That day, Chen Cuiyue didn’t say a word. She returned home in silence, unwrapped the bundle she had packed, and carefully placed her clothes back into the cabinet. Then she tidied up the house, fed a fresh briquette into the white stove, emptied the ash pan, boiled water, and filled one of the thermoses. After that, she headed to the outer room where Gu Shunhua lived and took her thermos, filling it more than halfway.
As for the slap she had taken—she never mentioned it, never complained, and since she didn’t bring it up, no one else did either.
Gu Shunhua placed a bottle of gentian violet ointment beside her—a quiet gesture for her to apply it to her face.
But she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Seeing that the bruise hadn’t spread too badly, Gu Shunhua didn’t press further.
After all, she was still her mother. Offering medicine was her duty. But to coddle her or play the part of the devoted little daughter? That wasn’t in her anymore.
Later that evening, Chen Yaotang arrived with Chen Lu, carrying a bottle of liquor. He claimed it was an apology gift on Feng Xian’er’s behalf and followed it with a stream of flattering words.
Gu Quanfu remained stone-faced. “Let me be clear—whatever happens between me and your sister is up to her. If she wants to continue this marriage, we will. If not, we’ll divorce. The times have changed. Divorce isn’t some disgrace anymore.”
Ordinary families didn’t talk about divorce so openly—especially the older generation, who often clung to the belief that marriage was forever. For Gu Quanfu to say this aloud meant he was truly done pretending.
Chen Yaotang forced a smile, while Chen Lu quickly interjected, “It was my mom’s fault, I admit. She didn’t think it through. It’s not all my aunt’s doing.”
In the past, Chen Cuiyue would’ve been sobbing and wailing by now. But this time, she didn’t cry at all. She simply sat silently on the edge of the bed, mending clothes with her head lowered, making no effort to speak.
Seeing this, Chen Lu walked over and sat with her, trying to coax a smile, “Dear Auntie, you know you’re my favorite. Please don’t be like this. It’s all my mom’s fault—she dragged you into this.”
She added, “You don’t know how much she regrets it. Dad and I both scolded her. She’s terrified something might go wrong between you and Uncle.”
Chen Cuiyue stared at her niece blankly. She had always believed this child to be innocent and kindhearted—so gentle she wouldn’t hurt an ant.
Such a good girl.
She had tried to protect her in every way she could—often at her own daughter’s expense—just to make sure Chen Lu had enough to eat, was well cared for.
Even now, Chen Lu sat by her side, speaking so sweetly, so thoughtfully. Her words sounded so sincere, her eyes filled with such tenderness.
But now, to Chen Cuiyue, it all felt fake—like watching a shadow play behind a screen. From a distance, the grand robes and flashing swords looked impressive, but once you peeked behind the curtain, you saw it was all just light and silhouettes.
Nothing but illusions meant to amuse.
She stared blankly at Chen Lu, her lips trembling, until finally she said, “Don’t say these things to me anymore.”
With that, she stood and walked over to the stove to empty the ash.
Chen Lu was stunned. What’s gotten into her? She’s not acting like herself at all.
Feng Xian’er quickly gave her a look, signaling, She’s upset. Just say less.
Only then did Chen Lu understand. So she’s been hurt. She’s not herself.
No one likes to be scolded by someone offering a smile, and though Gu Quanfu kept a stern face, he didn’t say much in the end. Chen Yaotang had brought a peace offering, and for old time’s sake—especially remembering how the elder Mr. Chen had once treated him kindly—Gu Quanfu let it pass.
But even after the Chen family left, Gu Shunhua couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. There was something strange about Chen Lu.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was as if the girl were quietly watching her—like everyone else was asleep and she alone was awake.
She even wondered, Could she be like me? Could she also know this is a novel?
But that thought was fleeting. There was no way to ask directly. All she could do was stay alert and keep her guard up.
After the Chens left, Chen Cuiyue still said nothing. She went about her business as usual—then lit the stove and pulled out some leftover tofu dregs.
Tofu dregs—what remained after making tofu—were once considered pig feed in better days. But now, when food was scarce, even this had become a delicacy.
