Chapter 110: The Republican-Era Young Lady Stops Making a Fuss 21 – Gao Gao

She hadn’t even been able to personally oversee little Liuzhi’s hundred-day celebration¹, and had left it to the servants below to handle.

He Dusheng, on the other hand, had been even more involved than she was.

From the banquet dishes and guest list to what the little girl would wear that day, he asked about every last detail.

He was just the worrying type.

In the past, he worried over her food, clothing, housing, and daily trifles. Now, there was one more person for him to worry about.

Song Xuange simply didn’t have that kind of energy.

One day, she returned home from outside.

After washing up, she first went to see her daughter, but didn’t find her in the room.

Ruixin came to serve her tea. “The little miss is in the study with sir.”

Song Xuange went looking for them and saw that the large sofa in the study had been moved aside, and a thick carpet had been spread over the open space in the middle.

On the carpet was a low tea table. He Dusheng sat cross-legged beside it, leaning over as he wrote with one hand.

Meanwhile, the other hand that wasn’t occupied had been grabbed by a child who couldn’t even talk yet, and she was hugging it, chewing on it, and having the time of her life.

The little girl wasn’t just playing with her father’s hand. Her mouth never stopped either, and she kept babbling away, as if saying who knew what.

She clearly wasn’t talking to herself. She was obviously talking to her father.

Because her father had to write one-handed while also answering her. If he got too absorbed in what he was doing and failed to respond in time, she would start making a fuss.

She would kick her chubby little lotus-root legs in protest until she got her father’s attention again.

But as long as He Dusheng kept responding to her, she could happily amuse herself.

This was the scene Song Xuange saw when she came over.

What surprised her even more was that when He Dusheng spoke to coax the little girl, he had probably talked for so long that he ran out of things to say and didn’t know what else to tell her.

He couldn’t exactly babble nonsense right along with the child.

So after Song Xuange had only stood outside the study for a short while, she heard He Dusheng start singing to the child.

When she listened carefully, it turned out to be Suzhou Pingtan².

At that point, she was no longer in a hurry to go in.

He Dusheng actually knew how to sing Suzhou Pingtan?

And from the sound of it, he sang quite well. He wasn’t just singing nonsense to amuse a child.

She had never known he had such a skill, much less heard him sing before!

He really did know how to coax children.

Song Xuange made a bit of noise, and the Pingtan inside the study instantly fell silent.

She pushed the door open and entered, her tone sour. “Well now, who would’ve thought there was a performer hidden in this house?”

He “the performer” Dusheng gave an embarrassed laugh. “I was just humming for fun. It doesn’t count.”

Little Liuzhi had been listening happily, and then it suddenly stopped.

She immediately started up with her protesting babble again.

Song Xuange gave two little snorts. “I really don’t know who she takes after, knowing how to appreciate music at such a young age.”

Hearing her voice, little Liuzhi stopped making a fuss and instead tried hard to lift her head and look for her.

Song Xuange slipped off her shoes, stepped onto the carpet, and sat down in front of the father and daughter.

“Yaya…” Little Liuzhi smiled the moment she saw her, showing off her pink gums.

She “talked” to her in a rhythmic little pattern.

Every time the little girl finished one line of baby talk, she had to wait for someone else to answer before she’d continue with the next.

She really wasn’t willing to take the slightest loss.

Song Xuange found it amusing and started teasing her into talking.

She didn’t pick her up.

Right there on the carpet, she pushed her around, rolling her across it as if she were playing with a little wooden club.

Little Liuzhi thought it was fun too, and laughed with bright, hearty delight.

He Dusheng let out a sigh of relief, withdrew the sleeve he’d originally been letting the child play with, rolled it up, and focused on his writing.

Only then did Song Xuange notice that the sleeve had already been soaked through with the little girl’s drool.

Seeing her look, He Dusheng defended himself, “It’s clean. I changed into it only after I came back.”

Song Xuange said, “…Couldn’t you just give her a toy to play with?”

She went to look for one herself and found a soft, fragrant little doll, warm and fluffy.

