Back to the 60s: The Struggle Career of a Charmed Wife
Chapter 1234: Long Stay at the Old Home 8

Chapter 1234: Chapter 1234: Long Stay at the Old Home 8

Writing utensils like blank paper, pens, and paint could be kept at home, and they were openly claimed to be for the children’s schooling. The artwork, however, was a different matter. Fearing trouble and danger, sometimes the elders would admire their finished work briefly before stuffing it into the kang to destroy the evidence. Therefore, in Mr. Lu’s view, it was better to store it in Feng Qingxue’s mysterious and magical space as a keepsake.

Mr. Lu considered his own skills to be limited, but he was in awe of his old friends’ masterpieces. He thought that even leaving them as models for his daughter-in-law and grandson to imitate and learn from was better than burning them to ashes.

Upon hearing Mr. Lu’s words, Xibao couldn’t help complaining, "We haven’t arrived yet? So slow!"

"Have you forgotten? It’s winter now. The postal service is slow on the roads." Mr. Lu patted his grandson’s bald head, feeling a bit guilty. As Xibao grew older, he gained an increasing fondness for outdoor play, and his skin had turned into a light wheat color from the sun.

"When will the roads be easier to travel, so the letters from yesterday reach mom today?" Xibao asked.

Mr. Lu thought about it, "I’m afraid that won’t be possible anytime soon."

The old man was well aware of the country’s development, despite not involving himself in external affairs. He rubbed his grandson’s head, "But when Xibao grows up, let’s see who is interested—we could have him deliver letters specially." He saw it as a promising prospect.

"Sure!" Xibao replied loudly.

A sudden inspiration struck, and Xibao continued, "Grandpa, Grandpa, can we ask mom to come back? She said she would, didn’t she? If mom comes back, I can see her every day, and we won’t have to write letters to mom anymore! Whether the letter arrives tomorrow or the day after doesn’t matter to us then!"

He was so clever. He wanted to write a letter to mom, asking her to come home and make delicious food!

The little guy let go of his grip, placing his feet firmly on the ground, "I’m going to write a letter now; mom is going to come back!"

Guan Yu came to deliver their meal and happened to hear this statement. He exclaimed with joy, "Auntie is coming back? Really? When is she coming back? My brother, Brother Tianzhi, and I will clean up the room. While the weather is nice, we can air out the quilts."

Before Xibao could say he wanted his mother to come back, Mr. Lu interjected, "What are you talking about? It’s just Xibao writing a letter, hoping your auntie will return. Whether she can come back is another issue. It’s bitterly cold there, the roads are bad, and you know Zhuangzhuang is frail—who would dare to travel lightly? Even if she does come, she has to wait until the weather warms up."

His words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over Guan Yu’s head in the dead of winter.

Dispirited, Guan Yu said, "I thought auntie was coming back. What a false alarm. Here, Xibao, take your food and the food for the elderly... never mind, I’ll bring it in. Don’t trip and burn yourself."

"What food?" Xibao looked into the basket.

"What can you expect this early in the morning? Boiled cornmeal buns, stir-fried pickles with red chili, garlic sprouts stir-fried with goose eggs made especially for you, and corn kernel and brown rice porridge," Guan Yu reported the menu.

The four old men in the cowshed ate happily, calling out their approval.

"Grandpa, eat this!" Xibao pushed the garlic sprouts and goose eggs toward them.

"You eat it; grandpa likes the pickles." Zhou Fengchun looked at Xibao with eyes full of love, almost brimming over with it.

After spending most of the year recuperating in secret, his physical wounds had long since healed, except his right arm had become useless. However, the emotional wounds would never be mended. Not only because of the treatment he received but also because of the children he had taken in. They looked on indifferently during his life-and-death moment, and even two of them made it clear they wanted nothing to do with him. The pain of betrayal stung no less than that of the body.