She poured a little peanut oil into the wok. Once it was hot, she tossed in the tofu dregs and dry-fried them. Then she took the last bit of ham they had, chopped it finely, and added it to the wok. Soon, the tofu turned golden and crisp, and with the addition of ham, the aroma became rich and savory.
She sprinkled a pinch of salt, plated it in a blue-rimmed enamel bowl, added two spoons, and brought it to the outer room for Gu Shunhua and the children.
The kids were still young. They couldn’t eat much in one sitting, but now it was late and they were getting hungry again. The moment that smell hit the air, their eyes lit up and locked onto the bowl.
“These two are too thin,” Chen Cuiyue said. “A horse doesn’t fatten without night feed. Let them eat a little more. I didn’t add much salt—it’s not too salty, and they don’t need to eat it with steamed buns.”
Gu Shunhua was surprised. Her mother returning from the Chen family without a word had already felt strange, and now she was bringing food for the children at night? That was unheard of. She’d always shown affection in her way, but cooking a late-night snack? Never before.
“Mom, really, you didn’t have to go through the trouble.”
“It’s nothing special,” Chen Cuiyue replied. “The household can manage this much.”
Then she turned and left without another word.
Gu Shunhua was even more puzzled but said nothing. She let the children eat.
The stir-fried tofu dregs were originally her father’s specialty. They might look unremarkable, but when cooked right—with peanut oil and a bit of ham—the result was golden and crisp, fragrant and rich. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was minced meat.
As she folded bedding and patched clothes, the two children sat with spoons in hand, eating happily, bite after bite.
After a few mouthfuls, Duoduo looked up. “Mama, you eat too!”
Manman added, “Manman is full!”
Gu Shunhua smiled at them. “Then Mama will eat with you.”
The two immediately beamed. “Scoop for Mama! Eat together!”
She never wanted her children to become the kind who hoarded the best things for themselves, or who thought a mother should always give up her share. What’s the point of pretending she didn’t want it? Sharing was the best lesson.
So she joined them and took a bite. She had to admit, despite the humble ingredients, the dish was masterfully done. The tofu dregs still held the nuttiness of soy, but the peanut oil had drawn out the depth of flavor. The rough texture had transformed into something uniquely pleasant, and the ham gave it body and warmth.
She thought again of her mother’s change in demeanor. Strange as it was, it was her mother after all. If she was willing to soften, then Gu Shunhua would give her a way out—treat it as if nothing had happened.
She was clear-eyed about their relationship. A return to warmth and closeness was out of the question. But basic respect and duty—those she would uphold. She wouldn’t fall short of what a daughter owed. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s just who she was: stubborn, cold, unyielding. She wasn’t one for tender words or gestures.
Still, for her mother to fry up a simple dish of tofu dregs for her children—that alone was enough. Many things didn’t need to be said aloud. Sometimes, meaning was enough.
Most importantly, Gu Shunhua now knew that no matter what happened going forward, her mother likely wouldn’t touch her things without asking again. Not just her mother—even the other families in the shared courtyard would probably think twice before crossing her.
Simply put, Gu Shunhua had a temper. She had a backbone and didn’t bend easily. Try to treat her like a pushover, and you’d be in for a rude awakening. Anyone who wanted to make a move on her would now have to weigh the consequences.
In this hutong, most folks were decent and got along peacefully. But there were always a few petty people mixed in. You couldn’t guard against them—so the only way was to fight back harder.
Petty people, after all, preyed on the weak and feared the strong.
And sure enough, Gu Shunhua had read the situation correctly—Qiao Xiuyun had been stewing ever since she laid eyes on those briquettes.
Now that the briquettes had taken over what used to be the earthquake shelter, it meant that plot of land was essentially Gu Shunhua’s. Once the ground thawed in the spring, she’d likely start building a house.
Qiao Xiuyun couldn’t stomach that. She had to come up with something—had to throw a wrench in the works. But the way Gu Shunhua had crushed those briquettes underfoot today, with that vicious expression on her face, had shaken her.
