Chapter 17: Stuart Blushed as Annette Drew Near

Martha brought up money again, her voice brimming with resentment, completely ignoring the fact that her son was lying on a hospital bed, still unable to move.

"You haven't sent a penny home these past few months, Stuart. We barely managed through the New Year. You know your older brother's got three sons, and your younger brother has two—growing boys with bottomless appetites. And your father can't work anymore, his legs are done for. We've got over a dozen mouths to feed and barely any working hands. You've made something of yourself now, but don't forget—it was your youngest brother who gave up his enlistment spot for you."

Annette stood by the doorway, stunned. Were these really words from a mother to her child? She couldn't help but doubt whether Stuart was even her biological son.

Jean chimed in, fanning the flames, "Second Brother, Dad's been feeling worse by the day. The village doctor said he needs better food to get his strength back, but Dad's too worried about you. He thinks you're struggling and now you're newly married. Second Brother... is it Sister-in-law who won't let you send money home?"

Stuart's brow furrowed, a storm quietly gathering in his eyes. "That's enough. I've used my salary elsewhere. I told you before—if you behave at home, I'll help when I can. But if you keep stirring up trouble, I won't lift a finger."

Martha shrank back a little at the chill in his voice. Stuart had always been intense, sharp as a wolf since he was a boy. He didn't hold back, not even with his own brothers. When he said something, he meant it.

Still, not getting what she came for, Martha pressed on, switching tactics. "Fine, maybe it's our fault, dragging you down... But you have to help your sister. This is your only sister, after all."

Apparently, Jean had once been involved with a young man—a former educated youth. They had openly watched a movie together in the village square. He promised to take her with him when he returned to the city. But it had been months with no word. Worse, he had swindled her out of twenty yuan and fifty pounds of ration tickets before leaving.

Annette had heard enough to piece it together—Stuart had an older and a younger brother, and Jean was the only daughter in the family. Martha had clearly come to the city hoping Stuart would find Jean a proper husband.

She couldn't help but marvel—what a bizarre family.

Martha suddenly noticed Annette standing at the door and immediately shifted into her mother-in-law role. "Annette, why are you just standing there? We haven't said anything shameful."

Unbothered, Annette strode in with the enamel pot and placed it firmly on the bedside table. "You should eat something before resting again. Healing won't happen on an empty stomach."

The scent of the duck stew quickly drew both Martha and Jean closer. Jean reached for the pot.

"This is for Stuart's recovery," Annette snapped, slapping her hand away.

Jean winced, nursing her red hand, "There's so much. Can't Second Brother share? You city folks really are stingy."

Annette narrowed her eyes. "If being from the city means not tolerating freeloaders, then sure—I'm stingy. But don't make country folk look bad too."

Jean glared but said nothing. She'd been craving meat for days and couldn't hide the hunger in her eyes.

Martha, face twisted, scolded, "We arrived last night and haven't eaten a bite since. Get us some bowls—we'll eat together. Stuart can't finish all that alone."

Annette didn't budge. "The hospital cafeteria's out back. Noodle soup is 15 cents a bowl. This stew will keep just fine until later."

Martha's face darkened. "I'm his mother! Can't I have a taste?"

Stuart was about to suggest sharing just to keep the peace when Annette glared at him.

"I made this. I decide who eats it," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Stuart swallowed his words and closed his eyes.

Martha, furious but helpless, handed Jean a rough corn bun. "Eat. And remember, when you marry into the city, don't be so petty."

Annette chuckled inwardly. Martha was already planning a wedding that hadn't even been proposed.

She calmly took out a lunch box, filled it with broth, a duck leg and a wing, then leaned over to help Stuart sit up.

To her, this was simply caretaking. She'd lifted heavier during autopsies in her past life. But Stuart—caught off guard—was suddenly aware of her nearness, the soft scent of citrus and jasmine curling around him.

She adjusted his pillow, set him upright, and placed the lunch box in his hands. "It's cooled enough. Drink the broth and eat some meat. You'll heal faster."

He hesitated, glancing at Martha and Jean.

But Annette was having none of it. "I've been holding this long enough. Don't make me spoon-feed you."

Jean, watching all this while chewing a hard bun, turned pale and suddenly bolted for the trash bin—gagging uncontrollably.