Everyone stared in stunned silence as the coal briquette was crushed beneath her foot—utterly flattened.
That was a coal briquette. A coal briquette, for heaven’s sake!
In these times, if your stove wasn’t lit and you needed to borrow even half a used briquette from someone else, you’d be expected to return one in full. That was just how things worked between neighbors. Why such formality? Because coal briquettes weren’t easy to come by—they were rationed!
There were only so many squares on the coal ration slip. Scratch one off and that was one less briquette; scratch again and they were gone for good. No matter how much money you had, there was no way to buy more.
And yet, Gu Shunhua had crushed one right before their eyes—just like that!
Naturally, Chen Cuiyue and Feng Xian’er were equally shocked. Chen Cuiyue burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. “What a waste… That was a perfectly good coal briquette! And you just destroyed it like that?”
Gu Shunhua gave a cold laugh.
Her brow tightened as she declared, loud and clear, “These coal lumps were hauled here through great effort and by pulling every string I could. They were then molded into briquettes with the help of all the neighbors—everyone pitched in. But no matter how hard they were to get, I will not tolerate anyone touching my things without permission. If someone dares to move them, then I’d rather destroy them myself than let it slide.”
And with that, she stepped over the crushed remains again, grinding them ruthlessly into the snow.
Her voice remained calm, but her words were merciless. “If someone is stealing my briquettes, it means they don’t want me to live well. And if I can’t live well, then no one else should expect a good life either.”
In old Manchu households, the daughters—whether married or not—were all called “Auntie.” Over time, even the big girls in Beijing’s hutongs began to use the term when arguing with others. And once “Auntie” came out of her mouth like that, everyone could feel the fire rising.
Chen Cuiyue was both hurt and distressed. “Over a briquette? Was that really necessary? If you didn’t want to give it, you could’ve just said so. Why ruin a good thing?”
But Gu Shunhua remained perfectly composed. “I did say something. Did anyone listen?”
Feng Xian’er stood there blankly, staring at the black fragments on the ground, dumbfounded. She turned to Gu Shunhua, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.
She recalled her daughter telling her that Gu Shunhua had become a different person. She hadn’t believed it then—but now, looking at her, it was true!
Had she gone mad?
Just then, Gu Quanfu arrived. “Those briquettes are Shunhua’s. You took them without asking—that’s theft.”
Chen Cuiyue wept as she replied, “How could you call that theft, it’s just—”
Gu Quanfu suddenly shouted, “Shut your mouth!”
Chen Cuiyue flinched in shock, unable to believe that he had spoken to her that way.
Gu Yuehua also frowned and snapped, “Mom, you’ve really crossed the line. What right do you have to touch Sister’s briquettes? She’s out there freezing with her two kids—have you ever felt sorry for her? And now you’re siding with outsiders against your own daughter!”
He had known the whole story behind the educated youth being sent down, even if he’d been too young to do anything at the time. But he had remembered it all. That’s why he’d always treated Chen Lu so coldly.
Chen Cuiyue tried to protest again, but the neighbors quickly gathered around, all chiming in to gently admonish her. Though their words were polite, their meaning was clear—she had been in the wrong and was showing blatant favoritism.
Sensing the shift in sentiment, Feng Xian’er quickly slipped away while no one was paying attention.
Humiliated by the scolding, Chen Cuiyue felt too ashamed to stay any longer. She stormed off, face dark with anger, and returned to her room without another word.
As the commotion died down, the neighbors turned to Gu Shunhua, trying to calm her down and offering to help gather the scattered coal fragments. “They’re still usable—just mix them with some water and reshape them into briquettes later.”
Gu Shunhua knew they were right. As angry as she’d been, she couldn’t afford to waste perfectly good coal. Still, she figured today’s outburst had done the job—not only had she put her mother in her place, she’d also made an impression on all the neighbors. She doubted Qiao Xiujuan or Su Jianping would dare mess with her now!
Declining their help, she gathered the coal bits herself, sweeping them into a dustpan. The snow mixed with the black fragments, freezing her fingers to the bone.
