Chapter 13

Especially for Geng Ailing—she was really enjoying the food! People in the village rarely ate meat, and even when they did, it was always stewed, stir-fried, or used in dumplings. They never had this kind of caramelized, salty-sweet hongshao (braised) pork! As true Northerners, they’d hardly ever eaten white rice either—this was a real treat for them today.

“Lihua, this hongshao pork is amazing! Salty with a hint of sweetness—I wonder how it’s made. Must’ve used a lot of oil! And the rice—soft and fragrant—is so much better than millet or brown rice,” Geng Ailing exclaimed.

“I know how to make this kind of hongshao pork. If you like it, we’ll buy some meat another day and I’ll teach you. And liking rice is no problem—we’re in Yangcheng now, there’ll be plenty of rice meals. I just worry in a while, you’ll start missing mantou and noodles,” Fan Hua said as she added a few more pieces of pork to Geng Ailing’s bowl.

“That’s enough, enough—you eat too! Don’t just keep giving me food,” Geng Ailing said, turning her bowl slightly away.

Fan Hua smiled helplessly and fetched some hot water from the server to pour over her rice, making porridge.

“Probably because of the pregnancy… At first bite it was delicious, but after a few more bites it just felt greasy. Now I don’t even want a single piece of meat. Ailing-jie, you eat more—I’ll just have porridge.”

Geng Ailing looked at her with worry. “Do you want to order something else?”

Fan Hua shook her head, suppressing her churning stomach. “No, porridge is fine. You eat—I don’t want to ruin your appetite.”

Geng Ailing didn’t have much experience with pregnancy, so she just did as Fan Hua said and finished off the braised pork. Yangcheng was still hot in September—if they didn’t finish the food, it really would be wasted.

After returning home, Geng Ailing had Fan Hua sit and rest, forbidding her from doing anything. She laid out the bedding, boiled hot water, and once everything was ready, told Fan Hua to wash up and get to bed.

Watching Geng Ailing bustle around, Fan Hua felt warm and full inside. She said sincerely, “Thank you, Ailing-jie. I’m really glad I met you.”

Geng Ailing froze. She turned to look at Fan Hua. “Why are you calling me ‘jie’ all of a sudden, instead of ‘saozi’?”

“Calling you saozi (sister-in-law) was because of Brother Li, but I don’t really know him—I can’t even remember what he looks like. From now on, I’ll call you jie—we’re sisters. I’ll be like your family, someone who has your back.”

That line—“someone who has your back”—hit Geng Ailing straight in the heart. Her nose stung, and tears fell.

Ever since Li Dazhu died, her own family had seen her as unlucky and a widow, pushing her to remarry. Her older sister from her maiden family, who was just two years older and already married, never contacted her again. Her in-laws placed all their hopes on her young brother-in-law and stopped caring about her. She felt like a rootless waterweed—floating, with no one to rely on. But now she had a niangjia ren (maiden family member)—someone who claimed her as their own.

Fan Hua saw her tears and panicked. “Ailing-jie, why are you crying? You don’t like me calling you that? If not, I’ll just go back to calling you saozi.”

Geng Ailing quickly wiped her tears, a little embarrassed. “No, I like it—I really like it. It’s just… I’ve never heard someone say they’d stand up for me before. Sniff sniff…”

Her tears, which had just been wiped away, fell again like a string of pearls.

Fan Hua stepped forward and hugged her, gently patting her back to comfort her. “It’s okay. Forget about the bad people and the bad things. From today on, we start fresh. Believe me—the good days are coming.”

Geng Ailing held onto Fan Hua and cried out all her long-held grievances. Once she felt better, they each went to their own rooms to sleep.

That night, Fan Hua didn’t sleep well—she kept dreaming…

In her dream, she was clinging tightly to a young man’s neck, leaving scratch marks down his back.

He had sword-like eyebrows, bright eyes, a high nose bridge, thin lips pressed tight, and a rugged, untamed energy about him.

Their eyes met, and she noticed a small reddish-brown mole near the corner of his eye…

Fan Hua suddenly woke up in shock.

Was that… a sex dream?!

And the man in the dream… was Zhao Yilu?!

It was the first time in her life she had such a shameful dream.

It must be because Zhao Yilu’s looks and body were exactly her type—her desires had taken over and turned him into the object of her fantasy.

Fan Hua fanned her flushed cheeks, mortified. If only he weren’t He Siyuan’s younger brother—then maybe I could’ve flirted with him a little.

After calming herself, she realized she was feeling discomfort and decided to go wash up, sneaking to the public toilet by moonlight.

As she passed the neighboring dorm, she heard some faint moaning sounds. Fan Hua instantly understood and couldn’t help but mentally complain: This place has terrible soundproofing!

It reminded her of the dream she just had…

She tiptoed quickly past, hoping no one inside heard her.

She also noticed her body now had to urinate more frequently—something she never used to experience. It must be the pregnancy—her uterus pressing against the bladder. She made a note to buy a chamber pot soon; stumbling around in the dark every night was just too inconvenient.

…

The next morning, Fan Hua couldn’t sleep in. She got up and knocked on Geng Ailing’s door.

“Ailing-jie, are you awake?”

Geng Ailing quickly got up and opened the door. “Lihua, you’re up early too! I was trying not to make any noise so I wouldn’t disturb you.”

“Ailing-jie, grab the address your cousin gave you—we’re going to check it out right now.”

“Now? Isn’t it too early? Let’s at least have breakfast first.”

“No, now’s perfect. Otherwise, we’ll have to go in the evening, and it’s too dark then—not safe. Better to go now and scope it out.”

Although Geng Ailing didn’t quite understand why Fan Hua was so insistent, she didn’t object. Better to check it out early and settle her mind.

“Alright, let’s head out now.”

At this hour, the sky was just turning light and the streets were nearly empty. They took the paper with the address and asked for directions at a newly opened newsstand. It turned out the place wasn’t far—a 30-minute walk at most.

They walked and asked around until they found themselves in a deep alleyway, where they saw the place: “Sisters’ Hair Salon.”

Fan Hua had been wondering—private businesses weren’t supposed to be allowed until the 1980s, so how could there already be a privately run hair salon? But once they entered the alley, it all made sense.

This was a black market street.