Best Mom in the 60s
六零之穿成极品他妈
Pillar
Translator: InkyDragon
Word count: 3,3k
It only took a couple of days for Qian Shu Lan to track down the cotton seeds, thanks to the cattle dealer’s connections. She found Number 153 eager to get started, and she carefully explained everything about planting and growing the delicate crop. Number 153 hung on her every word, scribbling down notes like his life depended on it.
With the seeds taken care of, Qian Shu Lan turned her attention to finding a baby boy. She spent the next few days visiting every orphanage in Liu Pass County. None of the little ones felt quite right.
Someone mentioned that the county hospital sometimes had babies who were too weak to survive, and a flicker of hope sparked in Qian Shu Lan’s chest. But as she approached the hospital, a commotion stopped her in her tracks.
A farmer, his face a mask of panic, pulled up in a horse-drawn cart, dust swirling around him. Several men jumped out and hurriedly lifted a still figure from the cart bed, their urgency palpable.
“Make way! We need the doctor! Help him!” they shouted, their voices echoing off the building as they rushed towards the entrance. A thin trail of blood snaked across the ground, painting a grim picture.
Two women remained on the cart, their faces etched with worry. One, her eyes swollen like peaches, cried out, “Third, please don’t leave me!”
- (三太, sān tài: refers to the third family member.)
The other woman, her face lined with age, helped her down, murmuring soothingly, “There, there. Don’t you worry yourself sick. Third Brother will pull through.”
The two women, clinging to each other for support, shuffled slowly into the hospital, leaving the horse-drawn cart unattended at the entrance. But these were honest, law-abiding times, and it wasn’t unusual to see carts left unguarded. Theft simply wasn’t a concern.
Qian Shu Lan watched them go, her brow furrowed in thought. Then, it dawned on her. The injured man was Third Brother, the hunter she often bought rabbit and pheasant from. And the woman who was crying so hard her eyes were probably swollen shut, that had to be his wife. The older woman helping her was the same one who’d helped Qian Shu Lan find her way in village a while back.
Concern tugged at her heart, and she decided to see if she could offer any comfort. She stepped inside and was inquiring about the patient’s whereabouts when a gut-wrenching wail echoed down the corridor.
“Oh, Third! How could you leave us like this? A widow and a fatherless child! How will we manage without you?”
Qian Shu Lan’s heart sank. Had Third Brother already passed away? She paused, hesitant to intrude on the family’s grief. From a distance, she watched the villagers console the heartbroken wife. After a moment, she turned and quietly slipped out of the hospital.
Life was a fragile, fleeting thing. One moment a man was strong and full of life, the next, he was gone, leaving only a void of grief and a family without a strong labourer to support them.
When Qian Shu Lan bought the game, she had heard an old lady say that Third was working to earn money for his father’s coffin and burial clothes. Yet, he passed away before his father, a cruel twist of fate indeed. A White-haired person sending off a black-haired one.
- (“White-haired person sending off a black-haired one” (白发人送黑发人): An idiom expressing the tragedy of parents outliving their children, particularly poignant in Chinese culture where filial piety is highly valued.)
Her heart heavy, Qian Shu Lan reached the Water Conservancy Bureau just as school let out. Little Butterfly (Xiao-Die) emerged, hand-in-hand with Wang Shou Zhi.
Relief washed over her, followed by a surge of anger as she recalled the day’s events.
She wasted no time in recounting Little Butterfly’s mistreatment, her voice tight with indignation. Wang Shou Zhi listened, shamefaced, his grip tightening on Little Butterfly’s hand.
“How could you entrust her to someone you didn’t know?” Qian Shu Lan asked, unable to keep the reproach from her voice. “Didn’t you even inquire about her character?”
Wang Shou Zhi’s face flushed crimson. “Her husband works with me, in the missions department,” he mumbled. “He offered to help… I haven’t been at the Bureau long enough to…”
His voice trailed off, his guilt evident. Qian Shu Lan sighed, her anger softening into weary understanding. “What are you going to do now?”
Wang Shou Zhi pondered for a moment. “I have no choice but to ask Fourth Brother,” he said finally. “I don’t trust anyone else.”
Qian Shu Lan nodded. “Yes, he’s better than a stranger, that’s for sure. But you need to find a more permanent solution, Little Five. Fourth Son also has to go on his missions; he can’t always be there to watch over Little Butterfly.”
Wang Shou Zhi was determined. This time, there would be no rash decisions, no misplaced trust. He would find someone reliable to care for Little Butterfly, someone whose character was beyond reproach.
