At high noon, Su Xiangwan had just returned from the fields. By the time she arrived at the old house, the family division was about to begin.

Zhao Guodong and Song Guangguang—one the family elder, the other a village official—had been specially invited and were sitting in the courtyard.

As for the Song family, even the kids were gathered, filling the house with noise.

Because Gou Dan’s hands were dirty, Song Fu scornfully curled his lips and said, “You little rascal, get away from me!”

This time, Song Qingshan didn’t say a word.

He got up, fetched a bucket of water from the cellar, grabbed Gou Dan’s hands, and started washing them.

His hands were large, rough, and calloused.

He scrubbed Gou Dan’s little blackened paws thoroughly, making the child laugh uncontrollably.

“Let’s start with the radios and flashlights,” Song Erhua said abruptly. “Qingshan brought back a whole load of stuff. We just want to know—how much did you sell them for?”

The old lady was itching to search her son’s pockets, desperate to find out where he had hidden the money from selling the radios and flashlights.

“Those belonged to my comrades,” Song Qingshan lied without batting an eye. “I took a load and distributed it to them.”

He even tried to reassure the old lady. “Mom, if you want to divide the family, I’ll go along with it. Just don’t get yourself too worked up, alright?”

“Then let’s split the tractor. This tractor is worth at least 2,000 yuan. Either you pay me half its value, or you give me the tractor, and I’ll pay you half,” the old lady song said.

Song Laosan and Song Erhua nodded furiously in agreement, like pecking chickens. “Exactly! As the eldest brother, it’s your duty to support the parents and the entire family. You brought back so many things—how can you not leave anything for the old house or for the parents’ retirement?”

“Second Sister, how much do you think this tractor is worth to you?” Song Qingshan asked.

Song Laosan and Song Erhua exchanged glances. Knowing their elder brother’s good temper, they decided to push for more. “Let’s split it evenly—2,000 yuan. Give us 1,000 yuan!”

Song Qingshan agreed without hesitation. “Alright, let’s divide it based on 2,000 yuan. I’ll keep the tractor for my use, and I’ll give 1,000 yuan to the old house.”

The courtyard was packed with onlookers.

Seeing this, Song Guangguang turned and slapped his eldest son, Shan Zi, on the back of the head. “Shan Zi, look at how Qingshan is handling things as the eldest brother. He does whatever his parents say. When you and your younger brother divide the family in the future, you’d better listen to us completely. Here in Qinzhou, the eldest always has to take the hit.”

Hearing that she could get 1,000 yuan, the old lady song started trembling with excitement. Wiping her eyes, she nodded repeatedly. “I gave birth to three sons, and Guangguang’s family has two boys. I have to say, Qingshan is the only filial one in this family.”

“But, Mom,” Song Qingshan added, “since we’re dividing up everything, we also need to split the old house’s belongings fairly. Let’s leave Second Brother out for now, but at least give us two quilts, half of the family’s private plot, and that pear tree—since it belongs to Xiangwan, it should go to her.”

If Song Qingshan had only offered 500 yuan, Old lady Song would never have agreed to give anything else.

But hearing that she could get 1,000 yuan, she thought it was worth it.

“Fine,” she said. “Take the two quilts from my bed, Xiangwan, and as for the private plot, you can have the part with the tree.”

Su Xiangwan shot a glance at Gou Dan and whispered, “Hurry, go grab the quilts.”

Before Gou Dan could react, Lu Dan had already dashed into the main room.

Su Xiangwan followed and opened Old lady Song’s chest, pulling out a brand-new cotton quilt.

Fang Baoyu and Song Qingyu were slow to react but rushed in to stop her.

The old man, however, followed them and said, “Don’t just take one quilt, Xiangwan. Take two. If those quilts stay in your mother’s chest any longer, they’ll start to smell.”

Fang Baoyu and Qingyu panicked. “Sister-in-law, if you’re taking quilts, take quilts. But why are you eyeing the yarn?”

When Su Xiangwan opened the chest, she hadn’t expected to find not only cotton quilts but also bundles of neatly rolled wool yarn.

This yarn could be knitted into sweaters—perfect for the kids to wear.

Taking advantage of the situation, Su Xiangwan didn’t hold back.

Since the two kids were too small to carry things, she tied all the wool yarn onto the donkey, Zhu Dan, and urged him, “Hurry up, run home!”

