Chen Cuiyue was naturally taken aback. Ever since her younger brother got married, it had always been her helping him out—not once had her brother or sister-in-law given her anything. One could even say she had never used so much as a needle from them.
And now, out of nowhere, her sister-in-law was offering two jin of pork belly?
Just then, Old Madam Tong came out holding a cat, beaming as she said, “Shunhua’s mom, your sister-in-law said she’s bringing over two jin of pork belly? Look at that—what a good woman! Family is family. You might not see it day to day, but when it really matters, she knows how to care.”
Feng Xian’er opened her mouth to object—it was just something she’d said casually! She had never truly meant to give them two jin of pork belly.
Meat coupons were tight! Meat didn’t come free! Why should she be the one to give it?
But Chen Cuiyue already believed it. “Xian’er, that’s really generous of you. Just the other day I ran into old Madam Chen on the street—she was saying how I’m always bringing things back to my mother’s house. Well, next time I see her, I’ll be sure to set her straight!”
A few neighbors watching from the side could see what was happening and couldn’t help but chuckle. Even those still hauling coal outside were grinning knowingly.
Always boasting—now she’d been caught.
Auntie Huo, who lived next door—Yongzi’s mother—had never liked Feng Xian’er much. Now, seizing the moment, she chimed in with a wicked smile, “Two jin of pork belly—Xian’er really is generous! She’s kind and not stingy. Some people talk ten big talks and not one thing comes true. But not Xian’er—she’s generous in every way. Now that the words are out, you just wait—she’ll bring over that pork belly tomorrow. Shunhua’s mom, you better be ready!”
Feng Xian’er nearly winced in pain. She wanted to say it had just been a joke, but with Gu Shunhua and a few others fanning the flames, she was already being roasted over the fire. She looked at Chen Cuiyue, then at the other neighbors enjoying the show, and finally gritted her teeth, forced herself to swallow her pride, and said, “Two jin of pork belly? It’s nothing. I’ll bring it over tomorrow!”
Naturally, this brought on another round of praise. Even Gu Shunhua smiled and said, “The kids are in for a feast.”
With so many witnesses, and having spoken so boldly, there was no way Feng Xian’er could pretend she hadn’t said it. And if she dared try, Gu Shunhua wouldn’t hesitate to remind her in front of everyone and put her on the spot.
Feng Xian’er forced a stiff smile, her face dark, and left.
Chen Cuiyue, oblivious to the subtext, was absolutely glowing. “My sister-in-law knows the rules of courtesy—she understands the give and take. Tomorrow I’ll stew that pork belly nicely and let your father try it, just so he knows that I’m not without family support!”
Gu Shunhua nearly laughed out loud, but managed to hold it in.
In the shared courtyard, everyone’s ears were sharp—nothing escaped them. Some neighbors threw out flattering remarks on purpose, saying how lucky she was to have such a good sister-in-law, and Chen Cuiyue’s grin widened.
Gu Shunhua stepped into the outer room and found it empty—the bedding was undisturbed. Then she heard laughter from the front room and realized the children had woken up, and her father was there playing with them.
As she walked in, the two children ran to her, beaming and shouting, “Mama!” Especially Duoduo—his eyes sparkled with delight. It turned out the children had woken and, not seeing their mother, Duoduo had dressed himself and run out looking for her. The neighbors had all been amazed at how sensible the children were at such a young age.
Chen Cuiyue, moved by the sight, hurried them into the room to warm their hands by the coal stove and gave them roasted sweet potatoes to eat.
After they ate, Gu Quanfu played with them, pretending to be a donkey while the two children took turns riding on his neck, shouting and laughing gleefully.
Their little voices were still soft and sweet, and their laughter made everyone smile—it was just too endearing.
Gu Quanfu loved them deeply. If he could, he would have given them the world.
When Gu Shunhua returned, he asked how things had gone. She didn’t want to worry him in front of the children, so she smiled and said, “It went pretty smoothly—should be done in a couple of days.”
Just then, a few childhood friends from the courtyard came by: Yongzi, Guduo’er, Ningya, and Su Jianping, the son of Qiao Xiuya. They had all grown up together, and having heard that Gu Shunhua was back, they came to visit.
They even pooled together to bring snacks—donkey rolls, sugar twists, and glutinous rice sticks—in a big netted bag. When they saw how healthy and well the children looked, they were happy for her and handed out snacks to them.