Early the next morning, Qian Shu Lan set out for Long Mountain Village, hitching a ride on a passing ox cart before continuing on foot. She carried a small bundle of offerings, intending to pay her respects to the old man.
But even before she reached his house, she saw them – two sombre processions, making their way slowly across the barren landscape. Two coffins.
The old man, she learned, had chosen to follow his son in death. The news, delivered with a heavy heart, had shattered his already fragile spirit. Blaming himself, he had ended his life by smashing his head against a wall.
Now, father and son would make their final journey together.
Qian Shu Lan watched as a frail woman, her face etched with grief, knelt before the memorial tablet.
- (灵前, which are wooden or stone plaques used in traditional Chinese ancestor worship. Each tablet typically bears the name of a deceased family member and serves as a focus for offerings and prayers. )
A single white candle flickered in a makeshift furnace; fear of being branded superstitious prevented them from burning the traditional paper offerings.
- (Paper offerings: Traditionally, paper replicas of money, houses, and other goods are burned at funerals to provide for the deceased in the afterlife.)
Beside the woman, a small boy, no more than three years old, looked on with wide, uncomprehending eyes. It was the same child who had nearly tripped her the last time she was here – Third’s son.
A wave of sadness washed over Qian Shu Lan. She approached the woman and gently offered her the bundle.
Startled, Third’s daughter-in-law looked up. It took her a moment to recognize the woman standing before her.
- (In Chinese culture, addressing family members often includes their relationship and their hierarchy within the family. For example, “三太媳妇” (San Tai Xi Fu) translates to “third daughter-in-law” where “三” (San) means third, “太” (Tai) implies seniority or generation, and “媳妇” (Xi Fu) means daughter-in-law.
- After marrying, a woman “loses” her name. People will only refer to her as someone’s wife or mother.
“Auntie,” she began, forcing a smile onto her tear-stained face, “about the fifty yuan…”
- (婶子 (shěnzi): Auntie, a respectful term used for an older woman who is not directly related but is of the parent’s generation.)
- 50 Yuan is two or more months of wages in the town.)
Her voice cracked, the words dissolving into choked sobs. Nearby villagers, drawn by the exchange, began to gather.
Qian Shu Lan placed a hand on the young woman’s arm. “Let it be. It’s not easy for you, a widow with an orphaned child.”
- (孤儿寡母 (gū’ér guǎ mǔ): Widow and her orphaned child, emphasising their vulnerable status in society.)
- Because in a patriarchal society like China, it was so hard for a widow with a child to survive, children would be referred to as orphans even if they had their mother. Without a father, it was like being with no parents.
These were difficult times for everyone, especially for a single mother facing the looming threat of famine. Qian Shu Lan was no saint, but she couldn’t bring herself to demand repayment from this grieving woman.
Third’s daughter-in-law wiped her tears and kowtowed towards her. “Thank you, Auntie. I… I had no other choice.”
- (磕了个响头 (kē le gè xiǎngtóu): Lit. “to kowtow loudly..” The phrase is often used to describe acts of filial piety, such as when a child kowtows to their parents or grandparents. It can also be used to express gratitude to a deity or to show respect to someone in a position of authority.)
Qian Shu Lan felt a lump form in her throat. Had the woman been waiting for her to say that? She was too weary to delve into it. Instead, she helped the woman to her feet with a curt nod and turned to leave.
- (如鲠在喉 (rú gěng zài hóu): Literally “like a fishbone stuck in the throat,” meaning feeling uneasy or troubled.)
“Aunt, please, don’t go.” Third’s daughter-in-law’s sudden hand on her arm was surprisingly strong.
Qian Shu Lan turned back, brows furrowed in confusion.
The young woman, tears still clinging to her lashes, pressed something small and warm into her hand. It was the hand of the little boy.
“Aunt,” she pleaded, her voice thick with tears, “I know you have a kind heart. Please, save this child.”
Qian Shu Lan stared at her, bewildered. For all her grief, the woman was strikingly composed. Her sorrow, though genuine, seemed to enhance her delicate features, lending her a certain tragic grace. How was it possible, Qian Shu Lan wondered, that a woman who had just lost her husband could still possess such the energy to groom herself?
Her gaze swept over the faces of the assembled mourners, their expressions illuminated by the flickering candlelight. Each face, she noticed, was creased with worry, their brows furrowed as they watched the exchange.
