Chapter 87: After Much Effort

Because Madam Fang had decreed that new clothes could only be worn on New Year’s Day, even though the holiday hadn’t arrived yet, everyone was already restless with excitement, itching to put on their new outfits as soon as possible.

But Li Sheng had long since given up hope for his own new clothes; his wife simply wasn’t cut out for sewing. Watching her pricked and bleeding fingers, he couldn’t bear it anymore. At last, in broad daylight, he forcibly took the needle and thread from her hands and insisted she stop.

It was Madam Fang who came up with the solution: they would pay one of the more skillful wives in the brigade—with a fish—to knit Tang Xin’s store-bought yarn into a sweater.

Li Sheng had said that since his wife had bought the yarn and chosen the pattern, it counted as her handiwork. But Tang Xin felt guilty about it—she had to admit defeat, having never picked up any crafting skills during her school years.

So she decided to visit the supply and marketing cooperative to see if she could find a New Year’s gift for Li Sheng.

Following behind her husband into the store, she watched him head straight for the leather shoe counter. The place was called the “supply and marketing cooperative” in those days, though some referred to it as the “department store.” To Tang Xin, it felt more like a department store from later decades.

The shelves were packed with a dazzling variety of goods, each sold at its own counter. Naturally, some counters were bustling while others, like those for leather shoes and ready-made clothes, saw little business—these weren’t hot commodities in that era.

Since she intended to buy her husband a gift, and seeing him head straight to the shoe counter, Tang Xin thought picking out a pair of leather shoes for him wouldn’t be a bad idea. Men’s leather shoes didn’t come in many styles back then; at first glance, they all looked the same. In fact, she’d already bought him a pair just last month.

Still, having two pairs wasn’t a problem—especially for a man who was often out and about. Rotating between two pairs would be more convenient. The main thing was, she’d noticed Li Sheng couldn’t bear to wear his new shoes, preferring the cloth ones his mother had made for everyday use.

But Li Sheng went straight to the counter and asked the clerk for a size 36 in women’s leather shoes, saying he knew a new batch of cowhide shoes had just arrived.

Clearly, Li Sheng was well-informed—no doubt thanks to Chen Liguo.

What amazed Tang Xin most was Li Sheng’s keen eye. Though she was fairly tall, her feet were small; for cloth shoes, she only needed size 35. But with leather shoes, she’d need size 36 to allow for insoles and thicker winter socks. She herself hadn’t realized this, yet somehow Li Sheng had.

However—

“I don’t want them,” Tang Xin quickly protested. “Didn’t you already buy me a pair? That’s enough.”

She knew perfectly well that leather shoes weren’t cheap at this time. Not only did they cost more than ten yuan, but they also required industrial coupons. Once was enough; she didn’t want Li Sheng to spend more.

Li Sheng ignored her and took the shoes from the sales clerk, then squatted next to her, indicating she should try them on.

Usually, supply and marketing cooperative clerks were very strict—shoppers had to know their own sizes, and trying on shoes or clothes wasn’t permitted. But this clerk obviously knew Li Sheng and allowed Tang Xin to try them.

Tang Xin realized then that her husband’s influence was far greater than she’d imagined.

To have her husband, in front of so many people, squat and help her try on shoes—it made her ears and the rims of her eyes flush red.

In two lifetimes, she’d never had anyone treat her like this.

Li Sheng glanced at her coolly and said, “I’m doing this for my own wife, not some other girl. Why should I care if people laugh?”

Tang Xin had wanted to insist she didn’t need new shoes, but hearing the nearby girls whispering and sneaking glances their way, she realized that continuing to argue would only attract more attention.

So she obediently sat down on the stool the clerk provided. Before she could even reach for the shoes, Li Sheng slipped off her old pair for her.

In this era, inside a supply and marketing cooperative, a tall and upright man squatting on the floor to help his wife try on shoes—especially when she was already his lawful wife, not someone he was courting—naturally drew a crowd of young women and wives. Some were even blushing and fluttering with excitement.

Tang Xin had always thought herself thick-skinned compared to her quiet, reserved husband. But in this moment, she found herself feeling a bit embarrassed.

Li Sheng, on the other hand, seemed utterly at ease, going about his task without a care.

The shoes were a bit loose, but with some insoles, they’d fit perfectly.

Tang Xin might have no talent for needlework, but she had a deft-handed mother-in-law.

And a sharp-tongued yet soft-hearted sister-in-law—a fact Tang Xin only discovered after her marriage. Li Xihua hadn’t just made shoes for her brother, but for Tang Xin too. The multi-layered cloth shoes were comfortable to walk in, and the finely stitched insoles ensured breathability, even for sweaty feet.

In the past, Li Xihua had only prepared these things for her brother. Generally, when a girl married, her family would prepare such items, along with bedding. But since Tang Xin was a “sent-down youth” from far away, her circumstances were special.

Knowing her younger brother was about to marry, Li Xihua had started working day and night, making six pairs of shoes and twelve pairs of insoles for her new sister-in-law.

And during the wedding days, Li Xihua had been there helping out at home. Yet she hadn’t given Tang Xin the shoes herself; it was only after her departure that the mother-in-law handed them over.

Tang Xin could only sigh—wouldn’t it have been better if her sister-in-law had given them to her personally? It would have won her some goodwill.

Her mother-in-law explained that Li Xihua felt the shoes, rushed out in such a hurry, weren’t good enough, especially since Tang Xin was a city girl used to finer things. She was embarrassed to offer her homemade cloth shoes.

So she left them at home and had her mother deliver them later.

But Tang Xin, knowing her sister-in-law’s character, suspected this was just her mother-in-law’s way of smoothing things over. Li Xihua was warm-hearted and did a lot, but her words could be sharp and easily offend.

Still, the cloth shoes and insoles, though plain and rural, were exquisitely made—a testament to the care that went into them.

Moreover, Tang Xin knew how much her sister-in-law had to do at home, taking on nearly all the household and farm work. She had no children, which meant she bore even more responsibility, lest her husband’s family find fault.

Yet in less than a month, she managed to make all these things, a clear sign of her dedication.