Chen Meixiang was truly happy. She smiled while walking all the way back to the village.
It's good that she didn't marry that man, she thought while walking. What could be better than earning money from the state? And if she can get that job, she will eat state rations. She couldn't let her daughter grow up in the village. Although the villagers showed pity for her and her daughter, she knew that they sneered and called her unfilial behind her back. God knows how many bad things they said. She didn't want her daughter to hear that.
While walking, her thoughts ran far. She thought about how she wanted to fight with her in-laws to get her husband's monthly rations and payment, but after some thought, she abandoned this idea. In this day and age, a daughter-in-law was supposed to take care of her in-laws and be filial to them even after her husband died. Even though the government permitted the remarriage of widows, society still gossiped about it. As a daughter-in-law, she was at a disadvantage. If she had pushed any further, it would have affected her and her daughter's reputation, which would create problems for her daughter while finding a match.
In the villages and small towns, people valued face and reputation.
Even if one was a factory director, if charged with unfilial conduct, one could lose his job. And society was generally more ruthless toward women.
That's why, after her initial conflict with her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, she stopped talking back, appearing pitiful and weak. But she was certainly not a pushover.
Therefore , after her husband's death, she successfully took the 200 yuan compensation money and came back. She knew that if she remained there, she and her daughter would just have to work tirelessly, and all the compensation money would go to the other branches with sons.
On the other side, Matchmaker Zhou arranged the meeting at Dashan Village at the Du household.
Lu Hai came with his mother, eldest brother, and sister-in-law to see the bride. Du second son's daughter, Du Meihua, was 19 years old this year and would be turning 20 in the next two months.
After talking, both sides found each other satisfactory.
Lu Hai was tall and slender. However, due to working in the machinery factory, he had an air of a scholar in his actions. He sat quietly through most of the meeting, speaking only when spoken to, his face betraying neither excitement nor reluctance. Today, they came to see his new bride, and after meeting and finalizing the match, he left, followed by his mother, brother, and sister-in-law, who were chirping about his wedding like a flock of sparrows.
His first wife had died last year. If truth be told, he didn't have any love for her either. She had also been arranged by his parents—a dutiful woman who cooked, cleaned, and gave him a daughter before falling ill and never recovering. When she died, he came home for the burial but felt nothing. Not sadness, not relief. Just emptiness. He returned to the factory the next day and never spoke of her again.
His first wife left him a daughter, a quiet little thing who was now being raised by his aging parents. He couldn't take the girl to the factory, as he himself lived in a cramped dormitory with six other men. It would take at least two to four years until he was assigned his own house, and even that was not guaranteed.
This time, his parents had summoned him home with a firm letter: "Come back and remarry. You are our only son. The family line cannot die out."
He had read the letter, folded it, and obeyed. He always obeyed. That was what a filial son did.
Therefore, he didn't have any demands. He didn't dare to have demands. His first marriage had been arranged, and so would this one. He just wanted a wife who could take care of his parents and his daughter and give him a son. Someone dutiful. Someone quiet. Someone who would not cause trouble while he was away at the factory month after month.
As he walked ahead of his chattering family, his hands in his pockets, Lu Hai wondered if such a woman even existed. But he didn't say this aloud. He never did.
At Du Second Household
(After Lu Hai and his family left)
Du Meihua went back to her room and closed the bamboo curtain behind her. She sat on the edge of her wooden bed, her fingers twisting the corner of her worn cotton jacket. A slow breath escaped her lips.
She was finally going to be married.
For a year now—ever since she came of age—many proposals had arrived for her. Although she had only attended primary school and was not a great beauty, she was hardworking and healthy. Any family with a decent son would have been lucky to have her.
But her family's demand of a 100 yuan betrothal gift always sent them packing.
Who can pay this much money? she thought bitterly. Her parents meant well. Her brother's debt was like a millstone around all their necks. But still, watching proposal after proposal walk away had stung deeply each time.
At first, she had been very reluctant to marry a widower with a daughter. What girl dreamed of that? She had imagined herself as a first wife, not a second one. She had imagined a young man without baggage, without another woman's child clinging to his leg. But what could she do? Even though the state advocated free marriage, in a backward village like hers, marriage was still a question for parents and matchmakers to decide. A girl's opinion mattered little.
But after seeing the man today, her initial hesitation decreased very much.
Lu Hai was not the old, rough-handed widower she had feared. He was tall and slender, with clean fingernails and a quiet way of speaking. His hands were not callused from field work but from factory machines—there was a difference, she could tell. He had an air about him, like the teachers who had once stood at the front of her classroom.
What if he has a daughter? she reasoned with herself. She will be married off one day anyway. A daughter was not a permanent burden. A son—that was what mattered. And Lu Hai looked quite like a scholar. If she married him, her children would surely inherit his intelligence. They would study hard, pass their exams, and become workers too. They would eat state rations. They would live in the city.
She would finally leave this dusty village behind.
Du Meihua looked at her reflection in the small cracked mirror hanging on the wall. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and allowed herself a small smile.
It was not the marriage she had once dreamed of. But it was a way out. And sometimes, a way out was better than a dream.