As if reading her thoughts, Third’s daughter-in-law turned and bowed deeply to each person in the room. “Eldest uncle, paternal grandfather, third uncle, third great-uncle,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I have no other choice. I am but a woman, all I ask for is a roof over my head and food to eat. But with Third gone… how can I provide? How can I, a woman alone, hunt for food, support a family?”
- (大伯 dà bó: This term usually refers to the husband’s eldest brother or the eldest uncle on the husband’s side of the family. It can also be used more broadly to refer to any older male cousin or male relative who is older than one’s own father.
- 大爷 dà yé: This term is commonly used to address one’s paternal grandfather. It can also be used more broadly to refer to any elderly male relative or as a term of respect for an older man in general, similar to “sir” or “mister” in English.
- 三叔 sān shū: This term specifically refers to the third brother of one’s father. So, if a person’s father has three brothers, the third brother among them would be addressed as “三叔.”
- 三爷 sān yé: This term can have two different meanings depending on the context:
- a. In some families, “三爷” is used to address the third son of one’s paternal grandfather. So, if a person’s paternal grandfather has three sons, the third son among them would be addressed as “三爷.”
- b. In other families, especially in southern China, “三爷” can also be an honorific title for an elder uncle, typically on the father’s side, similar to “大爷” (paternal grandfather). So, it could be used to address any respected elder uncle who holds a significant position in the family hierarchy.
The old man’s brow furrowed like a ploughed field. “Third’s daughter-in-law,” he scolded, “what sort of talk is this? Even if you have remarrying on your mind, the decencies must be observed! It’s only the second day since Third passed. Why the rush?”
- (In Chinese culture, mourning customs are deeply rooted in tradition and respect for the deceased. The period immediately following a person’s passing is considered highly sensitive and calls for specific rituals and behaviours. One of the most significant customs is the observance of a mourning period, typically lasting for seven days.
- During this time, family members and close relatives refrain from engaging in celebratory activities and often wear traditional mourning attire, which may include clothing in sombre colours like black or white. Additionally, it’s common for families to display portraits of the deceased and set up an altar with offerings such as food, incense, and candles.
- The third day of mourning, known as “头七” (tóu qī), holds particular significance. It marks an important milestone in the grieving process and is often accompanied by rituals and ceremonies. Family members may gather to pay their respects and participate in prayers or memorial services held in honour of the deceased.
- In the context of the excerpt, the old man’s admonishment reflects the expectation that individuals should refrain from making major life decisions, such as remarriage, until after the mourning period has concluded. )
Third’s daughter-in-law hurried to his side, her face a mask of worry. “Sir, you misunderstand! It’s not remarrying that’s pressing on my mind, but Little Pillar. What will become of him when I’m gone?”
A wave of gasps and murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd. “You’d abandon your own flesh and blood? He’s but three years old! Have you no heart?”
Another voice chimed in, full of reproach. “Third’s daughter-in-law, we understand the desire for a new start, but Little Pillar is your responsibility. He’ll be there for you in your old age. Turn your back on him now, and who will you turn to then?”
- (柱子 (zhù zi) – a nickname for the child.)
Their words seemed to sting, for she waved her hands frantically. “No, no! You mistake my meaning entirely. I want to find a good family for Third’s child, a place where he’ll be cared for.”
A heavy silence descended. Most understood her predicament, the impossible situation she was in. But a few dissenting voices still rose.
“These days, everyone struggles to put food on the table. Who’d willingly shoulder the burden of another’s child?”
“If you, his own mother, can’t manage, who else will? Blood is thicker than water, after all.”
“Third’s daughter-in-law, you’d best prepare yourself to raise him alone. There’s a world of difference between kin and kindness from strangers.”
Third’s daughter-in-law couldn’t speak, only tears, like glistening pearls, rolled down her cheeks. Her gaze settled on Qian Shu Lan, a plea shimmering in her eyes.
Qian Shu Lan understood. It was written all over her face. Funny thing was, she’d actually been thinking about adopting a child herself. Most three-year-olds, bless their little hearts, wouldn’t even fully grasp what it meant. And even if they did, well, a child raised right, with love and guidance, would grow up to be grateful, filial even.
But this…this felt different. Calculated. Qian Shu Lan had a kind heart, but she wasn’t about to be played for a fool. She refused to be taken advantage of.
The old lady watched the widow, her face giving nothing away.
“Auntie,” the woman choked out, desperation clinging to every word. “I’ve nowhere left to turn. Little Pillar, he’s a good boy, always so obedient. Please, just take him in. He don’t need much, just enough for him to eat.”
