Chapter 022: The All-Rounder Zheng Zhe

This story is entirely fictional.

Zhao Ming and Wu Zhengzhe entered the house one after the other, immediately feeling the cool air inside. Dujuan and Xiyu, who were standing in the room, looked at the two as they stepped in, and a wave of heat surged toward them, carrying the greasy smoke from the neighbor’s exhaust pipe. “Quick, close the door, the smell of cooking oil is too strong,” Dujuan hurried to shut the door.

Zhao Ming changed into his loungewear and began preparing dinner.

“Xiyu, bring the toolbox from home. Uncle will fix the door lock. Otherwise, if the lock jams and the door gets stuck one day, it could cause big trouble.”

Wu Zhengzhe, like a professional locksmith, concentrated on repairing Dujuan’s door lock. Dujuan watched him, praising non-stop, “In my memory, you’re capable of anything, Wu Zhengzhe! Unlike Zhao Ming, who only knows how to cook. I have no idea what else he can do. Our Zhengzhe is different—he can do everything, loves to work, and has good habits.”

Wu Zhengzhe wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm, leaving a streak of dark grease on his forehead. “Listening to you, are you praising me or belittling me? As if the only thing I can do is these trivial chores.”

“Of course, I’m praising our Zhengzhe,” Dujuan made no effort to hide her affection for him.

“Come on, don’t comfort me, sister-in-law. If you thought I was so capable, you wouldn’t have always believed Zhao Ming was perfect. In your eyes, no one else amounts to anything.” Wu Zhengzhe kept his head down, focused on fixing the lock.

“Is that so?” Dujuan’s face flushed red. She laughed quickly, “Maybe it was. We were young back then, especially me. I wasn’t good at seeing people for who they were, and I misjudged. If I’d known you were so capable, Zhao Ming wouldn’t have been my only choice. He can go stand wherever he likes, wherever it’s fun or cool.”

To Wu Zhengzhe, his sister-in-law was a remarkable city girl. Ever since joining the army with Zhao Ming and Wen Kai in the countryside and then moving to the city, no other girl had caught his eye—except for Dujuan, for whom he felt a deep, inexplicable affection, almost exclusive. He had once considered pursuing her, but his brother, Zhao Ming, met Dujuan first and they had a clear romantic relationship. So, from then on, Wu Zhengzhe put aside any inappropriate thoughts. In his mind, a friend's wife was off-limits—an unbreakable principle rooted in his brain and heart. Though he suppressed his feelings for her, he never succeeded in erasing them entirely. In time, he treated Zhao Ming’s home as his own, and Xiyu as his nephew.

He watched Xiyu grow day by day; the boy was no longer the child who used to laugh uproariously while sitting on his lap. Now, Xiyu was a young man. Wu Zhengzhe excelled academically, especially at mathematics, and even after nearly twenty years since graduation, he still remembered it well. Mathematics happened to be Xiyu’s weak point.

After fixing the lock, Wu Zhengzhe noticed his nephew’s troubled expression.

“What’s wrong? Struggling with a question? The expert is here, no need to worry.” As he spoke, he glanced over Xiyu’s problem and offered a hint. Suddenly, Xiyu understood, his confusion clearing away.

Xiyu admired his uncle deeply. “Uncle, you’re amazing. If you weren’t a teacher, it’d be a huge loss to education.”

Meanwhile, Zhao Ming focused on his culinary masterpiece in the kitchen. He called out, “Dinner’s almost ready. Set up the folding table and bring the dishes out.” The folding table, aged and showing rusty marks on its metal legs, required careful handling. Dujuan was extra cautious opening it, afraid the rusted steel might cut her hand, which would mean a troublesome tetanus shot.

Once the table was open, the already cramped living room felt even narrower.

Dujuan placed Zhao Ming’s sumptuous dishes on the table: sweet and sour spare ribs, braised frog, Lipu taro, steamed sea bass, blanched Guangdong greens, bitter melon with eggs, and authentic salted duck. “I’ll fry some peanuts—Zhengzhe’s favorite snack to go with drinks,” Zhao Ming said to Dujuan.

With everything ready, Dujuan called out from the inner room, “Xiyu, let Uncle Zhengzhe rest a bit, wash up, and get ready for dinner. Oh, almost forgot—Xiyu, grab a bottle of wine from under your bed. Tonight, let your dad and Uncle Zhengzhe have a proper drink together.”

“Uncle, go sit in the living room. I’ll fetch the wine for you,” Xiyu said as he walked toward his bed, crouched down to look underneath, saw several bottles, and asked, “Uncle, how many bottles are you planning to drink?”

“One is enough. Your dad can barely drink; every time, I end up finishing the bottle. Drinking alone, I get drunk so easily. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been tipsy at your house,” Wu Zhengzhe replied, heading to the living room, sounding a bit resentful toward Zhao Ming.

“Don’t complain. Tonight, I’m risking it all to drink with you,” Zhao Ming comforted the slightly disgruntled Wu Zhengzhe.

“So today’s different, huh? Since returning from the army, after that one drunken night, you’ve basically never touched alcohol. Now you’re volunteering, cheerful and radiant—is there some good news you haven’t told me, brother?” Wu Zhengzhe asked with a smile.