Outside, Old lady Song saw Su Xiangwan even taking her own wool yarn and couldn’t hold back any longer.

She jumped up and shouted, “Su Xiangwan, are you robbing this house?!”

“You’re dividing up half of my husband’s tractor. Why can’t I take a couple of quilts?” Su Xiangwan snapped back.

She wasn’t just taking quilts; she rummaged through a large bed sheet, opened up one of Old lady Song’s chests, and found old military uniforms, gloves, and trousers that Song Tingxiu and Song Qingshan had sent back years ago.

Without hesitation, she grabbed everything, seething with anger.

“Hah! That Song Qingshan is unreliable. He promised me a fair division of property, but it turns out I have to subsidize the old house instead. Fine, today I’ll act like a bandit. If I don’t take it, it’s my loss!”

Old lady Song watched as Su Xiangwan left the main room with a big bundle in her arms.

For the sake of 1,000 yuan, Old lady Song felt like banging her head against the wall but restrained herself.

Shaking with frustration, she said, “Qingshan, we won’t argue anymore. Just give me the 1,000 yuan now, and I won’t say another word. You’ll still be my good son.”

Everyone quieted down and turned to look at Song Qingshan.

Unexpectedly, he said, “Mom, in the 13 years I’ve been away, there were 11 years when I regularly sent you money. Xiangwan never asked you for a cent. From the money I sent, there should be at least 2,000 yuan saved. Let’s split it—each family gets half. I’ll forgo my 1,000 yuan to cover the tractor’s cost. How about that?”

With that, he stood up and added, “I’ve already accepted the rest of the losses. Second Uncle, Captain Zhao, how does this division look to you?”

Zhao Guodong and Song Guangguang exchanged glances.

There was no doubt—Song Qingshan, who had served in the military for over a decade, ended up with just a few quilts, some cotton, and clothing, while the tractor he brought home had to be divided in half.

Clearly, he got the short end of the stick.

Still, Song Guangguang patted Song Qingshan on the shoulder and said, “Alright, we Qinzhou people believe the eldest son should bear the loss. You’ve taken the hit; everyone understands your grievance. Go home.”

“My tractor, my 1,000 yuan!” Old lady Song replayed the situation in her head and realized she was being thoroughly outmaneuvered.

She screamed, “Song Qingshan, you’ve conned your poor old mother!”

She lunged at him, but Song Guangguang shouted, “Sister-in-law, if you keep this up, Qingshan might as well have died out there. Do you want me to invite the township chief to settle this?”

The favoritism had gone too far—even outsiders couldn’t stand it anymore.

Old lady Song pointed a trembling finger at Song Qingshan, but her voice suddenly broke into a wail: “Get out! Get out and never come back!”

“Mom, how can you tell me to leave? I’m your eldest son; I’m supposed to take care of you in your old age,” Song Qingshan said sincerely.

Old lady Song, nearly choking with rage, remembered Su Xiangwan’s threats of dumping ice cubes in her bed during winter and piling eight quilts on her in the summer.

Her anger reignited.

She grabbed a broom and started chasing him. “Get out, get out! I’d rather starve than have you take care of me!”

“Dad, let’s give the old house to the third brother. You and Mom can move in with me,” Song Qingshan said, turning to his father.

Before the old man could reply, Song Laosan jumped in: “Big Brother, stop talking about taking care of Mom and Dad. Let me be honest: I’ll take care of them for the rest of their lives. Nobody can take that from me!”

“Then write it down,” Song Qingshan said calmly.

Song Laosan held out a hand. “Fine, I’ll write it down. I’ll even go to the township to make it official. The elders are my responsibility.”

Old lady Song, being cared for was like holding a treasure.

She clung to her third son and sobbed, “My third son is the only one who understands me. Eldest son, I should’ve drowned you in a chamber pot when you were a baby!”

Except for the old man, the entire family broke into chaos.

Song Erhua and the third brother cursed at Song Qingshan, while Song Qingyu tried to Old lady Song.

The old man, however, remained composed and roared, “This is how the property will be divided. I’ve decided. Captain Zhao, let’s go to the production team to finalize it. Anyone who dares to make trouble again will get a slap from me!”

Old lady Song kept screaming, “Song Guangzong, don’t you see? Your son has played us all! He’s ruined me!”

“You’ve said enough,” the old man Song snapped. “Do you think I don’t know how much money Qingshan sent you over the years? He’s saying there’s 2,000 yuan left to save your dignity. If he showed the remittance slips, would you dare admit the real amount?”

