Chapter 041: Preparing to Return Home

This story is purely fictional.

Mingyue set up her stall at the marketplace, beginning another day of toil. The lettuce sold out quickly, gone in no time. After selling the lettuce, Mingyue carefully collected the detached leaves, one by one, placing them into an empty vegetable basket beside her. To save on expenses, these leaves would make a dish for dinner.

She stood and stretched, looking a little weary. In the distance, she spotted her elder brother, Zhaoming, approaching. Zhaoming had already seen Mingyue standing there and hurried toward her stall. He handed her two packs of Wahaha drinks he had bought. Mingyue looked at her brother and asked, “How come you have time to visit me today? Don’t you have work?”

“I happened to have something to do nearby at the market, so I thought I’d drop by to see you and Situ Cong,” Zhaoming replied, his words not quite matching his true intentions. In reality, he had come to see if Mingyue might be able to lend him some money for the down payment on his house.

“Oh, would you like to have lunch here? I can prepare a few dishes for you and Situ to have some drinks with. What do you think?” It had been a while since Mingyue had seen her brother; she wanted him to stay for a meal.

“Alright. My colleagues are still filming at the scene, and they won’t be leaving for a while.” Zhaoming agreed. Not seeing Situ, he asked, “Where’s Situ? Why isn’t he here?”

“He was called away by his elder brother today, something about the house we’re living in. A while back, his brother mentioned the house, saying they needed money to buy another one and were planning to sell this one. We may not be able to stay here much longer. Besides, making money selling vegetables is far too hard.” As she spoke of her husband, Mingyue sighed.

“The house will soon be returned to his brother. After all these years selling vegetables here, we’ve hardly made any money. At least we didn’t have to pay for housing before, but now with nowhere to live, if we want to keep this business, we’ll have to find a place to rent. Isn’t it natural that I feel discouraged thinking about all this? There isn’t a single thing I’m satisfied with—every day is anxious and unsettled, and there’s no happiness to be found,” Mingyue said, shaking her head.

Having finished, she looked over to where her son played in the distance and called out in a loud voice, “Situ Cong, your uncle’s here! He brought you your favorite Wahaha!” Her voice resonated through nearly the entire market.

Situ Cong, playing happily, heard his mother’s call and shouted back, “I’m coming!” The little fellow ran over, his steps quick and lively. Seeing Zhaoming, both familiar and unfamiliar, he was momentarily unsure how to address the man before him.

“Don’t you remember? This is your uncle. Come on, your uncle brought you your favorite Wahaha. Greet him properly,” Mingyue prompted Situ Cong.

“Uncle,” Situ Cong called out to Zhaoming.

Zhaoming patted the sweat-soaked boy, signaling Mingyue to wipe Situ Cong’s sweat, then opened a bottle of Wahaha, inserted a straw, and handed it to the child.

Situ Cong put the straw to his mouth, and after finishing the bottle, he kept his gaze fixed longingly on the drink.

Zhaoming found the boy’s manner endearing and, knowing he hadn’t had enough, patted his head and asked, “Would you like another?” Situ Cong’s eyes lit up, nodding his large head.

Zhaoming handed him another bottle with a straw.

“Are you planning to go home? If you are, I can carry Situ Cong back for you,” Zhaoming offered as he helped Mingyue tidy up the stall.

“I need to go back and make lunch; Situ will be home soon too. If there’s no food when he returns, he’ll start complaining again.” Mingyue packed up, covered her things with a sunshade, and got ready to leave.

Zhaoming carried Situ Cong ahead, with Mingyue following behind, talking as they walked. Noticing Situ Cong’s nose running, Mingyue took out a tissue and wiped him clean. She scolded loudly, “Didn’t I tell you not to get so wild when you play outside? You must have sweated a lot and caught a cold again. If you get sick this time, I’m not taking you to the hospital. If you get so sick you die, so be it—at least you won’t have to suffer anymore.” Mingyue’s anger flared at the sight of her son’s cold.

As they walked through the corridor toward home, the air was thick with smoke as a neighbor lit their coal stove, the smell of charred coal strong in the air. Zhaoming choked on the smoke, coughing incessantly as if something were caught in his throat.

Seeing this, Mingyue quickly took Situ Cong from Zhaoming’s arms. Zhaoming, covering his mouth and nose, still couldn’t stop coughing. Mingyue hurried to unlock the door and let him into the house. Only after closing the door did his coughing gradually subside.

Mingyue poured him a glass of boiled water, which Zhaoming gulped down in a few swallows. He wiped his mouth, let out a long sigh, and sat down on a chair.

The family dog, seeing a stranger, started barking.

Mingyue called out its name, “Afa—” and the dog immediately stopped. Afa sat in front of Zhaoming, fixing its gaze on him, as if carefully observing the newcomer’s every move.

“You call him Afa?” Zhaoming asked.

“Yes, Situ Cong named him after watching ‘Afa Potter’ on TV. So we call him Afa,” Mingyue replied.

“Situ Cong can name a dog? A five-year-old giving the dog a foreign name—that’s impressive.” Zhaoming patted Situ Cong’s head and praised him, “You really are clever.”

Situ Cong, pleased by his uncle’s praise, grinned foolishly at him. Though his Wahaha bottle was empty, he kept sucking eagerly, making a slurping sound.

“There’s nothing left. Why are you still sucking so hard?” Mingyue took the empty bottle from him. Situ Cong watched the bottle, reluctant to let it go, as if he hadn’t finished the drink.

