After the meal of braised fish, warmth filled every corner of the household. Chen Cuiyue couldn’t help but mutter, telling Gu Shunhua not to spend so lavishly next time. “It’s just us family—why buy something like that? You don’t even know what your days ahead will look like yet!”
Then she added, “Your uncle’s wife said she might bring over two jin of braised pork tomorrow. But who knows if that’s true or not.”
In the moment, it sounded promising. But thinking it over afterward, she wasn’t so sure. That sister-in-law of hers was stingy—what were the chances she’d actually give them anything?
Yu chimed in, “Tomorrow I’ll ask Xiuyuan if there are any leftover pastry crumbs for sale. I just want a bit.”
The cooperative sold pastries, and it was inevitable for flaky crusts to shed crumbs. There were never many at once, but they added up over time. These crumbs, sold at a low price, were a steal—just a dime could get you a big bag. Still, only those with good sources could get them. With Qiao Xiuya in the know, she’d pass word to her contacts when they became available. That kind of favor was no small matter.
Gu Quanfu, holding baby Manman in his arms, said lazily, “Forget about your pastry crumbs. Just give me a few yuan and I’ll buy some pig head meat tomorrow.”
Gu Quanfu now worked hauling vegetables for the state-run food company. In theory, there were chances to skim a little off the top, but after having his name posted on big-character posters, and with the family handing over everything they had, he’d become extremely cautious at work. He wouldn’t dare take even a scrap from public resources.
Fortunately, back when he was still a chef, his rank and salary grade had been set high. Even now, though reduced to hauling vegetables, he still earned forty-seven yuan a month. Adding Chen Cuiyue’s monthly income of over twenty yuan, they could just barely make ends meet. Otherwise, feeding three children would’ve meant surviving on air.
Chen Cuiyue kept a tight grip on the household finances. Gu Quanfu’s entire forty-seven yuan paycheck was handed over to her. Without a single coin for pocket money, he’d even quit smoking his hand-rolled cigarettes.
Last night before bed, he’d grumbled about wanting a few yuan to buy some meat. Chen Cuiyue hadn’t been willing. Now that he’d eaten the fatty bighead carp Shunhua had brought back, he brought it up again.
While Gu Shunhua was washing dishes, she didn’t even look up. “Dad, don’t waste it. We just had fish—tomorrow we can go vegetarian.”
Chen Cuiyue added quickly, “Too much fish and meat gets cloying. There’s still some fish left—we can finish that tomorrow. We’ll talk about buying ribs in a few days.”
And just like that, the matter passed.
Once everything was tidied up, Chen Cuiyue made the beds while muttering about Shunhua’s situation. She was still worried about the household registration and asked what Shunhua had done today.
Then she brought up another topic. “Shunhua, that manager your Aunt Qiao introduced you to from the District Food Company—I actually think he’s not bad. I heard the company’s building new apartments now, proper multi-story housing. He’ll probably be assigned one when they’re done. And he has a good salary and benefits. That’s not something we can compete with!”
Gu Yuehua curled his lips nearby and blurted, “Mom, for something like this you should ask first—how many hairs are left on that manager’s head? For all you know, he’s already a bald lightbulb!”
Chen Cuiyue scoffed, “You brat, what are you yapping about!”
Gu Shunhua said nothing in response.
Even staying by your parents’ side all your life didn’t guarantee mutual understanding—how much less so after eight years away in Inner Mongolia and all the realizations that came with it?
Parents and children were bound by fate, a shared cultivation. The depth of that fate was predestined. Her parents wouldn’t sell her out or harm her—that alone was enough.
She soothed the two children and took them to sleep in the outer room.
The stove in the front room burned warmly. But stepping into the back room, it wasn’t nearly as cozy. By the time she walked from the back to the outer room, it felt even colder—the warmth of the stove didn’t reach that far.
As soon as Duoduo entered the outer room, she gave a little shiver.
Seeing this, Gu Shunhua smiled. “Cold? Let’s wash our feet with hot water.”
After helping the children wash up, she finally lay down on the bed and rested.
Outside the thin brick wall, the northern wind howled.