“Nothing going on. If there were good news, wouldn’t I share it with my brother?” Zhao Ming replied.

The dining table was set in the center of the room, with Zhao Ming’s signature dishes arranged neatly. Four people sat, a little cramped, and moving around required bending forward. The soup was still simmering on the stove, the ceramic pot hissing quietly. Dujuan stood to turn off the heat, but Wu Zhengzhe, seeing her hesitate, immediately got up, “Dujuan, it’s not convenient for you. Someone needs to move. I’ll turn off the stove.”

Dujuan resumed eating. Wu Zhengzhe brought back a bowl of spine soup with night-blooming cereus, sniffed it before his nose. “Wow, it smells wonderful!”

“Where did you get the night-blooming cereus? I haven’t had this soup in years,” Wu Zhengzhe asked Zhao Ming.

“Wen Kai brought it back from Flower City after attending an academic conference,” Zhao Ming explained.

“It’s been years since we came back to Dahe. Back then, I was always eating at your place, especially loving your spare rib and night-blooming cereus soup. I couldn’t be satisfied without two bowls,” Wu Zhengzhe reminisced, shaking his head and sighing sweetly. “Hey, Wen Kai works at the hospital behind your house. Why didn’t we think of inviting him for a drink?”

“To invite Wen Kai, you need to book in advance. He’s the pillar of Dahe Hospital’s surgery department, always busy, several surgeries a day, morning till night, never a free moment. I’ve been to his place several times, and the chance of seeing him is maybe twenty percent. When he’s not in surgery, he’s checking on patients in the ward. His care is meticulous, like treating his own father. He barely rests. His income is high, several times our salary, his public fund alone matches our wages, but he works so hard. I couldn’t handle that intensity. Besides, this little house is crowded with just the four of us; it’s hard to host anyone else. Only you, brother, still visit the humble home. Come, let’s toast to our brotherhood!”

“Let’s not talk about that, let’s talk about happier things. The three sworn brothers—Da Cheng gave his life for the country, now only the three of us remain. We should find time to gather again,” Wu Zhengzhe suggested.

“Of course, brotherhood is brotherhood. ‘If we prosper, we won’t forget each other’ was our oath. Sharing birth or death is fate, beyond our control. We can’t know what tomorrow brings—who knows if death or tomorrow arrives first?” Zhao Ming grew more sentimental.

“Don’t be so gloomy. We need to live each day well. Even facing death, as long as we’re happy every day, there’s nothing to regret. Life is like that—hardships don’t matter. This is your happy nest, a warm harbor where you can dock, free and carefree. I envy you, brother!” Wu Zhengzhe took a sip of wine.

He continued to vent, “I run around the police station every day with one goal: to stay happy, never give up, and rid the world of harm!” He said this while pouring more wine for Zhao Ming, spilling a little, and Zhao Ming stopped him, “It’s full already, brother!”

Wu Zhengzhe raised his glass and clinked it with Zhao Ming’s, “Come on, brother, let’s drink.”

After several rounds, both men had drunk quite a bit. Zhao Ming remained mostly clear-headed, but Wu Zhengzhe’s speech started to slur and ramble.

Dujuan brewed a cup of honey water to sober up, placing it nearby. She also handed a cup to Zhao Ming, who took a sip, immediately feeling the burning in his stomach ease.

They ate and drank with high spirits, finishing the bottle of wine. Wu Zhengzhe was thoroughly drunk, so Zhao Ming had to clear the table, wash the dishes, and tidy up.

Dujuan set up the folding sofa in the living room, made up a bed for Wu Zhengzhe, and called Zhao Ming to help move him onto it, covering his belly with a blanket. She placed the honey water on the side table and, together with Zhao Ming, tiptoed to wash up, careful not to wake Wu Zhengzhe. Watching him sleep soundly, they gently closed the door.

Zhao Ming sat on the bed, pressing his middle fingers to his temples, striving to keep his mind clear. This was a habit he had developed over the years; whenever he felt drowsy, he massaged his head to relax his tense and tired nerves.

Soon, his head cleared. He sat against the leather headboard of the bed.

At the dressing table, Dujuan was meticulously arranging her beloved cosmetics, with a face mask already applied. She pressed the mask in place with one hand, gently patting it with the other to help her skin absorb the moisture. As Zhao Ming watched her in a daze, Dujuan glanced back, asking with concern if his hangover had eased and if he felt better.

“Oh, I forgot to ask you. What happened after you hit that BMW last time?” Dujuan asked.

“You still remember? The BMW owner was Dai Yunjiu, the one you don’t like. Remember him?” Zhao Ming replied.

“Of course. How could I forget? He caused us to tear up our marriage certificate. How could I forget? I just don’t like him—he always makes me uneasy. Keep your distance from him.”

“Alright, I understand,” Zhao Ming said.

“Did he make you pay for the damage?” Dujuan asked.

“With our relationship, would he ask me to pay?” Zhao Ming replied.

“Honestly, even if he did, you couldn’t afford it!” Dujuan said.

“Forget it, let’s not talk about people we dislike. Let’s discuss something else,” Zhao Ming said. (To be continued)