It was a fish sewn from soft white cotton cloth, about the size of an adult’s palm.

Little Liuzhi could hold it perfectly in her arms.

After the fish was stuffed into the child’s arms, she gave it face and played with it for a little while at first, but the moment Song Xuange wasn’t paying attention, she tossed it aside.

Song Xuange looked at her, and she looked back innocently.

With an extra sweet smile thrown in.

He Dusheng sighed. “See? She doesn’t like toys at all.”

Song Xuange said, “…What kind of habit is that?”

She only liked playing with her father’s sleeve?

As it turned out, it wasn’t just her father’s sleeve. She liked playing with her mother’s sleeve too.

Song Xuange definitely didn’t dare let her.

Instead, she picked her up and held her while watching her father write.

Only then did she realize that He Dusheng was writing the invitations for the hundred-day celebration.

“You’re not exactly free yourself. Why bother doing it in person?”

He Dusheng didn’t stop moving his brush. “I’ve heard people say children grow up very quickly. There isn’t much parents can do for their children. I want to be more involved, so that later, when she marries and leaves home, we’ll have more memories of her.”

Song Xuange said, “…Isn’t that thinking a little too far ahead?”

That was what she said, but she still fetched a pen herself and started writing invitations with him.

With no one paying attention to her, little Liuzhi couldn’t bear the loneliness. Unfortunately, she still couldn’t crawl, so all she could do was fake-cry.

Song Xuange wasn’t about to pull out a sleeve like her father and write one-handed like some one-armed hero.

She simply picked up the child and set her on top of the low table that was temporarily serving as a desk.

The low table wasn’t wide, but it was more than enough for little Liuzhi.

She occupied most of its territory.

Her father and mother could only write in the tiny space left along the edges.

With both her parents above her, little Liuzhi didn’t fuss. She looked at this one, then that one, and the time passed just like that.

By the time the husband and wife finished writing the invitations, the little thing had already fallen asleep on the low table.

Looking at the child’s sleeping face, even the soreness in their wrists from writing in such awkward positions didn’t seem quite so noticeable anymore.

Still, He Dusheng noticed it.

After he put away the invitations, he gathered the child into his arms and let her sleep nestled in his lap. Then he took Song Xuange’s wrist in hand and started massaging it for her.

Song Xuange let him do as he pleased. She herself was lying facedown on the low table, quietly accusing him, “I never even knew you could sing Pingtan. You never sang for me before.”

A long while later, He Dusheng said, “I liked listening to it when I was little. When I realized I sang it rather well, I specifically went and learned from someone.”

“And then?”

From his tone alone, she could tell there was more to the story.

He Dusheng let out a silent sigh.

“Do you remember what I told you about my mother?”

Of course Song Xuange remembered.

That woman had gotten pregnant out of wedlock when she was young, and that was what had led to He Dusheng’s bitter childhood.

He Dusheng said, “Back then, the clan interrogated my mother. She was locked in the ancestral hall for half a month and still refused to say a word. After I was old enough to remember things, I asked her about it too, but she would start crying the moment she heard it, so I didn’t dare ask again.

“My mother protected him so fiercely that I always assumed the man must have had some hardship of his own, or else that he was already dead. If he wasn’t dead, I always wanted to ask him why, after so many years, he had never once cared about me and my mother.”

“Did you find him?”

“After I started working with my father-in-law, I ran into the old granny in the countryside who used to look after my mother and me when I was little.”

“The granny knew?”

He Dusheng nodded. “She hadn’t dared say anything before. By then, she’d already been away from the He family for many years, and because she pitied me a little, she finally told me. That man was an opera singer, and in those days he was fairly well known. He met my mother at a village opera performance. He was the sort with a silver tongue, used to sweet-talking women, and my mother wasn’t the only one he deceived. My mother was foolish. By the time she realized she’d been tricked, it was already too late. That’s how everything that followed came to be.”

“After a lot of trouble, I found that man in an alleyway. By then, he hardly looked human anymore.

“When you’ve done too many bad things, retribution comes sooner or later. At the height of his fame, someone ruined his throat, and he could no longer sing opera. He had no other way to make a living, and on top of that, he became addicted to opium³.