This was a woman with nothing to lose—barefoot and unafraid. She was poor, powerless, raising two kids on her own. Who knew what kind of trap she might lay?
And besides, her claim to the land had been backed by the entire courtyard. Qiao Xiuyun had been the only one to object, and now it was she who the neighbors looked at with disapproval.
After all, life in a shared courtyard meant constant encounters—no matter how much you hated someone, you had to tread carefully. And Qiao Xiuyun feared Old Master Pan. Don’t be fooled by his work crafting inkstones—word had it he’d killed a man in his younger days.
So for now, no matter how bitter she felt, she had to swallow it.
Grinding her teeth, she turned on Su Jianping with a venomous hiss: “Did you see how arrogant she was? Like a damned shrew! And you still think about her? You want to bring that into our home? She’d tear the place apart! Our family is nothing like hers—my grandfather was a Manchu bannerman, you know that. Her family? A line of cooks and servants. You’d marry a kitchen maid’s daughter? Aren’t you ashamed? Because I sure as hell am.”
Su Jianping, pale-faced, had seen it too. “There’s nothing to be done about it,” he muttered.
He said it, but deep down, he couldn’t let go.
Chen Lu had told him that before Gu Shunhua left, she had cried—cried that she’d never see Brother Jianping again.
He had asked her about it multiple times. Chen Lu had sworn it was true. She said Gu Shunhua had truly missed him, but life in Inner Mongolia had been unbearable. She’d married that soldier out of desperation—some rough brute, not worth a second glance.
She even said she’d met the man—coarse, unrefined, clearly not a good match. If things hadn’t been so dire, would Shunhua ever have married such a man?
And now, she kept her distance from Jianping only because she was afraid of dragging him down. Deep down, she still cared.
“Why else would she ignore your mom’s matchmaking with the Substation Manager? She still has feelings for you. She just thinks she’s not good enough. She’s afraid of your mom—that’s why she’s avoiding you.”
“But that day… she was so cold to me. She said such harsh things. And the other time…”
Su Jianping trailed off, unable to describe it. The way Gu Shunhua had spoken—so merciless—had left him shaken. Ordinary people couldn’t take that kind of bluntness.
But when Chen Lu heard that, she only snorted. “You’re such a fool. She did it on purpose—to make you give up. To make herself give up. She knows she’s not good enough for you!”
What?
Su Jianping blinked, startled. The thought planted itself in his mind, and the more he mulled it over, the more it made sense. Especially that time outside the public latrine—wasn’t she saying all that just to drive him away?
So maybe… Chen Lu was telling the truth.
Anyone else might have caught on that something wasn’t quite right. Su Jianping wasn’t a stupid man, but people all had blind spots—especially when it came to hearing what they wanted to hear. And this—this was exactly what he’d wanted.
So now, he convinced himself: Gu Shunhua, with her two children and her burdens, felt unworthy of him. That’s why she kept her distance. But her heart? It still belonged to him.
Which meant that even when his mother badmouthed her, all he could do was sit there awkwardly. But deep down, he couldn’t help but think, Why can’t you be more gracious? More considerate? Why not leave the children in Inner Mongolia? Maybe then Mother would accept you, and we could be together.
Qiao Xiuyun scoffed, “A woman dragging two kids around and still acts like she owns the place. Hah! She’s only that bold because Old Master Pan’s backing her. And that Granny Tong? A shameless old bat—flirting with Old Pan at her age? Ugh. Disgusting!”
As the mother and son spat out their venom, Su Yinghong suddenly let out a mocking laugh nearby. “Oh, give it a rest. In your eyes, everyone’s rotten except for you. The whole world’s vile, and only you two are decent?”
That was enough to make Qiao Xiuyun erupt into a stream of curses.
Su Yinghong just raised an eyebrow in amused disdain, dropped her rice bowl onto the table, and walked out without another word.
Gu Quanfu’s plan to return as head chef was finalized quickly. Once the decision was set, he casually mentioned it to the family. Gu Yuehua had no objections—on the contrary, he thought it was a good opportunity. In fact, he was happy that his sister would be going instead of him. He had no desire to compete for the spot.