In that wind, her thoughts drifted far and wide. She recalled her mother mentioning Su Jianping again today—now that her hukou was in limbo, the family was probably thinking of arranging a match for her.
But more than that, what she truly cared about… was the stove. If only she had her own coal briquette stove. And some coal rations.
But this wasn’t Inner Mongolia—coal was never in short supply on the mines there.
Thinking of the coal mines brought thoughts of Ren Jingnian. She remembered how he had looked at her from the platform when she entered the station at Wuyuan with the two children in tow.
These past few days, while she had been traveling with the children to the capital, he must have stayed behind at the mines, worried.
She planned to go to the Educated Youth Office tomorrow. If all went well, she would stop by the post and telecommunications office afterward to give him a call—just to let him know.
————————
The next morning, the snow had stopped. In the shared courtyard compound, everyone was up early and busy—after so many years living together, certain habits had formed. Each person cleared the snow in front of their own door; for the elderly, others would step in to help. The younger men used metal shovels, while the children, full of excitement, pushed snowballs around. Behind them, the elderly followed with brooms, sweeping with a steady shasha sound, revealing the dark, damp ground beneath, with only a few streaks of snow left behind from the bristles.
Gu Shunhua joined the group in sweeping snow. After they finished, a bunch of neighbors around her age who had played together as children gathered for a lively chat.
Naturally, someone asked about her household registration.
Though Gu Shunhua already had a good sense of how things would turn out, nothing was settled yet—so she simply said she’d be heading back to the Educated Youth Office later that day to inquire.
Suggestions burst forth from every direction. At that moment, Qiao Xiuya stepped out to empty the night chamber pot. She caught sight of Gu Shunhua and looked her up and down with an ambiguous smile, as if something had happened—something she knew all about, something she had seen through, while Gu Shunhua remained in the dark.
Perplexed, Gu Shunhua gave a polite nod and headed out.
As she walked away, she overheard Qiao Xiuya whispering to someone in the courtyard, “If she really manages to get that registration, I’ll let her use my head as a chamber pot. I’m telling you—it’s not happening!”
She deliberately dragged out the last syllable, confident and self-assured.
Gu Shunhua grew more puzzled. Why is she so certain? Did Su Jianping pull something and fail to tell her?
Does she only know that Su Jianping tried to sabotage things—but not that I turned it against him and made it work in my favor?
With these thoughts swirling in her mind, Gu Shunhua arrived at the Educated Youth Office. Outside the building, a crowd had already gathered, mostly those seeking to return to the city on medical discharge.
She squeezed her way in. Fortunately, Director Sun was there. The moment he saw her, understanding passed between them. After a few token questions, he handed her a form to fill out and register, then issued her the household registration certificate.
When the big red seal went down with a satisfying thump, Gu Shunhua finally felt her heart settle.
It was done. Her registration was secured—and so was her children’s.
No matter how poor or difficult things got, she could now stay in the capital with her children. As long as she could endure these next few years, they would win.
Leaving the office, even though the air was bitterly cold, she felt light and unburdened. On the way back, she stopped by the post and telecommunications bureau to place a call to the coal mine in Inner Mongolia.
First, she filled out a call slip with the city and phone number, paid the deposit, and then began the wait. Making a long-distance call required a switchboard operator to manually connect each segment of the line: first from Beijing to Inner Mongolia, then from Inner Mongolia to the city center, from there to Wuyuan County, and finally to the mine itself.
How long that would take depended on the load on the lines at any given moment. If any part of the chain was busy, you just had to wait—sometimes twenty minutes, sometimes more than an hour. Even when connected, there was no guarantee the person on the other end would be at the phone, or that the line wouldn’t suddenly cut out due to interference. All your waiting might come to nothing.
Calling was such a hassle that people often set aside half a day just to get through.
But Gu Shunhua was lucky this time. After only twenty minutes, a postal worker called her name and gave her a number. “Connected—go to booth number nine.”
The phone booth was a tiny cubicle. She went inside, picked up the receiver, confirmed her name when prompted—and the line was live.
Even then, she hadn’t expected Ren Jingnian to be the one at the phone. She figured she’d need to try again later. But to her surprise, his voice came through clearly from the other end.
“Shunhua?” The familiar voice rang out, bright and clear.
