

Mingliang’s face darkened, and he snapped, “Your mom hoards cow dung! Your whole family does!”