“Faced with a man like that, I knew the moment I stood at the door that there was no point asking anything. I didn’t say a single word to him. I just left.”

Song Xuange leaned against him and nestled close. “And now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s long dead,” He Dusheng said. “Ever since then, I’ve hated this good voice I inherited from him.” He gave a soft laugh. “But today, I suddenly realized that a man like that never gave me a shred of love, yet he trapped me for so long. He wasn’t worthy of it, and he wasn’t worth it. Since this voice that came from him can still be of some use in coaxing Liuzhi, then at least it’s being put to good use.”

Song Xuange could hear it. He had truly let it go.

“Then sing for me from now on. I want to hear it.”

“All right.”

“Only for me.”

“Mm… I’m afraid that won’t do. Little Liuzhi probably wouldn’t agree.”

Song Xuange: “…”

“Hahahahahaha…” He Dusheng laughed with unrestrained delight.

The child in his lap was affected by the noise and wrinkled his little nose in annoyance.

His laughter stopped abruptly.

Watching him freeze up like a wooden statue, Song Xuange couldn’t help smiling too.

This was already very good.

In the blink of an eye, it was Little Liuzhi’s hundred-day banquet.

The banquet was held on a grand scale.

Even so, compared with the first birthday celebration of Fenglong Industrial’s young lady, it was nothing much.

Back then, when Fenglong struck out on its own path and carried out reforms to the worker system, plenty of people made snide remarks.

Yet after only a year, Fenglong had risen at astonishing speed, and those same people had nothing left but respect.

At this banquet, anyone who could obtain an invitation was someone whose wealth and status spoke for themselves.

Who could have imagined that in just a single year, Fenglong Industrial’s grain, oil, and cloth had all but monopolized the entire lower Yangtze market?

Even on a nationwide scale, Fenglong held more than 40 percent of the market.

It had successfully curbed the dumping policies of the Japanese textile industry in China, struck a blow against the arrogance of foreign capital, and given domestic enterprises a chance to breathe.

This was no longer just a matter for one trade or another. Any Chinese person would have to raise a thumb and praise them as real heroes.

Under Fenglong’s banner, more than twenty factories had been acquired, reorganized, or newly built.

Most of these factories were in the middle and lower Yangtze regions, though the North China Plain and the Pearl River basin were involved as well.

What puzzled people, however, was this.

Even inland cities like Chongqing, Kunming, and Baoji had factory sites.

In other people’s eyes, this was practically a money-losing venture.

Even if there was a local consumer market, transportation to and from the coastal regions was inconvenient. Goods produced in those factories were hard to ship out, so the profits would naturally be limited.

And yet, word had it that Fenglong still planned to keep building factories in the interior.

Over the past year, Fenglong had been the center of attention, and every move it made was watched by countless eyes.

As for its move to shift factories inland, a small number of people couldn’t make sense of it either, but out of blind admiration, they gritted their teeth and copied Fenglong’s example, setting up branch factories there as well.

Most people, however, remained on the sidelines to watch.

No matter how one calculated it, this decision was just throwing money around.

Fenglong was not only throwing money around by building factories inland.

Another even more expensive undertaking was running schools.

Another of Fenglong Industrial’s leading figures was Ms. Song Xuange.

She was a kindhearted woman, and it was said that Fenglong’s worker management and welfare reform system had been personally led by her.

By now, the other factories in Shanghai had already been pushed by this tide into reluctantly following Fenglong’s example. And that tide was still spreading to the surrounding regions, even sweeping across the whole country.

Ms. Song herself was still young, yet she was passionate about promoting education.

Starting from the Workers’ School, which had seemed almost like a playful experiment at first, every place under Fenglong that had a factory now also had its own factory primary school. There were middle schools as well, though they were divided into boys’ schools and girls’ schools. The study stipend for students at Fenglong Girls’ School was extremely generous. It was basically equal to the wages of a fully grown female worker. For the sake of receiving that money, many people were willing to send their daughters to Fenglong Girls’ School.

