Chapter 117: Doubt

Feng Erqiu hurriedly declined, “I... I don’t feel right accepting this. I just bought a bag of formula for Erya; it should last for a while. I really can’t repay this kindness.”

“Please accept it. It’ll be easier to ask for your help in the future if you do,” Shen Qingyi said, hanging the bag of milk powder on her hand and holding it firmly.

Liu Yong realized that the formula wasn’t brought by Comrade Xiao Shen on behalf of his wife, but delivered personally by her. He breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting upright, he was startled when he finally got a clear look at Shen Qingyi’s face.

“You’re Engineer Lu’s wife?”

He hadn’t noticed her when she was buried, and when she was brought out, her head was cradled in Engineer Lu’s arms. With so many people around, he never really got a good look at her. No wonder Engineer Lu looked like he was about to die that day.

Shen Qingyi recalled the rough scolding from this man at the door just now and held a very poor impression of him. She only gave a slight nod and said nothing more.

Seeing this, Liu Yong quickly reproached Feng Erqiu, “She’s gone out of her way to deliver this, and you still refuse to accept it.”

Then he turned to Shen Qingyi with a flattering tone, “If you ever need help, just say the word. Whatever my wife and I can do, we won’t delay.”

Feng Erqiu took a deep breath and said to Shen Qingyi, “Thank you. I’ll keep making the insoles you asked for today.”

Liu Yong glanced at Shen Qingyi in surprise, feeling grateful that he hadn’t blurted out those foolish insults that day. Indeed, someone was willing to pay and even bring milk powder just for a few pairs of insoles.

At that moment, An’an also placed a pocketful of chocolates in front of Chun Ni. “For you,” she said.

Chun Ni, seeing these golden-wrapped round candies for the first time, curiously asked, “What is this? Candy or a toy?”

“Candy. Very sweet.”

Chun Ni reached out to take them. “Thank you, An’an!”

Feng Erqiu, holding Erya in her arms, told Chun Ni, “Bring a chair for Aunt Shen and An’an to sit.”

There were only three worn-out chairs in the house. Chun Ni was about to move her small wooden chair over to An’an when Shen Qingyi spoke, “If you have time, could you accompany me for a walk?”

That night, she had thought long and hard—could it be that the woman named Wang Chunhua had changed her name to He Xiangcao?

Before Feng Erqiu could speak, Liu Yong stepped forward, “Erya is with me. You go ahead for a walk!”

Feng Erqiu handed Erya to him and said to Shen Qingyi, “Alright!”

The two of them stepped out of the house, with An’an and Chun Ni following behind.

When they reached a deserted cypress-lined lane, Shen Qingyi asked again, “Have you seen Wang Chunhua?”

Feng Erqiu nodded. “Yes, she’s from our village, a few years older than me. Her eldest child is also older than Chun Ni; they’re eight this year.”

“What does she look like? Can you describe her?”

Feng Erqiu thought for a moment. “She was quite beautiful, the village’s pride back then. About your height, similar build, an oval face, eyes neither too big nor too small…”

Shen Qingyi interrupted, “Describe her as if you were describing me. For example, the eyes—almond-shaped, slender, with upward-tilted corners; the eyebrows—straight and level with the brow ridge; then go through the nose and mouth in detail.”

Though unfamiliar with such precise description, Feng Erqiu carefully complied. Shen Qingyi asked in great detail, even having her draw the space between the eyes and the thickness of the lips on the ground with a stick to ensure accuracy.

Feng Erqiu also gave a clear account of the kind of clothes Wang Chunhua usually wore and her hairstyle.

After finishing her questions, Shen Qingyi quietly made notes in her mind. Knowing Feng Erqiu still had to care for her young daughter, she didn’t press further. “Thank you. I’ll take An’an back now.”

“No need to thank me. It’s no big deal.”

Before parting, Shen Qingyi grabbed her hand. “If your husband ever mistreats you, I’ll go with you to the Women’s Federation.”

Feng Erqiu was taken aback. “You heard everything?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I know how to deal with him, but I can’t find work right now. Chun Ni and Erya need looking after, so I have no choice but to endure.”

Shen Qingyi looked at Feng Erqiu. Though frail, she showed none of the stereotypical rural woman’s submissiveness.

She wanted to ask, “If that’s the case, why are you still expecting a third child?” But she wasn’t her, and who knew what she had been through. In the end, Shen Qingyi asked nothing more.

After their farewell, Shen Qingyi returned with An’an. As she entered the room, she saw Lu Yan bent over the desk, focused on calculations and writing.

An’an climbed onto the bed, grabbed a book, then quietly sat on the living room sofa.

Shen Qingyi took out a sketchbook and some pencils from the trunk and sat at the dining table in the living room, concentrating on drawing.

She worked steadily for an hour and a half before roughly sketching the Wang Chunhua Feng Erqiu had described.

She carefully recalled Feng Erqiu’s descriptions, constantly adjusting and refining the sketch. When the final draft was done, she stared at the drawing for a long time, her mood fluctuating.

She had met He Xiangcao before and remembered her vividly. She had publicly accused her father in front of reporters and onlookers at the newspaper office, earning the support of many women with similar experiences. They called her a brave figure of the new era, fearless of authority and temptation.

Why did she suspect the insoles belonged to her father were from He Xiangcao? Because her father was a rigid old scholar, plain-looking and not skilled at courting favor, so he was unpopular with women. Aside from her mother, only He Xiangcao had any contact with him beyond work.

The sketch of Wang Chunhua bore neither complete similarity nor total disconnection from He Xiangcao’s likeness—there were about forty to fifty percent shared features.

Could it be that He Xiangcao was actually Wang Chunhua, and she had drawn it wrong?

Unable to sit still, she said to her son on the sofa, “Mommy is going to see Chun Ni’s mother again. I’ll be back soon.”

“All right!”

She grabbed the sketchbook and left.

Just then, Lu Yan finished his work and came out. He saw their son sitting alone on the sofa. “An’an, where’s Mommy?”

“Mommy went to see Aunt Feng again.”

Lu Yan pondered briefly; at this hour, a second trip out was surely not for idle chat.

He sat down beside An’an and asked, “What did Mommy talk about with Aunt Feng today?”

An’an recounted the entire conversation between Shen Qingyi and Feng Erqiu without missing a detail.

“You said Grandpa has a pair of insoles identical to the ones Aunt Feng makes, right?”

Lu Yan nodded, “Yes, so Mommy asked her to make you two pairs.”

Lu Yan’s thoughts shifted slightly; he began to understand what his wife was thinking.

When Shen Qingyi returned, she saw the living room light on and Lu Yan sitting alone on the sofa. She glanced at her watch—nine o’clock.

“Has An’an gone to sleep?” Shen Qingyi asked gently.

Lu Yan nodded, “Yes.”

Shen Qingyi was about to put the sketchbook back in the trunk when Lu Yan said, “What did you draw in the book? Can I see it?”

She withdrew her hand from the trunk, turned to Lu Yan, and handed him the sketchbook.

Lu Yan opened the first page and saw a remarkably realistic portrait of a woman, her expression and features vivid and lifelike, bearing about forty to fifty percent resemblance to the He Xiangcao he remembered.