She shuffled closer to the old woman, not in a fawning manner, but as a natural reaction to a grandmother figure like this, a deference she maintained regardless of age.

Grandma Cheng Ying asked, "Your grandma hasn't asked you yet—how did you fall into the water last time?"

Cheng Ying lowered her head, once again displaying her character before the old woman, truly feeling embarrassed. "Well, Chi Wu and I saw the adults had all gone off to catch fish. We were watching the fish jump out of the ice. I told Chi Wu to go pick one up."

She glanced at the old woman after speaking, emphasizing her point: "It really was the fish jumping out by itself; we were truly just picking them up."

The old woman looked at Cheng Ying without a word.

Cheng Ying cautiously continued, "I told Chi Wu to hide the fish first. Chi Wu told me to wait for him on the bank, but I didn't listen. I saw a big fish leap out, got too excited, and fell in."

The old woman looked at her granddaughter; what a close call. Falling into that river in the dead of winter, few ever survived.

Three years ago, there was a garrison stationed nearby, and a village boy fell in. A soldier risked his life to push the child up to safety.

But that soldier’s body wasn’t recovered until the thaw. The village still remembered his kindness. Why is the girl so thoughtless? This must be what they call being bewitched. "You glutton."

With just that single utterance, the old woman felt perhaps it was too harsh for her granddaughter, so she fell silent.

Cheng Ying tugged at the old woman’s arm, shaking it gently, trying to signal that she wasn't angry anymore.

The old woman slapped her thigh. "Alright, I'll cook fish for you tonight."

To the old woman, her granddaughter was simply craving fish. Her granddaughter almost lost her life for a fish, so shaking her arm must mean she wanted to eat it. It would be unfair not to indulge her; the child had truly suffered. She barely had any meat all year long.

In the old woman's heart, she wished she could boil every fish in the river to spare her granddaughter from taking such risks. What if she got foolish again? This was why the old woman couldn't vent her anger on the granddaughter who had just escaped danger; the innocent fish would have to bear the brunt of it. Therefore, fish stew tonight.

Cheng Ying looked at the old woman, her mouth slightly agape, a little stunned. It was a misunderstanding; she really hadn't been driven to that extreme by mere craving. But it truly was a beautiful misunderstanding.

The old woman looked at her pleasing granddaughter. "Silly, such small ambitions. Yingzi, things will be better in a few years; we won't struggle so much. These days are accumulated bit by bit."

The old woman was truly kind in comforting her granddaughter, wisdom laced with the realities of life.

Cheng Ying said, "With you here, it's not hard now." This was flattery, but also the truth; Cheng Ying felt her spiritual and cultural life was rich, even if it wasn't built on a foundation of material wealth. Here, with the old woman, Cheng Ying experienced the warmth of home, the shelter of kin.

The old woman looked at her granddaughter, reminiscing. "When your father was around, he'd venture into the mountains every few days, and the whole family enjoyed better meals. Every family envied how we lived. Your elder aunt and second aunt certainly benefited. But look now; they have no conscience. They didn't even care about our Yingzi’s life. Grandma will remember them forever."

Because of her granddaughter’s life, the old woman had turned against her own sons and daughters-in-law. She clearly distinguished between love and hate.

Cheng Ying’s eyes reddened again. This was an era that favored sons over daughters, and for the old woman to stand up to her own sons for her granddaughter’s sake made Cheng Ying’s heart ache with a numbing bitterness. It felt as if she had never been the first person someone was compelled to protect. How utterly wonderful this feeling of being cherished was.

Cheng Ying felt she was getting the better end of the bargain, like someone who actively sought hardship. For such an old woman, Cheng Ying vowed that from now on, she would treat her grandmother like a revered ancestor—no, like currency to be worshipped.

Yang Zhi listened to the mother and daughter talking, quietly tending the fire to warm the water, preparing to thaw the fish. This fish wasn't ready to eat immediately; it was frozen solid. As for what they would eat for the New Year, Yang Zhi didn't care at all; as long as the family was happy, a bit of hardship and toil meant nothing regarding the menu. For a woman who had finally clawed her way to a life where she could cook on the heated brick bed after so many years, her demands were truly low.

The old woman glanced at her complacent daughter-in-law, sighing inwardly. This was a woman who just did what she was told. Truly, there was no daughter-in-law more obedient than Yang Zhi. Unfortunately, in a household unsupported by a man, an obedient woman wasn't much use. Alas, if only my Sheng Qiu were still alive, how good this family would be.

Cheng Ying also had her doubts. Given her mother’s temperament, she wasn't the type to pursue a free-love remarriage. And given her grandmother’s disposition, she would absolutely never support her own daughter remarrying. How exactly did her stepfather arrive in their lives, with such a combination? That was a question. She had to explore it when the chance arose.

It was rare for Yang Zhi to be home, giving the old woman a chance to rest her feet. Even though the old woman was home all day, feeding chickens, cooking, and watching the children kept her busy from dawn till dusk.

Cheng Ying said, "Grandma, wait for us mother and daughter to finish cooking, and then we’ll call you."

The wrinkles around the old woman’s eyes deepened; a faint smile appeared. She shuffled her small feet toward the house. Before disappearing inside, she called back to her daughter-in-law and granddaughter, "Be mindful of the firewood. A half-ladle of cornmeal is enough for the five of us."

