Early the next morning, the steamed buns with two kinds of fillings, the porridge made from boiled cornmeal, a large basin of egg soup, complemented by the crisp greenness of pickled cucumber—it was all a pretty decent breakfast, even by modern standards.
In a few days, the whole family had gotten used to it, and this time, no one was questioning anything. As soon as the table was set, everyone bowed their heads and ate.
After the meal, Zhulan gave the ready-made buns to her third and fourth sons, who were going to school, "Two for each, have them around noon to fill your stomachs."
The third son, Zhou Changlian, didn't take them, and instead whispered, "Mom, Dad is going to be angry, put them back quickly before he sees and scolds you."
Zhulan's smile grew deeper. This kid truly was selfish, but not mean-spirited, and still possessed some conscience.
The fourth son, Zhou Changzhi, kept watch for her, "Mom, you better take them back, we're not hungry."