At that moment, Duoduo and Manman came toddling through the snow. They crouched down beside her to help pick up the pieces.
Gu Yuehua quickly pulled the children aside. “Be good, stay put. Don’t touch that—you’ll get all dirty. Let your uncle handle it.”
One of the neighbors nearby sighed. “Such sweet children.”
What a shame, they thought. Their parents are divorced, and their dad’s not around. Now they’re stuck living with their mom at their grandma’s… What a stifling life for kids that age.
After collecting all the fragments and sweeping up the snow-blackened yard, the neighbors offered a few more words of comfort before heading off to their own business.
Gu Shunhua carried the children back inside. Gu Yuehua, worried she might still be upset, tried to console her, but she laughed and scolded him gently, “Do you need to cheer me up? Go back to your room and study properly!”
Gu Yuehua grinned, “Well, if you’ve still got the energy to scold me, you must be doing fine!”
And with that, he sauntered off with a chuckle.
By then, Gu Quanfu had already set up the coal stove. The one they used now was made of plaster and clay, known in Beijing as a white stove (bai luzi).
There was a bit of tradition to these stoves. In the past, everyone preferred ones from the Pang Gongdao workshop. The Gu family had owned one too—until the political posters went up and it was taken away without warning. No one could quite say what happened to it. What remained now was a humble stove Gu Quanfu had fashioned himself.
It was small, just big enough to burn honeycomb briquettes. But it provided heat, and you could even toast slices of cold, hard wowo buns on top until they turned crisp and golden.
One white stove, a few hundred briquettes—this was all the warmth she and the children had for the winter.
Gu Shunhua stared at the stove for a long time, watching the flickering firelight as snow continued to fall outside. The room was already growing warm. She knelt down to add another briquette, then stirred the coals with a fire poker to keep the flames alive.
She had no intention of rationing the coal. No penny-pinching for her—not anymore. She believed that if she gave it her all, she’d make plenty of money in the future. She’d never have to worry about fuel again. Her children would burn coal freely and bask in the warmth of a properly heated home. That, she thought, was how life should be lived.
Just then, a small tug at her sleeve made her turn. She looked down to see Duoduo staring up at her, wide-eyed.
When their eyes met, Duoduo bit her lip and whispered, “Mama, don’t be angry.”
Gu Shunhua was taken aback for a moment. Then she realized—her daughter wasn’t just comforting her. She was afraid of her anger.
She looked toward Manman. He stood by the bed, trying his hardest to look obedient and well-behaved.
As if being extra good might stop Mama from being upset.
Her heart swelled, like a sponge soaked full—tight with emotion, sour and heavy, yet carrying a hint of warmth and sweetness.
She reached out and took Duoduo’s hand, then Manman’s—her coal-smudged fingers clasping their small, delicate ones.
Holding them close, she said gently, “Manman, Duoduo, Mama isn’t angry.”
Her voice was soft but firm. “We have coal now, and we have a stove. We even have money. Mama will find a way to get you into kindergarten. After the New Year, we’ll build a new house. Life will only get better from here. Mama is very happy.”
Yes, she thought, she was fierce enough now. Brave enough. She could risk everything—just to protect these two children.
As for everything else? She could stop caring.
After all, what use was caring, if it couldn’t be exchanged for a single briquette of coal?
——————————————
As soon as Chen Cuiyue stepped into the room, she let out a wail and burst into tears.
In a shared courtyard compound like theirs, where neighbors saw each other day and night, decorum and face were everything. Chen Cuiyue was someone who cared about appearances. She knew she’d been in the wrong today—but even if that were true, how could they shame her like that in front of everyone?
So what if Chen Lu’s household wanted a few coal briquettes? Why couldn’t they just let them have them?
She couldn’t make sense of it. The fact that she had failed to secure briquettes for Chen Lu’s family gnawed at her. The public humiliation stung even worse. Why? she kept asking herself. Why couldn’t they just give it to them?
