The next morning, when Sister Hong came to call them, Feng Yulan was pinning Zhang Shumin's hair.
She rarely changed into the blue cotton shirt that Sister Hong had given her. Her black hair was neatly combed, and a wild chrysanthemum she had picked from the stream was tucked behind her ear. Sister Hong's eyes lit up: "Auntie Wang looks like an old lady from the city when she's dressed like this!"
Zhang Shumin rarely protested, letting Sister Hong lead her out. The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the cobblestones felt like brown sugar dipped in honey, refreshing and dewy.
Feng Yulan walked in the middle, with Sister Hong's chattering voice on the left and Zhang Shumin's occasional response on the right. She suddenly felt that this scene was very much like the time when she accompanied her mother to the morning market - how nice it would be if they were really just ordinary mother and daughter.
The market was in the threshing ground at the west end of the town. Before I even got close, I could hear the constant hawking.
Sister Hong led them to the meat stall with familiarity. Suddenly, they were attracted by a stall selling floral fabrics. "Xiaofang, this floral fabric would make a beautiful apron!"
Feng Yulan leaned over to take a look. It was indeed a fine piece of cloth, with pink and white roses printed on a light blue background and fine lace trimmings around the edges.
Sister Hong was already bargaining with the stall owner, while Zhang Shumin was standing three steps away, seemingly looking at the man selling bamboo baskets, but her eyes kept scanning the surroundings.
"Three dollars and fifty cents! It can't be any lower!" The stall owner was a fat lady, who kept yelling while slapping her thigh.
"Three yuan! I want two meters!" Sister Hong refused to give in.
Feng Yulan smiled and shook her head, then turned to see an old man selling sugar paintings on the street corner. The syrup in the copper pot was steaming. The old man scooped up the golden liquid with a small spoon. With a flick of his wrist, a phoenix with outstretched wings took shape on the stone slab.
She recalled the sugar paintings her grandmother bought for her when she was a child. She was always reluctant to eat them and they ended up melting in her hands.
"Let's get a butterfly." Zhang Shumin's voice came from behind. Feng Yulan turned around and saw her mother-in-law staring at the sugar painting stall with a gentle look that surprised her.
Sister Hong finally bought the floral cloth for 3.21 yuan per meter. Turning around and seeing the sugar painting in Feng Yulan's hand, she burst into laughter: "Auntie Wang really understands my daughter's thoughts!"
Zhang Shumin turned her face away, and the wild chrysanthemum behind her ear trembled slightly. Feng Yulan suddenly discovered that the tip of her mother-in-law's ear was a little red.
On the way back, Feng Yulan's bamboo basket was filled with things, Zhang Shumin was holding wrapped meat in her arms, and Hong Jie was carrying a large watermelon. As they walked, they said, "Tonight, let's eat watermelon and watch the moon. I'll cook two more dishes!"
When passing by the old locust tree at the east end of the town, Feng Yulan suddenly heard birds singing above her head.
"What's going on?" Sister Hong followed their gaze and saw only swaying leaves. "Are there birds?"
"Nothing." Zhang Shumin put down her hand. "Xiaofang, let me hold the watermelon. Don't get tired."
As Feng Yulan handed the watermelon over, she felt the cold sweat on her mother-in-law's palm. She suddenly realized that some things are never truly calm, like a stone hidden under a stream: calm on the surface, but rife with hidden reefs beneath.
But at this moment, the sunlight was shining on them through the locust leaves, Sister Hong's laughter was as clear as a silver bell, and the watermelon felt cool in Zhang Shumin's arms. She suddenly didn't want to think about those stones.
In the evening, Sister Hong cooked a delicious meal. She got a bottle of wine from somewhere and poured half a glass for each person.
Zhang Shumin wanted to refuse, but Sister Hong held her wrist and said, "Drink less to invigorate your blood circulation. This is brewed by me, it's not intoxicating!"
The wine shimmered in the coarse porcelain cup, and Feng Yulan could smell a faint fruity aroma. Zhang Shumin took a sip, frowned, and suddenly said, "It's a bit like the bayberry wine your father makes."
Sister Hong immediately became interested: "Oh, Aunt Wang can also make wine?"
"I lived in the countryside when I was young," Zhang Shumin said, speaking so much in a rare moment. "I put bayberries in glass bottles, layering them with sugar and then the fruit, and sealed them for three months..."
Feng Yulan looked at her mother-in-law in amazement, listening to her recounting stories she had never heard before. Sister Hong listened intently, her cheek in her hand, occasionally interjecting. Moonlight shone in through the window, gilding their shadows with a gentle golden edge.
At some point, Zhang Shumin's hand rested on Feng Yulan's shoulder. Her body temperature came through her coarse clothes, reminding her of the feeling of her mother holding her in the sun when she was sick as a child.
It was late at night, and Sister Hong yawned as she went back to sleep. As Feng Yulan was clearing the dishes, she noticed that Zhang Shumin had finished her drink. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes slightly closed, a hint of a smile on her lips.
"Mom," she said softly, "Don't be so tense from now on. This place... is safe for now."
Zhang Shumin opened her eyes and gazed at the stream outside the window. Fireflies, holding lanterns, flew across the shimmering water. In the distance, the intermittent sound of the erhu came from the distant, playing "Jasmine Flower."
She reached out and touched the wild chrysanthemum behind her ear. The petals had wilted a little, but they were still blooming stubbornly.
"Go to sleep." She stood up and patted Feng Yulan's shoulder. "I still have to help Sister Hong pickle vegetables tomorrow."
Feng Yulan watched her mother-in-law walk towards the bed, and suddenly found that her waist seemed not so straight, and her steps were a little tired.
She blew out the oil lamp and lay down on the bed. She heard Zhang Shumin whisper in the darkness, "That sugar painting...actually, we should have bought a fish."
Feng Yulan smiled, and in the darkness, she quietly reached out and held her mother-in-law's hand.
Outside the window, the stream flows, carrying fallen flowers and starlight, flowing towards an unknown distance.
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