And with that, she was on her knees, forehead banging against the ground. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Each thud made Qian Shu Lan wince. The woman’s forehead was a mess, turning shades of purple and red. Still, she didn’t speak, didn’t even look at the child.
The whole room seemed to hold its breath, every eye on her, waiting to see what she’d do.
A heavy sigh escaped Qian Shu Lan, breaking the tense silence.
“You misunderstand our situation,” she said, her voice weary. “We may have strong hands for work, but the land here is unforgiving. We barely feed our own mouths. How can we possibly afford another?”
A wave of understanding rippled through the crowd. These were difficult times, and no family had extra to spare.
But Third’s daughter-in-law clung to hope. Here, finally, was someone. Someone with a good heart. She didn’t dream of riches for her boy, only a chance to survive, to escape a life of hardship.
“Auntie,” she pleaded, her voice raw, “just a bowl of rice a day, that’s all I ask. Little Zhuo’s no trouble, eats like a bird and is easy to care for.”
The thought of giving him up twisted like a knife in her gut, but what choice did she have? Who would take a woman with a child in tow? It was this, or condemn them both to slow death of starvation.
The old lady let a frown settle on her face, the picture of a woman wrestling with a difficult decision.
Finally, she spoke, each word measured. “I’ll take him.”
A collective sigh, this one of relief, swept through the room. But Qian Shu Lan wasn’t finished. “But,” she continued, her voice firm, “there are conditions.Three conditions.”
Third’s daughter-in-law straightened, hope flickering in her eyes.
“One, the boy stays with me. No taking him back. Two, you want to see him, you ask me first. No sneaking around, no filling his head with nonsense. And three,” her voice brooked no argument, “he takes the Wang surname.”
Third’s daughter-in-law didn’t hesitate.
“Yes, yes, of course!” she cried, relief washing over her.
The conditions were more than fair. Her son would have a chance, a real chance, and that was all that mattered.
Some might have raised an eyebrow at the surname change, but who were they to judge? Raising a child was an investment in the future, a guarantee for your elder years. Best not to advertise he wasn’t truly theirs.
Thus, they kept their opinions to themselves, offering only silent prayers that Third’s daughter-in-law wouldn’t live to regret this day. But even if she did, it would be far too late.
The agreement settled, Qian Shu Lan reached for the little boy’s hand, ready to leave.
But the boy clung to his mother, his small face a mask of confusion and fear. Big, pleading eyes locked onto his mother’s, he wouldn’t let go of her dress.
“Mama has no choice,” Third’s daughter-in-law sobbed, clutching him tight. “Don’t hate Mama, Little Pillar.”
Then, with a final, heart-wrenching push, she pried his fingers loose and shoved him towards Qian Shu Lan. She didn’t look back, didn’t dare, only the bright smear of blood on her lip betrayed the pain of her farewell.
Back home, Qian Shu Lan wasted no time. She deposited the boy with Third Son and his wife. “He’s yours now. Care for him well,” she instructed, her voice firm. “But don’t spoil him.”
The child’s nickname, Pillar, would remain unchanged, but his given name would be Wang Zhen Ghao (王正浩: “the great proper king” or “the just and vast [one] Monarch”).
- 王 (Wáng): This is a common Chinese surname which means “king” or “monarch”.
- 正 (Zhèng): As a given name, it can mean “right”, “proper”, “just”, or “upright”.
- 浩 (Hào): This character often conveys the meaning of “vast”, “extensive”, “great”, or “numerous”.
- When combined, 王正浩 (Wáng Zhènghào) could be interpreted as “the great proper king” or “the just and vast [one] Monarch”.
Wang Shou Yi, her third son, was instantly smitten. In his eyes the boy was a bright spark, impossible not to adore.
Qian Shu Lan couldn’t fathom it – why dote on this child, a child with no blood ties, over his own daughters?
She glanced at Little Lotus (Xiao-He), her twelve year old granddaughter, looking with envy at her new brother and never before seen doting father.
“Don’t stare,” she chided her softly.
She would see her granddaughters married well, dowries fit for princesses. That was a good grandmother’s duty, after all. resolve was stronger. If, in the end, nothing changed, then parting ways would leave no regrets.
─── ❖ ── ☆ ── ❖ ───
( )………( )
(๑✪ᆺ✪๑)
Please check out my other translations~!
In Virtual Reality [COMPLETED]
Novels | Inky Dragon Translations 
Leave a comment