His booming voice silenced Old lady Song.

After a long pause, she pounded the kang bed and started crying again.

In the end, the property division was finalized, and the documents were signed.

In fact, Su Xiangwan didn’t know how much money Song Qingshan had sent to the old lady over the years.

But saying he had sent 2,000 yuan home, only to end up splitting 1,000 yuan and deducting the cost of the tractor—wasn’t that like taking off your pants to fart?

Completely unnecessary.

A couple of days ago, she had exchanged for eight jin of white flour and planned to make steamed buns for the kids that evening.

“Mom, this big pile of fluffy white dough—can we really finish it all in one night?” Gou Dan drooled as he watched Lu Dan drag out the puffed dough from under the quilt.

“We can finish it!” Gou Dan declared. “Mom, my stomach is a bottomless pit!”

The only filling available was chives and cured meat.

As for the cured meat, Su Xiangwan had hidden it near the stove when the old lady visited the other day.

The old lady, assuming Song Qingshan had taken several large slabs of it, didn’t make a fuss about it.

Luckily, the meat Qingshan brought back was fatty—most pieces had hardly any lean parts, with fat slabs five or six inches thick.

After some thought, Su Xiangwan decided to cut all the large pieces of cured meat.

Once chopped, she rendered the fat in a pot, filling it with golden oil. On top of the pot floated a layer of crispy golden cracklings.

The smell of the oil wafted through the house.

Song Qingshan hurriedly closed the courtyard gate.

Fortunately, the wind was blowing from the southwest that day. If the scent had spread through the village, the old lady would’ve shown up with a bowl, demanding her share.

He had just returned from the private plot, where, unsurprisingly, neither the pear tree nor the land was handed over by the old lady.

The old lady, feeling she had suffered enough, refused to give anything to Su Xiangwan.

When Qingshan tried to claim the pear tree, she undid her belt and hung herself from the tree in protest.

This created quite the scene in the village, with everyone pointing and gossiping.

It wasn’t until Song Qingshan knelt and swore off the private plot and the pear tree that she finally relented.

Now, Qingshan didn’t even know how to explain the matter to Su Xiangwan.

“A half-pot of oil—this is a real treasure,” Su Xiangwan said with a smile when she saw Qingshan enter. “Just a spoonful added to our regular meals will make them taste like they’re cooked with meat. Too bad we don’t have anything decent to store it in.”

Qingshan slapped his forehead, ran out to the landlord’s former mansion, and carried back a massive incense burner—half a foot tall and so heavy that no one could move it during the land redistribution.

He cleaned it thoroughly by the well before bringing it inside. “Here, use this.”

The family only had one plate and three bowls, which Su Xiangwan had bought at exorbitant prices on the black market.

She also owned just one washbasin and one face basin, each costing three yuan on the black market.

This incense burner had the characters “Jiajing” engraved on it, indicating it dated back to the Ming dynasty’s Jiajing era.

“Well, if an antique is going to hold lard, so be it,” Su Xiangwan said.

She scooped the oil into bowls, then covered the incense burner with a lid she had woven from castor husk fibers, making it look like a dilapidated old incense burner.

Using the cracklings mixed with chive filling to make steamed buns—the aroma was unmatched.

Song Qingshan stood silently by the door, watching Su Xiangwan work.

Seeing that she was ignoring him, he turned and went out to feed the donkey.

“Mom, he went to feed the donkey,” Lu Dan reported, acting as a constant informant.

“He’s your dad,” Su Xiangwan corrected. “You can’t call him ‘that man.’ If you do, people will think I haven’t raised you properly.”

“But he’s unfair! He said he’d fight for the pear tree and the private plot, but he always sides with his mother. He’s Song Guangzong’s son, not my dad,” Lu Dan retorted, his eyes red.

Su Xiangwan fed him a piece of crackling, and the boy’s delight was immediate.

She pointed at him and said, “When you grow up, get married, and your wife wants to divide the family, whose side will you take?”

“Yours, of course,” Lu Dan answered without hesitation.

“Then why is it wrong for Song Qingshan to side with his mother?”

Li Dan was stumped.

“Mom, this crackling is so delicious. Can I have another piece?” Gou Dan interjected, uninterested in the lecture. “Whoever bullies you, I’ll beat them up—no questions asked.”

The two kids thought cracklings were the best thing in the world—until the white, plump, tender steamed buns came out of the pot.

