Chapter 25: The Second Branch of the Zhang Family

Mother Zhang glanced at the bag in her son's hand and said nothing more. She took out the pig’s trotter and placed the bag in the main room. Seeing that it was getting late, she told Zhang Guoqing to go to the kitchen and start the fire, while she herself went to the backyard to pick some vegetables. In the Zhang household, only Zhang Guoqing would help out in the kitchen; the other men never set foot in there, believing that household chores were women’s work. It was late autumn, so there wasn’t much left in the backyard—just some Chinese cabbages in the field, a few small greens covered with straw, and some unharvested white radishes and sweet potatoes. She checked the chicken coop for any surprises, then picked a handful of yellowing greens.

Carrying the vegetables inside, Mother Zhang saw her son striking match after match, clumsily trying to light the stove, and it made her heart ache. She wasn’t sure whether she felt sorry for him or for the matches—after all, every match cost money. Normally, they would keep embers buried in the stove and just blow on them to get a fire going. She couldn’t bear to scold Zhang Guoqing for wasting matches, but if it were anyone else, she would have given them a tongue-lashing. She herself pinched every penny, and hated to see anything wasted.

The kitchen was bustling as Zhang Guoqing kept the fire going and chatted idly with his mother. The two of them had just finished preparing lunch. The staple was still steamed cornmeal buns—usually made from coarse flour, water, and wild vegetables, but this time they were made with corn grits. Corn buns were the most familiar and common food in the Zhang family, and to make sure everyone got enough to eat, the buns were always made extra large.

Unlike the wild vegetable buns they had in the morning, this time there was corn grits porridge and four dishes, none of which had even a trace of oil—just plain boiled vegetables. Mother Zhang was too frugal to use oil for cooking; if something could be stewed, it was stewed. There was a bowl of dark, salty pickles, a bowl of plain cabbage, a bowl of long beans, and a bowl of “braised” potatoes that hadn’t seen a drop of oil.

The whistle from the village loudspeaker sounded, signaling the end of work; the family members working in the fields would soon be home. Mother Zhang poured hot water, so they could have a drink to quench their thirst when they returned.

Father Zhang led his two sons into the kitchen, gulped down a bowl of water, then headed to the well to wash up, patting the dirt and dust from their bodies. After catching their breath, they returned to the main room, where Father Zhang took out his long pipe and started smoking.

The eldest daughter-in-law, Huang Cuilan, and the second daughter-in-law, Lin Juhua, entered the gate with their daughters, Mai Miao and Mai Sui, chatting about village gossip as they came. Women didn’t get the same treatment as men—they first washed the children’s hands, got them settled, and then hurried to help serve the food and set the table.

Four-year-old Mai Miao, dressed in a faded, patched floral cotton jacket, washed up with the hot water her mother had used, tidied herself, and then led two-year-old Mai Sui into the main room to wait for the meal.

Little Mai Sui was so thin her head looked too big for her body, like a child from Africa. But everyone was used to it—none of the village kids were chubby. Zhang Guoqing worried her neck wouldn’t be able to support her head, and made a mental note to give the children some of the milk powder he had brought.

When the food was served, everyone waited for Father Zhang to pick up his chopsticks before starting to eat. No one spoke. They ate the corn buns with the oil-less dishes. Zhang Guoqing had thought the rough, throat-scratching corn buns and porridge would be left unfinished, but since it was the farming off-season, everyone finished everything.

He tried hard to ignore the pain in his throat, and after finally finishing one bun, he drank a mouthful of corn porridge—he wanted to spit it out, but didn’t dare. If he wasted food, his father would beat him so badly even his mother wouldn’t recognize him. After finishing the porridge, he refused to eat any more, but Father Zhang kept asking if he’d had enough, even trying to give him his own bun, which nearly made Zhang Guoqing cry.

All four dishes, even the salty pickles, were completely finished. Watching everyone eat with such relish, Zhang Guoqing realized that after years of poverty, no one cared about taste or appearance anymore—just being able to eat their fill made them better off than most families in the village.

The only decent meal he’d had since coming here was last night’s sweet potato rice. Back in the modern day, he and Zhou Jiao often ate coarse grains and pastries, and although the sweet potato rice here was mostly sweet potatoes and not as tasty as in the future, at least it didn’t scratch his throat. He wondered what kind of buns they’d have tomorrow—at the Zhang house, they could eat a different kind of bun every day of the year, except for New Year’s Eve, when they had white flour buns and dumplings. He couldn’t stand even one meal of this, let alone a whole year—it was like eating grass.

