Chapter 10

An Ran, who always appeared composed and graceful, seemed to never blush over trivial matters, except for that day when the second child reached into his crotch. She didn’t blush shyly; instead, she calmly served Liu Feiyang some dishes, which made him feel a bit heartache. Accustomed to taking care of others, he suddenly found himself being taken care of, and it made him feel very uncomfortable.

Men in this part of the black soil, more or less, had a bit of machismo, and he was no exception.

An Ran’s mother had a small appetite and left the table after one bowl to lie down and watch the New Year’s Eve gala. The most classic line of this year’s gala was undoubtedly: “Don’t let your tears flow into the next century.”

A simple line of dialogue had earned countless applause and praise.

An Ran deliberately slowed down, worried that eating alone would be awkward. Liu Feiyang would occasionally feel An Ran watching him, but when he glanced over, she was watching TV.

He didn’t know what to make of his own nervousness; he just liked to look, even if it was just a sideways glance at her back, hoping time would freeze at this moment.

They still drank alcohol.

With the second child’s set of manly theories and the festive atmosphere of the New Year, plus his innocent eyes, he finally persuaded her parents.

An Ran didn’t drink and couldn’t drink.

But without Liu Feiyang’s persuasion, her mother took the initiative to say, “Xiao Ran, have a little. This white wine can refresh you and make you feel relaxed. It’s New Year’s, so it’s fine to have a little.”

Liu Feiyang poured her a small amount, about two ounces.

Holding the wine glass, An Ran seemed to be thinking of something, and her hand was slightly trembling, which made Liu Feiyang feel a bit heartache. He didn’t understand the grand theories about men not letting women cry, but he had learned from his father that after each argument, only the wife could win, and if she was sad, he should hold her in his arms.

He wanted to, but he didn’t have the right now.

Once they started drinking, the conversation flowed, and the meal seemed to extend indefinitely until the sound of firecrackers outside signaled the end. Only then did they put down their wine glasses.

“Xiao Ran… Mom has a New Year’s gift for you.” Her mother, who had been keeping track of the time, said with a happy face as it approached midnight. “These past two years, you’ve been the one taking care of everything. Mom is useless and can’t do anything, but you’ve been managing both inside and outside the home.”

“Mom, you raised me when I was young, so I’ll take care of you when you’re old. My life is all because of you.” An Ran, after drinking, didn’t show any boldness from the alcohol but instead revealed a gentle, feminine side.

“Ah, let’s not talk about it. Let’s be happy for the New Year…”

She dragged her leg to the corner of the kang (a traditional heated bed), opened a cabinet, and slowly, almost agonizingly, reached inside. Her movements were so slow that it made one anxious, yet in that anxiety, one could patiently wait. She finally pulled out a bag, placed it on the kang, and stepped on it with one foot while unbuttoning it with one hand.

She took out the item, shook it, and a red turtleneck sweater was revealed in the air.

“I can’t do much, but I can knit a sweater. The patterns on it are new, and your Aunt Zhang next door said they’re the latest style. Try it on and see if it fits. If it doesn’t, Mom will make adjustments.”

“Mom… how can you still knit?” An Ran’s eyes welled up again at the sight.

“Why not? If people can build ladders to reach the sky, I can knit slowly, step by step. I knit at home while you’re at work. It’s something to do, and it’s good exercise.”

“Mom…” An Ran rushed over, and the tears she had held back for two years fell onto the sweater.

Heaven knows what it means for a hemiplegic patient to knit a sweater. But people know that this sweater is the result of a year’s work with one hand, and the patterns on it have cost many pricked fingers.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s the New Year, let’s not cry.” Her mother patted An Ran’s head, her eyes also red.

Liu Feiyang wasn’t a sentimental person and didn’t like overly emotional scenes. He gave the second child a look, and the two quietly cleared the table.

“You two, go out. I’m going to change into the sweater Mom knitted for me.”

