Chapter Sixteen: A Day of Despair!
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Zhao Zheng looked at Zhang Xiao’e with amusement.
She seemed to despise Zheng Chunmei rather openly.
By contrast, Yang Zhaodi, though she did not like her either, was far less obvious about it.
“Go fetch some cold water and rinse your feet,” Zhao Zheng said.
In the past, the family had lacked the means. But their circumstances would only improve from now on, so naturally they ought to pay a little more attention to such things.
Zheng Chunmei sighed. She had not even finished her confinement period yet. Washing her feet with cold water could easily leave her with postpartum ailments.
He was not her own husband, after all. Of course he would not care about her health.
She rinsed her feet in water so cold it pierced to the bone, waited for them to dry, and only then climbed onto the bed.
“Uncle Zhao, I’m here.”
“Go ahead and press. I can take a lot of force, so don’t be afraid to use some strength,” Zhao Zheng said lazily.
Zheng Chunmei said nothing. Instead, she awkwardly began massaging his back.
Every now and then, Zhao Zheng let out a low groan, much like the sounds she had once made while tending to her own husband.
Her face grew hot.
Perhaps the room was simply too warm, but she actually began to sweat faintly.
Throughout it all, her eyes never left the half-bowl of scorched rice crust.
After massaging him for nearly half an hour, Zheng Chunmei’s entire body had gone weak. Exhausted, she said, “Uncle Zhao, I have no strength left.”
Zhao Zheng stretched lazily. The weariness of the day vanished at once. Turning to look at Zheng Chunmei, whose head was covered in sweat, he said, “Take the food and go.”
She had been working all this time just to hear those words.
“Thank you, Uncle Zhao.”
Though she thanked him aloud, she cursed him inwardly. That damned miserly old Zhao! I worked myself to the bone, and all you give me is half a bowl of scorched rice crust? No wonder your son died!
“Wait,” Zhao Zheng said. “You may finish the rice crust here before you leave, but you are not allowed to take it home.”
“Why?” Zheng Chunmei asked, bewildered.
“No reason. If you do not agree, leave the food here.”
Zhao Zheng thought to himself, Are you planning to take it home for that little beast and that old beast of a mother-in-law to eat? I am not that much of a fool.
Zheng Chunmei was furious, but she did not dare argue. She picked up a piece of scorched rice crust and stuffed it into her mouth.
It was crisp and crunchy, carrying the faint fragrance of charred rice crust along with the sweet flavor of rice itself. Even without a single side dish, it was enough to fill Zheng Chunmei with contentment.
It was delicious. Far too delicious.
This was the first time in several months that she had eaten rice.
It was so good she could have cried.
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After finishing, Zheng Chunmei was still craving more. Swallowing her pride, she asked, “Uncle Zhao, is there any left?”
“Do not be insatiable. If I had not taken pity on you, you would not have been allowed to eat even half a bowl of rice crust—indeed, not even a single grain—from my household,” Zhao Zheng said coldly.
Zheng Chunmei gazed at him with a faintly aggrieved expression.
There was no denying it: the sorrowful look of Widow Zheng was genuinely capable of stirring pity in a man’s heart.
No wonder Ma Dazhu had been so thoroughly bewitched by her.
“All right, go home now, before your mother-in-law starts worrying,” Zhao Zheng said, dismissing her.
Zheng Chunmei sighed, climbed down from the bed, opened the door, and walked out. A gust of cold wind swept over her, and the warmth vanished in an instant. For one brief moment, she wanted to turn around and go back inside.
But she was not the daughter-in-law of the Zhao family, after all.
“Xiao’e, make a little more scorched rice crust tomorrow. It is quite tasty…”
That was the last thing Zheng Chunmei heard after the door closed. Her heart jolted.
The Zhao family actually had white rice? They were extravagant enough to deliberately make scorched rice crust from it? What wasteful people! Everyone said Old Third Zhao’s brothers had cheated him out of all the grain and compensation money paid after his son died in battle, but perhaps that was not entirely true.
Old Third Zhao was not a fool. He must have kept something hidden.
If that was the case, would she be able to eat scorched rice crust again tomorrow?
The thought sent a faint thrill through her.
Yet as she continued on her way, Ma Dazhu stopped her once more.
