Both of them couldn’t help but question the situation. Since they each had their own space, they didn’t figure it out at first, but later, both of them realized—could the other person have one too?
This doubt slowly settled in their hearts. Unconsciously, they began observing each other more closely in daily life, looking for anything unusual. The difference between suspicion and trust was like night and day.
Many things are hard to hide from the person who shares your bed.
There’s a reason for saying that.
Apart from work, they spent most of their time in the same space and knew each other well.
Before, certain things had gone unnoticed, shrouded in fog. Now that they were paying attention, the fog remained, but faint lights flickered within it.
Yu Xiang’an noticed that Lin Chuanbai often carried the distinct scent of processed herbs. Given his work in a pharmacy, that wasn’t unusual. But what if he hadn’t handled any herbs that day—like when he was attending training? Where did the smell come from then?
Yu Xiang’an meticulously analyzed his schedule. His time wasn’t exactly abundant. So where did he find the extra hours to process herbs? He woke up early, sent their two children to the nursery at the machinery factory, then rushed to the hospital for training. As far as she knew, the training lasted until the afternoon, leaving little time before his shift ended.
What secret was he hiding that she hadn’t noticed before?
Suspicion took root in Yu Xiang’an’s heart.
Then, Lin Houpu’s birthday arrived. Lin Duzhong mentioned it, and they couldn’t pretend not to know. After discussing it, Yu Xiang’an decided to make a birthday cake.
She kept it simple—just eggs, flour, condensed milk, and crushed biscuits sprinkled on top. She wrote “Happy Birthday” in condensed milk, and that was it.
She didn’t use anything extravagant—just eggs, flour, condensed milk, and biscuits.
The cake was large because it was meant for everyone, including four children who would undoubtedly love it. Making it small would leave them unsatisfied.
As for the expense, Lin Houpu had helped them a lot—even arranging their current house through his assistant. They owed him this much.
The cake was nothing in comparison.
Lin Houpu disliked flattery and refused gifts for his birthday. Over time, everyone knew his preference—a few words of blessing were enough. Anyone who dared bring a gift would face his stern disapproval.
But family was an exception—his sons, daughters-in-law, and wife.
Li Yujiao knew her limits when it came to cooking, so she ordered Lin Houpu’s favorite dishes and made him a new pair of shoes as her gift.
Yu Xiang’an glanced at the shoes and couldn’t help but admire Li Yujiao’s craftsmanship. As someone who wasn’t skilled in needlework, she felt a pang of inadequacy.
Since it was a workday, everyone went about their usual routines except for Zhang Ying and Lin Tiandong, who were on winter break and free to play outside.
The twins were too young for school breaks—they went to the nursery whenever their parents were working.
When Li Yujiao went to pick up the dishes, a minor unpleasantness occurred.
Li Yujiao was one of the most beautiful women among the machinery factory families, and her husband was one of the most prominent men.
On the surface, they seemed well-matched, but their age difference invited gossip.
People often whispered about it to console themselves.
Before, it was just talk. But after Lin Houpu was hospitalized and his son arrived, the whispers turned into mockery—her husband’s son was almost her age!
Her own son was barely older than the factory director’s grandson.
What was she after?
Clearly, the director’s wealth and status.
Sure, she was beautiful and lived enviably, but she was materialistic.
Otherwise, why would she marry a man old enough to be her father?
Li Yujiao was never one to tolerate disrespect. If anyone dared say such things to her face, she’d challenge them to repeat it in front of Lin Houpu. None of them had the nerve.
After a few confrontations, the open taunts faded into hushed gossip.
Li Yujiao ignored the whispers—she’d expected this when she married him. Compared to the life she enjoyed now, the rumors meant nothing.
Yu Xiang’an overheard some of it and admired Li Yujiao’s resilience. Their relationship was awkward—how could it not be?
They didn’t even know how to address each other properly.
Li Yujiao was barely thirty this year.
The age gap was negligible.
Both sides maintained a comfortable distance, keeping interactions polite and stress-free.
Li Yujiao had initially worried they’d compete with her young son for resources. But seeing them determined to stand on their own, she found them naïve—though she had no intention of warning them. This was exactly what she wanted.
When Lin Houpu saw the cake, he frowned. “This is a Western thing. Why bother?”
He was traditional at heart and disliked Western customs. He knew birthday cakes were expensive—why waste money on them?
He’d never bought one.
Yu Xiang’an remained unfazed. “It has two names. In the West, it’s called a birthday cake. Here, we can call it egg sponge cake. If you don’t like ‘birthday cake,’ just call it egg sponge cake.”
Call it whatever you want.
