This line came last, with an upward inflection, full of eagerness and expectation.

In the past two or three years, quite a few young men in the village around Henry Clark's age had already secretly gotten married, and their kids were already running around.

His mother had actually been secretly worrying about this all along; Henry Clark knew it, and he looked up with a helpless smile.

Jessica Bolton's enthusiasm was ignited.

"Honestly, over in Shanglong Village, Wanfen's mom set her sights on you early on. She’s hinted to me several times, both openly and secretly. Maybe you could..." As soon as his mother started talking, the words came in a string, and it looked like she wouldn’t be able to stop.

"Wanfen’s mom? How could that work?!" Henry Clark quickly cut her off.

His mom asked, "Why not?"

"Well... Wanfen’s dad is still around, and I haven’t heard anything about them splitting up. Besides, Wanfen and I were elementary school classmates—if she had to call me dad in the future, that would just be too weird, wouldn’t it?"

Henry Clark grinned, looking like he deserved a smack.

"Huh?" Jessica Bolton was stunned for a moment, then realized what he meant and scolded him, half-laughing, "You little rascal, always talking nonsense..."

Then she switched to laughing and scolding, saying, "Alright, alright, you’re back to your old self again. Your dad and I can finally relax... We were just worried you’d take it too hard these days."

Actually, they’d always been worried, but because they were afraid their son would overthink things, they didn’t dare show it.

"Speaking of which, I almost forgot—your grand-uncle’s family is hosting a banquet today."

"And the day after tomorrow, your cousin is going on another blind date with a matchmaker. The last one didn’t work out."

"......"

Feeling relieved, Jessica Bolton started chatting about relatives and neighbors, everyday family matters, and gradually the conversation drifted further, her voice filling the courtyard.

After a while, the father, George Clark, who had been quietly weaving bamboo baskets on the side, finally looked up. He glanced at his wife, then at his son, and tentatively said:

"If it doesn’t work out, maybe we can find a way to get Qingzi into the army? That’s a good path too."

So that’s what he’d been thinking about all this time.

These days, joining the army was a good thing—there were no wars to fight, and if things went well, after retiring you could get a government job. If you were really lucky, you might even get promoted in the army or get into a military academy and become an officer.

George Clark's suggestion lifted the spirits of the whole family in the courtyard.

"Oh, isn’t that a good idea? Great, that’s great!" Jessica Bolton got excited, dropped the half-wrung wet clothes in her hands, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked into the house, saying, "We have to hurry. I’ll go pack up those two bottles of liquor we’ve been saving, and Lao Han, you hurry over to the village chief’s house and ask if it’s still possible..."

She suddenly paused mid-sentence, her steps stopping as well.

Her expression turned dejected, and she turned back with a sigh, saying, "Sigh, forget it. In our village, if there really was a spot, wouldn’t the village chief’s son, who’s just the right age, be first in line? How could it ever be Qingzi’s turn?"

"Well... that’s true. I didn’t think of that," George Clark said quietly, also feeling disappointed.

"It’s alright." Henry Clark hid his own disappointment, looked up with a relaxed smile, and said, "Actually, I want to think it over a bit more myself. Don’t worry, there will always be a way."

"Yeah."

"Mm."

Because yet another path for their son had closed, both George Clark and Jessica Bolton fell silent for a while without realizing it.

The atmosphere in the courtyard grew a bit heavy.

"By the way." In the end, it was the mother who broke the silence first. She said, "There’s a banquet at your grand-uncle’s tonight. Qingzi, are you going?" She paused, then added, "If you don’t want to go, I’ll make dinner for you first."

Fenglong’ao was just a small place. For a banquet, half the village would show up. Jessica Bolton added this because she was afraid that if her son went, everyone would ask if he’d gotten into college, and she didn’t want him to lose face or feel bad.

"I’ll go, I’ll go." Henry Clark stood up, beaming, and explained to his worried parents, "I’ll have to answer those questions sooner or later anyway. I’m not about to let myself miss out on good food."

He said it in a joking way, and his parents laughed along with him.

But it was true—in Fenglong’ao in 1990, a banquet was a rare chance for a good meal, a real "big event."

……

At a rural wedding banquet, the dishes might not be fancy, but there had to be at least a couple of meat dishes—chicken, duck, fish, or pork—to show some style, and of course there had to be cigarettes and liquor.

That night, the banquet lasted until after eight o’clock before it finally ended.

But not everyone left. Quite a few relatives and neighbors, still a bit tipsy and with greasy lips, stayed behind, sitting together on the sun-drying ground outside the host’s house, smoking and chatting.

"I’m telling you, if Qingwazi had gotten in this time, they’d have to throw a few banquets too, right? What a pity," someone said, picking his teeth and sounding regretful.

At that time, there weren’t many families in the village willing to support their kids through high school. Counting last year and this year, Henry Clark was the only one in the village who made it to the college entrance exam.

"Yeah, well... just fell a bit short," George Clark chimed in for his son.

Actually, Henry Clark was there too, just sitting in a corner of the crowd. He was a bit tired—about the college entrance exam, everyone who wanted to ask, and even those who shouldn’t, had already asked him today.

To be honest, facing it all was a bit hard to take.