Zhou Zhaodi’s vision went black, and she collapsed stiffly onto the ground.
Huang Meili was scared out of her wits, her calves trembling uncontrollably. She had wanted to turn around and run home, but then she thought better of it. If something happened to Zhou Zhaodi, she would be held responsible too.
“Help! Zhou Zhaodi fainted!”
In a panic, she ran straight into Wang Qingshan’s courtyard, snow and muddy slush splashing all over her trouser legs.
The moment she entered the yard, her feet slipped. She crashed heavily onto the icy ground, her backside numb and aching. For a long while, she couldn’t get back up.
“Quick! Zhou Zhaodi fainted. She’s behind your house!”
Old Man Wang and his wife had been warming themselves by the fire inside. At the sound of the shout, they sprang to their feet.
“What happened?!”
Old Man Wang’s legs trembled as he staggered outside. His wife, Li Yufen, hurriedly scooped up their granddaughter and followed close behind.
“What happened?”
Huang Meili was grimacing in pain. Still sitting on the ground and unable to get up, she spoke in a voice close to tears.
“Behind—behind your house!”
Zhou Zhaodi had fainted once before not long ago. Zhao Qingjiang had said it was high blood pressure and warned that she absolutely must not get worked up.
Old Man Wang’s heart sank. He didn’t need to think hard to know that she must have gotten angry over some pointless matter.
He didn’t go around back. Instead, he turned and hurried straight to Zhao Qingjiang’s house.
Zhao Qingjiang arrived carrying his medicine chest. After a long struggle, Zhou Zhaodi finally opened her eyes.
But the entire side of her face was twisted, her eyes were askew, and she could only make hoarse sounds without saying a single word. Half her body lay limp and useless, unable to move at all.
In the end, several strong men had to work together to carry her home.
Zhao Qingjiang shook his head and sighed as he told Old Man Wang, “We managed to save her, but the stroke has damaged her at the root. Half her body is completely paralyzed. I’m afraid she’ll never fully recover.”
Seeing Zhou Zhaodi reduced to such a state, Old Man Wang and his wife were distressed—but they weren’t worried about her. They were worried that their son, Wang Qingshan, would be burdened by her for the rest of his life.
Zhou Zhaodi would probably never be able to bear children again. The Wang family line had effectively come to an end.
Wang Qingshan looked at Zhou Zhaodi lying on the bed, her speech slurred and her meals requiring him to feed her by hand. He felt both vindicated and stifled.
A woman like her—even Heaven couldn’t stand watching her anymore. This was the punishment Heaven had sent her.
But she was still his wife, after all. If she was punished, he had to suffer the consequences with her.
Wang Qingshan had always been a quiet, withdrawn man. After Zhou Zhaodi fell ill, he became even more taciturn, spending his days with worry clouding his face.
The news of Zhou Zhaodi’s stroke and paralysis became a favorite topic of conversation among the villagers.
She had always loved gossiping and causing trouble for no reason. Whenever Chuntao was mentioned, she would grit her teeth in hatred.
Now that she had ended up with a twisted mouth, crooked eyes, and half her body paralyzed, everyone in the village said she had brought it upon herself.
Huang Meili, however, no longer dared mention Zhou Zhaodi’s collapse. She stayed curled up at home under the quilts every day, never even getting out of bed. Her two daughters had to take care of everything for her—eating, drinking, and relieving herself.
As Huang Meili’s mother, Wang Jinzhi knew her daughter’s bad habits better than anyone. Back when she lived with the Wang family, she had caused no end of trouble.
Now that she had fallen into such a state, Wang Jinzhi was afraid the Wang family would grow disgusted with her. So every few days, she would go over to their house, never arriving empty-handed.
Zhou Dana found it extremely irritating.
“Can’t we afford to live anymore?”
“Our daughter is like this now. She needs someone to take care of her every minute of the day. How can her parents just sit back and do nothing? I’m only doing this so the Wang family will treat Zhaodi better.”
“She married into the Wang family. How they treat her is their business. Whether they treat her well or not, Wang Qingshan still has to stand by her!”
Both his daughters were married, yet they still gave him endless worries.
Just yesterday, his cousin had come to him, sobbing and wiping her nose, to complain that Zhou Pandi had been married to Liang Dashan for two months but still refused to let her husband touch her.
Zhou Pandi was proud by nature and had never thought highly of Liang Dashan in the first place. She had married him solely to cure her illness, so it was understandable that she refused to sleep with him.
Zhou Dana had said slowly, “This has to be handled gradually. You can’t force her. Have Dashan treat her well. There’s no need to rush.”
The Liang family were honest, simple people. Ever since Zhou Pandi married into their family, they had given her the best food and drink, and wouldn’t let her do any heavy or tiring work. Every day, she ate and slept, slept and ate, and they treated her like an honored ancestor.
“Brother, our whole family has treated her with complete sincerity, and Dashan listens to everything she says. But she still refuses!”
Zhou Dana was getting annoyed. “If she still refuses, then clearly you haven’t treated her well enough!”
“But the fortune-teller said that if the two of them don’t consummate the marriage, Pandi’s illness won’t get better! Whenever the weather turns cold, her illness flares up again, and she can barely breathe.”
Zhou Dana’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you say that sooner?”
He had agreed to the marriage in the first place because he hoped it would cure Zhou Pandi’s illness. Hearing this, he immediately grew anxious.
He looked at Wang Jinzhi. “Go with her and talk some sense into her.”
Wang Jinzhi was worried about Zhou Pandi’s condition too, so she hurried to the Liang family’s home. After giving Pandi a long, heartfelt lecture, Zhou Pandi finally agreed to give it a try.
