In the past life, the three kids had been the same. Until one time, their little sister-in-law experimented with different ways to cook seafood, tried a few things on a whim, and actually nailed it.
The mantis shrimp, stir-fried with fragrant garlic until golden on both sides, had firm, springy meat—not at all mushy. The steamed blue crabs were plump but rather bland, but Jiang Yuan’s dipping sauce changed everything. A crack of the crab shell with the back of a knife, a dip of the tender meat into the sauce, and suddenly the flavor came alive.
These were the three kids’ favorite seafood dishes. But now, they were piling them into Ning Qiao’s bowl like offerings.
Jiang Qi said, “And there’s clam soup too—let’s get a bowl for little sister-in-law!”
“Wait!” Jiang Guoguo shook her head. “She should have the coconut chicken soup first.”
Ning Qiao was a brand-new member of the family—and a guest from afar.
They welcomed her and took good care of her.
Eating seafood meant peeling shells, and no one minded getting their hands dirty—they peeled with relish. The coconut chicken soup had simmered for a long time; the first bowl went to Ning Qiao. As for the braised pork—slightly trickier to make—Jiang Yuan and Jiang Qi had, with their big brother’s tacit approval, thrown in quite a bit of seasoning. They didn’t skimp on sugar for the caramelized coating. The rich sauce clung to the tender, melt-in-your-mouth pork—there was simply no faulting the flavor.
Most of the dishes were made by the third brother. Watching his little sister-in-law eat with such enjoyment, he said proudly, “Little sister-in-law, with skills like mine, I could be a chef!”
Ning Qiao hadn’t even finished swallowing her food when Jiang Qi called out to her.
The young boy’s face shone with pride, his eyes brighter than stars.
She wasn’t familiar with him and didn’t want to act overly warm.
But he’d called her “little sister-in-law” so sweetly!
She picked at her rice, hesitated, and gave a small nod, mumbling a soft “yes.”
Jiang Qi beamed even more and turned to gloat at his siblings.
Watching this, the two aunties were nearly stunned speechless.
They’d actually put together a whole table of dishes that looked and smelled wonderful.
So it wasn’t that men couldn’t cook—it was that their own husbands were used to sitting back with their hands in their pockets and dumping all the work on them.
Comparing people was maddening. The two aunties sighed deeply.
Jiang Heng sent the youngest to fetch two bowls of rice and invited the aunties to sit down and eat before leaving.
But in those days, no one went to someone else’s house to mooch chicken soup and braised pork—it would be considered poor manners and the rest of the compound would gossip.
The aunties waved their hands firmly. As they turned to leave, their eyes lingered not only on the coconut chicken soup and the braised pork, but also on the seafood dishes.
Whether it was the seafood’s aroma or the new bride’s eating enjoyment, it was hard to say.
Either way, it was tantalizing.
After the satisfying meal, it was time to clear the dishes.
Jiang Yuan, Jiang Qi, and Jiang Guoguo were old enough now and had no interest in washing dishes. But their big brother wasn’t so easygoing. A single glance from him—though he said nothing—was clearly a merciless order to get to the kitchen.
The two brothers clenched their fists.
Jiang Guoguo drooped her head: “So tired…”
Ning Qiao stood up and said softly, “Let me.”
The three younger ones immediately perked up and shook their heads vigorously.
They scurried into the kitchen, and soon the clatter of pots and bowls being washed drifted into the living room.
Once everything was tidied up, it was time to rest.
On the wooden sofa, Ning Qiao and Jiang Heng sat at opposite ends.
Ning Qiao’s fingers lightly pinched the hem of her clothes: “That room really can’t be slept in?”
She’d already said it—it would be awkward to take it back.
Jiang Heng’s voice was low: “I’ll find someone to fix it. In a few days.”
Ning Qiao let out an “oh,” as stiff as could be.
Every passing second was thick with awkwardness.
She didn’t know how other couples in arranged marriages spent their wedding nights. Or maybe, in this day and age, arranged marriages were already few and far between.
The marriage certificate was still fresh. Unlike her brother, Ning Qiao wasn’t so modern-minded. Since she was married, she intended to spend a lifetime with this man.
She wanted to be straightforward, not awkward.
“Then where do I stay?” she asked, as if facing death.
Either way, she’d have to face it.
Her gaze had already drifted toward the bedroom at the top of the stairs—Jiang Heng’s room. But she had to admit, she was a little nervous. Her air of indifference was just an act.
“Stay in my room—” Jiang Guoguo’s voice came from the kitchen, her hands still wet as she poked her head out. “If little sister-in-law has nowhere to stay, she can stay with me!”
Jiang Guoguo’s invitation was sincere.
Ning Qiao’s eyes lit up.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore—she knew what happened on a wedding night. Her sister-in-law had already told her. Since she had a way out now, of course she’d take it…
Ning Qiao looked at Jiang Heng: “Can I?”
“Of course you can!” Jiang Guoguo grabbed Ning Qiao’s hand and pulled her toward her room, saving her little sister-in-law from the ordeal.
The door to Jiang Guoguo’s room clicked shut.