Lin Houpu: “…”
Speechless.
Lin Duzhong coughed to suppress a laugh.
Watching his son rendered speechless by his granddaughter-in-law was oddly satisfying. Served him right—now he knew how others felt when he shut them down.
Besides, Yu Xiang’an wasn’t wrong. Food wasn’t bound by East or West.
It was just a name.
If he disliked the Western term, there were plenty of alternatives. Not everything Western was bad—birthday cakes symbolized good wishes.
Making one took effort, and Lin Duzhong knew it wasn’t easy.
Zhang Ying and Lin Tiandong stared at the cake, mesmerized by its sweet aroma.
Even the twins couldn’t look away. If not for the lavish dinner, they’d have skipped the meal to save room for cake.
Even Li Yujiao was curious. The cake looked as good as store-bought ones—she wanted to taste it.
Honestly, their family could afford meat whenever they wanted.
After dinner, Lin Duzhong insisted Lin Houpu light candles, make a wish, blow them out, and then cut the cake. He thought the ritual would lift everyone’s spirits and wanted Lin Houpu to try it.
Lin Houpu could dismiss the younger generation, but he wouldn’t refuse his father’s harmless request.
He followed the steps and distributed the cake.
Nine people, ten slices. Everyone got one. The cake was soft, sweet, and melted in the mouth—eggy with a hint of biscuit crunch.
Lin Houpu ate faster than usual, then silently took the tenth slice. As the birthday boy, he deserved two.
His earlier thought of giving the extra slice to the kids vanished.
Lin Chuanbai glanced at him and thought wryly: *Delicious, isn’t it?*
He seemed to like it, but unlike Lin Chuanbai, he couldn’t have it whenever he wanted. His wife could make it.
A sudden thought struck Lin Chuanbai.
Before, when he’d craved fish—scarce in the market—he’d gotten southern fish. If he asked for chestnut cake or grape cake now, would he get it?
His gaze lingered on Yu Xiang’an. Did she have connections he didn’t know about? Or was it something else?
—
In Baishi County, Wen Ruzhen and Yu Xiang’an received letters from Yu Xiang’an. She’d written to everyone separately—one to Yu Qingshan, one to her maternal grandmother, one to her paternal grandfather, and one to Yu Xiang’an.
She’d also sent New Year gifts—dried mutton, a local specialty.
It could be chewed as a snack or used in cooking.
In other letters, Yu Xiang’an wrote casual updates. But in Yu Xiang’an’s letter, she included news about Wen Yanjun.
This was their second letter. Wen Ruzhen burst into tears, hugging Yu Xiang’an. “Thanks to Xiao An, thanks to Xiao An. I’ll never forget her kindness.”
Without her, she and her father would’ve been separated forever. Now he’d survived, and they might reunite.
Yu Xiang’an patted her back. She was painfully thin—despite their improved living conditions, she hadn’t gained weight. He knew she carried heavy burdens. Now, at least, she could breathe.
“When the child is older, we’ll visit Xiao An and see her grandfather.”
Their youngest was still breastfeeding—too young for long trips. Later, they’d go. The excuse was ready.
“On the way, we’ll ‘accidentally’ get off early to see him.”
Wen Ruzhen gazed at Yu Xiang’an, touching his face. “Thank you. Being with me… you’ve suffered.”
Yu Xiang’an shouldered the family’s responsibilities alone. She stayed home with the kids while his brother refused to marry. As a formal worker, his brother spent part of his salary on his nephew—a small help.
But if he’d married someone else, life would’ve been easier.
Yu Xiang’an laughed. “Don’t be silly. I don’t mind.”
He’d chosen this willingly.
“Xiao An isn’t good at sewing. Make her two outfits.”
If she didn’t do something, the guilt would weigh on her. Making clothes for her sister-in-law would help.
—
Yu Shunwen and Ruan Chenxi also talked about Yu Xiang’an.
Ruan Chenxi was a temporary elementary school teacher—no formal position, but teaching was easier than fieldwork. During busy farming seasons, she still worked the land, but compared to other educated youths, her life was comfortable.
Originally, she wouldn’t have had the chance. But as the village prospered, more parents sent kids to school. While higher education was costly, primary school was manageable. With money in their pockets, no one wanted their children illiterate.
Literacy and basic math opened doors—record-keeping, brick factory or paper mill accounting. Opportunities multiplied, making education valuable.
Hongxing Brigade was now famous in the region. Many girls wanted to marry in, and local girls preferred staying.
Why leave?
In other villages, a family’s annual earnings were meager. Here, the paper mill’s profits went mostly to the collective, with the rest benefiting the village—their land, their materials.
