Chapter 9

In fact, Liu Feiyang was not a petty man who would pour water on the ground before his horse, nor did he have the habit of hiding behind a girl for protection. The early responsibility of supporting his family had made this boy incredibly strong, but at this moment, he did not let go. An Ran's hand was cold, but it could bring a warm current to his heart.

He looked ahead, where the long, waterfall-like hair was adorned with a pink rabbit ear hair clip, looking playful and cute.

At this moment, he just wanted to keep looking.

An Ran walked ahead, not caring whether she was holding an animal or not. This girl did not wish to be strong; she hoped that someone would hold her hand as she walked through the university campus, under the sycamore trees, and then blush shyly. However, the same fate had made her maternal love overflow, and she knew she had to be strong.

The distance was not far. When they reached the door, she naturally let go of his hand. "Xiao Yang, you don't need to be afraid of them. If you should live here, then live here. If they dare to bother you again in the future, just tell me, and I'll handle it for you."

"Actually, I'm not younger than you!" Liu Feiyang said, somewhat flustered.

"Whether you're younger or not, you still have to call me sister..." She smiled. "It's the New Year today. There's a party tonight. We can eat together and watch TV."

"I'm really not younger than you."

"Little brother, hehe..." She said, then walked into the house.

Upon entering, it was the kitchen, where the fog was so thick that no one could be seen. Inside, the second child was making dumplings. This kid was good at nothing but eating, and the food he made was always delicious. In the past, they had said that if he practiced for two more years, he could become a chef.

"Xiao Ran is back. Did you find the person?" The mother, sitting on the kang (a traditional heated bed), asked worriedly when she heard the door open.

"Back, I met him halfway," she turned to explain. "It was dark, and there were many alleys. My mother was afraid you wouldn't find your way, so she asked me to come and pick you up. Okay, take off your coat quickly, wash your hands, and eat. There's hot water in your pot."

"Ah..." He nodded, surprised by the sudden change in the aunt's attitude.

In the fog, the second child turned and smiled.

An Ran's family lived a hard life, with most of their extra money spent on medicine for her mother. To maintain a balanced diet, they ate meat only once a month, and An Ran always gave her share to her mother, so she was malnourished, pale, and very thin, probably weighing less than 100 pounds.

This afternoon, while the second child was plucking the chicken, he suggested they eat together in the evening. An Ran didn't mind, but her mother firmly disagreed. To create conditions for Liu Feiyang, the second child used all sorts of methods, shedding tears while plucking the chicken, and then crying loudly after finishing. When asked, he said he missed his mother, and without a mother, a child is like a blade of grass. He embellished the story of how he and Liu Feiyang had relied on each other over the years, making the listeners cry. An Ran's mother, who was cold in appearance but warm at heart, also shed tears, finding the second child increasingly likable, as if he were her own child.

If Liu Feiyang were there, he would never have let him continue. Some scars were better left in his heart, and there was no need to expose them to gain sympathy.

He went back to the room, took off his military coat, and inside was a sweater his mother had knitted for him before she passed away. It was red, a festive color. He took off this sweater as well, and underneath was an undershirt. He hadn't washed his face properly since yesterday and had no time to do so.

He filled a basin with hot water and stood in the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves, with shampoo and soap nearby.

The first basin of water turned black before he finished washing. Carrying firewood up the mountain was a dirty job, and so was cleaning the room.

The second basin was slightly cleaner but still not very clean.

By the third basin, the water was finally clear. He went back to the room to get a towel to dry himself, leaving only his hair wet. There were no hairdryers in those days, at least not here. He stood in front of the mirror, picked up a comb, and tried a middle part, but it looked like a traitor in a TV show. He tried a side part, but it didn't match his face. Finally, he messed it up, which looked more acceptable.

He wasn't a fussy person and had never used any face cream, but today he specifically asked the salesperson if they had any. The salesperson recommended a new brand called Dabao, saying it made the skin very soft.

He didn't care if it made his skin soft; he just wanted it to smell good. He smelled it and thought it was nice, so he bought it.

He opened the lid, squeezed out a small strip, and carefully applied it to his face.

There were some things he couldn't tell others, so he kept them in his heart. An Ran had a faint fragrance, and to match her, he needed to have a fragrance too. He didn't need to be as fresh and elegant as An Ran, but he wanted to be self-satisfied.

When he pushed the door open, the food was already on the table in the east room, waiting for him.

For some reason, he felt a bit nervous, worried that his fragrance wouldn't attract her like An Ran's did. He felt like a bride meeting her in-laws.

He pushed the door open, and the table was full of steaming hot dishes: chicken stewed with potatoes, and a fish, not the white fish from the river, but a carp about 20 centimeters long, cooked with a sauce, which was probably An Ran's work.

"You... I didn't recognize you after you washed your face," An Ran said, blinking her watery eyes.

Her eyes were pure, like a clear lake, and even when she stared at someone, it didn't make them feel uncomfortable.

"The boy is well-built and strong," the mother said, her eyes as pure as An Ran's, but years of illness and the harshness of life had added a layer of dust to the lake, not making it murky, but giving it a kind of wisdom and kindness.

"Eat, eat. The wild chicken won't taste good if it gets cold, and it will have a gamey smell," the second child said impatiently.

This kid was considerate and knew to leave the seat next to An Ran for Liu Feiyang.

"The wild chicken was hunted by Xiao Ran's father when he was still alive, two years ago," the old couple, who had a deep bond, said, wiping away tears even now.

"Oh... Mom, why are you crying on New Year's Day? My father is living better than us over there. Let's eat," An Ran said, picking up a chicken leg and passing it to the second child. "Eat more, you're still growing."

She then gave another chicken leg to her mother.

Liu Feiyang didn't find anything wrong with this and secretly thought An Ran would make a good wife. In the countryside, he had raised dogs, none of which were good dogs, just local dogs. The way to judge a good dog was simple: place a puppy that hasn't been weaned under the dog. If the dog lets the puppy nurse, it's a good dog; if not, it's a bad dog.

This had nothing to do with the dog's gender or whether it was nursing.

Because letting the puppy nurse was a sign of maternal love.

An Ran's filial piety in taking care of her mother and her maternal love in giving the chicken leg to the second child showed all the qualities of a virtuous and capable woman.

Liu Feiyang didn't eat the chicken, just the fish, as if eating the fish was like eating An Ran. He chewed and swallowed the fish bones without leaving any behind.

"Oh..." The second child slapped his thigh. "I almost forgot something. We need to drink on New Year's Day. Brother Yang, did you buy the alcohol when you went out this afternoon?"

"Little brat, what alcohol?"

"Little brat, what alcohol?"

An Ran and Liu Feiyang said in unison, scolding him.

After saying that, they looked at each other and smiled.

"Finished, finished. In the past, there was only one father to manage us, now there's another mother. Grandma, let's eat quickly," he said, starting to shovel food into his mouth.

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