Chapter 10: The Sweet Truth

Su Dahu walked into the kitchen and saw his sister-in-law swamped with work. Without a word, he rolled up his sleeves.

“Honey, what can I do?” Su Dahu asked.

In this family, there was no such thing as “men don’t touch the stove.”
The old man had always spoiled his wife—back when the boys were little, he’d even helped cook.
And Su Dahu? He’d been scrubbing pots and washing dishes since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.

Zhao Chunhua glanced at the fish lying on the floor and pointed.
“Clean those two carp. I’ll make fish soup for Mom first.”

Everything else could wait. The most important thing right now was getting the soup into her mother-in-law’s belly—so she could produce milk strong enough to feed the baby girl.
After all, you starve anyone but the baby.

Chunhua kept her mind fixed on her mother-in-law and her little sister-in-law.
That tiny, pouty-faced sugar baby had already won her heart completely.
And now, with chickens and fish suddenly appearing out of nowhere?

She didn’t say it aloud—but deep down, she believed it was the little sister’s good fortune that brought all this luck.
Otherwise, how could it be so perfectly timed?
Like a giant pie falling from the sky.

Who wouldn’t treat a daughter like royalty if they got something this sweet?

Fueled by joy and purpose, Chunhua finished the soup and carried it straight to her mother-in-law’s room.

“Mom, drink it while it’s hot,” she said, handing over the bowl.

She couldn’t help glancing at the baby on the kang bed—again and again.
The more she looked, the more precious the child seemed.

Old Lady Su took the bowl and said, “Your father’s in high spirits today. Make extra food. If we run short, borrow some grain from Auntie San.”

“I know, Mom. We’ve still got enough rice and flour.”

With that, Chunhua turned back to the kitchen.

A big pot stewed chicken. Another simmered fish. And along the edges of the pots, cornmeal pancakes were baking, golden and crisp.

Thankfully, the Su family had plenty of mouths to feed—so they used two massive iron cauldrons.
One for the chicken, one for the fish. Perfect.

Uncle Su Liupan and nephew Su Dahu helped stoke the fire.
Younger brother Su Erpan circled the stove, sniffing the air like a hound.

“Smells amazing!”
He inhaled deeply—then let out a drool-filled sigh.

Liupan caught the moment and did the same.
“Mmm… yeah. Real good.”

Seeing her children’s hungry faces, Chunhua felt a pang in her chest.
It had been months—years, really—since their kitchen had smelled of oil and meat.
These kids had suffered through hunger long enough.

If the little sister really *was* the lucky one the fortune-teller said she was, Chunhua would gladly burn three incense sticks every day to honor her.
Even better—she’d build a shrine.

***

Dinner passed in joyful harmony. Old Man Su drank like a man reborn.
As he put it himself: “I haven’t felt this happy since my wedding day.”

Hearing that, the sons exchanged glances.
Yep. They were just weeds in their father’s eyes.

After eating, Old Man Su sent Su Dahu and Su Erhu to town to sell the leftover fish—get some rice and flour for the new mother during her recovery.

They nodded obediently—but didn’t move fast.
Instead, each pulled their wife aside for a private chat.

“What’s the baby like?” Dahu asked. “Does she take after anyone? Pretty? Fair?”

Zhao Chunhua lit up instantly.
“She’s gorgeous! So pretty—and so fair!”

Her pride radiating like sunlight, Dahu felt a sudden itch deep in his bones.
“Honey… maybe we should try again? Aim for a daughter this time?”

His eyes softened, full of meaning.
He’d had a few drinks at lunch—now his thoughts were spinning.
Before he knew it, his hands were creeping toward his wife.

Chunhua’s face flared crimson.
“For heaven’s sake! It’s broad daylight!”

She slapped his hand away with a sharp *snap*.

Dahu’s expression fell—pained, almost wounded.

But Chunhua wasn’t listening. She spun around and started rummaging through the chest.

“I remember we have a little red flowered cloth. Perfect for a baby blanket. The little sister’s blanket’s full of patches—can’t let her be shamed like that…”

She kept talking, hands moving fast.
And then—there it was. A small square of red floral fabric, tucked deep in the bottom of the trunk.

This was her treasure—the bridal gift she’d never used. Never made into a dress.
Now? Perfect for a baby quilt. Maybe even a little flowered jacket.

She grabbed it and rushed off to her mother-in-law’s room.

Her husband? Forgotten.
What did he matter now?
With a little sister in the house, men could go sit in the corner and stay cold.

Su Dahu stared after her—heart sinking.
Not only had his father become a stepfather…
but even his own wife had been stolen by his sister.

Meanwhile, in the west wing, Su Erhu fumed.

“So your mother gives birth to a daughter—and you, as a daughter-in-law, don’t even bother to visit her? Not even a hello?”
He thundered at Qian Yuemei.

He’d tried asking her about the baby’s looks, but she didn’t know a thing.
Clearly, she’d never stepped foot in her mother-in-law’s room.

Qian Yuemei wilted under his glare.
She looked guilty. Ashamed.

“I—I just haven’t had time yet…” she stammered.

“Hadn’t had time?”
Erhu’s temple pulsed with fury.
“Did you wash clothes? Cook? Scrub pots? Sweep? Feed the pigs?”

He fired question after question.
Qian Yuemei stayed silent.

No need for an answer.
Erhu continued: “Don’t think I didn’t see it. The meal was made by the eldest sister. Fire built by Xiao Liu and Da Pan. What did *you* do?”

Qian Yuemei opened her mouth—then closed it.

“You’re not expected to work,” Erhu snapped. “But can’t you just *talk* to your mother? Bring her water? Hold the baby? Show her some care?”

Qian Yuemei: …
Then, with a defiant jut of her belly:
“I’m carrying a girl.”

Suddenly, she stood taller.

Erhu froze.
His anger surged—but then, seeing her swollen stomach, it sank back down.

“Fine,” he growled. “Let’s see if you actually deliver a daughter. If you do, I’ll worship you like a goddess.”

He stormed out.

Right outside the door, he saw Chunhua walking briskly toward the old lady’s room—holding that red flowered cloth.

No doubt.
She’d taken her best piece of fabric—her *wedding* fabric—and given it to the baby.

Erhu’s chest tightened.
Why was his wife so useless?
Lazy. Greedy. Always scheming.

“Brother Two,” Su Liupan called, grinning, trailing behind him with Da Pan and Erpan in tow.
“How’s the baby? What does she look like? Does she take after me? Pretty? White?”

Erhu shot him a look so full of pain it could cut steel.

*You’re stabbing me in the heart,* he thought.

Without warning, he slapped Liupan hard across the head.

“What are you talking about? You handsome? You white?”
He sneered.
“Ugh. Just stop.”

Finally, he felt a little better.
Slightly.
Just enough to breathe again.