The moment she heard it, she understood—he had been waiting by the phone these past few days, worrying and hoping for her call.
Her nose tingled with emotion. Even if, one day, the two of us go our separate ways, at this moment, our interests are aligned. In this entire world, only he shares my desperate wish to get the children registered.
She pressed her lips together in a quiet smile. “I got the household registration certificate. I’ll go to the local office this afternoon to finalize the registration, then stop by the Grain Bureau to transfer our ration records.”
On the other end, Ren Jingnian clearly got excited. “It’s finally done!”
“Mm, it all went smoothly. I didn’t even spend any money.”
Well, except for the single pair of boots she wrangled out of Su Jianping.
“Don’t be stingy,” he said. “I just got my paycheck this month. Give me your address and I’ll wire you more money.”
“No need,” Gu Shunhua replied. “I barely spent any of what I brought. You should keep some for yourself.”
Ren Jingnian then asked in detail about where she and the children were living. When she mentioned they were staying in the outer room, he went quiet for a moment. “Is it cold in the capital?”
“It is,” she said. “The kids and I sleep under three layers of quilts. I’m planning to figure out how to get a stove. But we’d need coal—and for that, we need ration tickets. Everything here is tightly controlled, so we’ll have to wait and see. Still, I think the most important thing now is to find a place of our own.”
“A place of your own?”
“I’ve got an idea, but it won’t be easy. We’ll see how things go. For now, getting the registration settled comes first—everything else can wait.”
She then asked how he was doing.
Ren Jingnian told her he had already bought study materials and was preparing for the entrance exams. If he could pass, he planned to apply to a university in the capital—so the family could finally be reunited.
“When I’m settled here,” Gu Shunhua said, “I’ll go to the Xinhua Bookstore to see if there’s anything useful and send you some review books.”
“Great,” he said. “There’s not much material available here. If you find anything good, pick some up.”
Gu Shunhua smiled. “I’ll see what I can find. Just study hard—you’ll definitely pass, don’t worry.”
After hanging up, she still couldn’t help but smile.
Now that her children could be registered, they wouldn’t be separated from her. Perhaps, with that, the sort of tragic twists found in novels could be avoided.
And in truth, her confidence in holding onto Ren Jingnian grew a little stronger.
After all, the children’s father hadn’t committed any great wrong—if she just behaved with integrity, maybe he would stay. And then she could live a comfortable life, eating well and dressing nicely, like a proper lady. That’d be better than letting someone like Chen Lu swoop in, wouldn’t it?
Of course, if he didn’t stay, she wouldn’t be too heartbroken either.
With that light-hearted feeling, Gu Shunhua returned to the alleyway. It was noon by then, and the street office was closed for the lunch break, so she decided to wait until later to register.
As she entered the shared courtyard, she saw Qiao Xiuya standing in the middle, her newly permed curls glistening with oil, a knitted scarf wrapped around her neck, breath puffing white in the cold air as she chattered away: “If you ask me, those kids won’t get registered, and Shunhua won’t be able to stay in the capital. She’s ruined her own good life, just like that!”
Hearing this, Gu Shunhua walked straight up and asked, “And how exactly did I ruin my good life?”
The neighbors were caught off guard. Hearing that cold voice, they turned to see Gu Shunhua standing there, her face expressionless.
After all, they’d been gossiping behind her back—and now she had caught them red-handed. Everyone was momentarily stunned.
Qiao Xiuya, too, felt a little embarrassed, but then remembered she’d handled everything quite neatly.
The manager of the district food company, surnamed Huang, had two children and a deceased wife. He was in his early forties, mostly bald—but he worked in food distribution, a lucrative sector. He had no shortage of food, oil, or grain tickets, and lived comfortably. He was shrewd and well-connected.
One day, when Qiao Xiuya was helping move goods at the food company, she ran into Manager Huang. He happened to complain about a recent matchmaking prospect, saying she wasn’t attractive enough. A lightbulb went off in Qiao Xiuya’s mind—this was her chance to make a connection.
If she helped him find a match, wouldn’t he owe her a favor?
She told him she knew several beautiful young women—just over twenty, sent down to the countryside but now returned, all just waiting to be introduced. Manager Huang was intrigued and asked her to arrange something.