Biting into one, with the savory chive and sweet, crispy crackling filling melting in their mouths, they realized they had never tasted anything so delicious in their lives.

“Mom, this meat is incredible!” Gou Dan said, burying himself in Su Xiangwan’s arms. “When I die, I’m going to tell A-She how amazing meat tastes.”

His little friend A-She had passed away without ever knowing the taste of meat.

Suddenly, Gou Dan’s eyes reddened. “Do you remember when you were eating something, and we asked you what it was? You said it was meat, so fragrant that you couldn’t share it. Then, in the middle of the night, you were rushed to the health clinic. It turned out what you ate wasn’t meat—it was rat poison. Mom, I don’t want to eat anymore. I feel sad.”

The original Su Xiangwan had attempted suicide countless times.

Telling the children it was meat while swallowing poison was just one of her many desperate acts.

Watching from outside, Song Qingshan paused at the doorway, then quietly turned and left, his shame palpable.

“So, feeling unworthy now? Face too embarrassed to show?” Su Xiangwan thought to herself. She smiled and said aloud, “Do you remember when I jumped into the river? Actually, I was just trying to catch some fish for you two. I slipped—that’s the truth.”

“Mom, why did you lie to us like that?” Gou Dan couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Su Xiangwan tapped each child on the nose and handed them each a large steamed bun. “So that you two would love Mom and Zhi Zhi even more.”

The two kids immediately threw themselves into her arms. “Mom, we love you! Really!”

All the scolding, the arguments—all forgotten.

Between a mother and her children, love is something that can never be erased.

When dividing the family property today, Song Qingshan was likely waging an internal battle, caught between emotions and duty.

Outwardly, he seemed to have taken a loss, but in reality, he gained the upper hand while also appeasing his wife.

But still—how does a man repay the very mother who gave her all to raise him, only to almost send her to her grave in anger?

Who knows what this cold-hearted man is really thinking?

“What’s the matter? You don’t have to take care of the elderly now, and you’re still unhappy?” Song Qingshan’s calm demeanor remained unshaken.

Slowly, and with his usual composed tone, he asked Su Xiangwan.

Su Xiangwan spat mockingly. “You think your mom’s saying she doesn’t need you to take care of her means she actually won’t? Let me tell you: right now, she’s still able to work and has money in her hands, so of course, the third brother and maybe even your older and younger sisters are eager to look after her. But when she’s too old to walk and no one wants her, won’t it still fall on you, the eldest son?”

In his army-green trousers and white shirt, this man looked handsome.

But that troublesome mother of his—it really took points off his score.

And because of her, he was already in the negatives.

At that moment, Song Qingshan was plastering clay on the wall to block a chimney hole.

Suddenly, he stopped and, with a rare intensity, said, “Su Xiangwan, if I say I don’t need to care for her, then I won’t. You don’t believe me?”

“Nope,” Su Xiangwan replied.

Immediately, Lu Dan and Gou Dan flanked her like loyal guardians.

What was it called?

Left and right protectors?

“Not only will I not have to take care of her, but I’ll also slowly get all the money back,” Song Qingshan said, his gaze meaningful as he looked at Su Xiangwan. “I couldn’t secure the private plot of land, so that’s my failing. But don’t worry about food—I can get you anything you want. Just tell me. Now, are you satisfied enough to help me raise the kids?”

“How do you know I don’t want to raise the kids?” Su Xiangwan asked, puzzled.

She thought she had been doing a great job pretending.

Song Qingshan pointed to the kang bed. “Not only are you hiding maps, but also a train schedule and loan documents from the township credit union. Su Xiangwan, I’ve temporarily taken those things. Just stay here and rest easy. I promise you’ll live more comfortably than my mother. How about that?”

He spoke so earnestly it almost sounded real, leaving Su Xiangwan feeling like he had seen through her completely.

What should she do?

Reveal everything, or simply let him handle his mother while she enjoyed a comfortable life?

“Tingxiu is about to come back. Even if you go to Dongfeng City, you won’t find him. Be good, alright?”

That last sentence almost made Su Xiangwan spit out her steamed bun.

So, it turns out, he was afraid she’d leave him to find Song Tingxiu.

That’s why he was working so hard, playing the bad guy, and speaking so gently?

Perfect.

Since the original Su Xiangwan endured so much suffering over the years, she might as well torment him a little to vent for her predecessor.