Chapter 140: I Don’t Want to Grow Up

“Why don’t you go shopping with your dad, and I’ll stay here and watch over things,” Mom was still dithering.

Dong Yanyan was speechless. She was used to things being done one way, and at this moment, she felt an almost nauseating frustration. Fortunately, Dad returned from buying the groceries just then. If she went shopping with Dad now, Mom would surely be upset when she came back, thinking the two of them had abandoned her. But if she insisted that Mom go with Dad, Mom would keep nagging endlessly. In the end, someone would lose patience, leading to an argument or simmering resentment.

Having learned from countless past lessons, she decisively decided to close up shop immediately, go shopping together, and then head home.

“Dad, we did pretty well this morning. How about we pack up and go home? Mom and I are getting a bit cold,” Dong Yanyan said, pulling out a hundred-yuan note and handing it to her father with a smile. “What do you think about using what we earned this morning to buy some fireworks?”

“You two did pretty well!” Dad laughed heartily. “Alright, let’s go. The market’s about to close anyway; let’s get those fireworks.”

The three of them cheerfully packed up. Just then, the young woman who had been about to buy a bracelet returned, tossed down twenty yuan, grabbed the bracelet, and walked off.

“Sis, I really can’t make money off this,” Dong Yanyan said helplessly. “You can ask around the county store—no one sells it at this price.”

“Isn’t this the last one? The capital’s already covered. I’ll make up for it with a few more purchases. Thanks a lot, little sister,” the long-haired girl said as she took the bracelet and left.

Dong Yanyan quietly pocketed the twenty yuan.

“Yanyan, don’t sell yourself short,” Mom said.

“It’s the last one. It just takes up space. Better to sell it,” Dong Yanyan said with a carefree smile.

Mom was a little frustrated and kept talking about the bracelet all the way home, which annoyed Dong Yanyan so much she finally blurted out, “Mom, do you know how much I paid for that bracelet? Four yuan fifty! I sold it for twenty and made fifteen yuan profit.”

Mom was genuinely surprised, then worriedly asked, “Huh? Can’t she come to you?”

“Why would she? It’s the same price everywhere. If I sold it cheaper, she wouldn’t even want it. This way, it’s good—I make money, and she feels accomplished,” Dong Yanyan said with a smile.

“Oh my, making several times the cost from just one piece. That’s so steep,” Mom exclaimed.

“You haven’t seen the clothes sold in town. Some cost just a few yuan to buy, but sell for dozens or even hundreds. Children’s clothes make even more profit,” Dong Yanyan said dismissively.

Mom widened her eyes in astonishment again. “Really? That’s crazy. They make so much money.”

“Isn’t that how business works? Plus, the cost of rent and labor is high. If you don’t price it well, you can’t even break even. That’s why the countryside is nice—open air, just set up a stall with one person, and the rest is pure profit. The only downside is the cold winters,” Dong Yanyan said with a smile.

“Better come back in summer, then. The weather’s nice and things sell better,” Mom said.

Dong Yanyan smiled silently. She had her own plans for next year. This was just the darkest moment before the dawn.

*

For the next few days, Dong Yanyan truly enjoyed life as if she had servants catering to her every need. She had originally wanted to help Mom with cooking, seeing how hard she worked alone, but having gotten used to waking early at school, this sudden relaxation made her sleep in until late every day. By the time she opened her eyes, the meal was ready; clothes she had taken off were already washed by Mom, who was always quick to help.

She felt she was turning into a lazybones again, but the feeling was wonderful—being pampered, indulged, and carefree. It was as if she had rediscovered the long-lost feeling of home, though she dared not fully embrace this happiness, knowing it would last less than four years.

Wednesday was her birthday. Early in the morning, her parents busied themselves making noodles, boiling eggs, kneading dough, chopping filling, and wrapping dumplings. The sound of chopping woke Dong Yanyan with a start. She crawled out from under the covers and gave herself a big smile. Seeing Nan Nan still sound asleep beside her, she pounced and shook her shoulder. “Nan Nan, Nan Nan, wake up! Today’s my birthday!” she shouted wildly.

Nan Nan was roused and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, then threw herself into Dong Yanyan’s arms and said in a childish voice, “Happy birthday, big sister!”

Dong Yanyan’s arms were wrapped around the soft little body, and her heart melted instantly.

“Nan Nan, who taught you that?” she asked gently, stroking her hair.

“I already knew it. Big sister, do you have a birthday cake?” Nan Nan asked.

“I don’t want cake. How about dumplings?” Dong Yanyan smiled.

Nan Nan pouted.

“We’ve got eggs, too,” Dong Yanyan added.

Nan Nan pouted again.

“And fish—big carp!”

“Oh! Fish!” Nan Nan jumped up in her sweater and knit pants. Dong Yanyan quickly held her down and helped her put on a proper sweater. She thought she must have been a cat in a past life—why else would she get so excited at the mention of fish?

Before they finished eating, a loudspeaker at the village entrance blared: “Dong Yanyan of the Dong family, second child, you have a phone call. Please come to the village office immediately. Please come to the village office immediately!”

Dong Yanyan’s heart leapt with joy. She put down her chopsticks and ran out.

The village office was in the village chief’s house. A room was set aside solely for office use, containing only a desk, a telephone, and a loudspeaker. The phone was usually locked, and when the village chief or secretary wasn’t home, it could only receive calls, not make them.

She entered cautiously, carefully avoiding the doghouse at the door. But the alert guard dog—a big wolfhound—still lunged out, barking fiercely at her. If it wasn’t chained, it would have pounced. Having been bitten by a dog as a child, Dong Yanyan had a deep fear; the dog’s barking turned her face pale and her legs weak.

“Xiao Hei, behave!” came a sharp scolding as the door to the inner room opened. A dark-skinned young woman holding a fire poker stepped out. Despite her dark complexion, she was tall and well-proportioned with striking features—an unspoiled beauty. This was Wang Xiaomei, the second daughter of the village secretary’s family, two years older than Dong Yanyan. Dong Yanyan had always called her Sister Mei. Xiaomei was bold and spirited. When Dong Yanyan was as young as Nan Nan, still in elementary school, Xiaomei, a year older, had always protected her from bullies, like a big sister. No one knew where she had gotten such a sense of responsibility.

Suddenly, Dong Yanyan felt deeply grateful for such unconditional kindness.

Only when Xiaomei spoke did Dong Yanyan realize she might have been overthinking things.