Boiling eggs required a fire, and if it took too long, Li's mother would notice. She couldn't criticize her elder, especially since Grandma Li wouldn't listen. Unable to stop the egg-stealing, she'd nag Li Xiangdong instead, sarcastically accusing him of being greedy and stealing from the kids.
In the past, his thick skin let it roll off, but now he felt genuinely embarrassed.
"Don't do this again, Grandma," Li Xiangdong urged. "It's pitch dark at night. What if you trip or bump into something?"
"No worries," Grandma Li said. "Your grandpa's right there with me. Don't fret, I won't fall."
Li Xiangdong was speechless. Stealing eggs as a team?
"You still can't keep doing this."
"Alright, alright, I'll listen to you," Grandma Li agreed, nodding. In her heart, all her grandsons and great-grandchildren combined couldn't match Li Xiangdong's importance.
Having lived through war, Grandma Li once had several children, but only Li's father survived. After Li's mother married in and bore two sons—Li Xiangdong's older brothers—Grandma Li still felt uneasy. With the government encouraging larger families back then, she often nudged Li's mother about the "good national policy." But when Li's mother couldn't conceive again, Grandma Li grew anxious, quietly praying to gods and Buddhas behind others' backs.
Her stubborn devotion lasted over a decade until Li Xiangdong was born. So, her favoritism had deep roots.
"Hey, you old lady, teaching your grandson bad habits. No wonder Mother says I never learned right—it's all your doing," Li Xiangdong teased, making her smile.
Grandma Li playfully swatted him, chuckling. "Don't listen to your mother's nonsense. You're the best, always filial to this old lady. What's bad about you?"
To her, as long as Li Xiangdong wasn't committing heinous crimes, he was her darling grandson. At worst, he was a street loafer.
Li Xiangdong lifted the cloth bag, grinning. "Grandma, you bought a lot. This meat's gotta be two jin, right?"
Thinking he was craving meat, Grandma Li sighed. "Didn't get any, just tofu. I'm old, my legs aren't what they used to be. Got up early but still missed out."
Seeing her disappointment, Li Xiangdong reassured her, "Tofu's great too, just like meat. A few years back, we couldn't even get that."
He sang playfully, "Eat pickled veggies with tofu, even the emperor can't beat my groove."
Grandma Li laughed. "You silly boy, watch your mouth. Some things shouldn't be said."
"It's fine now, no one cares. When it cools down, I'll take you to the Forbidden City to see where the old emperors lived."
The two were deep in their warm chat when Grandpa Li crossed the threshold. Seeing them laughing, he smiled too. "It's good Dongzi's back. Your grandma hasn't been this happy in ages."
Though his hair was white, Grandpa Li's voice was robust, far sturdier than Grandma Li. Yet, oddly, he didn't outlive her.
"What's that grandson of mine scheming?" Grandpa Li asked, noticing Li Xiangdong's shifty eyes, sensing mischief.
"Nothing, Grandpa, Grandma, let's get inside. You haven't had breakfast yet."
Li Xiangdong supported Grandma Li, slowing his steps to match hers, saying, "Not to lecture you two, but you can't keep doing this. So many people queue for meat—I was worried sick earlier…"
Grandpa Li, watching the pair enter the courtyard, warmed by his youngest grandson's words, glanced at his eldest grandson, Li Weiguo, standing idly. Irritated, he thought, 'Thirty-something and no initiative!' No wonder they favored Li Xiangdong. From childhood, he was sweet-talking, perceptive, always cheering them up. The other grandsons? Nothing special.
Grandpa Li huffed, hands behind his back, and entered the courtyard.
Li Weiguo, honest and simple, didn't dwell on his grandfather's attitude. His father had said Grandpa's temper flared since Li Xiangdong started talking—no need to mind it.
Inside, Li Xiangdong helped Grandma Li to the large dining table.
"Eldest Sister-in-Law, please get two bowls of porridge for Grandpa and Grandma. Scoop from the pot's bottom for thick, hot stuff. Second Sister-in-Law, bring the pickled radish and grab the softest buns. Thanks for the trouble!"
The sisters-in-law got up reluctantly, heading to the stove under the eaves. Their little brother-in-law was all talk, directing the family like a conductor without lifting a finger. "Thanks," "trouble"—if you didn't follow his lead, you'd feel guilty. They did the work, but he got the credit. It was maddening.
"Mother, here's the tofu Grandma bought. Put it in the cabinet."
Li's mother ignored him, took the bag, and walked off.
Li Xiangdong handed the bag to his mother, then took the porridge from his eldest sister-in-law, placing it before Grandma Li. Seeing Grandpa enter, he quickly grabbed him a stool.
"Dongzi's been filial since he was little, always caring for this old lady," Grandma Li said, touching the warm bowl, her heart warmed too.
Grandpa Li bit into the soft coarse bun Li Xiangdong handed him, nodding in agreement with his wife.
Li's father couldn't bear to watch his son acting like a sycophant.
"Dad, need your advice on something."
Li's father recounted Li Xiangdong's words.
Grandpa Li nodded. "I get it. We need a sharp contact to check this out. But next time, speak straight—don't play games with me."
"I'll handle Dongzi's job. Save your favors. You're over fifty; I won't lecture you."
"I'll follow your lead," Li's father said, unfazed by his exposed scheming, calmly smoking. Both grandfathers doted on their own grandsons.
Life's seven essentials: firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, tea. In Beijing, firewood meant coal. Cooking, heating—none happened without it. One coal shop supplied the whole street's household needs. Coal tickets were issued per household—one ticket monthly for 120 briquettes, doubled to 240 in winter. But if you were tight with coal shop workers, you'd get an extra ten or twenty briquettes each time.
Coal shop workers had wide connections across industries. Li's father, a lifelong coal shop worker, had his own network but doubted his youngest son's reliability. When Li Xiangdong failed high school and was too young for city jobs, going to the countryside cost a big favor to secure a good placement. He wanted to save the rest for his grandsons.
Li Xiangdong: "…"
Unhappy with the neighborhood office's job, Grandpa Li hadn't planned to intervene, waiting for Li Xiangdong to mature. But hearing his son's recap, he saw his grandson had ambitions for work and was striving upward.
After pondering, he told Li's father, "Find time at work to ask Deputy Director Zhang at the neighborhood office. If this is real, see if he can pull some strings."
No one expected Grandpa Li to know the neighborhood office's deputy director—a well-hidden ace. A Beijing neighborhood office deputy director, though not a grand title, held a rank equivalent to a deputy county mayor.
Li's mother exclaimed, "Dad, you're connected to a neighborhood office leader? You've been keeping that quiet!"
Chewing a soft bun with pickled radish, Grandpa Li shared a story. "When coal tickets started, he was just a clerk. His wife was in confinement during a big snow. Their allotted coal wasn't enough—the house was an icebox. A college grad from out of town, he had no family to lean on. He borrowed a coal ticket but lost it."
"The poor guy nearly cried. I heard about it, and with the snow, the coal shop was swamped—everyone needed coal, we were working nonstop. But I took pity, stayed late, and made him 200 jin of briquettes. Our family even covered the ticket."
Licking his chopsticks, Grandpa Li pointed at Li Xiangdong. "Dongzi, see anything in what I did?"
"Help people in need when you can. You never know which cloud brings rain. Now we're asking for his help with your job."
Li Xiangdong nodded, understanding his grandfather was teaching him a life lesson. But he worried—after so long, would Deputy Director Zhang still honor that old favor?