Yang Zhi readily agreed. "Yes, I know, Mom. I'll add extra water when stewing the fish." The old woman entered, satisfied. Her daughter-in-law was obedient, but not foolish, and she was close to the old woman’s heart. She just lacked the drive to assert herself.

Listening to their exchange, Cheng Ying felt only the bleakness of their life—it was more bitter than falling into a pile of yellow lotus. The entire mountain was covered in trees, yet they had to conserve firewood. They had just received a meager portion of grain, and they could only cook half a ladle of rice. Stewing a fish required adding extra broth. When would this end?

So, Cheng Ying squatted by the stove, tending the fire with a slightly defeated posture. In Yang Zhi's eyes, her daughter was simply greedy, watching eagerly for the fish to be ready. Even though the fish hadn't made it into the pot yet, the child was clearly craving it.

Yang Zhi said, "Yingzi, we’ll be eating tonight." She was comforting her daughter.

Cheng Ying looked at her own mother. Although life was tough, it was simple. The people here were happy for a long time if they could just eat something good, eat their fill, and wear something warm. This was an era that knew gratitude, a people easily satisfied. Not like when she was alive in her previous life, where people rushed about all day long, unsure what they were pursuing, working like mad dogs, yet never feeling they ate well or dressed well, ending up spiritually empty. Simplicity was good. Contentment brought happiness.

Having come to terms with it, Cheng Ying started feeding the fire with a lighter spirit.

Yang Zhi quickly grabbed her daughter’s hand just as she was about to throw more wood into the stove. "Yingzi, use the wood sparingly. We must be careful with firewood from now on."

Cheng Ying didn't quite understand. Be careful, I get that, but why only start being careful from now on?

Yang Zhi looked at her daughter’s flushed face, wondering if the reflection from the fire made her look that way. Yang Zhi spoke in a slightly clumsy, demanding tone. "Your uncle’s constitution is frail; carrying firewood down from the mountain is hard physical labor."

As Yang Zhi said this, her voice was very quiet, and she kept glancing toward the east room, perhaps afraid her mother-in-law would hear. Cheng Ying looked at her mother's expression; 'Your uncle' referred to her stepfather. That made sense; from now on, they lacked a primary laborer. Getting firewood wouldn't be easy, so they had to conserve. Her mother was already worried about her stepfather—that wasn't a good sign.

Of course, this was a somewhat selfish thought. In reality, her own mother being happy and content in her relationship was not necessarily a bad thing. Cheng Ying felt perhaps she had been too extreme from watching television before. At least based on her current interactions, her stepfather’s character seemed sound.

Cheng Ying’s expression shifted rapidly as she recalled the wad of money her stepfather had given her. Cheng Ying thought, asking about him wasn't wrong; they were husband and wife, after all. Furthermore, based on his character, he didn't really seem like a Chen Shimei (a proverbially ungrateful man). Even though the man’s appearance strongly evoked the image of Chen Shimei, Cheng Ying admitted her judgment of people had never been good, so there was still uncertainty. She would wait and see. In any case, no matter what, she would always be there.

Cheng Ying was lost in thought, and her work at the stove lacked consistency. Sometimes the fire was too slow, sometimes too intense. Yang Zhi grew worried. The old woman praised her so much, saying that despite her small size, their Yingzi could handle everything in the house, both in bed and on the ground. Yang Zhi resolved that she couldn't speak so highly of her daughter to the old woman anymore.

Yang Zhi said, "Yingzi, go inside and keep your grandma company. Mom can manage alone. I used to handle meals for over a dozen people in the past years." Yang Zhi said this merely to demonstrate her capability, implying her daughter wasn't needed. But hearing this, Cheng Ying only felt sorrow for her mother. Handling meals for a dozen people by herself—what a put-upon daughter-in-law she must have been. And yet, she said it with a touch of pride coming from her own mother’s mouth. This woman, in Cheng Ying’s view, was hopelessly steeped in servitude—yes, servitude. If only her mother were like the second aunt, how much easier life would be. What a pity. Strictly speaking, Cheng Ying felt she was more like the second aunt’s daughter, more humanized, closer to the real struggles of life. Although she disliked the second aunt’s character, Cheng Ying never carefully considered whether the aunt disliked her. But watching her own mother in the kitchen, as at ease as she was, at least more at ease than when her grandmother spoke sweetly to her, it was also true that her mother hadn't found her own stage to shine on.

Cheng Ying looked at her mother and said, "I'll listen to you, Mom," and got up to leave.

Yang Zhi breathed a sigh of relief. At least her daughter wasn't wasting firewood in here anymore.

Cheng Ying rinsed her hands outside and went into the main room. Her grandmother was sitting cross-legged on the heated brick bed, with a large pile of clothes in front of her. Looking closely, she saw they were all patched rags. Cheng Ying stared at the sight—it felt surreal. Clothes covered in visible mending; this truly didn't align with what she knew. She took a deep breath; she was now in a society where people wore darned clothes.

The old woman, not noticing the complicated expression on her granddaughter’s face, pointed at a nearly finished sock. "Yingzi, how did you learn this?"