Guan Wenjun really didn’t know how to cook.
Still, he could manage to light a fire and boil water.
Zhong Mei was hardworking and capable, keeping the kitchen neat, tidy, and spotless.
Guan Wenjun saw that the pot was clean, so he poured two ladles of water into it, then rummaged around everywhere without finding any rice, flour, or oil.
So he went back to the bedroom and asked Zhong Mei, “Wife, where’s our millet? Didn’t you say you wanted millet porridge?”
When Zhong Mei heard him say “our,” she felt some of her anger subside.
This man—despite having many flaws—had a good character, and that was rare and valuable.
A man’s character mattered most; even if feelings faded, a person of good character would still act with conscience.
Zhong Mei lay in bed, turned her head to look at him, and gestured with her chin toward the wooden cabinet against the wall. “It’s in that cabinet. The key is here,” she said, then pulled a key from under her pillow and handed it to him. “Use this to open it.”
The only thing locked in Zhong Mei’s room was that wooden cabinet.
She usually locked both doors of her rooms when she went to work at the factory.
But she had lived through hard times and knew how precious food was, so she never kept it in the kitchen. Instead, she stored it in the cabinet, locked up tight to ensure it wouldn’t be stolen.
Zhong Mei looked tired in the bedcovers.
He couldn’t help thinking back to the taste of their intimate moments earlier.
So he eagerly climbed back onto the kang, pressed kisses on Zhong Mei through the quilt, and then hesitated for a moment before saying, “Wife, how about one more round?”
That’s how newly initiated men were—never satisfied.
But Zhong Mei wasn’t about to indulge him. She smacked his arm and scolded him, “Stop dawdling and go make me something to eat!”
Guan Wenjun: “…”
He frowned and rubbed his arm. His skin was fair, and where Zhong Mei slapped him, a red handprint appeared.
He made a pitiful face and said, “Wife, don’t be so rough. Why do you keep hitting me? It hurts.”
Zhong Mei: “…”
She quietly pulled her hand back and said to Guan Wenjun, “Who told you to be disobedient? I told you to cook the porridge. If I wait for you to make a meal, I’ll starve to death here.”
Guan Wenjun then coaxed her, “Wife, just lie here patiently. Your man will go make you something to eat right now.”
Zhong Mei closed her eyes and nodded.
Guan Wenjun stared at her for a long time, the more he looked, the cuter he found his wife.
She wasn’t any worse than Qin Yuanzheng’s wife, in his opinion.
He took the key, went to unlock the cabinet, and asked, “Wife, why do you lock up the food? Did someone try to steal around here?”
Zhong Mei lay in bed, eyes closed, exhausted, and replied, “Just to be safe. Who knows when a thief might show up? Food is precious. If it gets stolen, I’ll have nothing to eat.”
Guan Wenjun thought she was exaggerating.
But he didn’t argue with her right then.
When he opened the lock, he saw two big red pomegranates, two large apples, and a bag of walnuts in a basket inside—things he had bought for Zhong Mei a few days earlier.
He hadn’t expected her to be so frugal that she hadn’t even finished them yet.
Fortunately, apples and pomegranates could keep well for a week or more without going bad.
He took out the apples and pomegranates and placed them on the table by the kang. “These fruits need to be eaten soon, or they’ll spoil,” he said.
Then he grabbed an apple, took a big crunching bite, and exclaimed, “Mm, really sweet.”
Zhong Mei glanced at him but didn’t respond, going back to sleep.
Guan Wenjun was genuinely hungry. After eating half an apple, he found millet and sweet potatoes in the cabinet, carried them to the adjacent room, and began making sweet potato millet porridge.
He really didn’t know how to cook. The water in the pot was already hot. First, he added firewood to the stove, then scooped half a bowl of millet.
Without washing it, he poured it straight into the pot.
Then he grabbed a sweet potato, inspected it left and right, finally washed it, sliced it into chunks, and threw those in too.
Then he put the lid on and waited for the porridge to cook.
As for kneading dough for steamed buns, making noodles, or stir-frying—he had no clue how to do any of that.
Having some sweet potato porridge wasn’t bad. If worse came to worst, he could go to a state-run restaurant to buy meals or bring back food from the cafeteria for Zhong Mei tomorrow.
It was only then that Guan Wenjun once again realized the value of having a maid.
If he had someone like Auntie Shi, he wouldn’t need to worry about cooking at all.
Come to think of it, should he try to poach Auntie Shi from Qin Yuanzheng?
It might be worth it to take her away entirely. Without someone to cook, the household wouldn’t work.
...
The Auntie Shi that Guan Wenjun was thinking about had also run into trouble these past few days.
The trouble came from her own family.
She had taken leave and gone home, and her husband and son immediately asked her for money.
They wanted five hundred yuan at once.
Auntie Shi hesitated. “Asking for five hundred yuan at once is no small sum. If we take it all out, we’ll have nothing left.”
She had worked all these years, not daring to spend a single penny frivolously, saving up everything.
That money was meant for her sons’ marriages and building houses.
If she gave it all away now to buy her son a job...
Well, if it truly secured a legitimate job, that might be acceptable.
The question was whether the connection was reliable.
Auntie Shi’s husband puffed on his cigarette and said, “Our second son is almost nineteen. He can’t just loaf around at home forever. He needs to find a job, or how will he ever find a wife?”
Her husband was a worker with urban residency. They had three children, and the eldest had responded to the government’s call to go to the countryside.
Now the second son was nineteen, and still unemployed.
He refused to take temporary work, thinking it would make him lose face and make it harder to marry a city girl.
So for some time, he had been pestering them to spend money to buy a job.
The second son added, “Mom, I told you before to ask your employer if they could give me a quota and place me at the mining area. But you wouldn’t! Now I’m asking you for money, and you won’t give it! Are you even my real mother?”
Auntie Shi: “...”
She felt helpless at his words.
But he was still her son, and she was soft-hearted. After hesitating for a moment, she asked, “Did that man say what kind of job five hundred yuan would buy? What unit is it in? Did you ask clearly?”
The second son immediately replied, “I asked. They said the neighboring city is building an airport and has been recruiting workers for a while. Most positions are filled, but if I pay, I can buy a foreman’s job. I’ll sit in an office all day and supervise workers, Mom!
This is a golden opportunity—once in a lifetime. After all, this provincial capital hasn’t built an airport in centuries!”
Auntie Shi was shocked. She asked her husband, “The neighboring city? You mean Wencheng? They’re building an airport there? Why isn’t Longcheng building one?”
Auntie Shi's husband had always been working on construction sites, and he had heard some rumors as well, so he said:
"I heard six months ago that an airport was going to be built, and our engineering corps would be in charge. But I don't know which regiment will be sent. Still, buying a job should be legitimate. An airport is huge, and it'll need a lot of workers."
Hearing her husband say this, and being pestered endlessly by her son,
Auntie Shi finally gave in. She dug out all the family's savings and scraped together five hundred yuan for her son.
Her son took the money and went off to purchase the job.
Auntie Shi didn't stay home long. She told them to send her a message once the job was secured.
Then, before dark, she hurried back to the small courtyard where Qiao Lanshu lived.
She still had to rush to cook dinner for Qiao Lanshu's family.