The brick factory was entirely village-owned.
Last New Year, hardworking families earned hundreds—ten times their previous income.
Who’d want to leave?
Now, even girls attended school. Most families lived in partially brick houses, paid for with work points. In a few years, all homes would be brick.
Yu Shunwen watched these changes. The village planned to pave the road for easier brick transport.
“Captain, you’ve seen the test papers. She’s a good kid with excellent grades. It’s such a shame for her to give up and go back to take care of her younger siblings.”
Ruan Chenxi genuinely felt it was unfair for the child.
That’s why she came to the captain to fight for her future.
“The saying ‘knowledge changes fate’ isn’t a lie. Take Xiao An, for example. If she hadn’t studied or gone to school, she wouldn’t have made it to Qin City, let alone continued appearing in newspapers. I dare say, if this child keeps it up, she’ll definitely get into high school without a problem.”
Yu Shunwen tapped the table. “I understand the situation. You can go back now. I’ll talk to her parents.”
He, too, knew the importance of education.
Forget Xiao An—just look at Wen Yizhen, the educated youth in their village.
By improving papermaking, he not only secured himself a formal worker position but also, thanks to his suggestions, their village’s paper now sells farther and brings in a lot more money. Now, whenever he goes to the commune, the leaders greet him with smiles.
If his own children weren’t already grown, he’d have sent them back to school in a heartbeat. Since that wasn’t possible, he was determined to ensure his grandchildren got an education—no matter which one, as long as they could study, he’d support them all the way.
A child with such talent from another family would be a waste if it went unused. Even if it’s a daughter, so what?
The progress their village had made was, in the end, thanks to Xiao An—and she was a daughter too.
Satisfied with the response, Ruan Chenxi left. Watching her retreating figure, Yu Shunwen spotted Yu Manwu in the distance, quickly heading in Teacher Ruan’s direction. He couldn’t help but sigh.
This had become a well-known spectacle in their brigade. His nephew had been chasing her for years without success, and he didn’t know whether to advise him to give up or not.
But even if he did, the young man probably wouldn’t listen.
The fire of youth wasn’t easily extinguished.
*
As the New Year approached, Yu Xiangju asked Yu Qingshan, “Dad, is Fifth Sister not coming back this year? I see many people returning home for the holidays. Won’t she come back even on the second day of the New Year?”
He had received clothes sent by his fifth sister and was overjoyed, but he wanted to see her.
Yu Qingshan nodded. “She won’t be back this year. It’s too far, and she hasn’t been working long enough to take frequent leave. It wouldn’t be good for her job.”
Yu Xiangju fell silent for a while before muttering unhappily, “Then I’ll write to her. I want to send her a letter.”
Yu Qingshan: “Alright, you write. Do you know all the common characters now? If you don’t, ask me or check the dictionary. Once you finish, I’ll mail it for you.”
At this, Yu Xiangju’s expression brightened.
Among the siblings, Yu Xiangju and Yu Xiang’an were the closest in age and had never been separated so far before. Even when she got married, he could visit her easily. But now, that wasn’t possible.
As they spoke, Yao Cuifen stormed in furiously.
Yu Qingshan went to meet her. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
Yao Cuifen raised her voice: “What’s wrong? I’d like to know what’s wrong too! I had no idea before—what has Zhao Qiaoniang been doing? Has she been sneaking things from our home to that side without us knowing? Just now, I went shopping and ran into that Zhou family kid. He was showing off nougat candy to a bunch of children—the same nougat Xiao An sent back! We don’t even sell that here. It’s packed with peanuts, raisins, and pine nuts—so many good things. Tell me, how did it end up in that Zhou kid’s hands?”
“If she wants to use her own money to support them, fine. But where does she get the nerve to take things Xiao An sent home and give them to her grandson? Doesn’t she worry he’ll choke on it?”
“Does she think just because Xiao An isn’t home, she can do whatever she wants? Let me tell you, that’s not happening! Does she think we’re dead? You need to handle this. And you better check how many other things she’s quietly taken to the Zhou family!”
Hearing his grandmother’s words, Yu Xiangju lowered his head gloomily.
He wasn’t a child anymore. He knew what had happened back then—why the fifth brother-in-law he remembered had become the forbidden sixth brother-in-law.
He also knew Zhao Qiaoniang wanted to reconcile. She’d even told him how hard life was for Sixth Sister now, how difficult it was without family support, and urged him to help if he could in the future.
Every time she said such things, he felt at a loss.
Yu Qingshan frowned deeply.
“I’ll go check.”
Xiao An had written that she wouldn’t be back for the New Year, so she’d prepared gifts in advance, even red envelopes for the younger ones, which she’d left with him to distribute during the holidays.
