Chapter 13: Full Month (1)

“This is my precious grandson, huh? That face shape is just like Dahai’s, but the nose and eyes—they look just like Shi Tou’s. They say nephews take after their uncles, and it’s really true!”

Zhao Hong looked lovingly at her newly born grandson, her face full of affection.

“Really? Let me take a look.” Gu Xiashi didn’t like his sister-in-law nor her son—the little tyrant with a terrible temper and no discipline. He did, however, have a good relationship with his younger sister’s daughters. Whenever he had a bit of money in his pocket, he would buy them snacks.

Now, upon hearing that his new little nephew looked like him, he eagerly rubbed his hands together, kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the kang bed, and leaned in beside his mother to examine the newborn, whose red, wrinkled skin had only just started to fade.

Jiang Yiliu, despite being reborn for quite some time, still didn’t know what he currently looked like. He thought about what his grandmother said and simply couldn’t imagine what his father’s face would look like with his uncle’s eyes and nose swapped in.

Jiang Dahai was the picture of a typical countryside man: robust in build, average in looks, with a broad square face, thick and messy eyebrows, moderately sized eyes, and a prominent nose. His lips were a bit thick, and his smile was honest and simple. Years of farming had tanned his skin a deep brown, making others view him as a reliable, down-to-earth man.

Compared to Jiang Dahai, Gu Xiashi was far more striking. As a premature baby, he had a frailer constitution and couldn’t do hard labor, but this also meant he was fairer-skinned than the other villagers. With delicate features and expressive eyes, he looked almost like someone from the city—easily holding his own even among the urban youth sent to the countryside during the Down to the Countryside Movement.

He was flighty and often wandered off to the county town or elsewhere, always tinkering with something. If not for Zhao Hong supporting him, the work points he earned wouldn’t have been enough to feed himself. The villagers talked behind his back, lumping him in with other loafers and ne’er-do-wells. No wonder his sister-in-law, Niu Fang, found him an eyesore.

These days, when village girls chose husbands, they weren’t looking for pretty boys. What mattered was whether the man was hardworking and dependable—or better yet, worked in the city with a stable “iron rice bowl” job. Someone like Gu Xiashi, who couldn’t carry or lift anything, was far from ideal. It was no surprise that, at over thirty, he still hadn’t found a wife.

In his past life, Jiang Yiliu had been the sibling who looked most like this second uncle of his—though his features had been softer, more delicate. With a bit of grooming, she could’ve been quite the beauty. Unfortunately, due to the family’s burdens, she had never even dated.

Gu Xiashi had no wife or children. Among his nieces, the one he doted on most was the one who resembled him the most—Jiang Yiliu. Now, he thought, being reborn as a boy and still looking like his uncle didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

Zhao Hong looked from the grandchildren on the kang to her youngest son. Once she helped him find a wife, she’d finally be able to face her late husband in the afterlife with pride.

“Little sister, he’s grabbing my finger—hey, he’s pretty strong!” Gu Xiashi’s finger was clutched tightly by the baby’s tiny hand, refusing to let go.

“My little nephew likes me. He can’t bear to let me leave,” Gu Xiashi said with a wide grin. He liked his nieces too, but after all, boys and girls were different—there were fun things he couldn’t do with the girls. Now, with a nephew, he looked forward to all the things they could do together once the boy grew up.

“What are you grinning like an idiot for? All babies do this—they just like grabbing things and won’t let go.” Zhao Hong rolled her eyes at her foolish son, but her gaze quickly softened again as she looked at her grandson. “This boy’s going to be sturdy when he grows up. Look at how strong he is already! None of his sisters were this robust at his age.”

The words had barely left Zhao Hong’s mouth before she felt a twinge of regret. Why had her granddaughters been so frail? Wasn’t it because Miao didn’t do proper postpartum confinement? A mother who doesn’t eat well can’t produce milk—how could the children grow strong? Embarrassed, Zhao Hong tapped her mouth and pulled out a handful of ration tickets from her trouser pocket.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

Gu Dongmei caught sight of the stack of tickets and quickly tried to push them back. Among them were fine flour and rice tickets—precious refined grains. Her mother must’ve gone to great lengths to get them. Knowing how tight things were at home, Gu Dongmei could only imagine how frugally her mother and second brother had been living.

“You know my father-in-law receives a regiment-level officer’s stipend. I get enough refined grains each month, more than enough for me. You don’t have to worry about me. Take these back. Second Brother isn’t getting any younger—he needs to start saving to get married.” Gu Dongmei was both touched and saddened.

Hearing this, Zhao Hong subtly gestured eastward, indicating the direction of Jiang Dahai’s younger brother, Jiang Dachuan’s house.

Gu Dongmei lowered her voice and whispered in Zhao Hong’s ear, “I heard he did something that really angered Grandpa. He said they’re not allowed to come over anymore. And when we divided the family, it was agreed the old couple would live with us, and their subsidies would come to our household. Now that I’ve had a son, they treat Xiaobao like a treasure. He won’t lack for anything.”

The nickname “Xiaobao” had been chosen by the old man himself. The formal name was too serious and didn’t sound close or affectionate.

Zhao Hong let out a breath of relief, then lightly tapped her daughter’s forehead and said, “You really are blessed. As long as the old folks don’t lean toward the other side, you’ll never go short of anything. But remember, don’t be like your in-laws. Just because you have a son now doesn’t mean you can forget your daughters. Our Gu family doesn’t go in for that son-favoring nonsense.”

