Chapter 13

Zhao Commander’s house.

Lin Xixi tentatively said to Sister Yang, “Auntie, I heard that Captain Yan’s wife didn’t go to visit relatives.”

With many people and many matters in Sister Yang’s house, she was busy. Hearing this, she asked strangely while holding a basin, “Why didn’t she go visit relatives then?”

Lin Xixi helped her and lowered her voice. “I heard… she eloped with a wild man.”

Sister Yang almost spilled the water in her hands.

“This can’t be nonsense!” She scolded Lin Xixi. “What a bad reputation for no reason!”

Lin Xixi defended herself: “I just heard people say it.”

“Which gossipmonger spreads such nonsense?”

“Don’t know. When I was buying vegetables, two elder sisters in front were walking and talking; I overheard a bit but didn’t see their faces clearly,” Lin Xixi explained.

Sister Yang stared. “Xiao Qiao just came back yesterday. I saw Xiao Yan quite well. Today, look at how happy Xiao Qiao is. It’s impossible! You’re making baseless accusations!”

“But…”

“But what? With Xiao Qiao’s temper, if she really ran away and got chased back by Xiao Yan, she wouldn’t show her face for ten days or half a month. She’d be as dark as a widow. I don’t think it’s possible.”

Captain Yan’s wife looked relaxed, indeed appearing like someone who had just returned from visiting relatives. Sister Yang didn’t believe that she had run away with a wild man.

“You close your mouth. If your uncle hears that you’re randomly making up stories about someone, he’ll use the sole of his shoe to slap you!”

Lin Xixi had no evidence and could only shut up.

In the courtyard, there was another large basin of clothes. Her aunt was reluctant to let her use soap, insisting on using a washboard to pound them, making it exhausting.

In an era without washing machines, life was really tough.

Lin Xixi had initially planned to establish an image of diligence and virtue, intending to become the second wife for the promising Yan Lei. However, now that Qiao Wei hadn’t died, she had to reconsider.

She pursed her lips.

No one should spoil her prosperous future.

Even if Qiao Wei had also experienced rebirth, she was just a young woman in her twenties, and Lin Xixi couldn’t compete with her.

Qiao Wei rested for a while, rubbed her sore arms, pounded her old waist, and sat at the desk, opening the drawer.

When she took money in the morning, she saw many open envelopes and messy sheets of paper in the drawer. She randomly picked up a stack and unfolded it, confirming that they were letters from technicians to Qiao Weiwei.

After reading a bit, Qiao Wei felt her teeth go sour.

The letter is always talking about something, and the husband is always talking about something. Although we can’t say that we are jealous, it is true that college students in this era are somewhat literate, but we can definitely say that they are peacocks with their tails in full bloom.

Qiao Wei’s mouth twitched.

The original Qiao Weiwei fell for this. The memories related to these letters were too vivid, much more distinct, and intense than the memories of Yan Lei. It was as if a sweet spring had moistened the stagnant water in the original owner’s life, making her think she had found a soulmate and go crazy for love.

Qiao Wei remembered that these letters used to be neatly stacked with a rubber band around them. Now, they were scattered like this, and it was clear that Yan Lei had opened and read them all. The disorder in the drawer showed his anger at the time.

Qiao Wei grabbed these letters, including the paper and envelopes, made sure nothing was left, and lifted the lid of the coal-burning stove under the eaves.

When the lid was closed, the coal slowly burned inside, maintaining a “non-extinguishing” state and consuming very little.

As soon as she opened the lid, a large amount of oxygen rushed in, and the flames shot up. It was much more efficient than burning firewood.

Qiao Wei threw those letters in, and the flames immediately engulfed the paper and words.

Yan Xiang stood on the side, asking, “Do you want to boil water?”

It reminded Qiao Wei that drinking cold, boiled water was inconvenient; the water had to be boiled first and then cooled. She woke up in the morning, and there were several tubs of cold boiled water on the table, more than yesterday evening, so it should have been Yan Lei who boiled the water early in the morning before leaving.

She fetched a pot of water and placed it on the stove, carefully instructing Yan Xiang, “Don’t touch it; the stove and the kettle are very hot; don’t burn yourself.”

Yan Xiang obediently agreed.

Qiao Wei returned to the study and glanced at Yan Xiang playing outside. Houses with yards were indeed good; when the courtyard gate was closed, children could play in the yard, and adults could see them from the window. It was safe, and there was no fear of getting lost.

Qiao Wei took a stack of blank sheets of paper with military letterhead from the drawer. With a pen tapping her cheek, she thought for a moment before starting to write.

She organized some considerations for her new life.

After finishing, she looked out of the window.

It was so quiet; only the distant cicadas were making noise, without the roar of cars.

Yan Xiang was a very quiet child. When he played by himself, he didn’t chatter like other kids. He sat quietly on the ground, arranging and rearranging a pile of small stones on the stone pavement.

Time had a slow, flowing feeling, as if there was no need to rush for anything.

Perhaps this era should be like this—

Several tile-roofed houses, a child in the courtyard.

The clothes on the clothesline swayed in the wind.

She still had a young and healthy body.

At this moment, Qiao Wei felt extremely satisfied with the life before her—no rushing around for a few ounces of silver, no diseases urging her day and night, counting the footsteps of nurses in the corridor late at night, estimating when her life would end.

Yan Xiang looked up at the sun, stood up, ran to the base of the window, tiptoed, grabbed the windowsill, and said, “Mom, what are we having for lunch?”