That’s when she remembered Chen Cuiyue had been mentioning that her daughter, Gu Shunhua, was back—and getting a divorce. An idea formed.
She’d watched Gu Shunhua grow up. No denying she was pretty—but she was too good at attracting men. Even her own son had once been infatuated with her. Of course she hadn’t liked that.
Now that Shunhua was divorced, who knew who she’d seduce next?
If she could just take the opportunity to introduce her to Manager Huang, wouldn’t that be killing two birds with one stone?
She’d even taken a group photo of her son and some childhood friends to show Manager Huang. As fate would have it, the moment he saw Gu Shunhua, he liked her and asked for more details, promising a generous reward if the match succeeded.
At that point, Qiao Xiuya started to worry. After all, Gu Shunhua had been married before—not exactly an innocent girl. What if the truth came out and Manager Huang lost interest?
So she exaggerated Gu Shunhua’s qualities, praising her as cultured and sensible, someone who had volunteered to serve in Inner Mongolia for the sake of the nation. She talked her up like a blooming flower—never once mentioning the previous marriage.
Manager Huang was already eager to meet her.
But then—surprise!—Shunhua had two kids.
So she had to play dirty. If the kids couldn’t get registered, Shunhua would have no choice but to give up and accept the match.
Coincidentally, her son had just received a new pair of tall leather boots—a real treasure. You can’t catch a wolf without sacrificing a child. She had her son deliver them as a bribe, hoping to block the household registration.
Last night her son had returned, looking lost and despondent. He wouldn’t explain why. She found it funny. Still heartbroken over Shunhua, his childhood crush? Ridiculous. He’s not even worth my attention.
At this moment, seeing Gu Shunhua’s blank expression, Qiao Xiuya felt pleased. Serves her right for not listening—now everything’s fallen apart. If she has any sense, she’ll send the kids away and go meet Manager Huang. Problem solved.
Even though she’d been caught gossiping, Qiao Xiuya didn’t think it mattered. She forced a smile and asked, “Shunhua, what’s with that long face? Something happen?”
Everyone looked at her—indeed, her face was so grim it seemed like it could wring water from air.
A pretty young woman, frowning like that? It had to mean things hadn’t gone well.
Some of them began to feel a little sorry for her. After all, Qiao Xiuya was well-informed, her son worked at the Power Supply Bureau, and she was rarely wrong. Gu Shunhua had insisted on registering the kids—and now it seemed she’d failed.
But then Gu Shunhua spoke. “Aunt Qiao, you sure seem to know a lot about my registration—could you predict the outcome just by guessing?”
That sealed it—everyone became convinced. She must have failed.
Auntie Huo, who had a kind heart, asked, “Then what will you do? Maybe we can pull some strings? My nephew has a classmate at the Youth Office. Not in our district, but maybe he can help?”
Granny Tong, leaning on the wall with her long-stemmed pipe, tapped it lightly. “What did they say at the office? Did they outright tell you it couldn’t be done?”
Qiao Xiuya, catching the implication in Gu Shunhua’s words, grew smug again. Just as I thought—she didn’t manage it. Now I just need to scare her a little more, and she’ll be in the palm of my hand.
She sighed. “Shunhua, when your uncle gets home, we’ll figure it out together. We watched you grow up—it’s hard to see you suffer like this.”
Gu Shunhua smiled. “No need to trouble yourself, Aunt Qiao.”
Qiao Xiuya replied, “Oh, don’t be so distant with me. Why don’t you send the kids back first? I’ll ask around these next couple of days, see if there’s any way to help.”
But Gu Shunhua had already figured her out. So, you want to sell me off to that bald-headed manager Huang? Keep dreaming!
She deliberately said, “Aunt Qiao, it’s funny—you didn’t go with me to the Youth Office, so how are you so sure it didn’t work out?”
At that, a trace of pride flickered across Qiao Xiuya’s face. “Shunhua, you’re still young. You need to understand—at the cooperative, I’ve seen all kinds of people. It only takes a glance for me to tell how things will turn out.”