Jiang Heng wanted to say—no need to be so nervous, he wouldn’t force anything…
But if he said that out loud, it would probably only embarrass Ning Qiao more.
Better not to say anything. Watching her brighten up as if she’d dodged a bullet, he almost wanted to smile too.
On their wedding night, Ning Qiao shared a room with Jiang Guoguo.
She pulled out stationery and a pen from her suitcase, sat down at the desk, and began writing a letter to her mother.
Having left her mother to live on her own, the young girl had so much to say—but she chose only the good things. How the aunties in the compound had been so kind to her, bringing dumplings with thin wrappers and plenty of filling, sweet potato sticks that were fragrant and sweet. How the bicycle her father had bought her was so grand—though she still didn’t know how to ride it, just going out to look at it filled her with contentment.
Once the door closed, Jiang Guoguo’s mood visibly deflated.
She was no longer the energetic little girl. Instead, she hung her head and stayed silent.
Ning Qiao felt a flicker of tension.
She worried that the Jiang Guoguo from the original storyline had returned—or rather, had never really left.
Sensing the little girl slowly approaching, she straightened her back.
Her hand, still holding the pen, stiffened—until Jiang Guoguo craned her neck toward her.
“Little sister-in-law, if you write to your mother, will she write back?”
Ning Qiao was taken aback: “She will.”
Jiang Guoguo sat down beside her, propping her chin on her hands: “When I write to my mother, she writes back too.”
After a pause, she added wistfully, “But later I found out it wasn’t really my mother writing back—it was Grandpa.”
When the four Jiang children’s mother left, she hadn’t left any address behind.
Old Master Jiang had made up that kind lie because he couldn’t bear to see his youngest granddaughter hurt.
Ning Qiao relaxed her guard.
She asked, “How did you know it was Grandpa?”
“Qingshi from next door told me,” Jiang Guoguo said. “She saw the handwriting on the envelope. The letters signed ‘Mom’ had the same handwriting as the ones signed ‘Grandpa.’”
“Grandpa is—”
“I know. Grandpa did it for my own good.” Jiang Guoguo waved her hand. “It’s okay.”
Jiang Guoguo was envious—envious of the word “Mom” at the beginning of Ning Qiao’s letter.
Those two characters seemed to carry an innate gentleness.
She gazed at them longingly.
Ning Qiao tore off a sheet of paper and handed it to her: “You can write too. If you ever get to see your mother in the future, you can give it to her then.”
Of course, by that time, Jiang Guoguo might already be grown up and no longer care about meeting her.
“Can I?” The little girl blinked.
Ning Qiao asked, “Do you know how to write?”
“Of course I do! I’m nine already!” Jiang Guoguo puffed out her chest.
She took the paper and pen her little sister-in-law offered.
She didn’t know what to say to her mother. But just aimlessly putting down one stroke after another was enough. It proved that she was no different from other children.
The room fell silent, save for the soft scratching of the pen on paper.
Ning Qiao rested her chin on one hand, twirling the pen gently in the other.
Through the window, she saw Su Qingshi airing a quilt in the yard.
Her cold expression made it seem like everyone owed her something.
Ning Qiao wouldn’t provoke the original female lead on her own. But at this point, it was clear that the original female lead harbored ill will toward the whole Jiang family.
Ning Qiao actually slept soundly that first night sharing a room with Jiang Guoguo.
Come morning, she heard movement in the kitchen—Jiang Heng was steaming a bowl of egg custard for her.
Jiang Guoguo led her to the eight-sided table. Before she could even sit down, the three kids spoke up.
“Little sister-in-law, can you walk us to school?”
Jiang Heng shot them a glance: “You’re old enough to go to school on your own. Need someone to walk you?”
But just as he finished speaking, Ning Qiao had already spoken, unhurried: “Sure.”
Jiang Heng was momentarily speechless, his usual commanding presence nowhere to be found.
No matter how stern he was, he had to listen to his little sister-in-law.
The three younger siblings exchanged glances and nodded cleverly.
Lesson learned: from now on, in this house, what the big brother said didn’t count.
If the little sister-in-law was willing, no one could stop her.
Jiang Heng noticed that after a day, Ning Qiao’s attitude toward the younger siblings had softened a little.
But with him—there hadn’t been much progress.
He pulled Jiang Guoguo aside: “What did you say to little sister-in-law yesterday? Why did she smile at you?”
“A whole lot.” Jiang Guoguo said. “Little sister-in-law said today she’s going to focus on practicing riding her bike so she can go out more easily.”
He turned to his second and third brothers: “And you?”
It was rare for their big brother to ask them for anything.
The two older boys, now in their teens, spread their hands at him.
“Give me a penny for a popsicle, and I’ll tell you after I eat it,” Jiang Yuan said.
Just as Jiang Heng’s face was about to darken, Ning Qiao let out a laugh, saving the moment.
The atmosphere instantly lightened.
Jiang Qi seized the opportunity: “A penny’s not enough—we need three cents!”
Ning Qiao finally understood.
No wonder he always kept a straight face—these kids were impossible!
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