Reborn in the 80s: My Whole Family Secretly Hears My Thoughts and Goes Wild with Success! - Chapter 9

The crisp, no-nonsense voice could only belong to Yue Minghui—Yue Mingyuan’s eldest sister and Shen Zhiqiu’s sister-in-law.

A beige beret perched atop her head, her large gold hoop earrings swaying gracefully against her voluminous black curls as she walked. A classic camel-colored cashmere coat brushed her knees, paired with brown leather knee-high boots that clicked rhythmically against the terrazzo floor.

As Yue Minghui entered, the entire hospital room seemed to brighten.

“Sis.”

Yue Mingyuan stepped forward, taking the bags from her with one hand.

Without so much as a glance at the others, Yue Minghui strode straight to Wang Fengqin and snatched the tiny garment from her hands. “How could you let a newborn wear fabric like this?”

“Eldest Sister Minghui, this is good fabric! We hardly ever wear something this nice ourselves!”

Wang Fengqin hadn’t actually intended the clothes for Yaya—she’d only made them to provoke Shen Zhiqiu. But she was a smooth talker, capable of twisting black into white.

“Whether you would wear it and whether Yaya can wear it are two different things.” Yue Minghui’s voice was icy. “Auntie, you’re a mother of two and a grandmother now. Surely you know better?”

“You knew these clothes wouldn’t fit Yaya. You knew they were keepsakes from Zhiqiu’s late mother. Yet you deliberately ruined them and flaunted it in front of her. What exactly were you trying to achieve?”

Wang Fengqin feigned distress. “Eldest Sister, what’s this accusation? I only thought—since it’s from Yaya’s own grandmother—it’d be a blessing for the child!”

“Where I’m from, it’s tradition to dress babies in clothes of passed elders. Children’s souls aren’t fully formed yet; the ancestors protect them.”

“Zhiqiu, if you think Mama was wrong, I’ll apologize properly—I’ll even kneel and kowtow to you!”

With that, Wang Fengqin actually began to lower herself. Yue Minghui swiftly caught her arm, her expression darkening. She’d known Wang Fengqin was troublesome, but this level of shamelessness was alarming.

To discard dignity so easily—how terrifying.

No wonder Shen Zhiqiu had been trapped under her stepmother’s thumb. Those with thin skin and strong morals stood no chance against women like Wang Fengqin.

“Auntie, my apologies for misunderstanding you.”

As a journalist, Yue Minghui was adept at handling all sorts. She could bend without breaking—and she knew how to extract information.

Guiding Wang Fengqin to sit, she shifted tactics. “Your needlework is exquisite, Auntie. These clothes are lovelier than anything in the department stores.”

Wang Fengqin preened under the praise, though she pretended to demur. “Oh, Eldest Sister, you’ve seen the world. How could my humble sewing compare?”

“I heard you and Uncle Shen met at a tailor’s shop? Speaking of, why hasn’t he visited? Was he unwell yesterday, too?”

Wang Fengqin waved it off. “He drank too much at lunch yesterday—still sleeping it off. He’ll come once he’s up.”

“How relaxed of him,” Yue Minghui remarked, her heart aching for Shen Zhiqiu. A stepmother means a stepfather—the saying held true.

Had it been her in labor, her own father would’ve been frantic. When she’d given birth to Qin Feng smoothly years ago, the old man had still been drenched in sweat from worry.

“All women go through this. Besides, what use would he be here anyway?”

Shen Zhiqiu stayed silent, but her mind churned.

She remembered when Shen Liya gave birth—Shen Daqiang had knelt outside the delivery room for a full day and night, praying and kowtowing, terrified something might go wrong.

Comparisons were cruel. The difference was staggering.

And back then, Wang Fengqin had sung a different tune: “A father is his daughter’s mountain. His presence wards off evil spirits, ensuring a safe delivery.”

Heh. How clearly she saw them now.

“Mingyuan, hand me Yaya.” Yue Minghui reached out, grumbling, “Between Dad and Mom hogging her yesterday, I didn’t even get to hold her!”

Just as Yue Mingyuan moved to pass the baby, Yue Minghui stopped him. “Wait—let me wash my hands first.”

After shedding her coat and scrubbing thoroughly, she finally cradled Yaya. Shen Zhiqiu noticed Yue Minghui’s once-long red nails had been trimmed short.

“Yaya, I’m your *da-gu* (eldest aunt).”

She gently booped the baby’s nose, eliciting a gurgling laugh that melted Yue Minghui’s heart.

“How are you this adorable, hm?”

Turning to Yue Mingyuan, she ordered, “Grab the camera from my bag. I’m documenting Yaya’s cuteness.”

“Zhiqiu, you hold her first. Let’s get a mother-daughter photo.”

“These’ll be precious memories for Yaya when she grows up.”

After passing Yaya back to Yue Mingyuan, Yue Minghui—knowing Shen Zhiqiu’s pride in her appearance—handed her a mirror and comb for quick touch-ups.

Once the mother-daughter snapshot was done, she beckoned Yue Mingyuan. “Stand beside Zhiqiu. Time for a family portrait.”

Yue Mingyuan glanced at Shen Zhiqiu. When she didn’t object, he straightened his collar and obeyed.

“Are you on guard duty?” Yue Minghui teased. “Closer. Closer. There—now bend down, put an arm around Zhiqiu, and look at your wife and daughter. Aren’t you happy?”

He followed instructions but held himself stiffly, terrified of overstepping. Even in her dreams, Shen Zhiqiu had recoiled from his touch—so his hovering hand never quite made contact.

Shen Zhiqiu side-eyed him, then decisively grabbed his wrist and planted his palm on her shoulder, leaning slightly into him.

Yue Mingyuan’s eyes lit up, his lips curving just as Yue Minghui clicked the shutter.

“Perfect! Now, solo shots of our star—Yaya!” Yue Minghui wiggled the camera playfully, making the baby wave her tiny arms in delight.

“Eldest Sister,” Wang Fengqin interjected, “could you take one of me, too?”

Five yuan for a photo at the studio could buy five meat pies for her precious Xiaoxiang.

This Yue girl clearly had money to burn, wasting film without a care. What kind of family raises such a spendthrift?

Her Xiaoxiang must never marry a woman like this!