While having dinner at Uncle Liu’s house, Song Yun had expressed her desire to cut pig grass. Uncle Liu had readily agreed and said he would arrange it for her the next day. That way, she could use the task as an excuse to enter the mountains and earn star coins, and also secretly observe any movements around the cowshed.
After earning the star coins from the abandoned courtyard, it wasn’t even 8 PM yet. There might still be people outside, making it inconvenient to head toward the cowshed just then. But she couldn’t stop thinking about her parents in the cowshed who might still be starving, and she couldn’t stay idle any longer. So she grabbed a flashlight and searched the courtyard, found a few stones, and built a simple makeshift stove. Firewood was already in the courtyard. Using the clay pot and water Aunt Wang had prepared, she cooked a thick pot of white rice porridge. She also packed the peach crisps and mung bean cakes she’d just prepared. Tonight’s meal would definitely be enough.
By 11 PM, the clay pot of porridge had cooled, but the porridge inside was still warm — just perfect.
Song Yun went inside to wake up Song Ziyi, found a large netted bag to carry the clay pot, and gave the snacks to Song Ziyi to hold. She also took out a pack of candles and two boxes of matches she had bought in the capital earlier and placed them in the snack bag. As for other supplies, they’d deal with that after visiting the cowshed — right now, she didn’t know what her parents needed or what could be brought.
Luckily, the abandoned courtyard was indeed deserted, with no one living nearby. It was also deep into the night, so the siblings made it to the sunny slope where the cowshed was located without trouble.
The sunny slope sat at the foot of Black Horse Mountain — a small barren hill. When the cowshed was first set up, the villagers had been against it, not wanting it in the village. Eventually, they chose this location: slightly removed from the village but still within surveillance range. Plus, villagers usually didn’t visit this hill.
“Big Sis, is that it?” Song Ziyi panted heavily after climbing the slope for a while, but soon spotted some grass-roofed buildings in the distance.
Song Yun also saw them, and her brows furrowed deeply. These grass huts were barely acceptable for summer — what about winter? A single snowfall could collapse them. How could people live in such conditions?
The siblings quickened their pace and soon arrived outside the cowshed. The huts were indeed made of grass, but quite large. From the looks of it, several separate rooms were built inside. It was unclear how many exiled people lived there. Which room were their parents in?
As Song Yun was wondering how to go about finding them — and what to say if they picked the wrong room — Song Ziyi had already walked up to one of the huts and pointed to the door.
“Big Sis, Mom and Dad must live here.”
Song Yun was puzzled. “How do you know?”
He pointed at an old shirt hanging above the door and whispered, “That shirt belongs to Dad. I’ve seen it before.”
Song Yun looked at the shirt. Though it was too dark to see the color, the style was clearly a classic men’s dress shirt — a reflection of its owner’s former life and taste.
At that moment, a violent coughing fit came from inside the hut. Song Ziyi immediately grabbed Song Yun’s hand, eyes reddening. “It’s Dad, Big Sis, it’s really Dad!”
Song Yun nodded and didn’t bother knocking. She reached out and pushed the door open.
As expected, it wasn’t locked. People of their status were subject to “re-education” at any moment, and thus not allowed to lock their doors.
The siblings quickly entered and gently closed the door behind them.
Someone inside must have heard the noise and asked warily, “Who’s there?”
With Song Yun’s signal, Song Ziyi rushed to the only wooden bed and covered the man’s mouth. “Dad, it’s me. Don’t shout.”
Song Hao was shocked when he first saw a shadow in the dark, his cry almost slipping out — but upon hearing the familiar voice, he froze, staring wide-eyed at the small figure in front of him.
“Dad, don’t shout. I’ll take my hand away now.” Song Ziyi let go, and under the flashlight’s glow, he finally saw his father’s face. Once elegant and refined, his father now looked as though he’d aged ten years in just a short time — thin, tired, worn.
“Ziyi?” Song Hao’s voice trembled. “How did you get here?”
A place like this — could Ziyi even survive here?
“Big Sis brought me,” Ziyi replied, “Dad, I missed you so much.”
Song Hao embraced his softly sobbing son, then looked up at the tall figure approaching.
But the height wasn’t right — Zhenzhen (his wife) wasn’t this tall…
As the figure came closer and was illuminated by the flashlight, he finally saw her face and his pupils shrank. He realized at once, and his voice quivered, “You… you’re that child?”
Tears filled Song Yun’s eyes.
Sure enough, he was just like the father she remembered. This was Song Hao — identical in every way to the father from her previous life.
“Dad, I’m Song Yun.”
Her face bore an eight-tenths resemblance to her mother’s when she was young. In addition to appearance, there was that subtle, inborn connection of blood. Almost instinctively, Song Hao reached out to her. “Child, your mother and I owe you… we owe you so much.”
Song Yun wiped away her tears and grasped her father’s hand. His palms were cracked and rough from hard labor — no calluses yet, but no longer soft. But these hands… they should’ve been holding pens, not shovels.
“Dad, where’s Mom?” Song Yun asked, then looked behind Song Hao at the wooden bed. Someone was lying there, breathing shallow and irregular. Though she couldn’t see clearly, the condition was obviously not good.
She quickly set down the clay pot, lit a candle, and once the room was illuminated, squeezed past father and son to sit by the bed. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she didn’t dare look at that familiar face. Instead, she lowered her eyes and took her mother’s thin wrist to feel her pulse.
Ziyi didn’t understand what she was doing and looked at Song Hao in confusion. Song Hao, eyes wide with shock, quickly shook his head at his son, signaling him to stay quiet.
This daughter he had never met… could actually check pulses?
Could it be — Qingxia’s illness…
Song Hao’s eyes lit up with hope, staring nervously at his daughter’s fingers on his wife’s wrist, hardly daring to breathe.
After about half a minute, Song Yun withdrew her hand, her face serious. “Has she been coughing and running a fever all this time?”
Song Hao nodded quickly. “She was frightened badly when we first arrived in the capital. That’s when she got sick. Coughs terribly and has had a persistent fever.”
“Did she take any medicine?” Song Yun asked.
“Yes. I spent all my money begging someone to buy fever medicine, but it didn’t help. The fever kept getting worse. The coughing has eased the last two days, but she’s become disoriented and can’t get out of bed.”
Song Yun frowned deeply. “It’s pneumonia — and a serious case.” Then she looked at Song Hao. “From the sound of your coughing earlier, you probably have pneumonia too, though it’s not as bad.”
The moment she said “pneumonia,” Song Hao’s face paled.
“Then what do we do? They won’t let her go to the hospital for an injection. What are we going to do?!”
Song Yun held his trembling hand and comforted him gently: “Dad, don’t worry. The situation’s bad, but we’re not at the end yet. I know how to treat pneumonia. We don’t need a hospital. Tomorrow I’ll go into the mountains to find herbs. I’ll definitely cure Mom.”