r18novel Chapter 1171 Jia Zhangshi knew her mission
Chapter 1171 Jia Zhangshi knew her mission
Qin Huairu was startled by the sudden question. The steel needle in her hand pierced her fingertip with a "plop," drawing a small bead of blood, and she hissed in pain. She quickly put her finger in her mouth and mumbled, "N-nothing...nothing." How could she possibly tell Jia Zhangshi that she was thinking about He Yuzhu? That old woman had a mouth like a sieve; she could spread even the smallest things in the courtyard. If she knew that she had designs on He Yuzhu, who knows what she would say behind her back, and her good plans would be ruined.
She composed herself, quickly found an excuse, and softened her voice: "It's just... I was thinking that He Yuzhu said he could bring some vegetables from the factory back to our house tomorrow. With Banggeng gone, Huaihua and Xiaodang are really craving them, so it's a good opportunity to nourish them and give them some strength."
Upon hearing there was food, Jia Zhangshi's eyes lit up, and her anger subsided by half. She smacked her lips and swallowed, "Alright, that boy Zhuzi is the most honest one, much better than those shallow-minded people in the yard. Make sure to get plenty of meat, don't just throw in some vegetable scraps. My old bones need some nourishment; eating cornmeal every day is making my back almost cramped."
She turned over, falling silent, but her mind was elsewhere. She knew Qin Huairu all too well; she seemed honest and simple, but was actually full of schemes. If Banggeng hadn't gone to the countryside, and Huaihua and Xiaodang were still young, requiring someone to care for the family, she wouldn't have bothered with this. But things were different now. These two girls were the foundation of the Jia family, her only hope for old age and a proper funeral. If she didn't keep an eye on Qin Huairu, who knew if she might one day run off with some random man, leaving her with nowhere to turn.
Jia Zhangshi leaned against the kang (a heated brick bed) in the inner room, her eyes half-closed, with a well-worn blue cloth pillow behind her head. From the outer room came the "sizzling" sound of Qin Huairu sewing shoe soles. Usually, the sound of the thread passing through the cloth sole was quick and even, the stitches so dense they seemed to be carved from a mold. But today, it was much slower, with a long, drawn-out "sizzle" followed by a long pause, as if there was an unyielding hesitation between the stitches.
She didn't even lift an eyelid, but inwardly she sneered, a disdainful crease appearing at the corner of her mouth: Trying to pull any tricks under my nose? No way! Ever since Jia Dongxu's father passed away early, she, a widow, had been struggling to raise her son alone. How many eyes in this courtyard were eyeing the Jia family's meager possessions? Yi Zhonghai in the front yard, seemingly kind and gentle, had secretly plotted countless times; Sha Zhu in the back yard, though seemingly simple-minded, was as cunning as a monkey, always looking to take advantage under the guise of helping out. She had guarded this place for so many years; she couldn't let Qin Huairu take advantage of it, much less secretly subsidize outsiders!
A thin layer of dust had accumulated along the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and it rustled off as she turned over, landing on the faded mattress like sprinkled salt. She remained silent—some things were best left unsaid; there was no need to voice them constantly. If she were to openly criticize Qin Huairu for "turning her back on her mother-in-law," it would only make her a laughingstock in the courtyard, a laughingstock for her cruel and heartless mother-in-law. It was better to just listen with narrowed eyes and see what tricks this woman could come up with.
At He Yuzhu's house, however, the atmosphere was subtly ambiguous. He Yuzhu seemed to be doing the same thing as usual, sitting cross-legged on a small stool in front of the stove, adding firewood. The firelight crackled and licked the bottom of the pot, casting flickering light on his face. But his spatula was a beat slower than usual when he was stirring the pot. The usually swift and decisive movement was hesitant today, and he almost splashed sparks onto his hand while putting firewood into the stove, burning him so much that he quickly pulled his hand back and wiped it on his trouser leg.
Lu Jia sat at the table picking vegetables, her fingertips deftly plucking off the withered tips of a spinach leaf. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his unusual demeanor—this silly Zhu Zi was definitely up to something. Normally, he cooked like a battle, the clatter of pots and pans deafening, but today he was listless, even lacking the energy to hum a tune.
She arranged the selected spinach in the bamboo basket, then picked up a bunch of bok choy, wondering how to probe the situation. After a moment, she looked up, a natural smile on her face, and spoke softly: "Brother Zhu, tomorrow is the weekend. Do you have time to go to the hospital with me? It's time for my prenatal checkup, and I want the doctor to see how the baby is growing."
He Yuzhu dropped the fire tongs with a clatter, sparks flying and burning him so much he quickly stepped away. He hurriedly picked them up, a smile plastered on his face, his wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes, but his voice was a little unsteady: "Go, of course I want to go!" But as soon as the words left his mouth, the note Qin Huairu had secretly slipped to him last night flashed through his mind—a light yellow rough paper with a few lines of crooked writing in pencil: "Silly Zhu, could you come help me fix the back window tomorrow, it's the weekend? It's drafty, and the kids can't sleep at night because it's so cold. I saved you two steamed buns, just made."
His heart tightened, as if he'd been stung by a fire in the stove, and he quickly changed the subject: "Lu Jia, I'm afraid tomorrow won't work... Director Zhu said there's an important gathering, and he specifically asked me to cook. He also said he'd introduce me to some leaders in the bureau. This is about whether I can get promoted to head chef in the future, so I really can't refuse." He became more and more anxious as he spoke, a thin layer of sweat appearing on his forehead, afraid that Lu Jia would press him for details.
Seeing his evasive gaze, Lu Jia knew exactly what was going on—Factory Director Zhu had just praised his cooking skills last week, so why would he suddenly have an "important gathering"? It must be that Qin Huairu had found some excuse again. She wanted to ask more questions, but seeing his neck turning red with anxiety, she shook her head and swallowed her words. Instead, she smiled and put a piece of braised pork in his bowl: "Alright, then you'd better perform well and not let the factory director down. I can go to the prenatal checkup by myself, or I can ask Sister Qiuye to come with me. She's more attentive than you, so clumsy."
He Yuzhu nodded hurriedly, replying "definitely, definitely," while picking at the rice in his bowl with his chopsticks, but he couldn't taste anything. He breathed a sigh of relief, but also felt a strange sense of guilt. He dared not say anything more, afraid that he might say something wrong. If Lu Jia found out that he had lied for Qin Huairu, given her current pregnant state, who knows what kind of trouble she would cause—if the people in the courtyard found out, they would surely say that he was "helping a widow as if he had forgotten his wife after getting married."
He hurriedly ate a couple of mouthfuls of rice, then said he was tired and wanted to go to sleep, and fled into the inner room as if escaping, without even cleaning up the dishes.
Lu Jia watched his retreating figure, the smile on her lips slowly fading. She wasn't unaware of the shady dealings between He Yuzhu and Qin Huairu. That woman Qin Huairu, taking advantage of her husband's early death and her child's being sent to the countryside, always put on a pitiful act, trying to take advantage of everyone she met. Silly Zhuzi fell for that; he felt he was a "capable person" in the courtyard, and helping the widow made him feel important.