Sobbing and shouting, Chen Cuiyue wailed, “It was just a briquette! Was that worth all this? Couldn’t you have just spared it for my sake? What’s the big deal about giving it to them? Shunhua was handing them out left and right to the whole courtyard—so why not to Xian’er? She’s family too, and Chen Lu is my own niece! Just because there’s a courtyard wall between us doesn’t mean we forget basic courtesy. Don’t you people know what propriety is? Who handles things like this?”
Gu Quanfu’s expression darkened. “Say that one more time.”
But Chen Cuiyue was too agitated to stop. The pain of not being able to get those coal briquettes for Chen Lu’s family twisted her heart. She slammed her fists on the bedroll and glared at Gu Quanfu. “How is anyone supposed to live like this? I can’t take it anymore! I just can’t!”
Without another word, Gu Quanfu raised his hand and slapped her—hard.
The sharp smack echoed through the room.
Chen Cuiyue was stunned.
Her mind went blank. She couldn’t even process what had just happened. Did he just hit me?
This was Gu Quanfu—a decent, mild-mannered man. Even back when he was the head chef and riding high, he had never once lost his temper. That very man had just slapped her?
Chen Cuiyue snapped. “I’m done! I’m done with this family! I can’t take it anymore!”
But Gu Quanfu only gave a bitter, hollow laugh.
After all these years… what exactly had she done to this household?
Lately, it was as if a fog had lifted from his mind. A sudden gust of clarity had blown through, jolting him awake.
As he thought back on everything—the past, his daughter, the things he had allowed to happen—his chest filled with burning regret. What kind of fool had I been?
And with that regret came a searing fury toward Chen Cuiyue.
He stared at her, voice thunderous: “If you don’t want this family anymore, then go back to your own. If you care so much about giving briquettes to them, then go live with them! Your daughter’s not your daughter, your son’s not your son—only your brother, your sister-in-law, and your niece matter to you. Fine! If you won’t live properly in this house, then get out! I said get out!”
Chen Cuiyue stumbled back, shocked and unsteady, clutching her face.
“I’ll go! Fine, I’ll go!” she shouted.
She grabbed a wooden chest and overturned it with a crash, rummaging for her belongings as she muttered bitterly, “I’ll go. I’ll go and never come back. Let’s see how you manage on your own, old man. Don’t expect me to take care of you ever again!”
She made a great show of packing, but in the end, it was just two measly changes of clothes.
Still, she bit her lip, steeled herself, wrapped up her bundle, and headed for the door.
The moment she stepped outside, a bitter wind howled through the courtyard, carrying flakes of snow in its wake—and the first pangs of regret hit her hard.
Of course she didn’t want to leave. This was her home. But… not a single person had come to stop her. No one even offered her an out. What could she say now?
Just then, she spotted Gu Yuehua coming out of the inner room. She cried out in anguish, “Yuehua! You really don’t want your mother anymore? You’re going to pretend I’m dead? Mom’s leaving!”
Gu Yuehua was dumbfounded. “Mom, don’t be like this—”
He rushed over to block her path. “Come on, just apologize to Sister and let it go, all right? Let’s each take a step back.”
Apologize? Back down?
That was unthinkable to Chen Cuiyue. And to make things worse, by now quite a few neighbors had gathered around to watch. Not one of them stepped in. Not a single person gave her a graceful exit. All she could do was stomp her foot and shout, “Apologize? Over my dead body! Even if I was wrong, how could you treat me like this? I’m leaving!”
And with that, she stormed off.
The neighbors stood in shocked silence. They had all seen the slap mark on her face and were astonished that someone like Gu Quanfu—so even-tempered—had struck his wife. Still…
Chen Cuiyue had gone too far today. Shunhua was struggling with two kids. Her own family wouldn’t even help her, and when she finally managed to secure some coal briquettes, her own mother tried to leech off them for someone else. What kind of mother does that?
Chen Cuiyue was completely disheartened. She hadn’t expected that no one would try to stop her. Tears streaming down her face, she ran out of the courtyard.
Meanwhile, Gu Shunhua had come into the front room with the children. After collecting the coal fragments earlier, her hands were covered in soot. She fetched an enamel basin and carefully scrubbed herself clean, thinking as she did, I really need to buy another wash basin. There’s just too much we still need for this household.