“Ma Dazhu, you frightened me half to death!” Zheng Chunmei snapped angrily. “Why are you not sleeping at home in the middle of the night? Why have you come here to waylay me again?”
“Chunmei, I—I came especially to tell you something. Today I went to Golden Rooster Mountain and ambushed Old Third Zhao halfway there, but I waited until dusk and he never came back. That old fellow did not leave the house today!”
Though she could not make out Ma Dazhu’s face, Zheng Chunmei could hear the frustration in his voice.
“Do not worry. I will ambush him again tomorrow. I refuse to believe he will never leave the house!”
Zheng Chunmei was startled. “Forget it. Do not ambush him anymore.”
“Why?” Ma Dazhu asked, puzzled. “You do not want to get back the millet he cheated you out of?”
Zheng Chunmei thought, If Ma Dazhu is injured, will he still let me massage his feet and back? Will I still be able to eat delicious egg pancakes and scorched rice crust?
“Are you trying to become a roadside bandit?” she said. “Did you not hear what the village elder said? The imperial government has sent eight thousand soldiers here to keep order?”
“If Zhao Zheng reports you to the authorities, it is only a matter of time before they trace it back to you.”
“And besides, is Zhao Zheng an idiot? Would he carry all that grain around with him? He is a lone man. If you really end up fighting him for your life, what if—what if something happens?”
Ma Dazhu was deeply moved. “So you were worried about me!”
Zheng Chunmei curled her lips. She was worried about nothing of the sort. She simply did not want matters to escalate. Still, Ma Dazhu had gone to such lengths to help her, and she was not entirely heartless.
“Something like that,” she said.
“Chunmei, you are wonderful. I will listen to you, but I am not finished with Old Third Zhao!”
“You said you would let me eat meat. Did you catch any game?”
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Ma Dazhu gave an embarrassed laugh. “I spent the whole day watching for Old Third Zhao. I caught nothing.”
“Do you have anything else to eat?”
“N-no. We ate everything.”
Zheng Chunmei was speechless. “Then I am going home.”
He had talked so much, yet he was not even as useful as an old man. And he called himself a hunter! At least that old man had eggs and white rice to eat.
When she returned home, the place was pitch-black and cold as an ice cellar.
She was not even willing to climb into bed.
“Chunmei, did you manage to get any food from Old Third Zhao’s house today?”
“I did.”
“Oh?” Her mother-in-law, Madam Li, brightened. “What did you eat?”
“Half a bowl of… millet gruel.”
For some reason, Zheng Chunmei had changed “half a bowl of scorched rice crust” into “half a bowl of millet gruel.” She knew her mother-in-law’s temperament all too well. If the old woman learned that she had eaten half a bowl of scorched rice crust, she might reduce Zheng Chunmei’s portion for the following day.
“That stingy old Zhao actually gave you millet gruel?”
“It was mostly water, as thin as soup. Eating it was hardly different from not eating at all. One trip to the latrine and it was gone,” Zheng Chunmei lied.
“Eat it a few more times and you will get your money’s worth. That damned miserly old Zhao cheated us, so we should cheat him right back.” Madam Li paused, then continued, “Since you ate two meals today, we will cut your bowl of gruel in half tomorrow and give more to Erdan. He is still growing, so we must not shortchange him.”
Zheng Chunmei turned over without saying a word, but her heart was filled with desolation.
She had known it would be like this.
Fortunately, she had not told the truth. Otherwise, she would not even have received half a bowl of gruel.
She had borne three children for the Li family, yet even an outsider like Old Third Zhao was more generous than they were.
Tears fell silently.
Hearing her mother-in-law’s voice, she murmured, “Yes. I will do as you say, Mother.”
The room fell silent once more, and Zheng Chunmei’s heart sank into silence with it.
That night, she dreamed the same dream over and over.
She dreamed that she was sleeping on Old Third Zhao’s warm brick bed, eating white rice with egg pancakes. The fire burned brightly in the earthen stove, and the room was as warm as spring.
Suddenly, her abdomen turned cold.
Dawn had come. Her mother-in-law had lifted the quilt and was forcibly rousing her.
She stared hopelessly at the ceiling. She could see no future, no hope.
Another day of hunger and deprivation had begun.
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