Wang Aixiang hadn't felt this tired in a long time. Not only was she tired, she was also hungry. She had only eaten the leftover fried dough stick from the morning for lunch.
In the afternoon, she took the child out to play, but they ran out of diapers, so she went home to change them, then went out again, and came back again, keeping herself very busy.
In mid-October, the weather had already cooled down considerably, and she dared not let her grandson get cold, so she could only run back and forth to him.
The women in the alley criticized their daughters-in-law, recounting Xia Zhaodi's violence and lack of filial piety. The fervor grew stronger with each rebuke of Xia Zhaodi from the others.
When her grandson started crying uncontrollably, she realized he hadn't had his milk yet, so she rushed home to make formula.
When Li Xiujuan returned home, she heard the child crying loudly, and she complained in her heart that Wang Aixiang was useless at taking care of the child.
"Perfect timing, you're off work now, hurry up and make some formula for the baby."
When Wang Aixiang saw her second daughter-in-law come in, she immediately put down the milk powder she was holding, picked up her grandson and coaxed him, saying, "Grandma's sweetie, Grandma will feed you milk now."
The intimate tone made Li Xiujuan feel nauseous.
Xia Baozhu returned just in time. She put the things that Aunt Song had given her in her room, then washed her hands and went to the kitchen.
The kitchen was just as it had been in the morning. She tidied up the pots and pans needed for dinner, picked two eggplants, a chili pepper, and a scallion from the vegetable garden in the yard, and plucked a head of garlic from the garlic braid hanging on the wall.
Hearing the noise, Wang Aixiang, who was inside the house, stood at the door and looked out, wanting to reprimand them.
He met Xia Baozhu's gaze, which was no longer timid as it had been yesterday, but filled with the same cold indifference as in the morning.
Wang Aixiang immediately remembered what happened that morning, lowered her head to avoid Xia Baozhu's gaze, and returned to the house.
Xia Baozhu thought that Wang Aixiang would hide all the things in the house because of the shock she experienced in the morning, and she was prepared to go out to buy food. She didn't expect Wang Aixiang to be so lazy.
Enjoying Xia Zhaodi's wholehearted devotion over the years, Wang Aixiang was so spoiled that she forgot even ordinary housework, except for enjoying it.
That's good, it saves her food expenses for the next few days.
One pot of noodles and one pot of stir-fried garlic eggplant, but unfortunately there was no meat.
Xia Baozhu finished her dinner in half an hour.
After dinner, Xia Baozhu took a flashlight and went out again, wanting to see what city life was like at night.
Near the park and along the river, there's a night market of moderate size, with food stalls, clothing stalls, jewelry stalls... and quite a lot of things to buy.
The neon lights at this time were not as numerous as in later generations, but they were still dazzling enough.
The signs for the dance halls, which had gone unnoticed during the day, shimmered with colorful lights in the night, and queues had already begun to form outside the rather luxurious-looking dance halls.
Xia Baozhu walked around for two hours before returning to the Leng family home.
The house was already locked. She easily jumped over the wall, opened the door amidst Li Xiujuan's scream, and pushed the bicycle inside.
After washing up, Xia Baozhu practiced yoga in the room for half an hour before lying down on the bed with the new sheets.
She wanted to close her eyes and sleep, but her mind was a jumbled mess and she couldn't fall asleep at all. Her life at twenty-eight and Xia Zhaodi's life at twenty-four kept flashing through her mind, sometimes showing a life of extravagance and leisure, and sometimes showing a life of bitterness and suffering that she couldn't express.
Xia Baozhu opened her eyes and looked at the simple room, then got up irritably.
Looking at the yellow desk beside her bed, she suddenly had an idea to make money without needing anyone to know her educational background or work experience.
They found a notebook that Leng Minghui used before in the peeling paint on the table, and then found a ballpoint pen in the drawer.
Xia Baozhu tried hard to recall the short stories she had read before, and planned to write a story with multiple plot twists about a person pretending to be a ghost, and publish it in a magazine like "Story Club".
First, write a 300-word outline, and then start adding details.
Back when WeChat first came out, she often posted travelogues on her Moments, but they were all just simple accounts of her travels.
When it came to actually writing short stories, she started to worry, after all, she had been out of school for many years and couldn't even write an 800-word essay anymore.
She forced herself to finish writing the story, which took her over a thousand words.
I read it twice and revised it twice, but it's still dry and lifeless. The transitions are abrupt, the scenes are empty, and the characters are written like puppets, not vivid at all.
Feeling particularly defeated, Xia Baozhu quickly comforted herself, after all, it was her first time writing, she just needed to find a few storybooks, see how others wrote, and practice accordingly.
Although this path is slow, you can still make money if you persevere.
Xia Baozhu rummaged through the books and magazines that Leng Minghui had bought before in the writing desk. Many interesting books had been taken by Leng Mingguang and his two younger sisters. She only found two copies of "Zhiyin" and one copy of "Wulin".
Both magazines were founded in the 1980s, with "Wulin" being a few years earlier than "Zhiyin".
Xia Baozhu wiped the magazine with a cloth and flipped through a few pages. She was particularly intrigued by the illustrations of fist and sword techniques in the "Martial Arts" section.
The current era of TV dramas is dominated by martial arts, and martial arts dramas originating from Hong Kong are very popular.
Today in the park, she encountered people practicing boxing and swordsmanship, as well as those meditating and practicing qigong, including some young people.
She could also write a short story in the martial arts genre.
After watching for a while, Xia Baozhu finally felt sleepy and turned off the light to go to sleep.
The next day, Xia Baozhu still only cooked her own meal, and went out after eating.
I bought four half-used copies of "Story Collection" for one yuan at a used bookstore.
A new book costs seven cents, so buying a used book is more cost-effective when you don't have access to funds.
Since she planned to write short stories, she wanted to study the writing techniques in the "Story Collection" magazine.
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