Soot clung to the crevices under her fingernails. After a thorough cleaning, she placed the yellow millet fritters on the stove to warm. As they reheated, the cold, hard pastries regained a golden sheen of glistening oil. She served them to the children, then poured water from the thermos.
But the water was barely warm.
They had only two foreign-made thermoses at home. After years of use, neither kept heat well anymore.
I’ll need to find a way to get more ration coupons, she thought. I’ll have to ask Wang Xinrui again. Thermoses, flashlights, candles, a kettle for boiling water, a new pot—there’s so much we still need.
She couldn’t rely on her parents forever. Once she built her own house, she’d have to stand on her own. Every pot, pan, and utensil would be essential.
She poured the lukewarm water into mugs for the children.
“Mama, the water’s cold,” Duoduo said.
It wasn’t truly cold—but the weather was. In the chill of winter, you longed for steam rising off your drink.
“Just warm your mouth a little first,” she said gently. “Mama will get us a better thermos soon. Then we’ll have hot water every day.”
Duoduo nodded obediently. “Duoduo’s not cold. Duoduo’s not afraid!”
And with that, she took a big gulp like a brave little soldier.
Gu Shunhua smiled. “After your water, we’ll wash our hands.”
She dressed the children warmly and planned to take them out for a stroll—give them a bit of fresh air, then head to Wang Xinrui’s place.
There were too many things to buy. She couldn’t ask others to solve all her problems. Better to start with the essentials.
As she stepped into the front room, she learned that her parents had argued—and that her father had slapped her mother, who then stormed back to the Chen family home (her brother’s).
She hadn’t heard a thing from her spot in the rear room.
She let the children play in the courtyard for a while, then went to find her father. “Dad, what’s done is done. Now that I’ve made a scene, no one will dare touch my coal again. That’s enough for me. I don’t want to stir up more trouble.”
She admitted to herself that she’d acted selfishly—trying to scrape together whatever she could for her children—but she didn’t want to turn the household upside down. However things had been before, she didn’t expect anyone to change for her now.
Gu Quanfu was smoking his old pipe. He was supposed to have quit, and this was the first time she’d seen him light up since she returned.
He exhaled slowly, then asked, “Shunhua, you don’t need to worry about me and your mother. Just take care of your own business. But there’s something I wanted to ask—have you heard anything from the Educated Youth Office about a job?”
She shook her head. “There are some odd jobs, like sanitation work or construction, but they’re all temporary. I figured I’d wait until I’ve sorted out school for the kids, then find something. If nothing works out, I’ll just start a small business. They’re saying we can do that now with the new reforms, right?”
The policy had indeed changed, but the legal boundaries were still blurry. Technically, profiteering was still a crime. Still, you could already see people selling roasted sweet potatoes in the alleys—just small-time stuff, using produce from home to earn a few coins. No one stopped them.
Gu Quanfu nodded. “The other day, the manager from the Food Service Company came by. He hinted at bringing me back as head chef. I didn’t agree… but now he’s asked again.”
“Dad,” Gu Shunhua said earnestly, “times have changed. What happened in the past won’t happen again. I think you should let go of the fear. If you can go back to cooking, the pay will rise, the stove won’t go cold, and our bellies won’t be so empty. Maybe we can even get some Western goods now and then. Yuehua and his wife will be back from the countryside soon too—they don’t have work. If this keeps up, we’ll be starving.”
Of course, her appeal wasn’t just for the family’s sake.
She was still thinking about the Eight Imperial Treasures Banquet.
How could Chen Yaotang have managed to recreate that banquet?
She was convinced that he must have stolen the menu and recipes from her father. There was no other explanation.
The times had changed. What once brought ruin now became a prized commodity. According to that book, her father’s Eight Treasures Banquet had made Chen Yaotang rich beyond imagination.
Gu Quanfu glanced at his daughter. “Once your brother and sister-in-law return, they likely won’t find work easily either. We’ll have to get through this rough patch somehow. So I thought I might as well agree to the manager’s offer. I spoke with him today in detail and used the chance to make a request—he’ll take you on too. You can start as a temporary worker, and we’ll see about making it permanent later.”