“Oh, what time is it?” Qiao Wei trotted to the living room to look at the clock on the table. “It’s already past eleven.”

The water outside was boiling and gurgling. Qiao Wei used a cloth to lift the boiling kettle to a small table, airing it underneath and using a stool to block it to prevent the child from getting burned while running.

The iron stove was covered to let the fire simmer. Qiao Wei rolled up her sleeves, tied an apron, and prepared to cook.

The rice pot was a small, round aluminum pot. After washing the rice without the calibrated scale and measuring cup of an electric rice cooker, Qiao Wei used the well-known Chinese finger method—adding water until it reached the first joint of her finger.

The rice pot was placed on the cast-iron stove.

Vegetables were washed in a large aluminum basin by the well.

Next to the well, a brick was used to build a low wall into a platform with a chopping board on top. It was just right. This was done for a reason.

Nowadays, with underdeveloped transportation and inconvenient logistics, the vegetables sold in the farmers’ market are locally grown and sold. The appearance was not as good as in later years, but they were particularly fresh. Qiao Wei scooped up the cleaned vegetables, threw them on the chopping board, and started cutting.

Today, she bought only one-third of the meat.

Taking the vegetables to the kitchen, she encountered another inconvenient thing—the kitchen’s earthen stove burned wood.

In the welfare benefits of the military, apart from food, oil, and daily necessities, there was also a “fuel” item, with a monthly distribution of firewood and coal.

Because of her memories, theoretically, Qiao Wei knew how to operate it, but in practice, she found it awkward.

She lit the firewood with a bit of a mess.

Yan Xiang was a bit curious about why it was so difficult for Mom to light a fire today. When the fire was burning, without Qiao Wei saying anything, he went over to pull the bellows.

The small bellows were only a bit taller than the child. When adults operated it, they just needed to stretch and bend their arms. Yan Xiang had to hold onto the handle, relying on the strength of his body to push it in and pull it out.

“Hey yo,” “Hey yo”.

So cute.

You know, the bellows thing is quite useful. In just a few strokes, the fire was burning vigorously.

Qiao Wei used this kind of stove and iron pot for the first time, and her hands were a bit unaccustomed, but she successfully fried a plate of vegetables.

She took it out and placed it on the small table in the kitchen, covered it with gauze, and then found that washing the pot was a troublesome task.

Firstly, the pot was quite large, and secondly, it was a double-eared pot without the long handle Qiao Wei was accustomed to.

Then there was no modern faucet or basin in the kitchen.

Qiao Wei lowered her head and saw a bucket with a lid near the stove. Opening the lid, there was clean water inside, and there was also a water ladle.

She had to scoop water into the pot with the ladle. On the wall next to the stove, there were nails with a short, thick, and simple round-headed broom hanging on them, which was the pot brush.

With a cloth padding her hand, Qiao Wei pinched one side of the pot handle, let the iron pot tilt, and quickly brushed it with the brush.

After two pieces of cloth were used to lift the pot, she poured the water into another bucket. Therefore, having so many buckets at home made sense. Clean water buckets, wastewater buckets—none could be missing!

Qiao Wei scooped two ladles of water into the pot, waited for it to boil, and cracked an egg into it, stirring it into egg drop soup.

With just an egg, the soup tasted too bland. Actually, it would have been great if there were pickled vegetables. Qiao Wei used to like to add pickled vegetables to egg drop soup, and then she didn’t need to add salt; it was a simple soup that could be made in a short time.

When her mother passed away, she entrusted her with eating well. Originally, Qiao Wei used to order takeout frequently, but after living alone, she stopped ordering and often cooked for herself.

In life, moving too fast still needed a bit of fireworks.

There were no pickled vegetables, but there were pickles in the jar. Qiao Wei picked a few pieces and threw them into the pot as a substitute.

In a short time, a pot of simple and quick soup was ready.

Because she spent a bit too much time on the earthen stove and forgot that she was not using an electric rice cooker, the rice was taken off the stove a bit later. It was a bit hard to eat, but it was still considered a success.

Qiao Wei had adapted to the kitchen of this era.

There were often comments online from middle-aged netizens saying that the current dishes were not as delicious as those in the past. Many people questioned whether it was due to the nostalgia filter. But now Qiao Wei could prove that it really wasn’t the nostalgia filter.

In an unpolluted era, vegetables indeed had a more distinct “vegetable taste” than in later generations.

Yan Xiang took two bites and praised loudly, “It’s really delicious!”

Qiao Wei smiled and asked, “Wasn’t it delicious before?”

Because the original owner had high demands for food in her memory, her cooking skills should be decent.

“Delicious,” Yan Xiang said, “but today’s is exceptionally fragrant.”

He added, “Even better than what Aunt Yang and Sister Lin make.”

As he said this, Qiao Wei remembered the taste of the meal last night, and for some reason, it did have a certain…

She lowered her head and took two more bites, suddenly realizing!

“It’s the oil,” she said. “I used more oil.”

More than the original owner, more than Aunt Yang, and more than Sister Lin.

No wonder.

Although Sister Lin was a reborn female lead, considering the timeline, she probably came back to the early 1990s.

A middle-aged woman, struggling to make ends meet after her entire family was laid off and borrowing money from relatives to get by, wouldn’t be too generous with oil when cooking.

With this thought, Qiao Wei understood why Lin Xixi, after being reborn, wanted to secure a good future for Yan Lei.

But there’s only one good future, and Qiao Wei has already secured it.

How could she hand it over?