Chapter 040: The Worry of the House Payment

This story is entirely a work of fiction.

Mingyue set up her stall at the market, and another day of toil began. The lettuce sold quickly and was soon gone. After selling the lettuce, Mingyue carefully gathered the discarded leaves, placing them in an empty basket nearby. To economize, these leaves would serve as a dish for dinner.

She stood up and stretched, looking a little weary, and from afar, she caught sight of her older brother, Zhaoming, approaching. Zhaoming had already seen Mingyue standing there and hurried over to her stall. He handed her two packs of Wahaha drinks he’d bought. Mingyue looked at her brother and asked, “How come you have time to visit me today? Are you off work?”

“I happened to have some errands near the market, so I thought I’d stop by and see you and Situ Cong,” Zhaoming replied, though his words didn’t match his intentions. The real reason he’d come was to see if Mingyue might be able to lend him some money for a down payment on a house.

“Oh, would you like to have lunch here? I can make a few dishes to go with some drinks for you and Situ,” Mingyue suggested, wishing to keep her brother for a meal since it had been a long time since they’d last met.

“Alright, my colleagues are still filming at the site, so they won’t be leaving any time soon,” Zhaoming answered. Not seeing Situ, he asked, “Where’s Situ? I haven’t seen him around.”

“He was called away by his older brother today, something to do with the house we’re living in. His brother mentioned earlier that he might sell the house because he needs money to buy another. It seems we won’t be able to stay here much longer. Besides, making a living selling vegetables is so hard.” Mingyue sighed as she spoke of her husband.

“The house will soon have to go back to his brother, and after all these years of selling vegetables here, we haven’t made much money at all. At least in previous years, we didn’t have to worry about rent, but now, with nowhere to live, if we want to keep running this stall, we’ll have to find a place to rent. Just thinking about all this makes me sigh. There’s nothing I’m satisfied with, every day is a struggle, and I just can’t find any joy in it,” Mingyue said, shaking her head.

After she finished speaking, she looked at her son playing in the distance and shouted loudly, “Situ Cong, your uncle is here! He’s brought you your favorite Wahaha!” Her voice was so loud that nearly everyone in the market could hear.

Situ Cong, who had been playing happily, heard his mother’s call and immediately shouted back, “Coming!”

The little fellow ran over, bouncing along to Mingyue’s stall, and looked at Zhaoming, who seemed both familiar and strange, unsure what to call him.

“Don’t you recognize me? I’m your uncle. Come, uncle’s brought you your favorite Wahaha. Say hello.”

“Uncle,” Situ Cong called out.

Zhaoming wiped the sweat from Situ Cong’s brow, motioned for Mingyue to wipe him down, opened a bottle of Wahaha, inserted a straw, and handed it to him.

Situ Cong took the bottle and drank eagerly; after finishing one, he stared longingly at the Wahaha, unable to look away.

Seeing this, Zhaoming found him adorable and, knowing one bottle wasn’t enough, patted his head and asked, “Would you like another?”

Situ Cong’s eyes lit up, and he nodded his big head.

Zhaoming handed him another Wahaha with a straw.

“Are you heading home soon? If you are, I’ll help carry Situ Cong back,” Zhaoming said as he helped Mingyue tidy up the stall.

“I’m about to go cook dinner. Situ will be back soon, and if there’s no food when he comes, he’ll start complaining,” Mingyue said, cleaning up, covering things with a sunshade, and getting ready to leave.

Zhaoming carried Situ Cong ahead, with Mingyue following and talking to him. Seeing snot running from Situ Cong’s nose, Mingyue took out a tissue to wipe him clean. She scolded loudly, “I told you not to play so wildly outside. You must have sweated and caught a cold again. If you get sick this time, I’m not taking you to the hospital. If you die from it, so be it—at least you won’t have to suffer anymore.” The sight of his runny nose made her inexplicably angry.

The two walked through the corridor to their home, passing a neighbor stoking a coal stove. Thick smoke filled the passage, mingling with the bitter scent of coke. Zhaoming was choked by the smell, his throat feeling as if something had lodged in it, and he couldn’t stop coughing.

Seeing this, Mingyue quickly took Situ Cong from Zhaoming’s arms. Zhaoming, covering his mouth and nose, continued coughing. Mingyue hurried to open the door for him, and after he entered and she closed the door, his coughing gradually subsided.

Mingyue poured him a glass of boiled water, which Zhaoming downed in a few gulps. He wiped his mouth, exhaled deeply, and collapsed into a chair.

The family’s dog, seeing a stranger, started barking loudly.

Mingyue called out, “Harry—!” and the dog immediately fell silent.

Harry sat in front of Zhaoming, staring intently at him as if inspecting the visitor.

“You call him Harry?” Zhaoming asked.

“Yes, Situ Cong named him after watching 'Harry Potter' on TV.”

“Situ Cong names dogs too? And at five years old, he gave it a foreign name. Very clever.” Zhaoming patted Situ Cong’s head and praised, “You’re really smart.”

Situ Cong beamed at his uncle’s praise, grinning foolishly. The Wahaha bottle was already empty, yet he kept sucking at it, making slurping sounds.

“There’s nothing left. Why are you still sucking on it?” Mingyue took the empty bottle from him. Situ Cong’s eyes followed the bottle, reluctant to part with it as if he hadn’t finished drinking.

“Tell me, Situ Cong, since you gave Harry such a good name, does he listen to you?” Zhaoming asked.

