Chapter 46 – Goodbye, Little Mountain Village

The countryside night was always tranquil, so even the slightest sound stood out. Fu Zhengtou was a light sleeper, and having been used to sleeping alone, Su Taotao’s constant tossing and turning naturally affected his rest.

With his eyes closed, he reached out and pulled the soft, fluffy person onto himself.

Su Taotao was suddenly flipped 180 degrees for no reason, her head pressed gently against a warm neck by a large hand. He patted her back lightly, his calm voice like raindrops tapping on jade—deep, slightly hoarse, and soothing in her ear: “Sleep.”

Giving up the fight, Su Taotao stopped struggling. She closed her eyes and lay on top of Fu Zhengtou, nuzzling his neck. “I can’t fall asleep.”

Fu Zhengtou said, “Don’t talk. Close your eyes and count with the rhythm of my hand.”

With his other hand, he picked up a palm-leaf fan and gently fanned her.

They had to travel with two kids tomorrow—it would be exhausting. She couldn’t afford to be tired tonight; she needed proper sleep. Otherwise, he wouldn’t mind using another family planning product to help her sleep.

Whether it was Fu Zhengtou’s voice that had a calming effect, or simply that it sounded too good, or that the man-made breeze was just right—cool and comfortable—Su Taotao obeyed. She counted along with the rhythm of his hand patting her back. Before she could reach a hundred, her eyelids grew heavy and she fell soundly asleep.

Fu Zhengtou heard her steady breathing and knew she was asleep, but his hand didn’t stop. After about ten minutes, once he was sure she was in a deep sleep, he gently turned her over and let her rest comfortably on the pillow.

As soon as Su Taotao’s head touched the pillow, she wrinkled her nose, reached out and grabbed his arm, turning to hug him. One leg even draped over him, clinging like a koala hugging a tree. She mumbled, “Sleep…”

Under the moonlight, Su Taotao’s pale, jade-like little feet hooked around his leg. Her soft toes curled slightly, even more translucent and delicate than white chess pieces.

Fu Zhengtou had never paid attention to women before, but even he knew that not every woman was like his wife—every inch of her so exquisitely formed it was as if the heavens had sculpted her by hand. Everything was just right.

Zhou Linglan once said she intentionally made herself look plain to avoid trouble. Indeed, someone like her would definitely attract a lot of attention. During those three years of silence, she must’ve endured a lot.

Holding her close, Fu Zhengtou gently waved the fan. He tried hard to recall what she looked like when they first met, but the memory was vague and blurry. He was probably too young and arrogant back then to appreciate her beauty and kindness. All he remembered was thinking she was clingy and temperamental. Even though he married her, he hadn’t truly taken her to heart.

Now that he was back, everything had changed. Even if he’d been blind before, he’d made up his mind—he would treat her well from now on.

Back when he first married her, Zhou Linglan had said: if it hadn’t been for the send-down movement, how could a golden phoenix from the big city have ended up in a rural family like theirs? She deserved to be cherished.

Fu Zhengtou recalled her spoiled, dramatic way of bossing him around earlier today, unconsciously stroking her arm. She really was a golden phoenix—soft and delicate in every way.

Fu Zhengtou had no idea that his wife had “changed cores.”
If she were still the same old “Su Taotao,” he probably still wouldn’t have taken her seriously.

Fu Zhengtou didn’t even know when he’d fallen asleep. His mind had been in chaos all night, Su Taotao making a mess in it the whole time.

When he woke up, she was still clinging to him like an octopus.

Su Taotao also woke up, unaware that she was hanging all over him. She turned over, rubbed her eyes, and asked, “What time is it?”

Fu Zhengtou glanced at his watch. “It’s six.”

Su Taotao rubbed her face against the pillow. “What time are we leaving?”

Fu Zhengtou, suffering from a poor night’s sleep, massaged his throbbing temples. “If we’re not going to G City, there’s no need to leave so early. The train’s at ten tonight. If you want to wander around the city a bit, we can leave after breakfast. If not, we can head out after lunch.”

Su Taotao sat up and stretched lazily. “I’ll go prepare some dry food. Once the kids are up, I’ll ask what they want to do.”

Over the past few days, Fu Zhengtou had noticed that Su Taotao advocated for and practiced democracy. Whether it was Fu Yuanhang or Chenchen, she always treated them as equals. She didn’t use her status as an adult to pressure them. Every decision was made after asking their opinions.

But she wasn’t indulgent, either. Tasks within their ability, she expected them to handle themselves.

Even little Chenchen, for things like washing his face, putting on shoes, or packing his small bag, Su Taotao made him do them on his own.

A mom like that must make Chenchen really happy.

And Chenchen was happy—even though he was dragged out of bed early by his little uncle, he didn’t get mad.

Most kids his age would forget what you told them the night before after a night’s sleep.

But not Chenchen. He clearly remembered that today he was going on a long trip with Mommy, Daddy, and Little Uncle. As soon as he got up, he put on the new clothes Grandma had made him and slung on the little backpack made by his other grandma.