He wondered if Jiaojiao missed these buns. Now he finally understood why the girl’s face was so sallow—she probably couldn’t eat and just went hungry. As a new bride, she wouldn’t dare be picky. Luckily, they had some supplies now.

After lunch, while the women were busy cleaning up, Father Zhang, as the head of the family, didn’t say a word, and the three brothers didn’t leave either. Sensing that Father Zhang had something to say, they all sat and waited. He lit his pipe, took a few puffs, looked at his three sons, then at his wife, as if he wanted to speak but hesitated.

The eldest, Zhang Guofu, finally broke the silence. “Dad, if there’s something difficult you want to say, just say it. The three of us won’t hesitate.”

Father Zhang nodded. “It’s not really a difficult matter. It’s just that you’re all grown now, and we’re getting old. A big tree has to branch out. I mentioned after the New Year we’d split the family, and I think we should get the houses built before winter. Otherwise, if we split up but still live together, there’ll be conflicts and the brotherly bond will fade. I don’t care what other families do, but when your grandfather was alive, he said elders don’t like to see their children split up, but aside from weakening brotherly ties, there’s no other benefit. Too many people under one roof just leads to chaos.

But even after you split, you brothers must still support each other. Look at your uncles—no one in Zhangjia Village dares bully our family.”

The second son, Zhang Guoqiang, looked at his parents and brothers. He didn’t really want to split the family. His kids were young, and he knew his wife’s temperament—after splitting, there’d be no one to help with the children, and he’d have to support the whole family on his own labor.

Besides, his eldest brother and sister-in-law were kind and never minded his wife’s laziness. Even his youngest brother was generous, always sharing good food and drink, and was the first to step up when there was trouble. If they split, he’d be on his own.

As for dividing the family property, he knew what the family had—all saved up by their parents and eldest brother and sister-in-law. He didn’t care if he got more or less, and his father was fair. Even if his mother favored the youngest, she wouldn’t forget him. She’d secretly given him money his little brother earned from hunting, and the silly kid just bought things to make up for it. He wasn’t really upset with his mother’s favoritism.

All in all, he’d rather not split up—his brothers’ wives got along, and he’d be left to shoulder everything alone.

“Dad, Mom, how about we don’t split up? The three brothers living together is pretty good. Our wives get along, and we’re not like those families in the village who fight all the time. Plus, with you two watching over us, I feel more secure.”

Father Zhang shook his head. He understood his second son’s feelings, but that was exactly why they needed to split. “No need to persuade me. Everyone in the village knows we’re splitting up—how can your mother and I go back on our word? Look at your uncles—they split up long ago and it didn’t hurt their relationship. When your uncle calls, everyone comes to help.”

Mother Zhang chimed in, “Don’t say any more. Once your father decides, he won’t change his mind. The land for you and your younger brother has already been approved, right next door. You’ll still be close—just shout and you’ll hear each other. The kids are growing up, and sooner or later you’ll have to split. Let’s talk about building the houses. Your father and I will give each of you 150 yuan. The stone, tiles, and wood are all arranged; you can go order them when you’re ready. Think about how you want to build the yard and discuss it with your wives. We’ll get your uncles to help, and try to finish before winter. That way you can move in early in the spring.”

Father Zhang nodded in agreement. “What your mother said is what I think too. The old house will go to the eldest, and we’ll live with him, like the other elders in the village. With 150 yuan each, it should be enough. If you want something better, pay the extra yourself; if it’s less, you don’t have to return the difference. I’ll talk to your uncles tonight and try to get the houses built before winter, otherwise everyone will be busy in the spring.”

The three brothers had no objections. Once their father made up his mind, there was no changing it. The eldest, as the firstborn, had long known he’d be the one to live with their parents.

As for Zhang Guoqing, he actually preferred to have his own household. He had different habits and interests, and it would be better to split sooner. Like his father said, even after splitting, they’d still be brothers, and they’d still be close enough to hear each other call. He’d wanted to talk to his father about the Zhou family, but now it seemed best to give the elders some time to themselves. Splitting the family wasn’t a happy topic—watching their children break off to form their own families, moving farther away from their parents, no matter how open-minded the parents were, it was hard not to feel sad."