The children immediately set their eyes on the sugar twists—táng ěrduo, a kind of fried dough twist made with flour and brown sugar, deep-fried in peanut oil. The ones Guduo’er and the others brought were from Nanlaishun, a long-established brand from Tianqiao, which had relocated to Caishikou since they were little. The shop specialized in traditional snacks and had been around for decades—authentic and full of flavor.
Their sugar twists were especially famous, well-coated in syrup that soaked through every layer. Perfectly fried until golden and glistening, the twists were soft, rich, and filled with sweet fragrance.
Though delicious, they weren’t easy to digest, so Gu Shunhua broke them into small pieces, giving each child a bit to taste.
The sugar twists were especially remarkable—richly coated in syrup that had soaked deep into the dough, then fried to perfection. Each one glistened with oil and, when bitten into, was soft, fragrant, and sweet through and through.
Though delicious, they were heavy on the stomach. So Gu Shunhua broke one apart, giving each child a small piece to taste.
Guduo’er noticed a few children playing outside—all from the courtyard—and grabbed a handful of jiangmi tiao (glutinous rice sticks), handing them to the children. “See those kids out there? Go and share these with them.”
The two children took the snacks and thanked her softly before scampering outside.
Guduo’er watched them through the window. A group of kids was playing hide-and-seek. The courtyard was barely the size of a palm, full of nooks and crannies like a miniature maze—perfect for that kind of game.
At first, Manman and Duoduo were a bit shy. Still, they offered their treats to the other children. As soon as the kids saw the snacks, they lit up with joy, chattering excitedly as they gathered around Manman and Duoduo. Before long, the two had opened up, laughing and joining in on the games.
Guduo’er smiled. “Look at that—didn’t take long at all. Let them run around and play, just like we used to.”
Gu Shunhua watched her children through the window. They were clearly excited and full of curiosity.
Back at the mine, they had only two or three playmates—and none their age. They’d never seen a scene like this before. No matter how mature children seemed, they still loved to play, and of course they’d want to be around others like them.
She smiled. “You all really went out of your way today.”
Guduo’er replied, “Don’t say that. You talk like that again, I’ll stop talking to you.”
Guduo’er and Gu Shunhua had always been close. Orphaned at a young age, Guduo’er had been adopted by Old Master Pan from the compound. She practically grew up tucked into the Gu household. She’d missed seeing Shunhua yesterday because she’d come home late from job hunting.
Ningya, who was beside her, gently held Gu Shunhua’s hand and asked how she was doing. When she heard about the difficulty registering the children’s household registration, everyone frowned.
Yongzi said, “So that’s why you suddenly rushed back the other day—you were worried about the kids.”
Ningya nodded softly. “What mother wouldn’t be? It’s only natural for Shunhua to feel that way.”
Ningya was gentle by nature, always speaking slowly and calmly.
Suddenly, Su Jianping, who had been quiet, spoke up. “Who was the director at the Educated Youth Office today? I’ll see if I can talk to someone.”
At his words, everyone turned to look at him.
Su Jianping was, by courtyard standards, from the best-off family. His father, Su Dameng, was a driver, and his mother, Qiao Xiuya, worked at the cooperative. Now Jianping himself had been assigned to the power bureau, earning over fifty yuan a month—a solid job with good benefits.
But the reason everyone turned to look wasn’t just that.
When Gu Shunhua left the capital for Inner Mongolia, she had only been fifteen—a young girl already blooming and graceful. And those who matured early already understood certain things.
She was beautiful, and naturally drew attention. Su Jianping, three years her senior, had always treated her well. He remembered everything about her. Even his own younger sister, Su Yinghong, used to say, “My brother treats Sister Shunhua better than he treats me.”
He’d tried to stop her from leaving, saying he’d find a way for her to stay. But she hadn’t listened.
After she left, he wrote her letters—encouraging, comforting, heartfelt.
But a few years later, Gu Shunhua quietly married someone else in the Corps—some military man from out of province.
When the news got back, Gu Shunhua never knew, but Guduo’er, Ningya, and the others saw it clearly—Su Jianping was devastated. For the first time ever, he bought himself liquor, drank until he was wasted, muttering nonsense about going to Inner Mongolia to find her and ask why.
His parents held him back, and eventually the matter was dropped.
Now, years later, Su Jianping remained unmarried, while Gu Shunhua had returned divorced, with children. His mother, Qiao Xiuya, was even eagerly trying to set her up with someone. Naturally, people started to talk—there was clearly more to the story.
Hands in his pockets, Su Jianping said evenly, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll ask around tomorrow.”