Zhao Hong’s reminder was heartfelt. Gu Dongmei glanced at her two daughters happily drinking sugar water from the same bowl, nodding her head like a drum.

Jiang Yiliu, however, was too busy bonding with his little uncle to care about what his mother said. He scoffed inwardly. If she had truly cared about her daughters, she wouldn’t have let them suffer the way they did in the past life.

He still clearly remembered how, the day after his eldest sister got engaged, Grandma had rushed over from Daqian Village and slapped his mother. But what good did it do? His eldest sister still married that widower, and his second sister ended up with a cripple. If Gu Dongmei had stood up for them even once, he would’ve remembered her kindness. But no—she had only ever cried in secret and never said a word in their defense.

Maybe that was the day he truly gave up on this family.

Jiang Yiliu shook his head, pushing away the memories. No matter what, in this life he wouldn’t let those tragedies repeat. As for his parents and grandparents in this life…

He paused, lost in thought. They were treating him well—but only because he was a boy. Jiang Yiliu felt like he was caught in a strange loop—a tangled mess of gender, past lives, and present circumstances.

They were kind to him now, yes—but he doubted he could ever truly respect them without reservation.

A full-month celebration was a big deal, and of course, Jiang Dazhen, as an aunt, wouldn’t miss it. Not only did she come, but she brought her husband and child along.

Her son, Meng Xiangxue, was three years old and well-fed—chubby, energetic, and a handful. Even Jiang Dazhen had trouble keeping him in line. At the moment, he was loudly demanding to see his little cousin.

“Little sister, you’re here!”

Hearing the commotion outside, Gu Dongmei came out holding her younger daughter. As for her son, he was happily nestled in Gu Xiashi’s arms.

“Cousin! I want to see my little cousin!” Meng Xiangxue thought the baby in Gu Dongmei’s arms was the one he was after. He clung to her leg, hopping excitedly.

“That’s your little cousin sister, not your little cousin brother. Your little cousin brother is over there.” Gu Dongmei crouched and pointed toward Gu Xiashi. At once, Meng Xiangxue ran over, pestering him to see the baby boy.

“This kid’s really sturdy,” Gu Dongmei remarked, then quickly invited her sister-in-law and brother-in-law to sit down.

Meng Chuoping was refined and scholarly, though slightly older. With gold-rimmed glasses and neatly combed hair, he didn’t look like a laborer at all—more like an old-fashioned teacher.

“Why didn’t Xiangwen come with you?” Gu Dongmei looked behind them in confusion. Meng Xiangwen was Meng Chuoping’s daughter from his previous marriage, already ten years old. Normally, she got along well with her stepmother, Jiang Dazhen, who was smart enough not to make trouble for the girl and draw gossip.

“She went to her maternal grandmother’s house today, so she didn’t come with us,” Jiang Dazhen replied.

The “grandmother” she referred to was, of course, Meng Xiangwen’s biological grandmother. Though Jiang Dazhen wasn’t a wicked stepmother, others didn’t necessarily believe that. Her husband’s first wife’s family always suspected she might harm their precious granddaughter, taking the child away every few days. When they heard Dazhen was taking her back to her own parents, they rushed in to whisk her away.

Jiang Dazhen scoffed at this behavior but didn’t stop them. In the end, she was the one being wronged. The more they interfered, the further they would push Meng Chuoping away.

Weren’t they just casting suspicion on him as a father? Stirring trouble between her and Xiangwen again and again—turning the girl cynical and passive-aggressive. Jiang Dazhen figured Meng Chuoping wouldn’t tolerate it for much longer.

Being a stepmother was tough. Gu Dongmei wisely avoided the unpleasant topic, handed the baby to her mother, and joined Dazhen in the kitchen to help. With so many guests today, the food prep was overwhelming, and Grandma Miao couldn’t handle it all on her own.

The rest of the Jiang family trickled in to help set the tables. There was only one big wooden table in the house—not nearly enough—so Jiang Cheng had borrowed a large round tabletop from the production team to place on the Eight Immortals table, allowing more people to sit.

Today’s meal was surprisingly lavish. Grandma Miao, gritting her teeth, steamed a large sea fish, sliced some salted cured meat, made a pot of seaweed and egg soup, and prepared several vegetable dishes along with pickled side dishes. It was as rich a spread as one might see at New Year.

But she wasn’t done yet. From the kitchen, she brought out a pot of stewed old hen soup. She had started it early in the morning and cooked it until the meat fell off the bones. The hen had been specially raised for laying eggs—killing it was like cutting out her own heart. But thinking of this once-in-a-lifetime celebration for her beloved grandson, she’d steeled herself and picked the fattest bird.

After a month of nothing but milk, Jiang Yiliu nearly drooled at the sight of the table. Grandma Miao might be stingy, but her cooking was legendary in the surrounding villages. Especially her pickled dishes—he could eat three bowls of porridge with just those.

But now, he could only stare and crave from afar.

Except for the Meng family, none of the others had regular access to meat or oil. Faced with such a feast, they gorged themselves. Even the Mengs weren’t much better off—they weren’t eating fish every day either.

“Brother’s drooling! Auntie, feed him!” Meng Xiangxue, sitting in Jiang Dazhen’s lap, saw his baby cousin’s bib soaked with drool and panicked when Aunt Dongmei didn’t seem inclined to feed him. He tugged on her sleeve, urging her anxiously.

At his words, Jiang Yiliu instinctively shut his mouth. But baby saliva was relentless—it still came pouring out like a faucet.

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Chapter 13: Full Month (1)