As for Chen Cuiyue, she had been moping around like a half-dead woman for the past few days. She offered no opinion at all. Whatever Gu Quanfu said—so be it.
Then came the official word: the place Gu Quanfu would be going was none other thanYuhuatai. The moment he heard, even he was taken aback.
This was a leap straight to the top.
Before Liberation, there had been countless time-honored restaurants in Beiping. After the establishment of the PRC, those restaurants underwent state-private mergers and became state-owned enterprises, forming part of the food service company network. Among these old brands,Yuhuatai ranked among the very best.
The first state banquet of the new China had been prepared by the head chef ofYuhuatai. Though the glory days had passed and the restaurant wasn’t quite what it used to be, its reputation and prestige were still unmatched. Regular state-run restaurants simply couldn’t compare.
When the news spread that Gu Quanfu would be taking Gu Shunhua to work atYuhuatai, the neighbors were shocked. But after a moment’s reflection, it started to make sense.
“Master Gu’s got real skill. It was a waste to have him cooped up in the food company all this time.”
“That Shunhua girl is smart—if she inherits her father’s craft, she’ll do just fine.”
Of course, there were some dissenting voices. Qiao Xiuyun was privately muttering, “What’s this all about, anyway? Everything was normal, and suddenly they’re going toYuhuatai? Feels like something fishy’s going on. No one mentioned anything before!”
Her tone was laced with insinuation, but someone nearby laughed and said, “What could be fishy? Master Gu has the skills—he’s descended from palace chefs. The country’s changing now, opening up. Those with talent naturally end up in better positions.”
Qiao Xiuyun had wanted to stir the pot, but it didn’t work. All she could do was chuckle dryly, “Well, you’re right. People like that are out of our league now. Once they’re atYuhuatai, I guess they won’t even bother looking our way anymore.”
The others laughed. In the past, because she worked at the cooperative, she had a bit of an edge—she might tip the scales on the weight when measuring rations, which made a difference for ordinary folks. People tolerated her even when they didn’t like her behavior.
But now? To speak ill of Master Gu, who had once treated them all to small favors from his kitchen—that was crossing the line.
Qiao Xiuyun could only laugh awkwardly and slink back into her house, where she grumbled under her breath, “Look at her, acting so high and mighty. A woman being a chef? What nonsense.”
But Su Jianping, upon hearing this, furrowed his brow. He couldn’t help thinking more deeply about it.
If Gu Shunhua really went toYuhuatai and became a permanent employee—even though it was kitchen work—it would still be a secure, state-assigned job. A real iron rice bowl. That would make her status equal to his as a full-time worker at the Power Supply Bureau. And as for those two kids of hers… well, they could be dealt with later.
The thought gave rise to a certain… temptation.
That very day, while Gu Shunhua was out searching for a kindergarten, she ran into Su Jianping.
The moment she saw him walking toward her with obvious intent to speak in private, her guard went up. Countless thoughts rushed through her head.
Was he here to talk about the boots again? About the plot of land? Or something else entirely?
But her face remained composed. Whatever he throws at me, I’ll deal with it head-on. The boots? He wouldn’t dare talk. The land? Everyone had already signed off, and she’d shown the documents to the Housing Authority. It was a done deal. Whatever he said now wouldn’t change a thing.
Su Jianping stared at her intently. It was the dead of winter, the alleyways beyond the courtyard bleak and silent. And yet, her gaze was clear, her skin rosy, her entire being radiating a warm, vibrant energy.
He felt there was a certain fire in Gu Shunhua—a tenacity that made her claw her way upward no matter how far she had fallen.
That fire gave her an unyielding vitality. Even when she lashed out, you couldn’t help but find her fierceness oddly charming.
A wave of tenderness stirred in his chest. Looking at her, Su Jianping finally said, “I’ll wait for you.”
Gu Shunhua’s heart skipped a beat. She stared at him in confusion.
What did that mean? Was he trying to fight her for the plot of land?
Su Jianping, seeing her blank expression, found her even more lovable. He thought, I’ve always liked her—even if she got married, got divorced, and had two kids with another man.
