Seeing his face so dark it was frightening, Sun Lixia repeatedly nodded her head to reassure him, “Okay, okay, I got it, I won’t talk about it anymore. Don’t be mad, it’s not worth harming your health.”
In the next room, Jiang Mianmian was ecstatic as she slipped on her new pink cotton-padded jacket, standing in front of the mirror, looking at herself from the left and then the right, utterly charmed.
During this period, as Jiang Changhai often took his wife and children to the state-owned restaurant for a meal or brought home meat buns to indulge in, Jiang Mianmian’s little face had grown chubbier, making her look even more lovely and delicate.
As a result, every day when Jiang Changhai saw his daughter, he couldn’t help but reach out to pinch her round, tender cheeks.
Seeing Jiang Mianmian preening, he teased with a smile, “Oh my, my little girl is so pretty; who does she look like?”
“Of course, I look like my dad,” Jiang Mianmian flattered with full confidence.
“Cough…” Su Wanyu sat on the kang coughed lightly.
Jiang Mianmian, ever so astute, quickly corrected herself, “But the one I resemble most is still my mom. My mom and I are practically carved from the same mold.”
Jiang Changhai playfully scratched his daughter’s nose, “You little slicker.”
“Mianmian, give your old cotton jacket that’s too small for you to Zhaodi. I’ve seen that child still wearing single-layer clothing; don’t let her freeze in this cold weather,” Su Wanyu folded her daughter’s old jacket.
“Alright, I’ll do it right now,” Jiang Mianmian said as she hugged the jacket and scuttled away on her little short legs, running towards the second room in a flash.
She stood outside and knocked gently, “Uncle, Auntie, have you gone to bed?”
Da Ya opened the door, and upon seeing Jiang Mianmian in the pink cotton jacket, couldn’t hide her envy, “San Ya, you’ve got a new outfit again?”
“Yep, big sister, my mom just made it for me. Is Zhaodi around? I’m looking for Zhaodi.”
The bright color of Jiang Mianmian’s pink cotton jacket immediately drew everyone’s attention in the room.
Jiang Mianmian felt slightly uncomfortable under their envious and intense gazes, knowing full well that her sisters had never worn a new piece of clothing.
“Auntie, my mom asked me to bring the jacket I’ve outgrown for Zhaodi,” she said, placing the jacket on the kang and speaking to Zhao Xiaojuan.
Zhaodi, hearing it was for her, quickly crawled over from the edge of the kang and tentatively touched the old jacket, asking, “Third Sister, is this for me?”
“Yeah, it’s for you,” Jiang Mianmian nodded and added, “Although it’s a bit old, it’s still very warm.”
Upon receiving confirmation, Zhaodi clutched the jacket to her chest and rubbed her face against it vigorously, smiling and saying, “Thank you, Third Sister, this jacket isn’t old at all!”
In her eyes, a jacket without a single patch was as good as new.
After all, making clothes nowadays not only cost money but also required cloth tickets, and rural people were allocated just six or seven yards per person per year—not even enough for an adult to make one outfit.
Thus, except for the two boys and Jiang Mianmian, the girls in the second room had to wear hand-me-downs.
Da Ya wore clothes that were retailed from their parents’ older garments and then passed them down to her younger sisters.
Zhaodi was the third child in the second room, so by the time cotton jackets got to her, they were not only old and full of patches, but the cotton inside was also hard and lumpy.
They were not warm, let alone comfortable; they were so stiff and heavy that, to put it bluntly, if you set the jacket down on the kang, it could stand up on its own.