Gu Shunhua blinked. “Me? I’m going?”
Gu Quanfu nodded, and only then did he explain everything fully.
As it happened, the manager of the catering company had recently run into someone higher up. While discussing the company’s development, he had specifically brought up Gu Quanfu’s culinary skills, saying that his expertise represented a proud tradition of old Beijing cuisine. Letting that legacy die would be a real shame.
So the manager wanted him to return to the stove as head chef. He would also be given six or seven apprentices—handpicked talents the company hoped to groom. Gu Quanfu would train them personally.
But why was that higher-up so interested in Gu Quanfu’s return?
Aside from his well-known reputation in old Beiping’s culinary circles, there was another reason—one Gu Quanfu himself had only learned recently.
Back in the day, when he worked as head chef at Huiyun Pavilion in Zhonghai, vendors would gather in front of the building, selling wares from shoulder poles. At the time, street vendors didn’t need to pay taxes. The poor survived by selling whatever they could get their hands on. One of them, a man named Old Black Li, used to peddle apple peels.
What were apple peels? Just leftovers—discarded apple skins collected and candied, sold as snacks. In the old society, poverty meant that if something could go in your mouth, someone would find a way to sell it.
Those who hawked their wares outside established shops typically offered a token of goodwill during the holidays—free haircuts from barbers, free noodles from noodle vendors.
Gu Quanfu, being a man of integrity, often looked out for Old Black Li, who had an elderly mother and a three-year-old child to support. He’d share any leftovers he had with him.
Before the Liberation, Old Black Li had changed his name to Li Xinguo and joined the army. He had risen in the ranks and become a prominent figure after the revolution. But he never forgot Gu Quanfu’s kindness. And now that the political storms had passed, he made it a point to bring him back.
Gu Quanfu sighed. “Shunhua, this really is an opportunity. I can’t promise it’ll turn into a formal position, but at the very least, you’ll get to learn something. Once you’ve trained with me, you’ll be my official apprentice. Just say you came from Yuhuatai, and wherever life takes you, no matter how much the world changes, you’ll never go hungry.”
“Dad, do you think I’m up to it? I mean, sure, I picked up a few tricks watching you cook when I was a kid, but working in a restaurant? That’s the real deal.”
He replied, “There’ll be six or seven apprentices. One more won’t hurt. I’ll pass down everything I’ve got to you. At the very least, your grandfather’s skills won’t be lost.”
Gu Shunhua hesitated. So many thoughts rushed through her mind.
She had considered working by day and attending night school once she had a job. She had even thought of starting a business later, making the most of the coming economic reforms. After all, she did have some foreknowledge.
But she was just an ordinary person. Even with a little cunning, how far could she really go?
If she learned from her father, who had spent decades at the stove, even a fraction of his craft would become a valuable skill.
After a long moment, she finally said, “All right, Dad. I’ll learn from you.”
The moment she made that decision, she felt as if a weight had lifted from her heart.
She knew that choosing this path meant letting go of others. But maybe that was for the best. Soon, state-owned enterprises would begin laying people off. Factories would go under. Only those with real talent would stay afloat.
Was she that kind of person? With two children to raise, could she afford to gamble?
Better to inherit her family’s trade and hold onto a skill passed down through generations. With those five words— Eight Imperial Treasures Banquet—even if she hit rock bottom, she’d still have a way to survive.
Seeing her nod, Gu Quanfu finally relaxed.
As a father, he had long weighed the family’s prospects. He knew each child’s strengths. Third son Yuehua had his eyes set on college, and if he got in, he’d be assigned a job and never have to worry about food. The eldest wasn’t particularly capable. Once he returned from the countryside, he could fill in at the company and maybe take over once Gu Quanfu retired—at least secure a stable job.
But this daughter—his bright, spirited girl—he hoped she would carry on the family legacy. That way, the treasured recipes wouldn’t be lost, and she’d have a livelihood too. Perhaps it could even make up for the guilt he felt about her past.