Gu Shunhua gave a slow, faint smile. “Aunt Qiao, those who know you know how powerful you are—no one in the whole courtyard can match you. But those who don’t might think you’ve got some deep connection at the Youth Office, someone you spoke to in advance to cause me trouble.”
The moment she said that, Qiao Xiuya’s face changed. She widened her eyes and stammered, “What are you saying, child?”
Gu Shunhua replied coolly, “Just idle chatter, Aunt Qiao. Why take it so seriously?”
“You watch your mouth,” Qiao Xiuya snapped. “Words can ruin lives! What kind of person do you think I am? You think I’d harm you? You failed to get the registration, and now you’re blaming me?”
Qiao Xiuya’s face turned red with agitation, her flustered reaction leaving the rest of the courtyard puzzled. Why’s she jumping like she’s been stabbed in the heart? What did Shunhua say that got her so worked up? They couldn’t quite see through her anymore—it was like staring at a wooden puppet with glasses: unreadable.
Gu Shunhua smiled, her expression bright and easy as she looked at Qiao Xiuya. “Aunt Qiao, don’t say that. Even if I hadn’t gotten the registration, it wouldn’t have been your fault.”
“At least that’s a proper sentence,” Qiao Xiuya muttered. “If you didn’t get it done, it’s because—”
She suddenly stopped, stunned. “Wait… what did you just say? What about your registration?”
“I got it,” Gu Shunhua said lightly.
“Huh?”
Qiao Xiuya was completely thrown off. “Got what?”
“I mean the Educated Youth Office approved it. I came back to rest a bit, and this afternoon I’ll go to the subdistrict office to complete the registration.”
Auntie Huo, who had just been feeling sorry for her, blinked in disbelief. “You got it? Even the kids too?”
“Yes,” said Gu Shunhua. “The Youth Office issued the certificate. It’s stamped and official. All that’s left is to complete the paperwork at the subdistrict office.”
Once the Youth Office issued the document, the subdistrict office wouldn’t block her—the rest was just formalities.
Auntie Huo slapped her thigh in delight. “That’s wonderful news! I was just worrying about you earlier, thinking how on earth this was going to work out!”
Granny Tong, who had already suspected the truth, chuckled. “Those two little ones are official Beijing residents now—courtyard kids like the rest of us.”
Only then did Qiao Xiuya finally register what was being said. “How’s that possible? You brought two kids back, and the Youth Office just gave you household registration like that? What process did they follow? What grounds did they have?”
Her voice rose so sharply it felt like an interrogation.
Everyone in the courtyard paused. What’s with her tone? Can’t she just be happy for Shunhua? Why so loud and bitter? If you didn’t know better, you’d think she had some personal grudge against her.
Gu Shunhua looked at her calmly. “Why, Aunt Qiao? Are you that eager to see me driven out?”
“Of course not,” Qiao Xiuya snapped. “I’m just saying—don’t let this blow up and cause problems!”
Gu Shunhua’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m divorced, a returned educated youth from the capital. Getting my registration here is fully legal and proper. But if someone with bad intentions tried to trip me up, tried to mess with me behind the scenes… well, I’m not above fighting back. I may not know much else, but eight years with the Inner Mongolia Corps taught me plenty. If it comes to it, I’ll pick up an iron shovel and split someone’s head wide open! And then no one in this courtyard will have peace.”
She said this all with a gentle voice, smiling sweetly. But there was steel in her eyes as she side-eyed Qiao Xiuya.
The threat hit its mark. A chill ran down Qiao Xiuya’s spine. Had she seen through me?
She stammered, “You’re trying to scare me? You think you can act all tough with me, a woman?”
“Oh no, Aunt Qiao, you’re my elder. I’d never mean you. I was cursing those scheming bugs who’ve got nothing better to do—sorry you had to hear it.”
Now that Gu Shunhua had secured her registration, Qiao Xiuya’s plan had collapsed. She was already fuming. Being reprimanded on top of it all made her seethe. How on earth did it actually work out for her?
She huffed, “It’s the middle of the day, I need to rest! Say whatever you want, but as a junior, at least act like one. Don’t go throwing out the old rules of our courtyard.”
With that, she stormed back into her house.
Everyone turned to look at Gu Shunhua. By right, she shouldn’t have clapped back at an elder like that—unless something serious had happened. And from what was just said, it sure sounded like Qiao Xiuya had been plotting something against her.
