In the '70s The Delicate Crybaby Remarries the Infertile Bigshot and Finds Herself Blessed with Pregnancy - Reviews

I keep going back to the scene where Lu Yuchuan catches her when she's running away from Grandma Wang. "Careful." Just two words, but the way the author writes it—his long arms reaching out, her breathless thank you, Sister Peng watching with sparkling eyes thinking they'd make a good-looking pair if not for the age gap—this is the author practically shoving us toward a romance subplot and I am NOT complaining. But here's the thing that's got me confused: Lu Yuchuan isn't just being nice. He's investigating her. The text makes it pretty clear that he's been watching her, that he thinks something might be off about her, and he deliberately chose this housing unit so he can keep her close. "With her under his nose, he refused to believe he wouldn't be able to uncover the truth." That's not the behavior of a guy who's just trying to help his comrade's niece. That's the behavior of someone who's suspicious AND drawn to her at the same time, and that contradiction is fascinating. Then there's the dinner scene. She cooks for him, he eats the whole bowl without saying much, and then immediately asks about the prisoner. The man who was starved and barely reacted to food suddenly finds his appetite awakened by her cooking, and the very next thing out of his mouth is an interrogation. It's like he can't separate his growing curiosity about her from his duty. And she has no idea any of this is happening—she just thinks he's a difficult boss to serve, which is honestly kind of adorable in a painful way. The Wang family dynamics are equally messed up. Old Mrs. Wang and Wang Fenglan exchanging looks and plotting together? That's not mother-daughter, that's co-conspirators. And Xu Zhiqiang coming back with good intentions but still reinforcing the same toxic expectations—"stop talking about divorce, it'll ruin your reputation"—shows that even the people who claim to care about her are part of the problem. Who is actually on her side in this story? Sister Peng, maybe. Lu Yuchuan, possibly but with strings attached. Everyone else seems to want her to either submit or disappear.

I have to talk about the dialogue in these chapters because it's genuinely excellent. Each character has a distinct voice and the author never lets them blur together. Wang Fenglan's dialogue is all exclamation marks and accusations: 'You ungrateful wretch!' 'I really didn't expect your little uncle's reputation to be so good' (said with pure venom). She's loud, reactive, and never speaks without emotion boiling over. Even her internal monologue is shouted. Xu Lingling is the opposite—everything is soft, tearful, self-deprecating: 'I know my illness has been a burden to the family.' 'Zhizhi, hurry up and apologize to Mom.' The manipulative sweetness is so consistent it's almost a different character from the real Xu Lingling. Xu Zhiqiang has this cold, calculating brevity: 'Fine! You want to be adopted? I'll make it happen.' 'She clearly doesn't care about us at all. Let her be adopted if she wants to be.' He's not emotional—he's transactional. Every word is calculated. And Xu Zhizhi's voice is the most satisfying evolution. She starts with quiet dignity ('Divorce. And I want out of that house.') and escalates to full fire ('You shameless little slut—is it because someone's backing you up now?' SMACK). The line 'So in your filthy little mind, everything you see is dirty' is such a perfect deflection—turning Hu Guixiang's own dirty thinking against her. Liu Dawei's dialogue is the most unsettling because it's performative. 'Zhizhi, I'm sorry. I know I was wrong to hit you. I promise I'll never do it again.' Sweet words, murderous thoughts. The gap between what he says and what he's planning is where the real horror lives.

Underneath all the satisfying face-slapping, this passage is actually about something really profound: the right to exist as your own person. Let me break it down. The military jacket is the central symbol here, and it works on multiple levels. For Xu Zhizhi, it represents being seen and valued—she's spent her life wearing what others discarded, and now someone is giving her something new, properly sized, chosen with care. The fact that Lu Yuchuan frames it as "duty" while clearly meaning something more is itself a commentary on how men in this era express care—through actions, not words. Then there's the salary. 450 yuan isn't just money, it's three years of Xu Zhizhi's labor that was stolen and given to someone else. When she demands it back, she's not being greedy—she's reclaiming her autonomy. The essay contest operates on the same symbolic level. It's about having a voice, about contributing something of your own to the public sphere. "We all have a say in our present"—this line from Xu Zhizhi isn't just plot motivation, it's the thematic core. The hand-me-downs versus new clothes dichotomy runs through everything. Xu Lingling has always been preferred, given new things, while Xu Zhizhi gets leftovers. But now the tables are turning—not because Xu Zhizhi is asking for special treatment, but because she's finally claiming what's hers. And Old Lady Wang's constant abuse, contrasted with Lu Yuchuan's quiet kindness, raises the question: what makes a family? Blood or action? The author doesn't preach any of this—it just shows us, scene by scene, and lets us feel the weight of it.

