Chapter 12 A Disgraceful and Immoral Guy
The sewing machine was placed by the window in the main room of the east wing, becoming Wen Xiaoxiao's own little world.
She first took out all the old clothes in the house that needed mending, and then hemmed, patched, and altered the size, making the stitches more and more steady each day.
When Master Hu occasionally looked at the work she brought, he was less critical and sometimes even gave an "uh-huh" as a sign of approval.
Having some financial resources, she decided to make something decent—an autumn outfit for Zhao Yidi.
The child is growing so fast that last year's clothes are already too short.
She measured Di's dimensions: shoulder width, sleeve length, bust, and garment length, and then used powder to carefully draw lines on the fabric.
Autumn clothes are more complex than summer clothes; they require lining, collars, and buttonholes.
She cut very slowly, afraid of ruining the navy blue corduroy she had finally managed to buy.
During the day, I worked as an apprentice in the shop, and at night I would work in front of the sewing machine.
The rhythmic clatter of the loom became the constant sound in the east wing at night, drowning out other minor noises in the courtyard and providing a temporary respite for her troubled mind.
Sometimes she would sit for three or four hours at a time, until her eyes ached and her neck stiffened, before she would stop, looking at the half-finished clothes from left to right, imagining how Yidi would look in them.
A week later, the clothes were finally finished.
The navy blue corduroy jacket was lined with a thin layer of fleece. The collar was crisp and the five Chinese knot buttons were hand-woven by her, with the buttonholes neatly and tightly fastened.
The matching trousers were also made of the same color, with the cuffs tapered slightly, giving them a more polished look.
She let Yidi try it on. The child happily put on the new clothes and twirled around the room. "Auntie, does it look good?"
"It looks good." Wen Xiaoxiao straightened her collar and buttoned it up. The clothes fit her perfectly, the shoulders and sleeves were just the right length, and the navy blue color made the child's face look even whiter.
Hearing the commotion, Li Yugu came over to see what was happening and nodded repeatedly, saying, "Xiaoxiao's skills have really improved. These clothes are made so neatly, they're just as good as the ones you buy in stores."
Zhao Yidi happily walked around the yard twice in her new clothes, only reluctantly changing them when it was time for school.
Watching her joyful figure, Wen Xiaoxiao unconsciously curved her lips into a smile—a rare genuine smile she had shown in recent days.
Zhao Fei's pig farm is currently at its busiest time.
A batch of adult pigs are ready for market and transported to the food station; several litters of piglets have been born one after another and need to be carefully cared for; and several sows have reached their breeding season and need to be bred.
He often left before dawn and returned in the middle of the night. Sometimes he would simply spend the night in the factory's simple office, draping a piece of clothing over a chair and sleeping for a few hours.
The workers were used to their boss's relentless work ethic. Old Zhang, who was feeding the pigs, saw that Zhao's eyes were bloodshot and couldn't help but advise him, "Boss Zhao, you can't earn all the money in the world. You need to rest when you need to. Look at Old Liu's pig farm in the west end. His boss carries a cell phone and drives a car every day. Unlike you, you're working even harder than us laborers."
Zhao Fei unscrewed his military water bottle, took a sip of cold tea, and just smiled: "Cars and telephones, those things aren't practical. Raising pigs well is what's important."
He genuinely felt that those fancy things were useless.
The pig farm smells terrible, so driving a car would just be a waste; the mobile phone signal is intermittent and expensive, so the factory's hand-cranked telephone is much more reliable.
He had a simple mindset; he just wanted to manage these three farms well, raise the pigs to be strong, keep the accounts clear, ensure Yidi's future education, and ensure that the workers who worked for him received their wages on time.
Occasionally, when he rides his bike back from the pig farm late at night, passing through quiet alleys, he sees the light shining from the window of the east wing of a courtyard house and hears the faint, rhythmic clatter of a sewing machine. He unconsciously slows down.
The sound was crisp and clear, carrying a stubborn vitality, and was exceptionally distinct in the darkness.
He knew Xiaoxiao was still working. So late and still not asleep… He frowned, wanting to remind her not to ruin her eyes, but ultimately just gently pushed the car into the yard, trying not to make a sound.
Li Yugu was pleased to see Wen Xiaoxiao's transformation. Seeing that she no longer sat there with a gloomy face all day, but instead had something to look forward to, learning a trade, making clothes, and looking more energetic, the old lady felt somewhat relieved.
She knew nothing of her son's shady dealings outside, assuming the young couple's relationship had recently improved—otherwise, where would Qingda get the money to buy Xiaoxiao a sewing machine? She secretly hoped that if Xiaoxiao was in a better mood, perhaps things would turn around for the child.
