Chapter 84 – “Little Girl Shouldn’t Eat This?”

The rhythmic rumble of the train accompanied the soft murmurs and clatter of the evening crowd. Outside, dusk had already swallowed the fields, the world blurred into navy blue as the train sped toward the capital. Inside the sleeper compartment, Jia Lan sat cross-legged on her upper berth, as she listened to her father and the old man chat below.

Jia Lan was perched gracefully on the upper berth, legs tucked to one side as she read a pocket-sized book she'd brought. Below her, on the lower berths, her mother was knitting a small pair of socks for Baby Naun, while Father Jia was peeling boiled eggs with a small paring knife and wrapping them back in their shells to keep them warm.

Across from them, the old man who shared their compartment was now considerably less grumpy. He had taken a liking to Jia Lan and her family after she shared her grandmother's homemade pork rice with him earlier. His stern eyebrows had relaxed, and his eyes occasionally twinkled with amusement at the family's gentle banter.

"So," he said gruffly, "that pork rice was delicious. You say your grandmother made it?"

Jia Lan nodded with a soft smile. "Yes, my Grandma Jia is a legendary cook in our house. She even packed us sesame balls, but we're saving those for dessert."

He grunted approvingly. "Smart girl. I used to work in a textile plant. Everyone used to say the cafeteria food was bad until I started bringing my wife's pork rice. One of my bosses even tried to trade his cigarettes for it once."

Father Jia laughed. "Cigarettes for pork rice? That must've been some serious cooking."

Just then, the calm atmosphere was disrupted. A middle-aged woman entered the adjacent compartment with her son—a round-faced boy of about five with sticky hands and a loud voice. The boy immediately ran up and down the aisle, crashing into bags, bumping knees, and grabbing at window latches. The mother didn't stop him. In fact, she seemed proud.

"Let him be," she called out to a frowning passenger. "He's a boy! That's how they learn."

Jia Lan raised an eyebrow but said nothing as the boy stumbled into their compartment for the third time.

Father Jia gently helped him back toward his seat. "Be careful, little one. You'll hurt yourself."

The boy gave a giggle and ran off again.

Her mother, seated on the berth under the grumpy white-haired old man, was carefully opening the dinner packages—one that Father Jia had bought fresh from the train platform vendors and the rest wrapped lovingly by Grandma Jia in oil paper. The compartment was filled with the delicious aroma of soy sauce chicken, pickled cucumbers, sesame pancakes, and two neatly wrapped boxes of braised tofu. Even the old man had brought out a tin lunchbox with noodles and boiled greens.

"Old sir, would you like to join us?" Father Jia asked politely, already unwrapping a sticky rice bun.

The old man gave a harrumph but didn't refuse. "I won't say no if you insist. But I'll warn you—I eat a lot for an old man," he said, eyes twinkling under his bushy brows.

"You're more than welcome," Mother Jia said warmly. "We brought plenty."

The four of them shared their meal in good cheer, even the old man softening under the warmth of the Jia family. As they passed the food around, laughter and the occasional teasing echoed from nearby compartments. It felt… festive.

Just then, there was a shrill voice from the next compartment.As they began eating, the little boy returned and stood staring at their food, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Without warning, he began crying—loudly and with dramatic sobs.

"Ma! I want what that girl has! I want that meat! Not boring eggs!"

The middle-aged woman sauntered into their compartment with crossed arms. "Hmph. Look at that. My son's crying all because you people are being too extravagant on a public train."

She pointed rudely at Jia Lan. "And you—little girl—why don't you be more understanding and give him your meat? What's a girl like you need all these delicacies for, anyway? It's not like you're lifting bricks or working in a factory."

Jia Lan's smile disappeared. She straightened slightly, about to respond when her father stood up first, his tall frame and calm yet authoritative voice cutting through the compartment.

"My daughter doesn't need to explain herself to you. She eats what her family provides, not what others approve of."

The woman snorted. "Just saying—young girls should learn humility or else they'll suffer when married."

Father Jia's eyes narrowed. "And mothers should learn to teach their sons not to demand from strangers and throw tantrums. Otherwise, they'll grow into men who expect women to serve them—and that's a bigger tragedy."

"Zhong Zhong, don't cry! Mama will get it for you. Just sit down and stop running everywhere!"

"He wants meat," the woman announced shamelessly. "Little girl, give it to him. Children shouldn't be stingy. Girls don't need to eat so well anyway."

The chopsticks in Jia Lan's hand paused mid-air.

The old man snorted immediately. "You've got a lot of gall, woman. Barging in and eyeing someone else's dinner like that."

Father Jia's expression darkened, his voice deep and steady. "Madam, I suggest you focus on raising your child properly before you lecture mine. My daughter doesn't need to be compared to anyone, certainly not in food or future."

"Exactly," Mother Jia added, arching a delicate brow. "You talk so much about marriage. Is your son getting married tomorrow, or are you just training him early to cry for dowry meat?"

Jia Lan almost burst into laughter.

The middle-aged woman bristled, embarrassed. "You city folks are arrogant! I just—"

"Here, Lan Lan," Mother Jia said sweetly, cutting her off. "This chocolate is from the import store. You should eat it now before it melts."

She handed Jia Lan a little square of imported chocolate wrapped in red foil. Jia Lan blinked and grinned, her anger from earlier melting with the chocolate as she popped it into her mouth.

Father Jia's steady, sharp gaze hadn't moved. The woman shrunk under it and tugged her sniffling child away.

"You'll spoil the boy if you let him act like a dog sniffing out someone else's dinner," the old man said, shaking his head.

The middle-aged woman, intimidated by Father Jia's unwavering gaze, grabbed her son's arm. "Come back, you ungrateful brat! You always embarrass me in public!"

She stormed off, dragging the boy, who wailed louder now.

The compartment returned to silence—then erupted in soft chuckles.

The sound of the boy's continued wailing faded as the woman disappeared back into her own compartment.

"Your family," the old man said between chuckles, "is too interesting. I thought the capital would be boring. Looks like I got myself some entertainment early."

Jia Lan giggled, wiping her fingers. "Old sir, you're pretty sharp too."

"Of course. A man doesn't get to my age without learning to deal with all sorts." He rubbed his chin and added, "But your father has quite the presence. I wouldn't want to get on his bad side."

Jia Lan grinned. "He's the best, isn't he?"

The old man wiped his eyes. "Your family… is like a breath of fresh air. That girl has fire in her, and the two of you—are like steel and honey. I haven't felt this entertained in years."

Jia Lan looked at her parents and smiled, cheeks warm with emotion.

Under the dim yellow light, they all quietly finished their meal. Laughter slowly faded into yawns as the train rocked them gently to sleep. The old man sighed contentedly as he climbed to his berth, muttering something about pork and pride.

The compartment finally quieted, the dim yellow lights flickering gently overhead. One by one, the passengers drifted off to sleep, rocked by the movement of the train.

Jia Lan curled up on her upper berth, warmth in her belly and laughter lingering in her chest. As she drifted into sleep, she thought:

With my parents by my side, what setback could scare me?