Zhang Shumin looked down at her hands and suddenly said, "When I was young, I worked as a fitter in a state-owned factory. I was always afraid of scratching the parts."
Sister Hong slapped her thigh and said, "I knew it! No wonder he looks like a capable person."
She turned and pulled out a tin box from her trouser pocket. "I brought you something good. The trauma medicine that Doctor Liu prescribed is more effective than herbal medicine."
When the moonlight climbed onto the windowsill, four dishes were placed on the table: clear-boiled black chicken soup, stir-fried pork with beans, tofu with green onions, and a soft-boiled egg specially fried by Sister Hong.
Feng Yulan gave the biggest egg to Zhang Shumin, but Zhang Shumin pushed it to Sister Hong: "Thank you for the trouble. Eat more."
Sister Hong took it flattered, and suddenly remembered something, and took out a cloth bag from her waistband: "I almost forgot, this is for you." Inside was neatly folded banknotes, a total of five hundred yuan.
"Sister Hong, this won't do!" Feng Yulan hurriedly refused. "I've only been paid for half a month..."
"It's not wages." Sister Hong stuffed the money into Zhang Shumin's hand. "You came in a hurry, and the bedding is all old. Let's go to the market in town and buy some new ones."
Her tone brooked no refusal, and she tapped her fingers twice on Zhang Shumin's palm. "Don't stay home all the time. I'll take you out for a walk tomorrow."
Zhang Shumin, holding the money, suddenly looked up at her. Sister Hong's earrings shone faintly in the candlelight, and her eyes were as clear as pebbles at the bottom of a stream.
She finally nodded and put the money under her pillow: "Thank you, sister."
The word "sister" made Sister Hong's eyes light up. She added another piece of chicken to Feng Yulan's bowl and suddenly remembered something: "By the way, don't get up too early tomorrow morning."
"What's wrong?" Feng Yulan swallowed the mouthful of tofu.
"It's the 15th day of the seventh lunar month. We have to visit Old Li's grave." Sister Hong's voice softened. "I want to go to town early to buy some paper ingots. I'd like to trouble Xiaofang to watch the shop for a while."
Zhang Shumin paused with her chopsticks. Feng Yulan said quickly, "Don't worry, Sister Hong, I know the goods."
She didn't notice that her mother-in-law's fingertips tightened slightly until she went back to her room to sleep, then she discovered that Zhang Shumin was repeatedly stroking the stack of banknotes - there was an almost invisible blue dot on each banknote, like some kind of mark.
"Sister Hong's husband...is called Lao Li?" Zhang Shumin asked in a low voice.
Feng Yulan untied her braids: "Yes, what's wrong?"
She didn't answer, but stood up and walked to the window. The stream shimmered silver in the moonlight, and in the distance came the night watchman's clapper: "It's dry, be careful with fire—"
Feng Yulan followed him to the window and suddenly smelled a faint scent of cigarette smoke. Zhang Shumin quickly blew out the oil lamp, and the two of them held their breath in the darkness. Footsteps came from outside the courtyard, very slow, as if deliberately quiet.
Feng Yulan clenched Zhang Shumin's hand tightly, her nails almost digging into her palm.
"Woof!"
There was a sound of barking dogs next door, and the footsteps suddenly quickened and disappeared on the cobblestone road.
"Go to sleep. We have to go to market tomorrow."
Feng Yulan lay in the darkness, listening to her mother-in-law's even breathing, and gradually became dazed.
She remembered going to the market with her grandmother when she was a child, with freshly picked cucumbers in the bamboo basket. There were old men selling sugar paintings and little girls with red hairbands in the market.
At this moment, the moonlight shines through the window paper, casting mottled shadows of trees on the wall, which overlap with the scene in my memory.
The next morning, Sister Hong went out early as expected. When Feng Yulan opened the shop door, the morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the stone pavement was wet with dew.
She was cleaning the shelves when she heard someone behind her say, "Pack of matches."
As she turned around, she nearly bumped into a man. He was about thirty years old, wearing a well-worn blue shirt with straw shavings on the cuffs, and carrying a bamboo basket on his back.
"sorry!"
Feng Yulan stepped back in a hurry, but saw that man's gaze lingered on her chest for a moment - there was a brass keychain given by Sister Hong, shaped like a butterfly with its wings spread.
"The matches are in the third row." She calmed herself down and pointed to the shelf. The man took the matches but didn't leave. Instead, he stared at her face and said, "Girl, you're not from here, are you?"
Feng Yulan's heart leaped into her throat. She remembered Zhang Shumin's warning and softened her voice, "I came from the north to seek refuge with my aunt."
"North?" The man raised an eyebrow. "Where is north?"
"Anshan." This was the place of origin they had compiled in advance, and Feng Yulan spoke it quite fluently.
"Anshan..." the man said in a long voice, and suddenly smiled, "My cousin also works in the Anshan Textile Factory. Do you know her?"
The blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Feng Yulan heard her own voice as if it were coming from far away: "There are thousands of people working in the textile factory..."
"That's true," the man finally turned around, "but you look a lot like my cousin's wife when she was young."
The doorbell rang and his figure disappeared in the fog.
Feng Yulan leaned against the shelf and slowly squatted down, her heart pounding. She remembered what Zhang Shumin had said about Lao Jin's subordinate, a man nicknamed "Fox," who was adept at extracting information from details.
The grass scraps on the man's cuffs looked like wild wormwood that only grows in the mountains, and the way he looked at the keychain...
"Xiaofang?" Sister Hong's voice came from the door. "Why are you squatting on the ground?"
Feng Yulan looked up suddenly and saw Sister Hong holding an oil-paper bag in her hand. Her face was filled with the excitement of returning from the market. "Hurry up and try some of these fresh meat mooncakes from Wang Ji in town!"
The puff pastry crumbled into crumbs between her teeth. The salty and fragrant meat filling was mixed with chopped green onions, but Feng Yulan couldn't taste it.
Sister Hong was chattering about the latest happenings at the market, like the Zhang family's wife had given birth to twins and the Li family's old man had bought a new radio. It wasn't until she saw her face turn pale that she realized something was wrong: "What's wrong? Are you sick?"
"It's okay. Maybe I didn't eat well this morning." Feng Yulan forced a smile. "Sister Hong, a man just came to buy matches. He said... his cousin works at the Anshan Textile Factory."
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