Chapter 109: Gu’s Parents Are Coming to Propose Marriage
Gu Tingxiao followed her into the kitchen. Even though Sheng Wanyan insisted she didn’t need his help, the man flatly refused to leave.
“At least let me chop the meat for you,” he requested.
“All right.”
Wanyan retrieved a whole wild pheasant and handed it over. Gu Tingxiao took it and immediately went to work, his movements practiced and efficient.
In the living room, Grandpa and Grandma Sheng watched the two young people working side-by-side in the kitchen. They exchanged a meaningful glance and nodded in silent agreement. This future grandson-in-law was definitely the right choice.
A few minutes later, Wanyan manufactured a quick excuse to send Gu Tingxiao out to rinse the vegetables. The moment his back was turned, she discreetly infused the simmering chicken broth with three concentrated drops of her spiritual spring water.
Tonight’s spread was exceptionally rich, featuring the fragrant pheasant soup, savory stir-fried pork, smooth steamed eggs, a fresh seasonal vegetable dish, pristine white-flour buns, and a side of Grandma Sheng’s signature pickled radishes.
They sat down to eat the moment Father and Mother Sheng walked through the door. Gu Tingxiao had tasted Wanyan’s fish before and knew her cooking was spectacular, but tonight’s meal raised his appreciation to a whole new level. Even the simple vegetable dish tasted remarkably sweet and vibrant.
As he ate, he silently resolved that once they were married, he would never let his girl tie herself to the stove every day. She was far too intelligent and capable to be marooned in a kitchen; he wanted her to fully pursue whatever career path brought her joy. He was a grown man, and it wouldn’t hurt him a bit to shoulder the domestic labor.
“Make sure to drink plenty of broth to replenish your energy,” Wanyan said, serving a bowl of the piping-hot pheasant soup to each family member, taking care to add a few delicate slices of ginseng to each portion.
Grandma Sheng had spent the last several days carefully processing the rest of the wild root Wanyan had “found” on the mountain. Because the winter sky lacked sunshine, she had spread a clean cloth across the living room floor, layout out the ginseng coins to dry slowly beside the warmth of a small coal stove. Now that Gu Tingxiao was here, he could easily pack the dried slices back to the military district for Sheng Wanze.
Gu Tingxiao took a few sips of the broth. It was deeply savory, carrying a remarkably crisp, refreshing undertone that he couldn’t quite pinpoint but thoroughly enjoyed.
“Eat up, Xiao Gu,” Mother Sheng urged enthusiastically, transferring two choice cuts of pork directly into his bowl. “An officer needs a strong foundation; you can’t afford to let your health slip while serving in the regiments.” She was so determined to nourish him that she kept piling his dish high, terrified he might be too polite to reach for the food himself.
“It’s absolutely delicious, Auntie,” he praised genuinely.
Wanyan felt a quiet wave of satisfaction watching him enjoy the food. Cooking a heavy meal only to have the diners pick at it in silence was a thankless, miserable task. But the Sheng family was entirely different; no matter who manned the stove, the household would clear every plate and praise the chef. Knowing your physical effort was thoroughly appreciated made every minute over the hot fire entirely worth it.
“Xiao Gu, your parents are scheduled to arrive in about five days, correct?” Mother Sheng inquired, steering the conversation toward logistics. With her future in-laws en route, she needed to ensure the apartment was in flawless order.
She couldn’t help but recall how her knucklehead son, Wanze, had handled his own engagement. The boy had literally notified the family at the absolute last second that Pan Yue’s parents were coming to visit, forcing Mother Sheng into a frantic, chaotic rush to prepare. If Wanyan hadn’t miraculously managed to source extra meat for the table back then, she would have died of sheer embarrassment.
Fortunately, this match was being handled with proper military precision. Xiao Gu had provided ample advance notice, granting her a comfortable window to prepare the household so his elite parents wouldn’t feel the Shengs lacked manners or respect.
“Yes, Auntie. My parents will arrive in exactly five days,” Gu Tingxiao confirmed, laying out the itinerary clearly so the family could coordinate. “They plan to spend their first full day at my aunt’s apartment to check in on Commander Ning. Immediately after that, they will pay a formal visit to your household to propose the engagement.”
Mother Sheng nodded approvingly. Since his parents were traveling all this way, it was only natural and proper that they honor the family elders and visit Gu Tong’s household first. “That sounds perfectly correct. Our family will be waiting right here to receive them.”
“Thank you for the trouble, Auntie,” Gu Tingxiao murmured, a profound sense of relief washing over him. Now that the explicit timeline for the proposal was locked in, his dearest dream was finally crossing the threshold into reality.
Once the dinner concluded, Gu Tingxiao instinctively moved to clear the table, but Mother Sheng shooed him away from the sink before he could grab a single dish.