I am NOT okay with how tender that scene with Lu Yuchuan was. Xu Zhizhi wakes up in a different ward — she's been moved, probably because the original chaos attracted too much attention — and there's this tall, quiet man by the window. The sunlight, his shadow falling over her, the way he pours her water with those long elegant fingers... the author really knows how to write atmosphere. And Xu Zhizhi's internal monologue? "Men like this were supposed to be quite... vigorous in that department." I SCREAMED. She literally just fainted three times and her brain is already going there. But then she catches herself and blushes, and I was simultaneously dying and laughing. What made this scene work so well emotionally is the contrast. She just spent an entire chapter being screamed at, manipulated, and physically threatened by her husband's family. And then here's this man who says basically nothing dramatic but makes her feel safe. "Your body is too weak. The doctor said you mustn't get too emotional." He's protecting her, not pressuring her. The fact that she fainted AGAIN when he tried to touch her bed? That's not drama — that's trauma. Six months of abuse and her body still recoils. But she's also saying "Uncle Lu, can you help me with something else?" — she's already planning her escape. There's something so powerful about a woman who's been pushed to the edge and is still finding the strength to fight.

The stakes in this novel are TERRIFYINGLY real and I need to process this. Xu Zhizhi has literally died twice — once as the original owner who was abused to death, and once in this timeline when Liu Dawei nearly killed her. And she's still not safe. The injury report she got from the doctor is her only leverage, and even that isn't enough because the world around her is stacked against her. What makes the conflict so gripping is that it's layered. On the surface, it's a divorce battle — but underneath, there's the secret investigation Lu Yuchuan is running, the enemy operatives who might be connected to her kidnapping, and the political stakes of the color picture tube project. The author doesn't let us forget that this woman's personal survival is tangled up in something much bigger. The scene where Xu Zhizhi says "I've already died twice. I don't have enough luck to die a third time" — that's the emotional core of the entire conflict. This isn't about pride or stubbornness. This is about staying alive. And the fact that Liu Dawei won't even acknowledge the severity? "You're angry now. Calm down first" — he's treating her near-death experience like a mood. The rumors spreading about her having an affair? That's the community turning against her before she's even had a chance to defend herself. The stakes keep rising and there's no safety net anywhere. But she's still standing. That's what makes this story so compelling — every chapter feels like she's one step away from falling, but she keeps finding another way to climb back up.

I need to talk about the symbolism of those coins because this detail is absolutely brilliant. Xu Zhizhi writes a small 'Lu' on certain coins-not because she's marking property like a criminal, but because she's reminding herself that this money isn't hers. She should earn her own. That's such a powerful statement about integrity, about not taking shortcuts, about maintaining your morals even when you're poor. And then Wang Pandai tries to claim the money as hers by saying she wrote names on coins 'out of curiosity.' The irony is delicious. Xu Zhizhi's marking was intentional and meaningful; Wang Pandai's was playful and careless. One represents principle, the other represents opportunism. When Xu Zhizhi reveals that the 'Lu' marks are under the amount on the lower-left corner, she's not just proving ownership-she's proving that intent matters. The outline itself is also symbolic. Xu Zhizhi creates mind maps that look like nonsense to others. This represents her unique way of thinking, her creativity, her ability to see connections others miss. Wang Pandai wants to steal it because she doesn't understand it-she can't create, so she wants to take what she can't make. But the outline is useless without the author's soul behind it. You can't steal inspiration. Even the fake emergency is symbolic. The Wang family is so used to manipulation that they assume everyone operates the same way. They send a child to lie because that's what they would do. They can't imagine someone acting out of genuine concern. That's their tragedy-they've lost the ability to believe in authenticity.