Love was grand. It could overlook worldly matters.
Biting his lip, he continued, “Back then, I didn’t understand. Everything went by in a haze. But now I do. And I’ll do my best—not letting a single opportunity slip away.”
Gu Shunhua: What?
Su Jianping said, “Now that you’ve gone toYuhuatai, your circumstances will definitely improve. When you become a full-time worker, we can talk about it more.”
After saying that, his ears flushed red. Afraid someone might see, he quickly turned and hurried away.
Gu Shunhua stood frozen in place for a while, then gradually pieced it together.
So he thinks that now that I’ve gone toYuhuatai and will eventually become permanent staff, I’ll have better prospects, so he’s willing to pursue me again? That for now, while I’m still struggling, he’s willing to overlook it?
And he thinks that’s noble of him?
That doesn’t sound like him…
Still puzzled, she furrowed her brows and chose not to dwell on it. There were more pressing matters—like finding a kindergarten for her children.
It never crossed her mind that Su Jianping had just confessed his feelings. It wasn’t that she was oblivious—after all, she’d once teased him about “big hands and little hands,” stolen his boots, tricked him into stepping in dog poop, and now even snatched the very plot of land his family had their eyes on.
How could she possibly imagine that some people had minds so twisted they’d interpret all that as: “She must have suffered in silence but secretly loved me all along”?
Human thought, after all, didn’t always run on the same tracks.
So Gu Shunhua quickly cast the whole matter aside and focused her energy on finding a proper kindergarten.
Over the next two days, she visited every nearby option. Most were unsuitable—some only accepted children of staff members, others were too expensive, too far, or poorly run. After narrowing them down, only two remained viable.
One belonged to the Dashilan Subdistrict Office; the other was affiliated with the clothing factory where Chen Cuiyue worked. Neither was large, and the conditions were modest, but she had connections at both. The former was her local subdistrict office, and she knew people there—she could speak to them and get a spot for around ten yuan a month. The latter was her mother’s factory, and she could pull strings there too.
Weighing distance and costs, she decided on the Dashilan kindergarten. It was only a seven- or eight-minute walk from home. One of the teachers, surnamed Hu, was someone she’d played with as a child—not particularly close, but familiar enough to talk to.
When she returned home and mentioned it, Gu Quanfu approved, and Gu Yuehua agreed that the kindergarten was decent.
Chen Cuiyue, after doing the math, said, “You’re going to work atYuhuatai, but at first you’re just a temp, right? That’s twenty-something yuan a month. The kindergarten fees alone will eat that up. How will that work?”
Gu Shunhua replied calmly, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not going to ask you for money.”
Something in her tone made Chen Cuiyue hesitate. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and finally said nothing. She turned and went to boil a kettle of water instead.
That evening, she finally spoke again: “Actually, at our clothing factory, we’re allowed to bring kids to work. I could take them with me—they could play there. That way, you could save that twenty-something yuan. That’s not a small amount, you know. Since you’re building a house, every penny will count. You have to be frugal.”
Gu Shunhua was taken aback—she hadn’t expected her mother to say something like that.
She wouldn’t let her kids be stuck in a clothing factory all day, of course. But the fact that her mother offered—that she was thinking of ways to help her save money—was meaningful.
Her tone softened. “Mom, you don’t need to worry about that. I’ve figured out the finances—it’s manageable. And look, all the other courtyard kids go to kindergarten. If mine don’t, they’ll be left out. They won’t know how to play with the others. They might get picked on.”
Chen Cuiyue nodded. “You’re right. Those two are sweet kids—it’d break my heart to see them mistreated.”
Just then, Gu Quanfu overheard them and chimed in, “Why are you worrying so much? If Shunhua wants to send the kids to kindergarten, she must have her reasons. She’s not asking you for money, and yet you’ve already started nagging?”
In the past, that would’ve already counted as nagging from Chen Cuiyue. And Gu Quanfu’s words now stung. She hadn’t even said much this time.