Was it true? Had Qiao Xiuya tried to sabotage her registration just to push her into that arranged match? That’s low.
Gu Shunhua could feel the shift in the crowd, but she didn’t elaborate. Now wasn’t the time to fall out with the Su family. She still needed them for now.
So she only sighed. “Really, as long as the registration’s done, that’s what matters. I said too much earlier. We’re all neighbors—we’re all good people. Please don’t overthink it.”
And with that, she went inside.
Please don’t overthink it… But the moment she said it, everyone began to overthink it.
So there really was something fishy going on with Qiao Xiuya?
Did she really try to sabotage Shunhua in secret?
When Gu Shunhua reached her front door, the courtyard was quiet and empty. In this shared compound, it wasn’t customary to lock one’s doors—people simply hooked a tree branch over the latch, a modest sign that no one was home. It served as a gesture to ward off the well-meaning, not the ill-intentioned.
Gu Shunhua asked Auntie Huo next door, who had just witnessed the entire commotion. Though she was burning with curiosity, she kept her questions to herself and simply said, “Haven’t seen your father today. Your mother went over to Chen Lu’s place, and Yuehua took the two kids out to the street.”
What she didn’t say was that earlier, when Chen Cuiyue came back, people had started asking about that promised five hundred grams of pork from her brother. Ashamed, she had used it as an excuse to head over to her brother’s place—probably to ask about it directly.
Gu Shunhua entered the house. She wasn’t tired enough to nap, so she busied herself with cleaning and washing the children’s clothes.
By the time the lunch break ended, she figured the subdistrict office would be open again. Taking her returnee certificate and documents, she went over.
The clerk asked a few questions and seemed surprised that she had two children. But with an official certificate from the Educated Youth Office, there was no reason to stall the process. Everything went smoothly.
It didn’t even take half a day. She completed the procedure, went to the police station, and finally received the new household booklet. The registration was listed under their shared courtyard compound address, but she and the children had their own individual entry.
She held the booklet in her hands, reluctant to let go. The cover was made of brown kraft paper, and inside, the permanent residence registration page listed her and the children’s names.
This is a Beijing hukou. Her children were now officially Beijing residents.
A satisfied sigh slipped from her lips. She remembered that book and how it spoke of shifting times. She knew that in the future, this hukou would only become harder to obtain and more valuable—opening doors in education, employment, and life.
Securing this for her children was giving them a strong start.
Most importantly, regardless of how that book predicted her life would go, she had already taken a different path. With her own two hands, she would build a good life. She would raise her children well—and never let them fall to the fate written in that story.
This household booklet was her first victory against the narrative.
Carefully tucking it into her canvas shoulder bag, she headed to the Grain Bureau to transfer their ration records. Only after finishing everything did she return to the courtyard.
The moment she entered, the house was filled with warmth. The coal briquette stove glowed, licking the bottom of a black iron pot. White steam bubbled up, curling into the dry winter air, carrying a savory scent that made mouths water.
It was the smell of braised meat.
Inside, it felt like New Year’s. Her uncle Chen Yaotang was there, so was her aunt Feng Xian’er, and naturally Chen Lu too. Her parents bustled about; the room was so full there was hardly space to step.
Her children sat sweetly by the bed, each holding a “drinking honey” treat—what locals called frozen persimmons. Hard as rocks, they were softened slightly in cool water, then cupped in little hands and sucked. The pulp inside was soft and sweet as honey—hence the name.
The kids had never tasted anything like this at the mine. Each held a frozen persimmon nearly as big as their own faces, cheeks puffed as they sucked eagerly. Sweet pulp clung to their lips as they savored every drop, even slurping up the gooey insides with greedy delight.
When they saw Gu Shunhua, they paused and tried to share the half-eaten persimmons with her.
She laughed. “Mama’s had these before—you two enjoy.”
Gu Yuehua added, “We got seven or eight—have one, Elder Sister.”
He glanced at Chen Lu, tempted to say, If you don’t eat it, someone else will, but he held his tongue, afraid his mother would scold him.