Zhou Dana lit a cigarette and took several deep drags in succession. Only then did the pressure in his chest ease somewhat.
He and Wang Jinzhi had had five daughters. Of the two who remained unmarried at home, not one had been easy to deal with.
His only son, Zhou Jinzhu, was the one he was most proud of. Not only was he a good student, but he never caused trouble either.
Yet the truth about the boy’s birth was a buried bomb lying right beside him. Zhou Dana was terrified that one day it would suddenly explode, blowing him apart until not even his bones remained.
The more he thought about it, the tighter his brow drew.
As the village chief of Wang Family Stockade, he had to manage the affairs of the entire village, while his own family was an even bigger mess. The harder he tried to sort it out, the more tangled everything became.
The commune’s recruitment drive had already ended. Zhou Xiaowei was the only person from Wang Family Stockade to be accepted.
Zhou Zhiguo and his wife were both happy and worried. They were happy that their son had been accepted into the army—a source of honor for the entire family.
But they worried that after serving for several years, he might come home with nothing to show for it, having also delayed getting married.
Happy or worried, it no longer mattered. Since he had been accepted, it was too late to change his mind. All they could do was let him go.
Zhou Xiaowei himself was filled with mixed emotions, but his worries were different from his parents’.
Once he left to serve in the army, he had no idea when he would be able to come home again. The thought alone made his heart ache.
What he found hardest to leave behind was Chuntao—and the two adorable children.
By the time he returned, the two little ones might not even recognize their older brother anymore.
Zhou Xiaowei’s nose stung, and tears nearly spilled from his eyes.
He immediately headed for Zhou Zhijun’s house. Before he left, he wanted to see them one more time—every glance would be precious.
The road was slick after the snowfall, but he strode forward quickly, taking long, hurried steps.
Zhou Zhijun’s entire family was gathered around the fire in the east room. Aunt Zhou held Jianshe in her arms, while Chuntao sat beside her, cuddling Nuannuan.
When Zhou Xiaowei reached the doorway, his heart suddenly tightened.
The girl he had once secretly cherished with all his heart had long since become his second aunt—and was now the mother of two children.
The feelings he had never dared to confess could only remain buried forever. He would never have the chance to speak of them again.
“Xiaowei’s here?” Aunt Zhou was the first to notice him. She quickly pulled out a small stool from behind her. “Come in and warm yourself by the fire. Don’t catch a chill.”
“Sure.”
Zhou Xiaowei answered as he stepped inside. His gaze brushed lightly across Chuntao’s face before quickly settling on Jianshe in Aunt Zhou’s arms.
Aunt Zhou smiled and reminded him, “Work hard once you get to the army. Don’t worry about things at home.”
Zhou Xiaowei nodded. He crouched down and gently touched Jianshe’s little cheek, then looked at Nuannuan in Chuntao’s arms.
The little girl gazed up at him with her round, bright eyes. She even reached out a tiny hand, trying to grab his shirtfront.
His heart softened, and a fresh wave of bitterness rose within him.
Once he left for the military camp, the journey would be long and far. Who knew when they would see each other again?
“Say ‘big brother.’”
Zhou Xiaowei held out a finger for Nuannuan to grasp.
Her little hand was soft and boneless, so tender that it melted his heart.
“Gogo!”
Nuannuan blinked her grape-black eyes. Her tiny lips moved, and out came a soft, lisping childish voice.
Zhou Xiaowei froze, his eyes widening.
“Did you all hear that? Nuannuan can call me her brother now! This little girl’s amazing!”
Everyone in the room had heard it clearly. Nuannuan had indeed said “brother”—it was only that her pronunciation was still unclear, turning it into “Gogo.”
“Well, the little girl’s a clever talker, and the little boy’s quick on his feet!” Aunt Zhou said, her wrinkled face breaking into a smile.
“Nuannuan first learned to say ‘Dad,’ then ‘Mom,’ and now she can say ‘Brother’ too! Jianshe only knows how to say ‘Grandma,’ but that boy is quick on his feet—he can already walk ten steps in one go!”
Aunt Zhou looked at Zhou Xiaowei again and said gently, “These two little ones are both very bright. Even if you’re gone for several years, they’ll surely still recognize you when you come back.”
Zhou Xiaowei’s eyes grew hot, and he quickly raised a hand to wipe them.
He couldn’t bear to leave this whole family, nor the two little children. Least of all could he bear to leave the woman before him—the woman he had once held dear in his heart, yet could only respectfully address as Second Aunt.
Chuntao noticed his low spirits and comforted him softly. “Once you get to the army, take good care of yourself. By the time you return with honors, Jianshe and Nuannuan will both be old enough to run after you.”
Her words made Zhou Xiaowei’s eyes redden.
He gave a forceful “Mm,” then lowered his head, afraid that everyone in the room would see through him.
He sat by the warmly blazing fire for a little while longer, but worried that he would soon lose control of his tears. He rose, said, “I’m heading out,” and hurried from the room.
The cold wind struck him outside, and his tears finally spilled over.
Zhou Zhijun looked up at his retreating figure and called, “Xiaowei!”
He followed him out of the east room. “Have you packed everything?”
“Mm!” Zhou Xiaowei quickly stopped and wiped the tears from his face.
“When you get to the army, train hard. Don’t bring shame to the Zhou family.” Zhou Zhijun gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder.
“I’ll remember that, Second Uncle.”
The elderly Aunt Zhou and her husband, along with Chuntao, also rose and went to the doorway, watching his retreating figure with hearts full of reluctance.
The cold wind swept scraps of snow across the courtyard. No one spoke, but every heart held an indescribable ache.