Okay so I need to talk about Wang Laotai because this woman is genuinely one of the most manipulative grandmothers I've ever encountered in fiction. Like, she's not just mean-she's strategic. She literally whispers plans into Wang Pandai's ear and uses her as a pawn to steal Xu Zhizhi's work. And the craziest part? Wang Pandai KNOWS it's bad news-she even says 'There's no good in this. Definitely nothing good.' But she does it anyway because she's terrified of her grandmother. Then there's Xu Lingling, who's this fascinatingly complicated character. On one hand, she's helping Xu Zhizhi-getting a teaching job, being supportive. On the other? She's part of the system that's trying to steal from her. When Wang Pandai implicates her, Xu Lingling's reaction is pure panic-she coughs and faints, which is honestly such a manipulative move, whether intentional or not. And then Xu Zhiqiang immediately blames Xu Zhizhi without even hearing the story? That's some toxic family dynamic right there. What really got me was Wang Fenglian. She's the only one in that family who seems to have any actual empathy. She tells Xu Lingling 'Even if you never worked, Mom would still support you' and gives her five yuan to treat her classmate. She's trying to break the cycle of manipulation in that house, and it's heartbreaking that it's not enough. The relationship between Xu Zhizhi and Lu Yuchuan is also so interesting. He's the first person who actually believes her and takes her seriously when she reports the theft. And she calls him 'Uncle Lu' in such a sweet way that it shows how much she trusts him. Meanwhile, she's marking coins with his name as a reminder-not out of greed, but as a moral compass. That's such a small detail but it reveals so much about her character.

'You're just scared you won't have anyone to take the fall for you anymore, aren't you?' — Xu Zhizhi looking straight at Xu Lingling. This moment. This single line. It completely stripped Xu Lingling's fake tears bare and I was SHOOK. Let me just say this: the Wang family is absolutely rot to the core and the author doesn't let us forget it for a second. Wang Fenglan called Xu Zhizhi a 'white-eyed wolf' after RAISING HER. Xu Zhiqiang kept threatening to beat up Liu Dawei but did NOTHING when it happened. Xu Lingling cries on command and manipulates everyone. And Xu Zhizhi sees ALL of it now. The most interesting relationship dynamic here is between Xu Zhizhi and Liu Dawei. He's genuinely confused—'Who are you? You're not Xu Zhizhi!'—and honestly I can't blame him. The original Xu Zhizhi wouldn't have spoken back, let alone slapped her mother-in-law. But what's fascinating is that Liu Dawei STILL doesn't want the divorce. His plan to get her pregnant and then make her miscarry to prove he's not impotent is absolutely chilling. He's plotting this while wearing a 'deeply affectionate look' on his face. The duality is nauseating. And then there's Lu Yuchuan. He's just... there. In the next room reading. Catching her when she almost falls. Bringing officials to help her. Avoiding her gaze when she smiles at him. The author writes him with such restraint—every action speaks louder than any declaration could. 'As long as you've thought it through. This time I'll help you.' That's it. That's the most he says and it's everything.

The dialogue in this book is genuinely excellent and I want to highlight why. First, Xu Zhizhi's voice is razor-sharp. When she says "You're really blind" to Liu Mengjiao, or "Whenever something happens to my sister, he always scolds me. I'm so scared" (while clearly not scared at all)—this is sarcasm as a lifestyle. Her line "It's a new era. Women can hold half the sky. This is called divorce" is such a perfect deflection, using the political language of the time to justify her personal choice. Feng Jiao Jiao has her own distinct voice—she's the hype woman, the one who amplifies Xu Zhizhi's victories. "Pathetic" and "Interesting" are her go-to one-word zingers. But the real dialogue gem is Lu Yuchuan. This man says like three sentences per chapter and each one lands. "I'm just helping your uncle fulfill his duty, don't overthink it"—the avoidance of eye contact while saying something so clearly caring is hilarious. "This bowl isn't clean at all. Don't mess around in the kitchen next time"—he's literally calling out Xu Lingling's performance without even addressing her directly. And "Since your body isn't well, don't run around" after she cries? That's not cruelty, that's him refusing to participate in her drama. Xu Lingling's dialogue is performative sweetness—"Captain Lu, you're someone important. How could you do such trivial work?"—she's always framing everything as concern while actually manipulating. And Liu Dawei's "Look at yourself. What do you think you're doing? This is vulgar!" while literally just abandoning his wife? The author uses dialogue to expose hypocrisy without ever needing to narrate it. That's skilled writing.