Shunhua didn’t rush to eat. She washed her hands and offered to help with the cooking. That’s when she learned the pork had indeed arrived—two jin of belly meat brought by Chen Yaotang and Feng Xian’er. Of course, they weren’t the type to suffer losses—bringing meat meant staying for dinner, and with three people eating, they’d easily take back a jin’s worth.
Meanwhile, Gu Quanfu had wrangled a few yuan from Chen Cuiyue and ordered three jin of ribs from the food company. They’d arrive the next day. That meant two full days of meat—a real treat.
The table was already set. Everyone was just waiting to eat. Chen Lu sat next to Gu Shunhua, her tone warm, her question sharp: “So, what about the registration?”
Everyone looked her way. They’d heard the midday commotion and were eager to know.
Gu Shunhua looked around and smiled. “It’s done. I’ve got the household booklet.”
She pulled it out and passed it around.
The Gu family beamed. With the hukou in hand, there was no more worrying—it was a relief.
Chen Yaotang and Feng Xian’er weren’t particularly moved; they cared more about the braised ribs and belly pork than some piece of paper.
But Chen Lu stiffened like she’d been stabbed.
Last night, she’d watched Su Jianping head toward Liulichang carrying a pair of tall boots. She already had a hunch. And after seeing Qiao Xiuya’s smug expression, she was certain—Su Jianping had succeeded.
She’d already planned what to say when Shunhua failed—how to persuade her to send the kids back, how to nudge Qiao Xiuya into arranging the marriage with Manager Huang. The rejection, the desperation, the professor’s timely appearance—it would all unfold just like the book.
But now—out of nowhere—Shunhua had gotten the registration?
She stared at her, stunned.
And Shunhua noticed.
Why does she look like the sky just fell? What was she so sure of?
She couldn’t shake the feeling—something wasn’t right. One by one, everyone seemed to be rooting for me to fail. Why?
Chen Lu ran through the entire sequence in her mind, but the more she thought, the colder she felt. How could this have happened?
Her thoughts swirled, but her face remained composed. She smiled, even. “Elder Sister, this is such good news! It’s all thanks to Mom cutting two jin of braised pork—let’s celebrate and eat to our heart’s content!”
Gu Shunhua smiled as she fed her children, curious to see what tune Chen Lu would sing next.
Chen Lu pressed again. “Elder Sister, how did you do it? I thought it was going to be difficult?”
Feigning ignorance, Gu Shunhua replied, “How did I do it? I went to the Youth Office, begged them like my life depended on it, and they gave it to me.”
Chen Lu narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t give any gifts? Didn’t pull any strings?”
Shunhua’s guard went up. This woman’s up to no good. Now that I’ve got the registration, will she try to mess with it?
“I don’t know any connections,” she said, all wide-eyed innocence. “Do we have any, Mom?”
Chen Cuiyue, ladling out the braised pork, said with a sigh, “Back in the day, your father might’ve had a few. But not anymore. People are all so slippery now—no one stands by anyone.”
“Exactly,” Shunhua said. “No connections. They just gave it to us.”
Chen Lu still wanted to press further, but Gu Yuehua cut in, annoyed. “Elder Sister Lu, everyone’s in a good mood—why are you asking so many questions? She got the registration, that’s what matters! What, were you hoping she wouldn’t?”
Chen Lu flushed, displeased at being called out. She shot Gu Yuehua a glare. “What do you know? I was just concerned for her!”
“If you were so concerned,” Gu Yuehua retorted, “you could’ve brought more braised pork! Two jin of pork and you’re already eating half of it back!”
His bluntness left Chen Lu seething. She didn’t even bother replying.
Feng Xian’er didn’t like hearing that, but pretended she hadn’t. If you wanted to eat meat, you had to grow a thick skin.
Chen Yaotang sat in his chair, fingers tapping the worn, polished armrest as he bobbed his head, eyes half-closed, probably humming one of his old tunes.
At that moment, the braised pork was served. One glance showed that it had been stewed until tender, glistening under the dim light with a rich, oily sheen.
People usually preferred the fatty cuts when buying meat. Fatty pork was more desirable than lean—it could be used in cooking and rendered into lard, which had many uses. Premium belly meat like this was hard to come by without connections.