Caught off guard, she gave a helpless sigh. “I wasn’t trying to make trouble…”
But it was Gu Shunhua who stepped in to defuse things. “Dad, Mom’s just worried I’ll overextend myself. She means well.”
Gu Quanfu was surprised—he hadn’t thought of that. But now the words were already out. And as an old married couple, apologies didn’t come easily. So he simply grunted, “Well, let her make her own decisions,” and went back inside.
Watching her mother’s slightly wounded expression, Gu Shunhua felt a little sympathy and added gently, “Mom, I think Dad misunderstood. Don’t take it to heart. I know you mean well, and I appreciate it. But I do have a plan. The kids’ father still gets a salary—he can support us a little. I’m not carrying all this alone.”
Chen Cuiyue listened silently, but her heart ached all the same.
She’d spent all these years in a haze—always fussing over someone else’s child, all the while neglecting her own. Thinking back on it now, Chen Cuiyue wanted nothing more than to slap herself across the face.
She couldn’t understand it. Why had she always seen Chen Lu as a poor, pitiful child in need of protection—as if she couldn’t breathe unless she was standing up for her?
But that wasn’t even her child. What right did she have to guard someone else’s kid?
Now, turning back to her own daughter—her Shunhua—she could see how much hardship the girl had endured. What kind of mother had she been?
And yet, even with all this realization, she didn’t know how to change. Not right away. She didn’t know what to say, either.
Both Gu Quanfu and Shunhua clearly still kept their guard up around her, assuming she hadn’t truly changed.
She couldn’t blame them. It was her own past foolishness. People couldn’t just believe you had changed overnight.
She didn’t know how to explain herself. She could only take it slow, step by step. And as she thought it all over, she couldn’t help but sigh.
This was the mess she made—she’d just have to live with the consequences.
Meanwhile, Gu Shunhua had noticed that her mother’s personality seemed to have shifted somehow. She even brought it up with Gu Yuehua, who didn’t think much of it.
“That’s just Mom,” he said. “She’s always been like this—one moment treating Chen Lu like a goddess, acting like the world’s ending if Chen Lu so much as frowns. The next moment, she’s normal again. She’s always been like that. Haven’t you figured it out by now?”
Gu Shunhua asked, “But don’t you think she’s been a little different since that night?”
Gu Yuehua finally looked up from his book. “Has she? I didn’t notice.”
At first, he’d found it grueling when Gu Shunhua pushed him to study for the college entrance exams. But over time, he’d started to enjoy it. The materials she’d given him were excellent—methodical, step-by-step. Now, he was actually gaining confidence.
Seeing him so focused, Gu Shunhua dropped the subject. This is just how things have always been, she thought. I’m not expecting anything.
That evening, during dinner, she finally brought up Ren Jingnian’s transfer to Langfang.
“I asked around. He’ll be working for the CNPC Pipeline Bureau there. The benefits aren’t bad. When the kids go to kindergarten, if we come up short, he’ll have to help cover it. Whether we remarry is another matter entirely—but he will pay for his kids. He actually cares about them. This batch of coal—he sent it to keep them warm.”
Gu Quanfu considered this and nodded. “Makes sense. Still, if he really gets transferred to Langfang, have him come by the house. I want to take a look at him. If everything checks out, you two should remarry.”
Gu Shunhua glanced at her father.
Back when she’d married Ren Jingnian, her parents had been opposed to it. Being born and raised within the old Beijing city walls, they had looked down on people from the provinces. Their daughter, they believed, shouldn’t marry an outsider.
Now, he was open to it?
She gave a slight nod. “We’ll see. It depends on how his reassignment goes.”
Hearing that, Gu Quanfu didn’t push further. His children were grown—his say didn’t matter much anymore. As long as he was alive, he’d support them when needed. That was all he could do.
With Ren Jingnian’s situation sorted, and the children’s schooling lined up, Gu Shunhua felt a sense of peace settle in. Soon, she’d begin work atYuhuatai. Life was finally starting to fall into place—drifting further and further from the book’s original storyline.
And with that thought, she couldn’t help but look forward to the future.
Author’s Note:
100 red envelopes sent out this chapter, muah~