Chapter 8: Names (1)

The earliest to rise in the Jiang household were Grandma Miao and Jiang Dani. Grandma Miao never trusted anyone else to handle things in the kitchen. She was terrified that the girls would sneak bites while cooking and wished she could use a ruler to measure out everyone’s daily portions—anything to avoid wasting even a grain of food.

Jiang Dani’s daily chore was to help start the fire. Once the stove was lit, Grandma Miao would hand her two coarse grain buns, each about the size of a baby’s fist. That was breakfast for the four sisters.

Back then, coarse grains weren’t ground as finely or tasted as good as they do today. The cornmeal distributed in their village was all stone-ground at home. No family had the time or energy to grind it fine, and the rice wasn’t even husked—hulls and all were crushed together.

To make the buns more filling, they were mixed with a lot of wild vegetables. The result was a hard, dry lump that scratched the throat going down, like chewing sand.

Every morning, Jiang Dani would take the two buns and boil them into a thin porridge. It made them easier to eat—and her youngest sister, Jiang Sini, was still too little and could only consume liquids.

Thinking of her youngest sister made her expression dim. When Sini was just one year old, their mother had gotten pregnant again. The already scarce breastmilk dried up entirely. There was no way Grandma Miao would spend five cents a day to buy cow’s milk from a nearby farm for her granddaughter. The poor little girl had survived on overcooked cornmeal mash. Now two years old, she didn’t look much bigger than her newborn baby brother.

But the thought that she could start school after the autumn harvest gave Jiang Dani a flicker of hope. Once she finished her studies, she could earn money and buy her sisters loads of steamed buns made from fine white flour.

After divvying up breakfast, Grandma Miao didn’t care if her granddaughter ate the buns as they were or boiled them into gruel. She had to prepare breakfast for the family’s two “pillars”—Jiang Dahai and Grandpa Jiang.

The cornmeal in the storage jar was almost gone, and there was still over a month until the mid-year grain distribution. Fortunately, Grandpa Jiang’s next monthly subsidy was due in a few days—it would help them scrape by until then.

As she stirred the porridge, Grandma Miao calculated in her head. Jiang Cheng received a little over thirty yuan in monthly stipends, but more importantly, he got forty-five jin of grain coupons, half a jin of meat coupons, and two feet of cloth ration tickets. Looking at the cloth coupons left in the house, she figured she could make some cotton diaper wraps for her little grandson. They’d be cool and breathable for summer.

Since no one had expected her daughter-in-law to give birth to a boy, the clothes and swaddling prepared were all hand-me-downs from Jiang Dani and her sisters. They were patched all over and so faded the colors had all but disappeared.

But in Grandma Miao’s eyes, how could her precious golden grandson wear what those girls had worn? When her second son's two children were born, she and Grandpa Jiang had each given them a brand-new outfit. This baby was the only grandson from her eldest son—the family’s main line. He deserved more clothes than the other grandsons.

Of her two sons, Grandma Miao had always favored the eldest. Naturally, that affection extended to her grandson. And this one had been born after years of longing and prayers. Her feelings for him were unlike any other.

Happily planning how to allocate next month’s subsidy, Miao Sanfeng carefully took out the freshly steamed egg custard from the stove and sprinkled chopped scallions over it. The savory aroma wafted through the air, making Jiang Dani, who was crouching by the stove cooking porridge, swallow hard.

“Take this to your mother,” Grandma Miao said with a stern face. She hadn’t forgotten about the girls wanting to go to school—her expression was darker than a mule’s backside.

Obediently, Jiang Dani fetched a tray, carefully placed the egg custard on it, added a few sets of bowls and chopsticks, and brought over the bowl of wild vegetable cornmeal porridge before carrying it back to the room.

Normally, the four sisters didn’t eat breakfast at the main table. The pickled vegetables prepared by Grandma Miao were only enough for the men. The girls weren’t allowed a bite, so they just ate in their own room each day.

When she entered the room, the others were already up.

Jiang Dahai was still bleary-eyed, scratching his messy hair. When he saw his son nursing sleepily, he broke into a grin, revealing a mouthful of white teeth. He reached out his large fan-like hand and gave his chubby son’s bottom a pat.

“Waaah—!” Jiang Laidi was so startled he stopped nursing. In an instant, he was wide awake. Despite being a baby in this life, his decades of being a woman in his previous life made him instinctively react with a shock of outrage.

“See? The baby was feeding just fine until you scared him!” Gu Dongmei scolded, pounding her husband’s chest in frustration as she tried to soothe their crying son.

Jiang Dahai was at a loss. All he had done was pat the baby once, yet now he was panicking, unsure what to do.

“Mom, let me hold my little brother. Grandma made you egg custard—eat it while it’s still hot.” Jiang Dani set the tray down on the table on the kang bed and gently took her baby brother from Gu Dongmei’s arms.

Respecting her big sister, Jiang Laidi snuggled into a comfortable position in her arms, and the crying quickly stopped.

“Dani always knows what to do,” Jiang Dahai said with a goofy smile, praising his eldest daughter.

