Half a century ago was the legendary Great Famine, when people resorted to cannibalism.
But having heard Grandfather tell the story so many times, Zhao Lingcheng had already grown numb to the suffering, feeling a detached kind of empathy.
Still, he patiently reassured Grandfather, “Both my uncles had boys they couldn’t raise; this one will definitely be a boy too.”
It was as if cursed—only boys were born into the Zhao family, never girls.
Grandfather sighed, “Our family’s been too harsh on the girls. No wonder some don’t want to reincarnate here.”
His tone left no room for argument: “If this one turns out to be a girl and you abandon her, Lingcheng, I won’t be able to rest in peace after I die.”
Zhao Lingcheng didn’t want that either, but what if it was a frail girl like Xiao Miao?
She would need a mother, even if that mother wasn’t exactly a good one.
Grandfather was right—no matter how gifted a child was, without a good educational environment, they would inevitably become ordinary, or worse than ordinary.
Leaving the child to be raised by his ex-wife alone might result in her turning out just like her.
Just a few days ago, Zhao Lingcheng was still a carefree, happy bachelor.
But the situation had suddenly shifted.
Now he had to seriously consider raising and educating a child.
Suddenly Grandfather said, “There’s nothing wrong with you. Could it really be Xiao Chen’s problem?”
Then added, “Is it because you’re always out in the desert—stinky, dirty, and bad-tempered—that she fell for someone else and divorced you?”
In the latest investigation report on Chen Mianmian, Wei Cuiyun’s name was clearly mentioned.
If Zhao Lingcheng told Grandfather the truth, he could avoid a lot of trouble.
He had also seen how she treated another man—even before marriage, she was willing to wash that man’s dirty clothes.
But he knew clearly that this had nothing to do with the breakdown of their marriage, because she treated him the same way.
She would voluntarily wash his feet, just to exchange a belt for her brother.
He was a meticulous man.
Knowing he would be scolded for telling the truth, he still insisted on being factual: “Her biggest problem is ignorance—she has no desire to learn and no welfare spirit. Our personalities just don’t match!”
Grandfather immediately flew into a rage: “The bourgeois decadence, the bad habits—just like your old man, naive and chasing that damn nonsense called love. Don’t even think about it! You go fix it; with time, the old nature will fit.”
He added, “Lingcheng, the situation is still tough. But don’t be like your father and ruin yourself!”
His mother had been on a plane heading to the opposite shore, full of Military Intelligence agents, which his father had intercepted and shot down.
But later, his father’s plane also crashed in that same airspace—at the same altitude, same speed.
His father had been careless, distracted, and was shot down by the enemy.
Grandfather was a first-generation Air Force veteran and could tell just by the parameters that his son truly loved a female spy.
That was Grandfather’s hidden pain and shame.
But even if it was foolish, Zhao Lingcheng, like his father, didn’t want to conform—he wanted love.
Yet, he couldn’t say those reactionary thoughts to Grandfather.
He could only silently hang up the phone.
It was time to welcome the little grandson.
Zhao Jun Laoyezi was positively beaming.
Old Jiang, Zhao Lingcheng’s brother-in-law, came in carrying tea with a smile: “Look at you, brother-in-law, so happy—good news?”
Zhao Jun sighed, “Never imagined it—I’m from a beggar’s background, yet here I am, four generations under one roof.”
Jiang Xia had sent a telegram to her father, so Old Jiang knew about Chen Mianmian’s situation.
His own family had problems too—his youngest daughter, Jiang Yao, was constantly harassed by hooligans and wanted to go to the base, but her political review was moving painfully slow.
This happened to be an opportunity.
He said, “Jiang Xia is too busy with work, but little Yao has nothing to do. Why not have someone give a word to let her go to the base early? She can help Lingcheng take care of the confinement.”
It was true—
Zhao Lingcheng was so busy, who would look after his daughter-in-law during confinement?
Grandfather nodded in agreement: “Good idea.”
Old Jiang thought his daughter would finally be free from the troublemakers and was about to go home to announce the good news.
But Zhao Jun abruptly changed his mind: “No, don’t trouble little Yao.”
He added, “Let her go through the normal political review. Lingcheng’s family should handle their own affairs.”
Old Jiang said, “The base can’t find a nanny—who will take care of confinement then?”
Zhao Jun waved him off, “Don’t worry about them.”
He insisted, and Old Jiang couldn’t argue much, so he left silently.
But Zhao Jun was cunning.
His daughter-in-law was an ignorant village woman.
If a pretty girl went to help during confinement, living in the same room every day, wouldn’t that be even more dangerous than a female spy?
So he absolutely couldn’t let Jiang Yao go early—no way!
He still had to find an elder to quietly inquire more about his daughter-in-law’s condition.
Rural women with no education were inevitably ignorant and dull.
Zhao Lingcheng’s nature was well understood—intelligent and aloof, with a fondness for romance.
The desert was already harsh enough; to have a dull and unromantic daughter-in-law would indeed be a grievance for him.
Last night, Chen Mianmian had returned the telegram to Ma Ji.
This morning, she went to the Security Section to send a letter.
Ma Ji thought she was coming to ask about the telegram again.
He smiled and said, “Sister-in-law, I personally delivered that telegram to Zhao Engineer at the company.”
Chen Mianmian handed him two opened envelopes: “I want to send these letters. Could you check them for me?”
All correspondence in and out of the base for family members had to be opened and inspected.
Ma Ji was a bit surprised: “You wrote these yourself? You can write now?”
Chen Mianmian, as a female supporting character, was illiterate, so all correspondence had to be by telegram, but telegrams cost money per word and were very expensive.
Registered letters were a bit slower but allowed as many words as needed.
Ma Ji unfolded the letter and genuinely praised her: “Sister-in-law, two years at Red Specialized School didn’t go to waste. The letter’s well written.”
The letter was addressed to Yan General at the steel plant.
Chen Mianmian first thanked him for taking care of her and then asked him to pay attention to Wu Jingjing’s work issues.
The letter contained many spelling errors, some written in pinyin, but it was still readable.
In fact, it was because Yan General was illiterate.
To make it easier for him, she deliberately wrote wrong characters.
When she translated English documents for him, she used homophones on purpose so he could understand, and he thought her translations were excellent.
Ma Ji didn’t know this and just assumed she was illiterate.
Another letter was to Zhao Hui, reporting that she and the baby were fine and telling Xiao Gu not to worry.
When Ma Ji sealed the letters, Chen Mianmian asked, “Is there any letter from Lingcheng? I want to take it home.”
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