An Ran, slightly tipsy, sniffed and wiped her nose, her words filled with pride, like a child who had been pampered all her life. No one would believe what she had been through.

The two went out and left the room.

“Brother Yang, do you think Mom is thinking about knitting a sweater for us too?” The second child asked with a hint of sadness.

“I don’t know if they are, but I bought you new underwear. It’s the New Year, let’s change into new ones and start the year brightly. Wearing something new brings good luck.”

“What was that smelly stuff on your face in there?” the second child asked.

“Smelly?” Liu Feiyang was taken aback.

“You’re the smelly one,” the second child said shrewdly.

“Brat, you don’t know anything.” Liu Feiyang kicked him in the buttocks, sending him to the west room. They quickly changed into the new underwear, and the second child was still complaining that he should have bought a pair with a pocket, which would have been better and wouldn’t need to be sewn on.

After changing, they went out to set off firecrackers. Liu Feiyang carried a string of 2,000 firecrackers called “Da Di Hong” and walked out.

An Ran, wearing the new sweater, came out of the east room. The saying “clothes make the man, and gold makes the Buddha” was true. The red sweater set off her lily-white face, and on that lily, there was a hint of pink from the alcohol.

“Are you going to set off firecrackers?”

“It’s the New Year, so we listen to the sound of the explosions for good luck next year.”

“Come on, I’ll go too.” An Ran seemed excited. Since her father’s death, firecrackers had been a source of joy for others, something she liked but didn’t dare to set off.

For An Ran, who wasn’t afraid of bugs or snakes, this was indeed a strange thing.

An Ran stood at the door, covering her ears, while Liu Feiyang, holding a cigarette, stood in the snow-covered front yard, turning to look at the girl.

“Sss…” The fuse sparked.

Liu Feiyang ran back, taking a few steps, and the sound of firecrackers crackled behind him. The flashing lights made all of An Ran’s expressions flash before his eyes like a slideshow.

He turned around and stood beside An Ran, watching the dazzling lights disappear and the smoke dissipate into the air.

The beauty was fleeting, and An Ran, who had been bouncing around, gradually calmed down.

The joy on her face didn’t fade. She turned to Liu Feiyang, smiled for a few seconds, and then extended her hand, saying cheerfully, “Happy New Century! May all your wishes come true, and may you find a girl who loves you as much as you love her. May you have a family and a big, healthy baby, and then I’ll be your aunt.”

“Happy New Century…” Liu Feiyang extended his hand, his unspoken thought being: I hope you never become an aunt.

“Perfunctory…” She released Liu Feiyang’s hand, looked up at the fireworks blooming in the night sky, and murmured, “Have you ever thought about what you want to do in the future? You can’t live in a rental apartment forever, can you?”

Liu Feiyang also looked up at the sky, seriously pondering the question.

What do I want to do?

It was indeed a question mark for him. The old Liu Feiyang, who faced the yellow earth and the sky, thought that following in his parents’ footsteps would lead to a stable life. The second child’s pliers had completely changed his fate.

On the way, he thought about finding a restaurant to wash dishes and make ends meet.

Meeting An Ran, he learned to put Dabao on his face.

He had never heard, let alone said, grandiose words like “governing the world and lying on a beauty’s lap.”

He now had two goals: first, to live up to the promise he made at his parents’ graves, to live a life worth seeing; second, to marry An Ran.

But when it came to his lips, it turned into a casual “I don’t know.”

“You have to know. Life needs goals. Do you know what my goal is?” She looked at the night sky with longing, her breath forming white clouds, and with a bit of alcohol, she shouted, “I want my mom to stand up, and I want to take her to Tibet because my dad is in heaven, and it’s the place closest to the sky.”

“Ah…” The widow Zhang, who was squatting by the wall to urinate, sighed, stood up, pulled up her pants, and looked over the wall, shaking her head. “Having a man in the house makes a difference. I don’t know if your mom will stand up, but your family’s life will surely stand up.”

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