“Tell me, Situ Cong, you gave Afa such a good name. Does Afa listen to you?” Zhaoming asked.

“Of course he listens to me. If not, I’ll hit him.” Hearing this, Afa immediately stood up, watching Situ Cong as if awaiting his command.

Situ Cong calmly fetched a small ball from his bed, tossed it into the air, and shouted, “Afa, shoot the basket!”

As he called out, Afa leapt up, caught the ball, and dashed toward the door. Zhaoming saw that behind the door hung a basket made of wire, complete with a hand-woven net. Afa accurately dropped the ball into the basket, then tossed it back to Situ Cong.

Afa’s actions were precise and comical, making Zhaoming roar with laughter.

Seeing his uncle laugh so heartily, Situ Cong joined in, giggling gleefully.

Hearing the laughter from inside, Mingyue, who was busy preparing dinner in the corridor, quickly came in. She had just opened the door when she bumped into Afa, who was making a second shot. The collision made Afa yelp miserably.

With Afa’s shot interrupted, Situ Cong pouted unhappily, complaining, “Bad Mommy, you hurt Afa.” He rushed over to comfort Afa, stroking his face.

Afa stopped whining, his eyes watery as he gazed at Situ Cong, panting like a wounded child.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, Situ Cong. It’s Mommy’s fault your Afa got hurt. Let me make it up to you with another bottle of Wahaha, okay?” Mingyue said tenderly.

Hearing that he could have another Wahaha, Situ Cong was overjoyed, nodding at his mother, urging her to hurry.

Mingyue quickly fetched another bottle for him and returned to preparing dinner.

Since Situ Cong couldn’t insert the straw himself, he took the bottle to his uncle, who did it for him and handed it back. Situ Cong sucked contentedly, savoring the drink.

“You really like Wahaha, don’t you?” Zhaoming asked.

Situ Cong nodded as he drank, “It’s delicious. I like it. Uncle, when you come again, will you bring me more?”

“Of course I will. But you must listen to your mother and not run around outside. There are too many cars—it’s not safe, understand?” Zhaoming said.

“If I behave, will you always bring me Wahaha?” Situ Cong asked.

“Absolutely,” Zhaoming affirmed, holding out his little finger. “Come on, let’s pinky swear.” After they hooked fingers, Situ Cong beamed with delight.

Dinner was nearly ready. Mingyue had prepared a few simple home-cooked dishes: scrambled eggs with tomato, lettuce leaves, fish balls, and pickled greens.

As soon as Zhaoming saw the fish balls, he knew it was Mingyue’s special hometown recipe. He remembered her skill in the kitchen—no matter how ordinary the ingredients, her hands could transform them. Mingyue’s fish balls were made from pure fish, light, springy, and melting in the mouth. He had loved them since he was little, and the sight alone whetted his appetite.

Seeing her brother swallowing hungrily, Mingyue smiled, “Craving some fish balls, are you? I’ll get you a bowl and chopsticks and serve you some soup.”

It had been a long time since Zhaoming tasted Mingyue’s cooking. The aroma was irresistible. He devoured the food, and when the bowl was empty, he looked as though he hadn’t had enough. But he shook his head, “No more, or there won’t be any left for your family.”

“We can always make more another time. It’s not often you visit—eat as much as you want.” With that, Mingyue snatched his bowl and filled it again. “Here, have another.”

Zhaoming quickly finished the second bowl, finally feeling satisfied. He patted his belly and sighed contentedly, “Ah, now I’m really full.”

Just then, Situ came home. Opening the door and seeing his brother-in-law eating, he greeted him, “You’re here—a rare guest.”

“Yes, if we weren’t filming nearby, I wouldn’t have had the time. I’m lucky today, having tasted your wife’s fish balls—a real treat. How did things go with the house?” Zhaoming asked with concern.

“What do you think?” Situ replied wearily. “You say you’re lucky to have a good meal, but after today, who knows if there’ll be another.”

“What’s wrong? Are you losing the house? Is it really that dire? Even if the house is taken back, you can always find a place to rent,” Zhaoming tried to comfort him.

“Find a rental? You don’t know our situation. Right now, we’re barely scraping by, and the profit is pitiful. We’ve done this for four years, and it’s embarrassing to talk about money. Every day, out in the wind and rain, working from dawn till dusk, eating the simplest food—sometimes just a bun for a meal. The little we’ve earned is only because we didn’t pay rent. You don’t know how picky people are in Dahe City—haggling over every cent. If you’re not careful with your words, they’ll stop coming to your stall. We work ourselves to the bone and only make enough for a hard day’s labor. Now that we’re losing the house, my wife and I have discussed it—we’re going back home,” Situ said, disheartened.

Mingyue listened, tears welling in her eyes. She took out a tissue and wiped her face. “The kindergarten Zhengzhe found for us was already arranged—they only charged six thousand in sponsorship because he went to so much trouble. But now, we can’t send the child there. Tell Zhengzhe we’re going home, thank him for all his efforts, and apologize for the trouble. As for us, we’ll take Situ Cong back to the countryside, rest for a while, and figure things out. Situ will probably work at my second uncle’s fish farm, and I’ll stay with my parents for now until we find another way.” She spoke through her tears.

“Don’t cry. Things will work out in the end. I’ll talk with Zhezhe about your work—maybe we can find another solution,” Zhaoming comforted her.

Mingyue wiped her tears with her sleeve and saw Zhaoming to the door.

Only after Zhaoming disappeared into the crowd did Mingyue return, dispirited, to her small room.