Nan Sheng thought that if Sizhe returned, he would surely need the fish basket. She first cooked the corn porridge, then went to the vegetable garden to pick an assortment of greens for a hearty stew.
Her son and daughter loved fried eggs, so she decided to fry one for each of them in the evening. Paired with fish or shrimp, it would make for a satisfying meal.
By the time the food was almost ready, Sizhe would be back from school. Nan Sheng used lard to prepare the stew, tossing in chunks of crispy pork fat that filled the air with an irresistible aroma.
Third Brother Lin, who had been restless earlier, immediately settled down at the scent of the food. He even teased Siqi playfully—she was the only one who didn’t hold grudges, unlike Sizhe, who still refused to acknowledge his uncle.
As the stew was served, commotion erupted outside again. Nan Sheng stepped out to take Sizhe’s schoolbag and fish basket from him. "Dinner’s almost ready. Don’t talk for too long," she reminded him.
Sizhe nodded. He felt a smug satisfaction seeing the Bai family too afraid to enter, forced to loiter at the doorstep. Meanwhile, the sight of him getting along so well with his stepmother only fueled the Bai family’s fury.
How could he be so close to an outsider while turning his back on his own grandparents and uncles? Wasn’t that the definition of an ungrateful wretch?
The fish basket, relocated the day before, had yielded a plentiful catch. Nan Sheng sorted out the smaller fish for Third Brother Lin to clean, saving the larger ones to dry and keeping the shrimp fresh for breakfast—excellent sources of protein.
A whole plate of small fish was prepared. Nan Sheng fried the eggs first, then used the remaining oil to fry the fish.
Just as they were about to stick to the pan, she added scallions, ginger, garlic, and fermented soybean paste to braise them, removing the fishy taste before sweetening it with a touch of sugar. The result was absolutely divine!
Outside, the Bai family hurled insults at Sizhe, calling him disloyal for treating a "thief" as his mother. In response, Sizhe coldly listed all the money and goods the Bai family had taken from the Lin household over the years, sparing no face for his maternal grandparents.
If not for the drought, he suspected his paternal grandparents would still be urging him to endure the mistreatment.
Eventually, the Bai family left, but not without a final threat—swearing they’d rather starve than ever set foot here again. Old Lady Bai, ever the drama queen, wailed all the way from the Lin residence to the village entrance, as if her tears could curse the family’s fortunes.
At dinner, Nan Sheng had intended to invite her mother-in-law over, but Sizhe returned with the news that she had already eaten. As for the others, Nan Sheng ignored them entirely.
Especially her sister-in-law—how dare she ask for a loan after proving utterly useless in times of need, hiding at home like a coward?
The evening meal featured two main dishes: the fried eggs, one per person, disappeared quickly. The savory braised fish paired perfectly with rice, while the occasional bite of crispy pork fat in the stew kept the men—usually quiet—busy devouring their food.
Nan Sheng had cooked half a pot of porridge, refilling the bowl whenever it emptied. Lin Guozheng and his father, who usually ate only until half-full, found themselves stuffed for once.
Had there not been so much porridge—and the fear of it spoiling overnight—they would never have indulged so freely.
Back at the old house, Zhou Wei was berating her two sons. "You idiots! If you’d called your father back, you could’ve mooched a meal off them! Instead, you just eat at home while your grandparents go hungry!"
Sizhong and Sicheng kept their heads down, slurping their porridge. They had wanted to help earlier, but their mother had stubbornly held them back, claiming the Bai family was trouble.
Now that the coast was clear, she expected them to shamelessly invite themselves over? Were their faces made of iron, that thick?
Zhou Wei’s nagging wore on Sizhong’s nerves. "Mom, if you keep acting like this—only taking, never giving—no one will help us when we’re in trouble."
"Bullshit!" Zhou Wei snapped, angrier at being contradicted. "Didn’t I go when Sizhe got beaten up? And did she lend me any money?"
Meanwhile, Fan Shuting pretended not to hear the commotion. Too lazy to cook dinner, she lay on the kang, feigning sleep.
When Lin Guozheng returned, he brought her a bowl of thick corn porridge. "This is all that’s left. You should eat something."
After years of marriage, he knew his wife well—she couldn’t be bothered to cook for herself.
Fan Shuting smiled and took a sip. The grains and beans had been simmered to perfection. "I’m surprised you managed to ask your daughter-in-law for food."
Lin Guozheng didn’t respond. Had there been leftovers, he would’ve cooked for his mother anyway.
"Neither the eldest nor the third daughter-in-law came today."
Fan Shuting paused mid-sip. "Let them be. If Nan Sheng refuses to help them in the future, they’ve brought it on themselves."
At least the brothers got along. As long as they stood united in important matters, the rest could slide.
Sizhe was doing homework on the kang when Nan Sheng knocked and entered, placing a package of pastries beside him.
"I’ve spoken with your grandfather and uncle. After dark, you’ll go with them to burn paper offerings on the mountain. Take a shovel to dig a pit—burn everything inside it, then bury the ashes. It’s too hot; we can’t risk a wildfire."
Sizhe’s eyes lit up at the chance to honor his late mother. Nan Sheng had even prepared two types of pastries—three of each for the offerings—along with wine.
With his father away, this was a rare opportunity to properly pay respects. Sizhe was deeply moved.
"Mom, thank you… really."
Nan Sheng patted his shoulder. "Don’t forget a flashlight, and watch your step on the mountain."
By the time Sizhe returned from the rites, it was nearly ten. As he raised his hand to knock, Nan Sheng unlatched the door, letting him in.
"Everything go smoothly?"
"Yeah. No one saw us. We buried the pit before leaving."
Only one thing bothered him—Third Brother Lin had taken the offerings from the grave.
Noticing his mood, Nan Sheng teased him. "Did you mention me when you paid respects? The paper offerings and food were all from me. Your mother better appreciate it—next time she visits, she’d better not wander into the wrong room!"
Sizhe: "…"
She made it sound so real, he could feel a chill down his neck.
The night was far from over. Around one in the morning, Xiao Yi arrived near Nan Sheng’s house with a companion, planning to rest nearby until dawn before knocking.
Just as he was about to send his underling away, a figure slipped quietly out of the courtyard gate. Xiao Yi, accustomed to navigating the dark, recognized it as a man.
What was going on?
A petty thief would be easy—just beat him senseless. But if this was an affair in progress, Xiao Yi would rather die on the spot.
Sure enough, things took that exact turn. Creeping closer, they heard the man tapping rhythmically on the window, calling Nan Sheng’s name.
Coincidentally, Sizhe, still unsettled by Nan Sheng’s joke, hadn’t been able to sleep. He was too embarrassed to move to the east room.
Just as drowsiness finally crept in, he heard the noise outside—and someone calling his mother’s name.
What in the world?
Had his birth mother really come for him?
