After several days of busy preparations, everything was finally ready. Aunt Zhou had also asked someone to select an auspicious date, and the day for the celebratory feast was set.
The day before the feast, Zhou Zhijun called in the village butcher and had him slaughter the fat pig their family had raised for more than half a year. It weighed over two hundred pounds—plenty of meat for the banquet.
He also invited the most famous chef in town, along with several assistants, to prepare the dishes.
This feast was being held partly to celebrate the twins’ first full month, and partly to make up for the long-delayed wedding between him and Chuntao.
More than thirty tables were set up, and practically every relative from near and far, along with nearly every man, woman, and child from Wang Family Village, had come. The courtyard and the area outside were filled with laughter and cheerful voices. It was a lively, bustling scene.
Everything Chuntao wore, from the inside out, was new. Her top was a bright red dacron blouse, its stitching neat and its cut proper.
Underneath, she wore a pink dacron shirt, clean and festive. Against her already fair complexion, it made her cheeks look even more delicate and rosy.
On her lower half was a pair of dark-blue polyester trousers, the cuffs ironed straight. On her feet were the most fashionable canvas shoes with rubber soles, light and steady as she walked.
Wang Haiying had combed her hair until it was smooth and glossy, then twisted it into a neat bun at the back of her head.
Chuntao had always been shy by nature and never liked dressing up in anything flashy. Today was both her make-up wedding and the twins’ first-month celebration, so she had only pinned a brand-new red plastic hair clip behind her ear. It was simple, yet it could not conceal her gentle, sweet charm.
“Peach, you’re naturally beautiful already. Once you’ve dressed up, you’re prettier than any of the seven fairies! I can’t get enough of looking at you!” Wang Haiying praised her again and again as she looked Chuntao up and down, grinning.
Beside her, Zhou Xiaobao blinked his round eyes, lifted his little face, and shouted, “My second aunt is so pretty!”
A crowd of half-grown children squeezed around the doorway of the inner room, chattering and laughing as they stared at Chuntao’s face and clothes. They whispered among themselves, “The new bride is so beautiful…”
Chuntao’s small face was flushed with a rosy glow. She lowered her eyes, looking like a peach blossom just waiting to bloom, too shy to raise her head.
Then, for no apparent reason, one of the children suddenly shouted, “She’s Wang Jieshi’s wife!”
The words struck Chuntao’s heart like a needle. Her chest tightened, and the blush on her face immediately faded a little. Her expression stiffened.
Seeing this, Wang Haiying hurriedly waved the children away. “Go play in the courtyard. Don’t make a racket in here!”
Only then did the children scamper off, laughing and shouting.
The courtyard was already bustling with activity.
Chunks of pork, white and beautifully marbled with fat, were piled on the chopping boards. Some people were assigned to slice and chop the meat, while the head chef gripped a large ladle and worked so busily that his feet scarcely touched the ground.
Several earthen stoves had been set up in the yard. Huge iron pots sat over the fires, and the firewood crackled and popped. The aroma of stir-fried meat mingled with the fragrance of steamed buns, drifting so far that the entire Wang Family Village could probably smell it.
Long benches and square tables had been arranged in neat rows. The main room, the east room, the courtyard, and even the area outside the gate were packed with guests.
The men gathered together, smoking and joking as they discussed the growth of the crops in the fields and the condition of their livestock’s teeth.
The women sat in groups of three or five, chatting about this family and that. Yet not one of them dared mention the old scandals involving Zhou Zhijun and Chuntao.
The aunts and older women from the Zhou family crowded around the stoves, helping with everything from picking vegetables and washing them to scrubbing pots and cleaning dishes. They were so busy they could hardly stop for breath.
Even so, smiles covered their faces as they praised Chuntao for being virtuous and praised Zhou Zhijun for being capable. Most of all, they praised the twins for their sturdy, healthy looks and said they had been born with the faces of children blessed by fortune.
Zhou Zhijun wore a brand-new blue cloth jacket with a pair of army-green trousers that had been washed nearly white. His hair was combed neatly, and his usually cold, tense face wore a smile all day long.
He hurried from place to place welcoming guests, handing out cigarettes, pouring tea, and showing people to their seats. He did not have a moment to himself.
Every now and then, his gaze passed through the bustling crowd and landed on the window lattice of the north room. Through a crack in the window, he looked at the shy and gentle little woman inside, and his eyes instantly softened.