This apparent calm made Li Yugu feel as if life had returned to normal.
Little did she know that beneath this calm surface, a turbulent undercurrent was already brewing.
Zhao Qingda is now so happy he's forgotten all about home.
Wang Juan is good at handling things, has a sweet tongue, and knows how to coax people. Compared to Wen Xiaoxiao at home, who is as talkative as a saw-off gourd, she is infinitely more interesting.
With some spare money in hand, his mind became more active.
That day, he passed by a jewelry store and saw Wang Juan staring at the gold rings in the display case with shining eyes. On a whim, he bought a thin ring for her.
When Wang Juan received the ring, her eyes narrowed with surprise. She immediately put it on her ring finger, looked at it from left to right, and then tiptoed to kiss Zhao Qingda on the cheek: "Qingda, you're so good to me!"
After work, she made a special trip back to her parents' house. Her home was on the outskirts of the city, in an old house, and her parents were honest, hardworking laborers. As Wang Juan entered, she deliberately waved her hand in front of her mother's eyes: "Mom, look, Qingda bought this for me."
While picking vegetables, Wang's mother caught sight of the glittering gold ring, and her face immediately darkened: "Where did you get the money to buy this? Juanzi, how many times have I told you, Zhao Qingda has a wife, and you're having an affair with him, what kind of behavior is that!"
"So what if he has a wife? He doesn't have any feelings for her!" Wang Juan said dismissively. "Mom, you're so old-fashioned. What era are we living in?"
When Mr. Wang came out from the inner room and heard this, he was so angry that his hands trembled: "You...you still have the nerve to talk back? You're breaking up someone else's family! You're immoral and disgraceful! You've completely disgraced the Wang family!"
"I'm ashamed? I found a good man for myself, what's shameful about that?" Wang Juan retorted, "That good-for-nothing ex-husband doesn't have a wife, what good is that? You all insisted I marry him back then, and now? You think it's shameful that I got divorced, and you think it's not respectable that I found someone with good conditions! So it's only good if I suffer alone?"
"But you can't be a third party!" the Queen Mother cried out in anguish.
"So what if I'm a third party? As long as Qingda cares about me and is willing to treat me well, I don't care what others say!" Wang Juan grabbed her bag, her ring flashing brightly under the light. "If you can't stand it, I'll just come back less often!" With that, she slammed the door and left.
Back in her rented room, she grew angrier and angrier, and sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her face.
When Zhao Qingda came over that evening, he saw that her eyes were red and swollen, and hurriedly asked what happened.
Wang Juan sobbed as she recounted her experience of going home, saying aggrievedly, "I just wanted them to know I was doing well, but instead, they berated me and made me feel worthless... Qingda, I'm with you, but it's not a legitimate relationship, what kind of relationship is this..."
Zhao Qingda hugged her and coaxed, "Don't listen to them, they have such old ideas. As long as you're with me, I know that's enough."
“Then you…” Wang Juan looked up at him with tearful eyes, tracing circles on his chest with her finger, “when are you going to give me a proper status? What am I doing following you like this without any recognition or status…”
Zhao Qingda was somewhat embarrassed.
Divorce? Wen Xiaoxiao hadn't done anything terribly wrong; her mother would definitely object, and the gossip from the neighbors would be devastating. But if she didn't divorce, what about Wang Juan…?
Seeing his hesitation, a shrewd glint flashed in Wang Juan's eyes. She leaned into his arms, her voice soft and sweet: "Qingda, I know you're in a difficult position. I won't force you... but I've heard that things are different if you have a child, right? For the sake of the child, everything is negotiable..."
Zhao Qingda's heart skipped a beat. A child! Yes, if Wang Juan were pregnant with his child, his reason would be much stronger! Hadn't his mother always longed for a grandson? Wen Xiaoxiao hadn't conceived in two years; if Wang Juan were pregnant, then…
He hugged Wang Juan tightly, his tone becoming excited: "Juan'er, you're right! As long as you get pregnant, we'll get married right away! I'll marry you in a grand and glorious way!"
Wang Juan smiled triumphantly in his arms, her voice still soft and sweet: "Then you'd better put in more effort..."
As night deepened outside the window, spring was in full bloom inside the rented room.
Meanwhile, in the east wing of a courtyard house a few miles away, the clattering of a sewing machine had just stopped.
Wen Xiaoxiao rubbed her sore eyes, neatly folded the other small vest she had made for Yidi, and put it in the cabinet.
Unbeknownst to her, a storm brewing in the name of "children" was quietly targeting her precarious marriage and the meager foothold she had barely managed to establish.
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