Chapter Three: The Younger Brother Marries the Woman the Older Brother Grew Tired Of

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The Song family villa.

As soon as Mr. Song hung up the phone, he rubbed his brow and sank into the sofa, his face clouded with worry.

Mrs. Song sat beside him, her face full of concern as she asked, "What happened? Is something wrong with Shijing?"

Just as she finished speaking, the second and youngest sons of the Song family returned home one after the other.

"You two, come here!"

Mr. Song’s voice was stern as he looked at his two sons, who were trying to sneak off to their rooms.

Song Shixuan and Song Shiyu exchanged glances, both a bit anxious, thinking their father must have found out about Shiyu writing love letters to girls at the military academy.

They stood obediently beside their father, awaiting his reprimand.

Though Mr. Song was once merely a son-in-law who married into the family, through years of hard work and perseverance, he had risen to a position of authority and was firmly respected in this household.

Shiyu, being the youngest and often getting into trouble, always lowered his head like a mouse in front of a cat whenever he saw his father.

Even Shixuan, the slightly older second son who held a post in the military, felt a chill run through him when he saw his father’s stern expression.

Today, Shiyu had been reported for sending love letters to a girl, and the instructor demanded that his parents be called.

So Shiyu had asked Shixuan to come and help him deal with it.

Just as Shixuan was about to confess, thinking perhaps their father knew he had taken the initiative to meet the instructor, Mr. Song suddenly spoke.

"Which one of you wants to get married?"

"Ah?"

The two stood dumbfounded, mouths agape, not understanding what their father was getting at.

They both nodded instinctively, then, as if reconsidering, shook their heads in silent agreement. "No, we don’t want to!"

One was only twenty-two, the other twenty-four; they hadn’t had enough fun yet.

They desired women, but not marriage.

But Mr. Song seemed not to hear their answers and went on in a deep voice: "Your eldest brother’s improper conduct has broken off the engagement with the Meng family's young lady, but since this was an agreement made by your grandfather, one of you must marry her!"

A thunderbolt fell upon them.

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Song Shixuan and Song Shiyu were stunned.

It was unimaginable that their father, who came from a poor background, had made them eat the leftovers of their eldest brother and wear his old clothes all their lives.

To outsiders, they looked like wealthy heirs, yet their life was worse than the son of the family driver.

And now, their father actually wanted them to marry the woman their eldest brother had tired of?

Had every other woman in the world died? Was the Meng girl the only one left?

Before they could refuse, Mrs. Song suddenly jumped up from her chair.

"No! Shiyu is still so young, and Shixuan is at a critical point in his military career. How can he marry a woman who will be no help to him?"

"Besides, the Meng girl has been with Shijing so long, she’s probably no longer pure. Do you want people to talk about your sons being involved with their sister-in-law?"

Bang!

Mr. Song slammed his hand on the tea table, furious.

"How can you, as an elder, slander the younger generation like that? And her grandfather saved your father’s life—are you going to repay kindness with ingratitude?"

Turning to Shixuan and Shiyu, he spoke harshly, "As members of this family, you must share the responsibility. Don’t push everything onto your eldest brother. Whether you decide by rock-paper-scissors or fighting, before that girl returns, one of you must marry her!"

With that, he stormed out without looking back.

Left behind were two sons, unloved by their father, lost in confusion amid their mother’s crying.

Mrs. Song’s tears flowed like broken strings after her husband’s shout, filled with grievance.

What fault was there in a mother’s deep love?

Mr. Song, being the eldest himself and having married into the family to help his brothers marry, had always favored the eldest son.

But what about the second and third sons?

Why must they always settle for what the eldest left behind?

Thinking of this, her crying grew louder, and no amount of coaxing could calm the two bewildered sons.

...

On the bumpy dirt road, a tractor chugged, coughing black smoke, while cicadas sang incessantly in the fields on either side.

When Meng Shuyue returned to the dilapidated house arranged by the lumberyard, night had already fallen.

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Opening the door, she saw a faint candle flickering inside. The eldest young master of the Song family, who never touched water with his own hands, was holding a bowl of steaming noodles. Upon seeing her, he offered a rare, shy smile.

"You’re back. Where did you go just now?"

"I thought you’d be hungry coming home so late, so I made you some noodles."

"Oh, by the way, why is there no light here? The table and bed are covered in wood shavings. How can anyone live like this?"

He set down the noodles, took a handkerchief from his clean, tidy white shirt, and placed it on the chair, gesturing for her to sit.

Meng Shuyue scoffed inwardly. How dare this scoundrel ask why it was so dirty and dark here?

Any sensible person would know what kind of place the lumberyard was to cook a big pot of food.

He had handed her work to Song Yanyan and made her do tasks no one else in the village would do. For two years, he hadn’t set foot in her dormitory even once.

But today, as if the sun had risen in the west, he was willing to step into her shabby little house and even personally cook for her.

Over the years, she alone had cooked his favorite meals and delivered them daily to the clinic. Yet he wouldn’t even make her a cup of brown sugar water when she was on her period, let alone cook for her himself.

Meng Shuyue didn’t hold back. She plopped down on the handkerchief and began eating the noodles in big mouthfuls.

Surprisingly, the noodles cooked by the eldest young master were quite tasty.

She hadn’t eaten a proper hot meal all day and was so hungry her stomach was growling loudly.

Song Shijing watched Meng Shuyue slurp her noodles, his hand resting on his knee curling slightly. He hesitated, then said, "Shuyue, I want to ask you a favor."

Meng Shuyue paused mid-slurp, lifting her eyes coldly toward the man opposite her, her heart sinking.

Of course, how could this shameless man suddenly be so kind as to cook noodles for her?

Clearly, it was for Song Yanyan—he wanted to ask her to do something and had humbled himself to find her.

She bit off a piece of noodle, swallowed the remainder, and replied bitterly, "Say it. No need to beat around the bush."

But when Song Shijing finally spoke the words he had long harbored, the sweat from eating the noodles instantly felt like ice water poured over her, chilling her to the bone and causing her body to tremble uncontrollably.