He nodded. “I’ll give the manager an answer. Once you’ve arranged things for the kids’ kindergarten, we’ll go to work together. I’ll start you out on the red station.”
Gu Shunhua pressed her lips together and nodded again.
In the culinary trade, kitchen work was divided into three stations: water, white, and red. The water station handled washing and gutting ingredients. The white station specialized in pastries and doughs—no stir-frying involved. The red station was for actual cooking—meats, side dishes, the heart of the kitchen.
Starting on the red station as a novice was a real test.
Meanwhile, Chen Cuiyue had trudged out of the house, hugging her bundle and crying. The wind whipped snowflakes against her face, nearly making her choke.
She wished she were dead. How could this happen? Her own husband had hit her. The neighbors—not one of them had tried to stop her. If even one person had held her back, she wouldn’t have left.
And her own son had told her to apologize to Shunhua. All over a coal briquette? Was it really worth that much? What about Chen Lu? Wasn’t she supposed to help her own niece?
Chen Lu was a good girl!
She marched forward, head down, and nearly collided with someone exiting the public latrine. Startled, she stepped aside and continued, heading straight to her brother Chen Yaotang’s courtyard.
The Chen family had once been a prominent household too. Back then, they owned a velvet flower shop outside Chongwenmen’s Flower Market. Business had been good, supplying hair ornaments to opera troupes and the homes of nobility. They had made a name for themselves in old Beiping.
But after the family patriarch died, the shop fell apart. Inflation soared, and their once-deep reserves were quickly drained. The family lost everything.
Still, Chen Cuiyue had married well. The Gu and Chen patriarchs had been sworn brothers and arranged the marriage long ago. Gu Quanfu had kept his promise and married her, even at the height of his culinary fame.
Chen Yaotang’s housing was modest, similar to the Gu family’s. But with only one daughter, they’d partitioned their thirteen-square-meter space to live more decently.
Now kicked out by her husband, humiliated, and with nowhere else to go, Chen Cuiyue pushed open the worn wooden door quietly. Thankfully, with the snow and freezing cold, no one else was outside.
She stepped through the snow in silence, reaching her brother’s door—just as she overheard Feng Xian’er speaking to Chen Yaotang.
“Honestly, your sister’s pathetic. Can’t even decide on giving away a single coal briquette? What kind of ‘auntie’ is that? No dignity at all.”
Hearing that, Chen Cuiyue’s heart tightened. Even her own family thought she was useless.
She burned with shame.
Chen Yaotang scoffed, “She’s a spineless coward. What good is she? If it weren’t for our fathers’ old bond, would Gu Quanfu ever have married her? He was a big name back in Beiping! She only got lucky because of our dad. And now that her daughter’s doing well, she acts like we don’t exist. What, has she forgotten who she owes everything to?”
Chen Cuiyue froze, eyes wide in disbelief.
Even her own brother thought that little of her?
Feng Xian’er sneered, “Exactly. Our fathers were blood brothers. We arranged that marriage from childhood. She only got that husband because we were doing well back then. And now, over a lousy coal briquette? Miserly, petty, and completely useless at her age!”
Their words pierced her like arrows. Outside, the wind blew and the snow swirled—but no snowflake was colder than these cruel words.
Her legs shook so badly she could barely stand.
Then she heard Chen Lu’s voice.
Hope stirred in her chest. Surely Chen Lu would speak up for her, would explain things.
But then came Chen Lu’s words:
“Dad, Mom, this isn’t the time to mock her. You should go get Aunt and talk her down.”
Tears welled up in Chen Cuiyue’s eyes.
This niece… she really did care for her.
Then Chen Lu continued, “My aunt may be useless, but Uncle is descended from an imperial chef—he’s got real skills. As long as Aunt stays married to him, she’ll keep helping us out. If we can get our hands on those old imperial recipes, who’s to say we can’t rebuild everything?”
The words hit Chen Cuiyue like a bucket of ice water poured over her head.
She stood there, stunned. Snow collected on her eyelashes.
Only after a long, frozen silence did she finally move again—slowly, stumbling, she walked out of the courtyard.