Marrying a White Snake Wife is Super Cool

Chapter 347: Chapter 197: Aunt Song, It Looks Like You’re Pregnant

At this point, even a fool could see that Bengbeng was different. Su Liyan and her mother had already guessed as much from what Yunyun had said.

After Su Liyan and her group returned to their old family home, she saw that the old furnishings were indeed several notches below the items used in the Zhao Mansion in Taiping City.

Her father was nowhere in sight.

Su Liyan’s father was out hoeing and leveling the soil in the fields.

From afar, someone shouted loudly, "Liyan’s father, your girl is back! They’re at the entrance to the village now!"

Leaning on his farm tool, Su Liyan’s father raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun and saw that it was Aunt Li speaking from the edge of the field.

Hearing that his daughter and wife had returned, Su Liyan’s father was overjoyed. He grabbed his tool and rushed home.

Whether Su Liyan and her mother were part of the Half-demon Race or not didn’t matter. His daughter had made him incredibly proud.

A few days prior, someone from the village had returned from Taiping City with news: his son-in-law was now the Prefect of Dongchang, and his own son was the County Magistrate of Taiping City.

Everyone in Changliu Village knew the Su Family had produced exceptional children. Who wouldn’t envy Su Liyan’s father for having such a fine son and daughter?

"Liyan’s father, what are you still doing hanging around the village? Why don’t you go to the city and enjoy the good life?"

"If my Gousheng were even a tenth as capable as your children, I’d be thanking my lucky stars!"

...

On any other day, hearing such praise would make Su Liyan’s father grin from ear to ear while humbly replying, "Oh, not at all, not at all..."

In the village, Su Liyan’s father walked with his head held high, bursting with pride. It wasn’t just the neighbors and the village chief; even the old yellow dog on the roadside seemed to bow its head when it saw him.

The only downside was that his children were so busy they couldn’t get away, so their visits to the village were rare.

Now that Su Liyan’s father was living alone, without the children’s mother there to look after him, he had even learned how to light the stove and cook for himself.

Living alone, with no one to wait on him, he finally understood how much work it was to light the stove, cook meals, wash clothes, and hang them to dry.

’Thankfully, the floor at home was just packed earth. If it were tile or wood planks, he’d have to be on his hands and knees scrubbing it.’

’These chores might not seem like much, but they could keep a person busy from dawn till dusk.’

As he approached, Su Liyan’s father saw that the door he’d latched had been opened. He knew his family was inside.

The moment he stepped through the gate, Su Liyan’s father set down his wooden rake. He went to the old hand pump in the courtyard, poured in a ladle of water to prime it, and began working the handle. With each push and pull, a steady stream of water gushed out.

Su Liyan’s father leaned down and drank a few refreshing gulps of the cool water.

He then pumped a full bucket of water. Too impatient to find a basin, Su Liyan’s father plunged his hands right in. As his grimy hands swirled around, the clear water instantly turned murky.

He wiped his soaking hands on a clean patch of his clothes.

Lifting the door curtain, Su Liyan’s father saw Bengbeng standing on the floor, babbling away.

Bengbeng was curiously examining everything in the old house. There were so many things she had never seen at the Zhao Mansion. She touched one with her little hand and it came away covered in dust.

The floor inside was uneven, packed earth. There were also farm tools lying about, some of them quite sharp.

Su Liyan and her mother hovered around Bengbeng, worried the little one might trip or fall and hurt herself.

They weren’t concerned about what Bengbeng wanted to touch, or how much dust she got on herself.

’Kids should be allowed to get in touch with nature, to play in the dirt. It builds up their immune system.’

’They’re not like delicate hothouse flowers that wilt at the first gust of wind or drop of rain.’

Su Liyan’s father was both surprised and delighted to see the baby. He had last seen her at her one-month celebration; he hadn’t had a chance to visit since, busy as he was with the autumn harvest.

Su Liyan’s father picked up Bengbeng and said slowly, "Whoa, you little chunk! You’re getting heavy. Babies change so much from one day to the next. After just a few months, I almost didn’t recognize my own granddaughter."

Su Liyan, standing nearby, smiled. "You’re back from the fields, Dad."

"Yeah, I was out turning the soil. You all haven’t eaten, have you? I’ll heat something up for you in a minute," Su Liyan’s father said.

Su Liyan’s father hadn’t known his daughter and wife were returning today, so he hadn’t prepared any food.

The only food out was the leftover steamed buns and pickled vegetables he’d eaten before heading out to the fields.

’When you’re living alone, especially during the busy farming season, you just make do.’

’That’s just how it is for farmers these days. When you’re busy, you can’t afford to be picky about food.’

’Especially in the summer, you’re up before five to get to the fields. By nine, the sun is high and it’s getting hot, so you come home for breakfast. Then you head back out to the fields again after four in the afternoon.’

’He might not have had any side dishes with his last meal, just some pickles, but even having white flour steamed buns was a luxury. Not many families in the village could afford those for every meal.’

’Su Liyan’s father wasn’t short on money, so he could have white flour buns with every meal, and for that, he was very content.’

’When he was a boy, they often had nothing to eat. Forget white flour buns; even cornmeal buns were a rarity.’

’What they ate most often were flat cakes made from cornmeal mixed with peanut greens.’

When Su Liyan’s mother saw her husband had returned, she got busy scrubbing the large wok. "We’re back now," she said. "There’s no need for you to heat anything. We brought plenty of food. We’ll just warm it up in a bit, and we can all eat together."

Su Liyan said, "Mother, could you steam some of the pickles too? I’ve really been craving them. I’ll work the bellows for you."

’After eating nothing but rich meats and fine grains, it felt good to be home. She found herself craving a taste of the old pickles from the crock—the pickled cucumbers, mustard root, radishes, and snow cabbage.’