Chapter 38: Zhaodi’s Fierce Protection of Her Own

Zhang Xiao’e looked at the humble Zheng Chunmei. She still remembered the brazen, shameless faces of Zheng Chunmei’s family when she had gone to demand an explanation after Li Erdan stole her chickens. The contrast between then and now was stark.

However, she could not bring herself to forgive Zheng Chunmei. It was not just because she had been wronged and scolded by her father-in-law; it was because her hard work and hopes had been ruined in an instant. Yet, being naturally kind-hearted, she was not the type to kick someone when they were down. Seeing Zheng Chunmei’s current state, she felt a pang of pity.

Before she could speak, Yang Zhaodi grabbed her hand and said to Zheng Chunmei, "Until you compensate our family for the chickens, we will not believe a single word you say."

"Besides, what is the point of you coming to apologize? Bring your son Erdan here to apologize himself. He even used a slingshot to hit Xiao’e!"

Zhao Zheng sat with his legs crossed, a faint smile on his lips. A family could not be made up entirely of people who were either too soft or too unforgiving. He understood Yang Zhaodi; although she was as kind as Zhang Xiao’e, she was soft on the outside but firm on the inside. When it came to protecting her own, she was second to none. She had her own principles and discernment—something Xiao’e lacked, as her gentle nature made her an easy target for bullying.

Zheng Chunmei, already in the wrong and obsessed with the scent of meat from the earthen pot, could only nod repeatedly. "Fine, I will bring Erdan over to admit his mistake tomorrow."

Hearing this, Yang Zhaodi’s expression softened slightly. "We'll talk about it tomorrow then. It’s getting late, and my father-in-law needs to rest. Leave our house!"

This firm tone left Zheng Chunmei dazed. Shame surged, overriding her hunger. She, a woman who had been a daughter-in-law in this small mountain village for over a decade, had been put in her place by a bride who hadn't even been here a year. The humiliation and shame made her wish she could crawl into a hole in the ground.

Just as she was about to flee, Zhao Zheng pulled a small bowl of charred scorched rice from somewhere. "Here, take this. Eat it before you leave."

Zheng Chunmei stopped, her mouth watering uncontrollably. She wanted to stubbornly refuse, but her stomach was growling in agony. She couldn't help but offer a fawning smile as she took the bowl with both hands.

*Crunch.*

She chewed the scorched rice; it was slightly bitter but carried the savory aroma of the pot. This small bowl was worth two bowls of rice-bran porridge back home—it was enough to cover two days' worth of food. Her starving stomach was finally somewhat satisfied.

Wiping the corners of her eyes, she realized she was crying. In this moment, she understood that pride and dignity were meaningless; filling one's belly was what mattered. "Thank you, Uncle Zhao," she said, handing back the bowl, which she had licked cleaner than a mirror, still craving more.

Zhao Zheng said lazily, "Come earlier tomorrow. I can't promise meat, but you might get to taste the broth!"

A spark of excitement flashed in Zheng Chunmei’s eyes. Anyone who had eaten chicken knew that the meat was just filler—the broth was the true essence. "Yes, I’ll be here first thing in the morning."

Zheng Chunmei left the Zhao house with a lighter step, her mind filled with images of fragrant, oily chicken soup. If she could get a taste of that, she wouldn't have to worry about little Sanya’s rations for days.

Just as she was lost in thought, she was intercepted halfway by Ma Dazhu.

"Dazhu, why are you here again?" Zheng Chunmei asked, her expression unhappy and her eyes guarded.

Ma Dazhu said anxiously, "Chunmei, I really need your help. Could you lend me a few pounds of millet? I promised the villagers I would treat them to a meal. If I go back on my word, my family won't be able to survive in this village."

"Have you lost your mind? Where am I supposed to conjure up a few pounds of millet?" Zheng Chunmei snapped, furious. "I’m eating rice-bran porridge every day; I should be the one asking to borrow food from you!"

Realizing he was asking the impossible, Ma Dazhu quickly pivoted. "Could you lend me some money? Not much, just a hundred coins."

"Doesn't your family have any?"

"Alas, it all went to pay for medicine and treatment for my father and brother. We’ve bottomed out," Ma Dazhu lamented. "Lend me the money, and I’ll go sell some grain. Once I finish treating the village, I’ll go hunting. In ten or fifteen days at most, I’ll pay you back, and I’ll even get you some meat."

Zheng Chunmei didn't believe a word of it. "My mother-in-law is in poor health and constantly needs medicine, and Sanya has been sick for the past two days. I spent a fortune on the village shaman. If I give everything to you, what will happen to them? By the time your business is over, my family will be dead!"

Ma Dazhu hung his head. "I didn't think it through. But Chunmei, believe me, in a month at most, I will make sure you have meat to eat." With that, he turned and left without looking back.

Zheng Chunmei let out a sigh of relief, shaking her head helplessly. In truth, Ma Dazhu was quite good to her; it was just a pity that when it came to capability, he couldn't hold a candle to Zhao Laosan.

Exhausted, she returned home. Before she could even lie down, her mother-in-law asked, "Did you get any food from the Zhao family today?"

"I did. Rice-bran porridge," Zheng Chunmei replied listlessly. Surprisingly, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction—her mother-in-law was eating porridge, while she had eaten scorched rice. It gave her an inexplicable sense of triumph.

"Hmph, that damn stingy Zhao," the old woman cursed before closing her eyes.

At that moment, Li Erdan, who had been feigning sleep, leaned toward Zheng Chunmei and whispered, "Mom, that stingy Zhao didn't bully you, did he? Just you wait, in a couple of days, I'll go to his house and steal all their grain back!"

Upon hearing this, Zheng Chunmei exploded. She gave her son a sharp slap, leaving him stunned. "Mom, why did you hit me?"

"Stealing, stealing, always stealing! You’ve got sticky fingers all day long. If this continues, what girl would ever want to marry you?" Zheng Chunmei was incensed.

Li Erdan began to cry. This infuriated the old woman. "Zheng Chunmei, why are you hitting my grandson? If it weren't for his nimble hands, would you even have had chicken to eat?"

"Mother, you can't teach a child like that. Other people's belongings belong to them; we must earn things with our own hands." Zheng Chunmei had pinned all her hopes on Li Erdan, and she did not want him to grow up to be a thief.

"You don't know anything. My grandson is clever," the old woman retorted. "If you weren't so useless, how could our grain have been swindled away by Zhao Laosan?"

Zheng Chunmei felt weary and decided not to argue. No matter how logical her points were, the old woman always had her own twisted reasoning. She insisted on lording over her, always claiming to be right, even when she was wrong.

Little Sanya, startled by the noise, began to cry softly. Zheng Chunmei hurriedly pulled up her clothes to nurse the baby. The cold wooden bed sucked away the little warmth she had left, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. Between the baby's demands and the biting chill, she felt increasingly weak. Her mind wandered back to the warm earthen bed at Zhao Zheng’s house and that chicken soup she had yet to taste. Only by thinking of these things could she find the motivation to survive the long, frozen night.