The fact that Chen Yaotang had gotten hold of two jin of it was no small feat.
Everyone had been lacking in oil and meat. Now that they saw this fragrant, tender braised pork, they couldn’t help but stare, their mouths watering.
But Gu Quanfu didn’t rush to start the meal. First, he asked Chen Cuiyue to take half a bowl of pork to Granny Tong. Then he personally went into the kitchen to stir-fry some tofu crumbles.
The pork belly had come with some pigskin, which he used to render oil. That oil, in turn, was used to fry the tofu.
Gu Quanfu used to be a master chef—his skills were still sharp. He flipped the iron ladle high in the air, the spatula clanged rhythmically, and the sizzling oil filled the room with a mouthwatering aroma. In no time, the tofu crumbles were golden, crisp, and fragrant.
“Dinner’s ready,” called Chen Cuiyue.
Everyone eagerly picked up their chopsticks, unable to wait.
Still, proper manners were observed. “Please, after you.” “No, you first.”
After a few rounds of polite refusals, the seven pairs of chopsticks all dove for the braised pork at once.
Gu Shunhua had done the math. Two jin of braised pork wasn’t a lot—just enough for each of the seven adults to get a few bites. After that, there’d only be the broth and the tofu crumbles. And while the crumbles were delicious, they were still tofu.
She had two children to feed, and both were skinny—they needed the nourishment.
Ordinarily, if it were just family, she wouldn’t mind eating less. But now that Chen Lu’s family was here, any piece she passed up would end up in their mouths.
No way she was letting that happen.
She locked her eyes on the biggest, best-looking piece of pork. Just as she reached for it, so did Chen Lu. Their chopsticks collided above the dish.
Without hesitation, Gu Shunhua applied force, knocked Chen Lu’s chopsticks aside, and cleanly picked up the meat, dropping it into Manman’s bowl.
Without missing a beat, she went for a second piece.
Chen Lu was still stunned—her chopsticks had been deflected before she even registered what happened.
As she reached for another piece, Shunhua’s chopsticks darted ahead and skewered a glistening, red-glazed chunk. She lifted it triumphantly.
Chen Lu’s face darkened. “You—”
Gu Shunhua didn’t respond. She placed the second piece into Duoduo’s bowl, then calmly prepared to pick one for herself.
Seeing that she was only going for the choicest cuts, Chen Lu suppressed her anger and quickly grabbed a piece before nothing good was left.
Meanwhile, Gu Shunhua ladled some tofu crumbles into her own and the children’s bowls. “Hold your buns steady,” she told them. “Scoop up the meat with the tofu and eat like that.”
The children’s eyes sparkled at the sight of the meat and the crispy tofu. They nodded eagerly and began eating with glee.
They didn’t need help. Holding their little spoons with surprising skill, they tore into the buns and devoured their meat with puffed cheeks, savoring every bite.
It was only then that Chen Cuiyue remembered the children. She got up, spooned a few more pieces of meat from the pot.
Chen Lu’s eyes lit up.
The plate of pork had been nearly picked clean—there weren’t many good pieces left. She’d started to feel disappointed, but now saw Chen Cuiyue scooping meat into a bowl.
Her aunt had always favored her—clearly, this was for her.
And after all, she was a guest. Guests deserved a little more.
Chen Cuiyue spooned six or seven chunks into the bowl, walked over to the table… and placed it right in front of the two children.
“You two eat more,” she said kindly. “Only if you eat can you grow. Just look at those little faces—so thin!”
Chen Lu froze as she watched the now-empty bowl glisten with leftover oil.
From the side, Gu Yuehua let out a derisive snort.
Chen Lu’s cheeks burned. She said nothing.
Gu Quanfu looked up. “Eat up, everyone. Don’t be shy.”
His words sounded polite, but the meaning was clear: Let’s just eat in peace and keep the nonsense to ourselves.
Watching the scene unfold, Gu Shunhua couldn’t help but feel both amused and speechless.
Chen Lu probably thought she deserved to be treated like royalty. But just look at the table—above her was Gu Yuehua, the family’s treasured son. Below were two children that their grandmother clearly doted on.
And you? What makes you think you get to eat all the best meat?
Dream on.