Psst! We're moving!
Less than 24 hours into their relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, Cheng Simin and Shi Ying had their first argument.
Cheng Simin’s focus was on emotions. She continued to shovel rice into her mouth with an impassive expression. She explained that it was Cheng Wei himself who had once declared he no longer considered her his daughter, so whether he lived or died now had nothing to do with her.
She didn’t care. She didn’t even bother to pretend.
But Shi Ying tried to reason with her. He said grief was a process, and many people’s first reaction to pain was denial. He believed she could be vulnerable in front of him, that she didn’t need to suppress her true feelings.
If she was worried about her mother and younger sister, he could help her look into their situation. After all, as she herself had said, blood was thicker than water.
Shi Ying’s words were entirely for her benefit, but those few sentences felt like needles pricking a balloon. Instead of comforting her, they caused Cheng Simin’s already fragile nerves to collapse completely.
Neither of them touched their chopsticks again. Shi Ying looked at Cheng Simin, while Cheng Simin stared at the corner of the table.
The dishes in front of them gradually cooled, much like Cheng Simin’s expression. Suddenly, she let out a cold laugh, raising her head to address Shi Ying: “Shi Ying, you don’t understand the situation. The phrase ‘blood is thicker than water’ probably doesn’t apply to my family.”
During her first year working in Jicheng, far from home for the first time, Cheng Simin experienced homesickness.
Back then, she still kept in touch with her parents. Due to the principle that “distance makes the heart grow fonder,” her conversations with her mother became more frequent than ever before.
Chen Xiaofen’s life hadn’t changed much. Her topics of conversation revolved around trivial matters—gossip, neighborhood news, small business tips.
The neighboring shop owner had divorced and remarried; pork prices had risen again; customers always owed money; peach blossoms bloomed in the backyard in spring, and fresh goji berries were sold by the roadside in summer. Occasionally, Chen Xiaofen would hesitantly mention Xiaobao, saying that Xiaobao, like Cheng Simin, loved snacks and had developed cavities early despite not yet losing her baby teeth.
As for Cheng Wei, his drinking habit worsened with age. Beer no longer satisfied his daily needs, and the shop was entirely managed by Chen Xiaofen. Every morning, after waking up, he would sit on the bed and drink a glass of baijiu before putting on his shoes to get out of bed.
Even after getting up, he simply moved to another spot to drink and sleep.
Chen Xiaofen often complained openly to her daughter about his alcoholism.
At that time, the relationship between Chen Xiaofen and Cheng Wei was on the brink of collapse. They slept in separate beds, but oddly enough, Cheng Simin felt closer to her mother than ever before. Chen Xiaofen frequently mentioned the idea of divorce, and Cheng Simin fully supported her decision.
In Cheng Simin’s eyes, Chen Xiaofen was hardworking, resilient, and frugal. Such a woman, unafraid of hardship and unwilling to spend extravagantly, could maintain her current standard of living anywhere. She didn’t need an unhappy man as the pillar of her life.
She could emulate fashionable women in big cities—taking control of her own destiny.
After a year of hard work, on the night she received her year-end bonus, Cheng Simin went to a mall and splurged on expensive gifts for her mother and younger sister. Back in her rented apartment, she excitedly called her mother.
The first two calls went unanswered. On the third attempt, half of Chen Xiaofen’s tear-streaked face appeared through the WeChat video call.
Cheng Simin asked her to pull the camera back. On the screen, the house was in shambles—the coffee table overturned, the cupboard smashed, Xiaobao barefoot and crying loudly after stepping on broken glass, while Chen Xiaofen slumped on the sofa, a clump of hair torn from her scalp, her cheek swollen, and one eyelid oozing blood.
Cheng Wei, who had committed the violence, was sound asleep in the bedroom.
This violent outburst stemmed merely from Chen Xiaofen casually complaining at the dinner table: “When you smoke, can you please not blow it toward Xiaobao? Secondhand smoke isn’t good. Look at Old Ma next door—he quit smoking for his child.”
Through tears, Chen Xiaofen choked out: “Minmin, this time I’m really going to divorce him.” The very next day, Cheng Simin boarded a train back home for the Spring Festival, even though it meant changing her ticket last minute.
Because of the sudden change, there were no seats available. She spent over ten hours squatting in the gap between train cars.
At night, other passengers sprawled out on makeshift beds, leaning against steel plates and dozing off in awkward positions. But Cheng Simin stayed awake, eyes closed, fists clenched, her mind racing with plans for the future. Cheng Wei was the kind of unreasonable man who thrived on stirring trouble. If they divorced, the store would likely be taken over by him as part of the settlement. But that didn’t matter—she could temporarily bring her mother and sister to live with her in her rented apartment.
She had earned quite a bit that year, and if she worked hard, she’d earn even more the following year—enough to upgrade to a larger rental unit.
Her mother still had the ability to work and could take on odd jobs nearby. In Jicheng, there was Dandelion Primary School, where children of migrant workers could receive a much better education than what was available in Banshan.
The three of them together—what did it matter if there was no man in the picture? As long as someone brought in money, why couldn’t that count as a family? Besides, she was grown up now, doing well for herself, and capable of taking on the responsibilities of being the head of the household.
But when she arrived in Banshan two days later, the situation at home wasn’t nearly as tense as she had imagined.
Chen Xiaofen and Cheng Wei had quietly reconciled. Cheng Wei had written a letter of assurance, promising his wife that he would gradually quit drinking to improve their lives.