People in the know were also spreading word that Ms. Song had recently been planning to establish a university.

The rumors were detailed enough to sound convincing. Supposedly, it would be a science and engineering university.

Most people who heard the news believed it.

Because Fenglong truly did have that kind of strength.

It had a secret weapon.

A national talent with extraordinary attainments in machinery was employed by Fenglong.

He was Mr. Luzhu.

Luzhu himself had produced a great deal of research, and from time to time he also published his thoughts and findings in the newspapers, greatly benefiting people in the industry.

No one had ever seen Mr. Luzhu, but his name had already spread far and wide.

The Japanese, the British, and the French had all publicly offered rewards in the newspapers for Mr. Luzhu, putting forward a series of astonishing terms in an attempt to recruit him.

Mr. Luzhu had never responded, and aside from Fenglong, no one had any way of contacting him.

All the others could do was stomp around in anxiety.

There were even those with well-connected sources who said that the Beiyang Government⁴ had also extended an olive branch to Mr. Lu Zhu, hoping to recruit him into the military industry system.

No one knew whether Mr. Lu Zhu would take the job this time.

At present, Mr. Lu Zhu and Ms. Song, the very center of public attention, were both crammed into the kitchen, flustered and scrambling.

At the kitchen door, on a baby chair that came up to an adult’s waist, sat a chubby little dumpling with big eyes and soft hair, quiet and still.

She looked just like a giant daifuku that had jumped out of a steamer and come to life, so adorable that anyone who saw her would want to take a bite.

At that moment, this little daifuku was waving her exclusive silver spoon with her plump hand, urging them on as she babbled, “Cakey…”

The two women could only hold up a half-cooked, collapsed lump of dough and shake their heads regretfully at the plump little daifuku.

Mr. Lu Zhu, who was in fact Lu Zhu, wore a thoroughly defeated expression. “This is exactly how it was done in the tutorial I watched before. So what went wrong?”

Song Xuange patted her on the shoulder and comforted her. “Forget it. Just give up. Your talents are all in wrenches and screws.”

Today was little Liuzhi’s birthday, and Lu Zhu, as her auntie, had claimed she was very good at making cakes.

She said she could guide Song Xuange in making a meaningful cake for the little one.

Song Xuange’s cooking skills were the kind that had only opened six out of seven orifices⁵. Out of trust in Lu Zhu, she had been looking forward to personally making a cake for little Liuzhi.

Little Liuzhi had been looking forward to it even more.

However, the facts proved that her trust had come too early.

There would be no eating a homemade cake now.

So Song Xuange had no choice but to explain to little Liuzhi, “Mommy and Auntie failed. How about you eat cake at the banquet later, Liuzhi? Daddy prepared a really big, really beautiful cake for you.”

Since childhood, little Liuzhi had always been a good child who could be reasoned with.

Hearing that, she didn’t make a fuss. She only started waving her spoon again and called out, “Noodles.”

What she was thinking about was her father’s promise before leaving that morning, that he would cook longevity noodles⁶ for her.

With a deeply pained expression, Song Xuange told her, “No, Mommy can’t make that either.”

Little Liuzhi furrowed her tiny brows, exactly like her father’s, and thought very hard for a long while before raising her spoon again and calling out, “Cakey.”

Song Xuange understood.

This cakey was not that cakey.

She meant Gorgon Fruit Cake.

This was the only thing Song Xuange could reliably make in her haphazard cooking career.

Mainly because it was simple. All she had to do was grind the flour, get the sugar ratio right and mix it evenly, sift it into molds over the steamer, and steam it until done.

As the only food her mother could truly offer with confidence, little Liuzhi remembered it very clearly.

Every time she made it, the father and daughter, with the big one holding the little one, would sit together and eat cakey.

Little Liuzhi had already learned from her father. With every bite, she would praise her mother’s excellent cooking once, then take another bite.

This thoughtful little thing had clearly realized that with neither longevity noodles nor birthday cake to be had, all she could do was ask her poor mother for Gorgon Fruit Cake.

“Cakey.”

“Okay, we’ll make cakey.”

Translator’s Notes