“Of course he does, or I’ll hit him.” At the word “hit,” Harry immediately stood up, looking at Situ Cong, ready to follow a command.

Situ Cong, unhurried, fetched a small ball from his bed, tossed it in the air, and shouted, “Harry, shoot a basket!”

At the word of command, Harry leapt up, caught the ball, and ran towards the door. Zhaoming looked in that direction and saw a basket made of wire hanging behind the door, complete with a handmade net. Harry aimed and threw the ball into the basket, then picked it up and tossed it back to Situ Cong.

Harry’s movements were precise and comical, making Zhaoming burst into laughter.

Seeing his uncle so delighted, Situ Cong joined in, giggling uncontrollably.

Hearing their laughter from the corridor, Mingyue hurried inside, but as she opened the door, she collided with Harry mid-jump, causing the dog to yelp in pain.

Harry’s second basket attempt was thwarted, and Situ Cong was displeased, pouting and muttering, “Bad mommy, you hurt Harry.” He rushed to comfort the dog.

Harry stopped barking, eyes watery, staring at Situ Cong and panting, just like an injured child.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Situ Cong, it’s Mommy’s fault for hurting Harry. I’ll make it up to you—how about another Wahaha?” Mingyue said, her heart aching for him.

At the promise of another Wahaha, Situ Cong’s face lit up with joy. He nodded eagerly, signaling her to fetch it quickly.

Mingyue hurried to get a bottle, handed it to him, and went back out to prepare their dinner.

Situ Cong, unable to insert the straw himself, handed it to his uncle, who did it for him and gave it back. Situ Cong drank with relish, as if suckling milk.

“You really like Wahaha, don’t you?” Zhaoming asked.

Situ Cong nodded mid-sip, “It’s delicious. I like it. When you come again, will you bring me more?”

“Of course. But you have to listen to your mom and not run around outside. There are too many cars in the street, and it’s dangerous, understand?” Zhaoming looked at him seriously.

“If I listen, will you bring me Wahaha every time?” Situ Cong asked.

“Absolutely,” Zhaoming replied, holding out his pinky. “Let’s make a promise.” Situ Cong hooked his finger and grinned from ear to ear.

By then, Mingyue had nearly finished preparing dinner—a few simple home-cooked dishes: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, lettuce leaves, fish balls, and pickled mustard greens.

As soon as Zhaoming saw the fish balls, he recognized them as Mingyue’s specialty from their hometown. He knew her cooking was remarkable; even the simplest dishes became extraordinary in her hands.

Mingyue’s fish balls were made entirely of fish—light, springy, and melting in the mouth. Zhaoming had loved them since childhood, and just seeing them made his appetite surge.

Noticing her brother swallowing hard, Mingyue asked, “Craving some fish balls, aren’t you? I’ll get you a bowl.” She fetched a bowl and chopsticks and ladled out some fish ball soup for him.

It had been a long time since Zhaoming had tasted his sister’s cooking, and he found it incredibly delicious. He gobbled it down, then looked at his empty bowl, clearly wanting more but reluctant to deprive the family. “No, that’s enough. If I eat more, there won’t be enough for you.”

“If we want more, I can always make it another day. You’re rarely here—you ought to eat your fill.” Mingyue insisted, taking his bowl and refilling it.

Zhaoming quickly finished his second helping, finally feeling truly satisfied. He patted his belly and exclaimed, “Ah, I’m stuffed!”

Just then, Situ came home. Seeing his brother-in-law at the table, he greeted him, “So you’re here—a rare guest!”

“Well, if we weren’t filming nearby, I wouldn’t have found the time to visit. I was lucky today, getting to eat your wife’s fish balls. What about the house? How did things go?” Zhaoming asked with concern.

“What do you think?” Situ replied, sounding dispirited. “You talk about being lucky—after today, who knows if we’ll have days like this again.”

“What’s happened? Is the house being taken back? Even if it is, you can always rent,” Zhaoming tried to console him.

“Rent? Oh, you don’t understand our situation. Right now, we’re just scraping by, and profits are pitifully low. We’ve been at this for four years, working through wind and rain, barely making ends meet. Sometimes a single steamed bun has to do for a meal. The only reason we’ve saved any money is because we haven’t been paying rent. You have no idea how picky people are in Dahe city—always bargaining, trying to get the lowest price. If you say the wrong thing, they just stop coming to your stall. After all this hard work, we earn little more than pocket change. Now that we can’t stay here, your sister and I have talked it over and decided to return home,” Situ said dejectedly.

Mingyue listened in silence, tears welling in her eyes. She pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her cheeks. “They said the kindergarten that Zhengzhe arranged for us is ready, and they’re only charging six thousand yuan because of his influence. But now, we can’t send our child there. Please tell Zhengzhe we’re going back to our hometown. Thank him for all his help, and apologize for the trouble we’ve caused. As for us, we’ll take Situ Cong home, rest for a while, and figure things out. Situ will probably go work at my second uncle’s fish farm, and I’ll stay home with our parents for now and think of other options later,” she said, crying as she spoke.

“Don’t cry—things will work out. I’ll talk to Zhezhe about your job and see if there are any other opportunities,” Zhaoming comforted her.

Mingyue wiped her tears with her sleeve, saw Zhaoming out, and only after he’d vanished into the night did she return, dispirited, to her small room.

(To be continued)