And just like that, because of this legally meaningless piece of paper, Chen Xiaofen decided against divorce.
That night, Cheng Simin, frustrated, locked herself in her room and furiously searched for tickets back to Jicheng on her phone. It was peak travel season during the Spring Festival, and seats were scarce. After hours of searching, she couldn’t even find a standing-room-only ticket.
Chen Xiaofen quietly entered her room with a plate of sunflower seeds, peanuts, and tangerines. Sitting gently on the edge of her bed, she peeled a tangerine for her daughter.
The peel landed on the table, and the segment was pushed to Cheng Simin’s lips. With a swipe of her hand, Cheng Simin knocked it away. She sat up abruptly and shouted at her mother: “Domestic violence only happens zero times or countless times! If you forgive him this time, he’ll dare to do it again!”
“Divorce him!”
Annoyed by her loud voice, Chen Xiaofen quickly stood up, locked the door behind her, and returned to the bed to defend her husband: “He was drunk the other day. I shouldn’t have mentioned Old Ma—we’ve had bad blood since they fought years ago. He’s always sensitive about it, thinking Old Ma looks down on him.”
“He’ll get better once he stops drinking. When he’s sober, he treats me well.”
“Do you remember when you were little, before you started elementary school? We didn’t have an electric scooter back then. Your father rode a tricycle, carrying the two of us to the market.”
“Midway, the bike broke down. He got off and pushed it. It was so hot in the summer—I saw his sweat soaking through his shirt. I wanted to help, but when he turned around and saw you sleeping in my arms, he refused to let me move. He told me to stay seated with you.”
“At that time, we didn’t have much money. Your grandparents strongly opposed us not farming, saying we were dishonoring our ancestors and wouldn’t help raise you. But your father always protected me. He said we didn’t need them—that the two of us could handle raising you.”
Recalling these sweet memories, Chen Xiaofen’s injured, scabbed eye sparkled with nostalgia. But Cheng Simin frowned deeply, interrupting sternly: “That was ages ago! Who doesn’t look forward? What has he done for you lately besides drinking and causing trouble every day? You run the shop alone, do all the tailoring work yourself—is he helping with anything? Does he take care of Xiaobao? Does he do any housework? Does he help raise the kids? Is he acting like a father?”
“He’s regressing, hitting people in front of the children!”
“Look at yourself in the mirror! Look at your face! You’re so obsessed with gossip—do you think people outside won’t talk when they see your injuries?”
“I just don’t understand you. A few days ago, you hated him so much, and now you’re suddenly in love again because he said a few nice words?”
“If you’ve made up your mind to stay with him, then why keep talking to me about divorce? Stop calling me with this nonsense.”
“I don’t want to hear it!”
A strange, radical emotion filled her chest, as if Cheng Simin weren’t the daughter but rather Chen Xiaofen’s lover, competing with her father for her mother’s affection. The mother-daughter relationship shouldn’t have been like this. After saying these things, Cheng Simin felt heartbroken and wanted to cry. Turning her head away, she flopped back onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow.
In a harsh tone, she snapped: “Can you leave? I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
Hearing her words, Chen Xiaofen felt as if a large stone had lodged in her throat. At first, she forced a stern expression, but then her eyebrows arched, and she bitterly retorted: “You’ve gone out and turned bad, speaking without a shred of respect. Do you realize how others mock me? These are things I can’t discuss with anyone else but you—you’re my daughter!”
“When did a mother have to tiptoe around her own child just to have a conversation? I haven’t decided to stay with him forever—I’m just observing his behavior.”
“And besides, is divorce such a simple matter? At my age, if I divorce him, who will I turn to? Alone, with little savings, and a child to support. Xiaobao will start elementary school soon—don’t you think I’m scared?”
Cheng Simin’s emotions were like a ball of yarn in her mother’s hands. With just a few words from Chen Xiaofen, she shot up from the bed again, yelling: “What are you afraid of? Don’t you still have me? I won’t let you sleep on the streets! If you divorce him, come live with me. When the lease expires, I’ll rent a bigger place. The three of us can live together and take care of each other.”
Chen Xiaofen frowned, skeptical of Cheng Simin’s promises. “Living with you—what kind of solution is that? You can barely take care of yourself. What if you get married, have your own house, and a husband? Then I could come help take care of your kids—but that’s a different story.”
With that, Chen Xiaofen quickly changed the subject, pulling out her phone to show Cheng Simin something. “Speaking of marriage, look—your father found a few potential matches for you yesterday. He put real effort into it this time. Don’t keep saying he doesn’t care about you. Doesn’t he want you to have a good life?”
“The young man handling annual inspections at the Administration for Industry and Commerce—he’s short, but he comes from a scholarly family. His parents are about to retire from government jobs. They saw your photo and liked it a lot. If it works out, he can arrange a job for you nearby.”
“If that doesn’t suit you, here’s another one—he’s tall, good-looking, though his education level is a bit low. But his family is wealthy. The house we live in now was bought from his uncle. His family is influential in this area—rent collection alone is enough to feed ten families. Having kids wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Since you’re home anyway, why not meet them?”
Chen Xiaofen chattered on, her face glowing anew. But Cheng Simin’s expression grew darker. Just a few months earlier, during one of their phone calls, Chen Xiaofen had mentioned that there were issues with the shop’s business license renewal. Policy changes had left nearby shop owners worried about the future ownership of their properties, prompting them to collectively consult lawyers and sign a new agreement with the village committee.
And now, staring at her, were two matchmaking candidates directly connected to this issue.