He went back to his room and unlocked the cabinet.
This cabinet was filled with food.
Xiao An was good at cooking and always managed to get hold of delicious things.
Inside were milk powder, malted milk, dried meat, and candy.
Yu Xiangju and the other kids always had their eyes on this cabinet.
He inspected the contents one by one. The nougat was in the corner—originally two pounds, with some already given out, leaving about one and a half pounds. Now, when he picked it up, it felt closer to one pound.
He asked Yu Xiangju, “Has anyone taken any out to eat recently?”
Yu Xiangju pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No.”
The candy was delicious, but he’d only had a piece when it first arrived, along with his father and the other kids.
Yu Qingshan said nothing and continued checking.
Some items had been there a while, so he wasn’t sure exactly how much should remain. These things were usually managed by Zhao Qiaoniang, who handled the cooking.
The most recent items Xiao An had sent were the nougat and a pound of dried mutton. He took out the mutton—they hadn’t cooked any mutton dishes lately, saving it for the New Year. It should’ve been untouched, but now it felt lighter too.
Yu Qingshan’s expression darkened.
Yao Cuifen, seeing this, grew even angrier. “She even repackaged it to look untouched—she did it on purpose! As the saying goes, ‘A thief at home is hardest to guard against.’ There’s truth to that!”
Yu Xiangju: “…”
His toes curled against the floor, an indescribable sense of shame washing over him.
Yu Qingshan took a deep breath. “Mom, I understand. Don’t make a scene yet. I’ll handle it.”
Yao Cuifen reached out and ruffled Yu Xiangju’s hair, feeling the prickly strands. She sighed, swallowing the harsher words she’d been about to say.
Everyone knew Xiao Ju wasn’t her biological grandchild, but during those difficult years, she’d helped raise him. There was sentiment there.
“Fine, I won’t say more. But you have to give Xiao An an explanation for this.”
There was no reason for things Xiao An sent home to end up with the Zhou family!
Then she took Yu Xiangju’s hand. “Come with me to Grandma’s. I made sticky rice rolls today. Pack some clothes—you’re sleeping at my place tonight.”
Yu Xiangju left with Yao Cuifen. Yu Qingshan stood still for a moment before checking his money.
He divided his earnings into two parts: one given to Zhao Qiaoniang for household expenses when he received his salary (with additional funds for major expenses), and the other set aside for the children’s education, weddings, medical emergencies, etc.
He used to give more, but after the incident with his stepdaughter, he reduced the amount.
Originally, the household funds had been ample, but now he gave just enough—he didn’t want his money ending up with the Zhou family through her.
As for her own earnings, Yu Qingshan had never laid claim to them.
She knew where he kept his money, but it was locked.
Yu Qingshan counted carefully—it hadn’t been touched.
Still, he decided to convert the cash into deposit slips. That way, no one could take it without his knowledge.
As for the current issue, he took out some nougat and dried meat to give to his eldest son’s family. The rest, he noted the quantities and left untouched.
He’d check again later.
*
Lin Chuanbai said he suddenly craved chestnut cake and fish.
He got the chestnut cake, but since it was already made, he couldn’t tell what ingredients Yu Xiang’an had used.
He also got the fish—southern fish, at that.
As he ate the familiar flavors, Lin Chuanbai found them oddly tasteless.
With something weighing on his mind, he couldn’t enjoy the food properly.
After putting the two children to bed, the couple sat under the lamp, studying. Halfway through writing, he set down his pen.
“Xiao An, there’s something I want to ask you.”
Yu Xiang’an: “Wait, let me finish this part.” She completed the paragraph, put down her pen, and looked up to see him sitting stiffly, as if about to discuss something serious. She turned to face him fully. “Alright, go ahead.”
Lin Chuanbai: “I think everyone is entitled to some secrets and private space.”
Yu Xiang’an was puzzled. “And?” Why bring this up now?
Lin Chuanbai hesitated, feeling guilty—he had his own secrets too.
Now, asking about hers made him uneasy.
“So… where did tonight’s fish come from?”
Yu Xiang’an: “…Why? Is there a problem?” (From the farm.)
“Well, something feels off. It tastes like a fish species from back home—not something you’d find up north.”
Yu Xiang’an: “!!!”
Her heart raced at 200 beats per minute.
Panicking, she recalled an earlier inconsistency. “Remember when you went for training on the 10th?”
“I do.”
“You said you didn’t go back to the pharmacy or anywhere else, so why did you come back smelling like medicine?”
Lin Chuanbai: “!!!”
His heart pounded suddenly.
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