“You need to stop teasing the baby,” Gu Dongmei scolded, shooting him a glare. She scooped out half the egg custard and mixed it into the bowl of cornmeal porridge beside her. The wild vegetable porridge was already a dull gray-yellow; once mixed with the custard, it didn’t look any different.

“Mom—” Jiang Dani started to speak, but Gu Dongmei quickly pointed outside the curtain. Dani instantly fell silent.

Jiang Dahai said nothing, either. He finished dressing, patted his daughters on the head, and left the room.

Watching all this, Jiang Laidi’s eyes lit up. Why hadn’t he thought of secretly mixing things in like that? Maybe once everyone was asleep, he could try using his spiritual powers to manipulate items in the space and hide them where he wanted.

“You’re up? I thought I heard the little guy crying just now,” Grandpa Jiang said, sitting at the table, slurping porridge and occasionally picking at the side dishes.

“It’s my fault. I made the baby cry. Dani just calmed him down. That baby really loves his sisters—neither me nor Dongmei can soothe him like they can.” Jiang Dahai sat across from his father, picking up his own bowl of porridge.

“Taking care of their little brother is their duty,” Jiang Cheng replied. The deep furrows in his brow relaxed slightly, and he looked a bit more kindly toward the granddaughters he’d largely ignored before.

“Dad, when are you planning to visit the educated youths’ place?” Jiang Dahai asked eagerly. His son didn’t even have a name yet—what were they supposed to call him, just a nickname?

“What’s the rush?” Jiang Cheng didn’t even look up. He finished the last sip of porridge and said, “Can’t you let this old man rest a bit? Those educated youths aren’t like us country folks—they don’t get up this early. If we go now, they’ll just give us dirty looks.”

After that, he reached for the tobacco pipe tucked into his waistband, but thought better of it and put it back. He’d smoke after leaving the house.

The four educated youths assigned to their village this time weren’t much use for labor. Otherwise, the Red Flag Commune wouldn’t have sent them to such a rural place. One man and one woman came from Haicheng, a big city—nothing like the countryside here. Within days of arriving, they’d done nothing but complain. Another girl from the south couldn’t adapt to the food, took to bed right away, and hadn’t fully recovered even now—she was no help in the fields.

The villagers had grumbled plenty. Were they here to help or be waited on like royalty?

The only one who had earned a decent reputation was a young man from the capital. A quiet scholar type, polite and well-mannered despite being frail and clumsy at farm work. He was only fifteen or sixteen, looked gentle and refined, and always greeted people with “uncle” and “auntie.” Since he was so earnest, villagers often lent him a hand when he couldn’t finish his tasks.

This was the one Jiang Cheng was going to see.

That day, Jiang Cheng wasn’t scheduled to work. He strolled leisurely toward the educated youths’ quarters, hands clasped behind his back, greeting neighbors heading out to the fields. Everyone congratulated him on the new grandson.

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” Two boys, Aiguo and Aidang, on their way to school, spotted Jiang Cheng and ran up to him.

“Grandpa, give me some money! I want to buy snacks!” The two tugged at his clothes. Jiang Cheng’s bad leg couldn’t handle such rough treatment, and he nearly toppled over.

Jiang Aiguo was the eldest grandson, six years old. Aidang was two years younger. Having never gone hungry, both boys were plump and fair—unlike most kids in the village. Jiang Cheng had always spoiled them. But now, seeing them so unruly, his face turned stern.

Jiang Cheng had once fought the Japanese on the battlefield. He’d personally killed at least a dozen of them. When he got serious, his presence alone was enough to scare the two boys stiff, making them quickly let go.

“Grandpa, give me money. I want to buy dried fruit candy!” Jiang Aiguo, emboldened by past indulgence, stuck out his hand.

His mother had told him: Grandpa’s got money. Ask him whenever you see him, or else that brat from Uncle’s side will get it all.

Jiang Cheng frowned and patted his pockets—he didn’t have a cent on him. In the past, because he’d planned to have one of these two grandsons adopted by his eldest son, he’d been especially indulgent—giving them coins here and there to buy snacks in the county.

Back then, all his love had gone to these boys, and he hadn’t noticed the change. But now? When had his once-sweet grandsons become so rude and overbearing?

They were still young—he had to correct them now.

He sternly said, “It’s a school day. Why aren’t you in class? What do you need money for? When school’s out, I’ll give you some pocket money.”

In those days, village kids didn’t get pocket money. That was a city-kid luxury. Jiang Cheng considered himself more generous than any elder in the village.

But Jiang Aiguo didn’t see it that way. Sure enough, his mom was right—Grandpa now favored that little bastard from Uncle’s side. Fuming, he grabbed his brother’s hand and ran off without even saying goodbye.

“Old fart! Don’t expect me to send you off when you die!” he shouted back once they were far enough away.

Such venom from such a young, sweet-looking child—it could only have come from the adults at home.

Jiang Cheng trembled with anger. He pointed a shaking finger at the backs of his grandsons, unable to say a word for a long time.

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Chapter 8: Names (1)