I need to talk about Lu Yuchuan because this man is quietly the most wholesome character in the entire book and nobody is giving him enough credit. Think about it—he's a widower, he's gruff, he barely knows this girl, and yet he's the only adult in this whole mess who actually shows up. He brings her a proper military jacket (not hand-me-downs like the Xu family doled out), he invites her to eat at the table instead of the kitchen, he even offers to clean up after her. And his excuse? "I'm just helping your uncle fulfill his duty, don't overthink it." BRO. We both know what's happening there. The contrast with Liu Dawei is almost painful—Liu Dawei pretends to care about Xu Lingling's health while literally just abandoning Xu Zhizhi, but Lu Yuchuan, who seems cold and distant, is the one actually doing things. And that scene where he calls out Xu Lingling's dirty bowl? That's not being picky, that's him seeing through the performance. He's not fooled by her fake fragility at all. Meanwhile Xu Zhizhi's internal monologue about finding him "kind of cute" when he's being blunt? I felt that. The friendship between Xu Zhizhi and Feng Jiao Jiao is also genuinely sweet—they have this unspoken understanding where Feng Jiao Jiao calls out the nonsense and Xu Zhizhi appreciates it. And Xu Lingling's jealousy over the jacket? That's not just petty, that's the desperate jealousy of someone who's spent her whole life being preferred and suddenly isn't.

There's this one moment that I keep coming back to—Xu Zhizhi cooking and the neighbors commenting on how good the food smells, and Old Lady Wang coming out just to call her names. The way the author paints this courtyard community where everyone knows everyone's business is so vivid. You can literally hear the gossip, see the neighbors peering out, feel the cold winter air. And then Lu Yuchuan walking in and Old Lady Wang shrinking back? That single detail tells you everything about his status and presence in this world. The essay contest notice board scene is another great example—this small factory space where everyone clusters around, where social hierarchy is performed through who gets published and who doesn't. Liu Xuejiao's arrogance, the envious murmurs, the way news spreads instantly because "the place was small"—this is such an accurate portrait of workplace gossip culture in this era. But the most atmospheric scene has to be Xu Zhizhi wearing that new military jacket while Xu Lingling watches. The visual contrast is everything: Xu Zhizhi in proper army-issue green, warm and fitting perfectly, while Xu Lingling is still wearing hand-me-downs she had altered. The cold is a recurring sensory detail too—Xu Zhizhi's red hands, the thin shirt she was wearing, the winter coat she desperately needs. It's not just weather, it's a metaphor for how coldly she's been treated. And then the warmth of the jacket, the warmth of eating together at a table, the warmth of someone actually seeing her. The author doesn't need fancy descriptions to make this world feel alive.

I need to talk about Xu Zhiqiang because WOW. This guy is the perfect example of someone who thinks they're entitled to everything just because they exist. The original Xu Zhizhi gave him her secret savings, stayed up all night sewing cotton insoles for his feet, and what does he do? He dismisses her gifts and calls her 'dense' for wanting a divorce. The scene where he grabs her injured arm and then gets mad that she didn't tell him about the injury — that's not concern, that's ego. He lost face in front of Captain Lu and now he's taking it out on her. And the worst part? He genuinely doesn't understand why she's upset. 'Why can't you be more like your sister?' — yeah, because Xu Lingling is a manipulative little snake who's been gaslighting her since day one. Meanwhile, Lu Yuchuan is this whole other character who just... sees her. He notices the injury, he makes Xu Zhiqiang run ten laps (absolute legend), he applies medicine without being asked. But then he walks away and leaves her confused. The dynamic between them is so electric and I'm here for it. Xu Lingling thinks she can play both sisters against each other, but Zhizhi finally has her eyes open. The sibling rivalry shift is everything — Xu Zhizhi went from being the pushover to someone who can literally threaten Lingling and make her feel threatened. That's character growth right there.