ARC 2: Stepmother in the Seventies ✦ c71~116 (46)
✦ 33
Translator: InkyDragon (https://inkydragontranslation.wordpress.com)
The pungent aroma of herbs filled the small room as Song Da Niu (宋大妞: “Great Girl of the Song [Dynasty]” or “Big Lass Sòng,”) carefully carried the steaming bowl to the bedside. Her mother, pale and drawn, lay against the rough linen, her breath shallow.
- 宋 (Sòng): This is a Chinese surname that is also the name of the Song Dynasty, a historical period in China.
- 大 (Dà): This character means “big” or “great”.
- 妞 (Niū): This character is a colloquial term for “girl” or “lass”.
- So, the name 宋大妞 could be interpreted as “Great Girl of the Song [Dynasty]” or “Big Lass Sòng,” reflecting a sense of strength or prominence.
“Mother,” The young woman said softly, gently helping her sit up. “It’s time for your medicine.”
Mother Song’s hand trembled as she took the bowl, her eyes squeezed shut as she swallowed the bitter liquid in one gulp. Song Da Niu wiped her mother’s mouth, easing her back onto the bed.
“Rest now, Mother,” she soothed, her voice thick with unshed tears. “The medicine will help. By morning, you’ll feel stronger.”
A frail hand gripped her daughter’s wrist, Mother Song’s eyes filled with a desperate fear. “Da Niu, what if I don’t get better? What if I follow your father, leaving you and your sisters alone… what will become of you all?”
Song Da Niu’s heart ached. She forced a smile, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. “Don’t speak like that, Mother. It’s just a cold. You’ll be well soon, you’ll see.”
But even as she spoke, Da Niu knew her mother wasn’t just battling a cough. It was the grief, heavy and suffocating, that clung to her like a shroud. Her father’s recent passing had broken something in her. To make matters worse, the whispers had already begun – whispers about the Song family line ending with no son to carry on the name. Song Da Niu saw the shame burning in her mother’s eyes, felt the weight of it pressing down on them both.
“I failed your father,” Mother Song sobbed, her voice raw with anguish. “I couldn’t give him a son… I’ve failed the Song ancestors…”
- (In traditional Chinese families having a son to carry on the family name and lineage was highly valued. Daughters were expected to marry and move to their husbands’ families, so the pressure to have a son was immense. Sons were seen as crucial for various reasons including continuing the family line, carrying out ancestral worship, and providing support in old age. Meanwhile daughters were seen as spilled water.)
“Mother, even without a son, don’t you still have me and my three sisters?” Song Da Niu said, trying to soothe her mother’s worries. “We will take care of you in your old age. Nowadays, they say men and women are equal, don’t they? Whether it’s a son or a daughter, it’s the same. Mother, stop worrying about having a son. What a son can do, a daughter can do too…”
But Mother Song clung to her tears and her traditions. “It’s not the same! A daughter marries out, belongs to another family. Without a son, the Song line ends with me. I’ve failed your father, failed his ancestors…”
Song Da Niu’s heart ached with a mixture of love and frustration. How could she make her mother understand? “Mother,” she burst out, “is a son so important that it makes you ill? What about us, your daughters? Don’t we matter?”
Mother Song coughed, a harsh, rattling sound that cut Song Da Niu to the core. “What good are daughters?” she wheezed. “They are burdens. Raised only to be given away…”
Fear choked down Song Da Niu’s retort. Her mother, weak and consumed by grief, clung to these beliefs like a lifeline. “Mother, don’t say that,” she pleaded, her own anger fading into helplessness. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that.”
Mother Song finally caught her breath, her thin chest heaving. Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, they held a different kind of pain – the pain of a mother who saw no way out. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “Without a man in the house, we are nothing. The villagers will look down on us, bully us… who will protect us?”
She grasped Song Da Niu’s hand, a plea in her eyes. “We’ll accept your uncle’s offer. Let his youngest son be adopted into our family. At least the Song name will continue.”
Song Da Niu’s blood ran cold. She knew her cousin well – a bully, spoiled and mean, already terrorising the village children at eleven years old.
“Mother, no,” she protested. “He’s nothing but trouble. Even his own parents can barely stand him!”
Mother Song sighed, her shoulders slumping with defeat. “He’s the only one they’ll give us,” she said, her voice hollow.
“But Mother,” Song Da Niu argued, fear twisting in her gut. “If even his own family can’t handle him, what will become of us? He’s always disrespectful to his parents. After being adopted into our family, he’ll surely become even more arrogant… He’ll terrorise us, disrespect you… what kind of future will we have?”
The thought of that boy, ruling their house with his fists and his temper, filled Song Da Niu with a chilling dread.
Hope flickered in Song Da Niu’s eyes. An idea, daring and unconventional, bloomed in her mind.
“Mother,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her heart, “what if we didn’t need to adopt? What if *I* stayed? I could find a husband willing to marry into our family, take our name. Wouldn’t that continue the Song line?”
Mother Song’s eyes widened, her grip on Song Da Niu’s hand tightening. “You’d do that?” she breathed, a spark of life returning to her voice.
Song Da Niu swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, but the sight of her mother’s reviving spirit fueled her resolve.
“Yes,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “Yes! I’ll find a man to marry into our family, and he will support us. We won’t need to adopt someone else’s son.”
A genuine smile, the first in days, lit up Mother Song’s face. Gone was the despair, replaced with a fierce determination. The idea of “marrying in” a husband, though unorthodox, gave her a reason to hope, a purpose that transcended her grief. She was no longer on the brink of death, but a woman on a mission.
Gone were the days of bed rest and whispered worries. Mother Song was energised, her mind buzzing with possibilities. Every young man in the village, and even those in the neighbouring ones, were scrutinised as potential candidates.
But finding a man willing to be “married in” proved to be a challenge. It was a blow to a man’s pride, a mark against his name. The few who were open to the idea were either those with disabilities, considered unfit for “proper” marriages, or men of questionable character – gamblers, drunkards, and layabouts. Mother Song quickly dismissed them. She wouldn’t bring shame upon their family, nor risk her daughters’ well-being.
Days turned into weeks, hope fading with each unsuitable candidate. Mother Song’s frustration grew, the initial excitement replaced with a weary disappointment. Was it truly impossible to find a good man willing to break tradition?
One afternoon, as Mother Song watched the villagers working in the fields, her gaze fell on Ji Ming Tao. Tall and strong, with a quiet strength about him, he worked the land with a focused intensity. He was an orphan, alone in the world, and though he was a man of few words, he had a reputation for honesty and hard work.
Mother Song’s eyes gleamed. He was reserved, yes, and the villagers kept their distance from him due to his background, but they also spoke highly of his work ethic and his kindness. He wasn’t one to gossip or shy away from hard labour. The brigade leader often entrusted him with important tasks, recognizing his sharp mind and trustworthiness.
Could he be the answer to their prayers?
─── ❖ ── ☆ ── ❖ ───
( )………( )
(๑✪ᆺ✪๑)
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