The room fell silent, an awkward air settling over the group. Guduo’er quickly broke it with a cheerful voice, “Right, we’ll all ask around.”
Gu Shunhua smiled. “I’ll be troubling you, then.”
Toward the others—those she’d grown up with—she felt true gratitude. Those bonds from childhood would never change.
But toward Su Jianping… her feelings were complicated.
And not just because of Qiao Xiuya.
In that book, after she got divorced, Qiao Xiuya tried to set her up with a man—divorced, abusive, and older than he claimed. She’d been furious. Around that time, she met the professor, who helped her greatly. Eventually, they married.
But Qiao Xiuya hadn’t taken it well, and who knows what she’d said behind her back. Then Su Jianping got involved too, stirring things up. Even after she was married, he would make occasional cutting remarks, never letting her live in peace.
Later, he married a woman named Hu Xiaojing, who somehow found the old letters he had written to Gu Shunhua.
Hu Xiaojing caused a huge scene, accusing them of having an affair. The professor found out, and said Su Jianping and Gu Shunhua were entangled. Furious, Shunhua demanded an explanation.
But standing there, in front of Hu Xiaojing and the professor, Su Jianping said, with tears in his eyes, “Shunhua, what’s between us is something only the two of us can talk about—alone.”
That was the final blow.
Things exploded. Her marriage to the professor became a series of quarrels and, after several rounds, it ended in divorce.
Afterward, whenever Gu Shunhua thought of Su Jianping, she wanted to slap him.
That was how it played out in the book. And what stung the most was the author’s commentary:
“A woman only attracts lingering affection if she gives out a signal. What man would pine for a woman with two kids and two divorces otherwise? As for what really went on between Gu Shunhua and Su Jianping—who can say? Perhaps only the two of them know for sure.”
Just thinking about it made her liver ache. Did the author have a personal vendetta against her? Why write her in such a cruel, veiled way?
So now, facing Su Jianping again, she felt no warmth.
Perhaps, when she left for Inner Mongolia all those years ago, she’d harbored some girlish fantasy. But those delicate, innocent feelings had long since been scattered by the harsh winds beneath the Yinshan Mountains.
Now, all she had in mind was her household registration—and a place to live.
Su Jianping, standing beside her, seemed to sense her coldness. He furrowed his brow but said nothing.
The childhood friends chatted a bit longer. As it grew late, they gradually took their leave.
Gu Shunhua made her way toward the public latrine.
In the shared courtyard compound, there were no private latrines. Everyone had to use the official latrine on the main alley—guān máofáng, which simply meant a public restroom.
Thankfully, it wasn’t far—just a little over two hundred meters on foot.
As Gu Shunhua finished up and began heading back, a figure suddenly emerged from the shadow of a nearby doorway. It was Su Jianping.
In the depths of winter, the old alley was veiled by bare branches and ancient tree limbs. Beneath their cover, the high, upturned eaves loomed in silhouette, while the heavy red lacquered gates of the courtyard stood solemnly half-open.
Su Jianping stood right there, in front of the timeworn, stately entrance. He wore the latest fashion—a shearling cap—and a smart padded cotton coat. Even the three-stitched leather shoes on his feet gleamed under the winter light.
He stood motionless, eyes fixed on Gu Shunhua, and in his gaze was a boyish anticipation that seemed to reach across eight long years.
Gu Shunhua looked at the man before her.
To be fair, he was impeccably dressed—polished from head to toe. Even his leather shoes, pressed into the frozen ground, were of genuine quality.
Their eyes met.
A subtle tension shimmered between them, something unspoken flowing silently in the space between.
Then Gu Shunhua let out a soft chuckle.
“Brother Jianping,” she said casually, “did you come to the latrine too? Big business or small? Did you bring paper?”
Su Jianping froze, caught completely off guard.
Gu Shunhua held out the rough paper in her hand with a generous smile. “I brought extra. Want some?”
A strange and indescribable expression flickered across Su Jianping’s face.
All the years of silence, the bittersweet reunion, the quiet eye contact in this secluded corner of the world… and it had all come down to big or small business and toilet paper!
Author’s Note:
官茅房 (guān máofáng) = public latrine
大手兒小手兒 = “big or small business,” i.e., poop or pee
豆紙 = coarse paper, not suitable for writing—used for toilet purposes
擎等好吧 = “Just you wait and see!” (擎等着 implies standing around waiting)
Sorry for the late update today—had things to do. Usually it’s up by 9 a.m.
Sending out 100 red envelopes today, mwa mwa!
Juju’s Note:
Mwa mwa!