“Auntie, please let me handle it,” he protested.
“There’s absolutely no need for you to wash dishes, Xiao Gu. Go on into the living room and chat with the men,” she commanded, ushering him out.
While she adored her future son-in-law, she refused to abuse her position as an elder by ordering him around to do domestic chores the second he walked through her door. Mother Sheng possessed a clear sense of propriety; she preferred to manage what she could on her own, only calling on the younger generation when a task was truly beyond her strength.
“Come over here, youth! Let’s set up the board,” Grandpa Sheng called out the moment he rose from the table.
The old man was an avid chess enthusiast, but given the strict political climate of the era, playing games out in the open squares was dangerous; getting caught by a local committee member would invite serious trouble. Consequently, his matches were strictly confined to the apartment, usually played against Father Sheng or Wanyan. But ever since he had squared off against Gu Tingxiao a few days prior, he had discovered the young officer possessed a brilliant, highly tactical mind, calculating his defensive layouts several moves in advance. The patriarch couldn’t resist dragging him into a fresh match the second he crossed the threshold.
With Grandpa Sheng anchoring him to the chessboard, Gu Tingxiao could no longer sneak away to assist with the clean-up.
Meanwhile, Grandma Sheng had settled comfortably beside her pristine new sewing machine, her foot rhythmically working the pedal as she worked on her latest project.
The apartment settled into a beautiful, harmonious routine. Grandpa Sheng and Gu Tingxiao locked minds over the chessboard, Wanyan sat on a small stool sorting threads for her grandmother, and Father Sheng quietly slipped into the kitchen to help his wife finish the washing.
Over the next few days, the Sheng household focused entirely on preparing for the upcoming summit. Wanyan, well aware that high-grade provisions were the absolute ultimate currency of the 1970s, continuously utilized her spatial warehouse to discreetly funnel premium ingredients into the pantry.
Whenever she “brought home” a fresh supply of wild meat or fowl, Mother Sheng would immediately bury the yields beneath the deep snowdrifts packed against the ledge outside the kitchen window. She carefully lined the shelf with a thick layer of frost, ensuring the goods remained completely hidden from the neighbors living above or below their unit.
Wanyan had personally taught her this trick. The sub-zero winter temperatures transformed the window ledge into a natural freezer, preserving the raw meat for weeks. Mother Sheng couldn’t help but marvel at the convenience; she quietly mused how wonderful it would be if a household possessed a device capable of keeping food this fresh during the scorching summer months. She had heard whispers that affluent families in foreign capitalist nations utilized machines called “refrigerators” and “air coolers” to chill their food and lower the temperature of their rooms, but she had never laid eyes on such technology and wondered if it truly performed as miraculously as the rumors claimed.
Thanks to Wanyan’s secret hoarding, the apartment was stocked with an immense supply of fresh pork, wild pheasants, and mountain rabbits—more than enough to host a magnificent banquet for their prominent guests.
“Wanyan, tell your grandmother the truth,” Grandma Sheng whispered one afternoon as they folded linens. “Where on earth are you sourcing this constant stream of fresh meat?”
While Wanyan frequently earned handsome payouts from her translation work, the sheer volume of luxury provisions arriving at the door seemed almost impossible to procure through standard state channels.
“Grandma, I have a trusted colleague whose close relative operates a station at the municipal slaughterhouse, so I’ve been leveraging that connection to purchase the surplus cuts,” Wanyan explained smoothly, deploying her pre-calculated cover story. “Furthermore, a few of the newer clerks in the Propaganda Department hail from the outlying mountain villages; their relatives frequently forage and hunt wild game in the ridges, smuggling the meat into the factory to sell quietly to trusted buyers. Since we work in the same office, I’ve been quietly buying up their inventory.”
Grandma Sheng nodded slowly, completely accepting the explanation. Wanyan’s logic was entirely sound; black-market trading among factory workers was an open secret. Not all industrial employees were urban citizens; a significant percentage consisted of rural youths who had secured factory slots through family networks, and they frequently used their village connections to supplement their wages.
No worker would ever report these illicit transactions to the authorities. After all, everyone in the district was starved for fresh fat and meat; blowing the whistle on a reliable food supply would only invite absolute public outrage and alienate you from the entire workforce.
Wanyan knew precisely which clerks were trading in the factory shadows and how the logistics operated, though she had never actually bartered with them. Her spatial inventory held an infinite, pristine bounty of resources that she could never hope to exhaust; there was zero reason for her to gamble her career on a risky black-market sting when she already held everything she needed. She preferred to maintain a low profile, biding her time until the state officially initiated the economic opening in a few years before launching her commercial plans.
“That’s a relief to hear, but you must remain exceptionally cautious, child,” Grandma Sheng advised gently, patting her hand. “The human heart is an unstable, fickle thing; never trust anyone blindly in these matters.”