Today was not only the twins’ first-month celebration. It was also the wedding he owed Chuntao.
There had been no grand bridal procession, no lavish dowry. But these more than thirty tables of food had been prepared with all the color and excitement of a proper celebration.
He wanted everyone to see that Chuntao was the officially wedded wife of Zhou Zhijun—the woman he would protect with his life for the rest of his days.
Aunt Zhou stood at the doorway holding Jianshe, smiling so broadly that the corners of her eyes crinkled. Yet tears quietly gathered there as well.
After enduring so many difficult years, her second son had finally started a family. He had even been blessed with a pair of twins. At last, the days ahead seemed to be heading toward something brighter.
According to village custom, the new bride did not have to work today. Chuntao therefore sat quietly in the inner room, waiting for the feast to begin.
She happened to lift her eyes and look outside through the window, only to meet Zhou Zhijun’s gaze.
Their eyes locked. Her little face grew even redder, and the tips of her ears began to burn. She hurriedly lowered her head, but the corners of her mouth lifted despite herself, unable to hide the happiness in her heart.
A warm breeze drifted past, carrying the scent of the April sunshine and mingling with the fragrance of food from the courtyard. Chuntao felt a little dazed.
The days ahead seemed like a fresh sheet of white paper spread before her, waiting for her, Zhou Zhijun, and their two children to fill it in stroke by stroke with a peaceful, sweet life.
She had suffered so much. Surely all the days to come would be filled with sweetness.
And yet, that small, hidden unease still quietly rose within her.
Once the feast was over, Zhou Zhijun would leave to work on the reservoir. When the banquet dispersed, how much of the warmth and excitement filling the courtyard would remain?
In the north room of the neighboring Wang family’s house, Wang Jieshi lay stiffly on the bed like a dead piece of wood.
He stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. Flecks of sunlight filtered through the cracks in the rafters and fell across his sallow, gaunt face, making him look utterly lifeless.
The laughter and merriment from the Zhou family reached his ears like sharp knives gouging at his heart. He felt as though all the blood in his body were pouring out through their blades, leaving him in such pain that he could hardly breathe.
His consciousness gradually blurred, and he seemed to return to the day of his own wedding.
That day had been just as lively. Chuntao had worn a bright red wedding dress, with two long, black, glossy braids hanging over her chest and swaying gently with each breath.
Everyone in the village had stared at her. They had praised her as the most beautiful young bride in Wang Family Village. Yet Wang Jieshi had not even been willing to look at her properly.
His heart had belonged to someone else—the woman he had fallen in love with freely and chosen for himself. She was nowhere near as beautiful as Chuntao, but in his eyes, she surpassed even Xi Shi.
He had possessed a gentle, capable wife and failed to cherish her. Instead, he had eloped with another woman, only to end up in such a miserable state.
Wang Jieshi wished he could smash his head against the wall and be done with it. But now his entire body was limp and paralyzed. He could not even manage to die.
Elsewhere, Wang Xiaohong also felt terribly stifled.
After breakfast that morning, she had dragged Wang Xiaoming out to the fields, unwilling to witness the lively scene at the Zhou home.
“I’m going to help Uncle Zhijun today,” Wang Xiaoming said softly, his head lowered.
Wang Xiaohong exploded on the spot. “Is the Zhou family short of people? Why would they need you? Come on, get to the fields with me. Don’t go making a fool of yourself in front of them!”
She reached out and grabbed Wang Xiaoming by the arm, but he flung her hand away.
“Who’s making a fool of himself? I’m going to help!”
“Help? With that time, you’d be better off pulling a couple of weeds in the fields!” Wang Xiaohong shouted angrily.
Wang Xiaoming said no more. He rushed into the inner room, fished two two-yuan notes and a one-yuan note from beneath his pillow, stuffed them into his pocket, and ran to Zhou Zhijun’s house.
Chuntao had once been his sister-in-law, but now she was his sister. How could he miss his sister’s big day?
Wang Xiaohong watched helplessly as Wang Xiaoming ran into the Zhou family’s home. Listening to the laughter and merriment outside, she felt as though a massive weight had settled on her chest—heavy and suffocating.
She picked up her basket and sickle and went to the fields alone. Even when the sun stood directly overhead, she still hadn’t returned home.
Crouched by the field ridge, she covered her mouth and sobbed. All her grievances and resentment were buried deep in the cropland.
“Xiaohong, what are you doing out here?”
A voice suddenly came from behind her.