Zhou Linglan didn’t go to work again today. She was up early waiting for her youngest son and eldest grandson to get out of bed. While making mugwort cakes with Su Taotao in the kitchen, she kept sneaking to their door to listen in, hoping they were up.

As Su Taotao wrapped a piece of mugwort into a banana leaf and sealed it, she smiled and said, “Mom, if you really can’t bear to part with us, why don’t you come along?”

Zhou Linglan shook her head. “Now’s not the right time. Maybe later.”

Su Taotao didn’t press her. The first batch of mugwort cakes steaming away was almost ready.

By this time of year, mugwort wasn’t as tender as in the spring. Zhou Linglan had gone out early in the dew to gather only the tenderest tips. After blanching them, they weren’t bitter at all. Su Taotao saved a plate of it for a cold salad to eat with porridge later.

She made two flavors of mugwort cakes—one sweet with peanut sesame sugar filling, which the kids loved, and one savory with pickled vegetables and minced meat, which was her own favorite.

Mugwort cakes weren’t as shelf-stable as flatbreads, which people preferred for travel. But they tasted better, and you didn’t need to eat them with side dishes. On the train, they’d be enough to get through a meal or two.

Zhou Linglan also boiled all the eggs in the house—over twenty in total. These two food items were more than enough to cover any unexpected needs during the journey.

When the first batch of mugwort cakes came out of the steamer, Zhou Linglan happened to spot a sleepy Chenchen at the bedroom door. She scooped him up, fussing over his hair and kissing his little face. Chenchen was confused by all the attention and wrinkled his nose, trying to dodge her.

After washing up, Fu Yuanhang returned, and Su Taotao handed him six mugwort cakes—three sweet and three savory—to bring as a goodbye gift to Cao Guohua.

By the time all the cakes were steamed, Fu Zhengtou had already loaded all the large luggage onto the cart, taken a shower, and changed into fresh clothes.

This man was obsessively clean—not a neat freak, but someone who paid great attention to personal hygiene.

Over breakfast, Su Taotao asked, “I heard from Chef Xu that there’s a zoo in the city. Xiao Hang and Chenchen, would you like to go see it? If you do, we can leave right after breakfast.”

In her eyes, department stores and supply co-ops were all the same—just places that sold stuff. But the zoo was way more interesting.

The furthest the two boys had ever gone was to the county town. They had no idea what a zoo was.

After Su Taotao explained it to them, both boys said they wanted to go.

So, it was unanimously decided: they’d head to the zoo after breakfast.

After the meal, Fu Zhengtou went to the production brigade to get travel permits. Su Taotao checked their belongings again for anything missing.

Zhou Linglan called Fu Yuanhang into her room. No one knew what they talked about, but when they came out, both of their eyes were red.

She thought she could hold it together, but when the car engine started and she saw Su Taotao leading the kids and waving goodbye, tears still fell from her eyes.

She stood at the gate crying; Fu Yuanhang and Chenchen cried inside the car.

Fu Yuanhang kept his head down, eyes red, silently holding back his tears.

Chenchen, clever beyond his years, understood the difference between this farewell and the usual wave goodbye when they went to the county. He knew he wouldn’t be seeing Grandma for a long time, so he sobbed, calling out for her.

It was the first time Su Taotao had seen the little guy cry so hard—it broke her heart. Several times she wanted to tell Fu Zhengtou to stop the car and turn around to pick Zhou Linglan up.

She had a vague idea why Zhou Linglan didn’t want to leave. At least for the next few years, she wouldn’t leave this place. What she said on the surface was one reason, but deeper reasons were ones she couldn’t say aloud.

Even if Su Taotao knew, she wouldn’t dare say it. Wouldn’t dare ask.

Even she herself couldn’t easily break free from the shackles this era placed on women. She had to follow the survival rules of the time.

Ultimately, her stance was this: it’s natural for parents to raise their own children, but they are not obligated to center their lives around their grandchildren—unless they genuinely want to and feel happy doing it. Otherwise, she hoped the older generation could have space and time to live the life they wanted.

Raising Chenchen was her and Fu Zhengtou’s responsibility—not Zhou Linglan’s.

She placed the boy on her chest and gently patted his back.

“Chenchen, don’t cry. We’ll come back to see Grandma during the New Year, okay? Look, Daddy, Mommy, and Little Uncle are all here with you. If Chenchen is happy, Grandma will be happy too.”

Su Taotao pointed at the scenery outside the window to distract Chenchen, and only then did the little one gradually calm down.

The car had already driven far away. When Su Taotao turned back to look, Zhou Linglan was still standing at the courtyard gate, her eyes following their car as she waved.

What Zhou Linglan couldn’t see was that Cao Guohua was silently standing at the corner of the alley behind her, his gaze fixed on her the whole time…

Goodbye, little mountain village.

Goodbye, Qinglian Commune.