Hu Cuihua, still seething after being scolded by her mother-in-law, swallowed her anger and plunged into the kitchen to cook.
Breakfast at the Song household was usually coarse rice porridge, accompanied by pickles and black wheat buns.
As soon as the family sat down, Lu Minggui began assigning tasks:
“After breakfast, the eldest couple go water the bean sprouts and pull out the weeds in the fields.”
“Jinbao and Erfen, go gather firewood. Yinbao is still too young, so she can stay home and play.”
“Manman, stay with your mother. For the next few days, take care of her, bring her water—don’t let her get out of bed.”
Manman obediently nodded.
Lu Minggui was pleased, then turned to the eldest branch: “Why are you all silent? Cat got your tongues?”
Hu Cuihua looked at Song Dazhi and smiled: “Mother, I’ll stay home and weave. I can also keep an eye on the second branch.”
“Manman is just a little girl. Can she really take care of her mother?”
“She might wander off anywhere.”
Hearing this, Manman pouted in slight grievance. Normally, she wouldn’t dare speak up, but seeing that grandmother seemed less biased now, she felt a bit braver.
“Big Aunt, I won’t run off. I can take care of mother properly.”
Hu Cuihua’s face darkened as she looked at Manman, scolding: “Hey, brat! Adults are talking. What right do you have to butt in?”
“How insolent!”
Manman shrank closer to her grandmother, afraid. The eldest aunt had pushed her around before.
Lu Minggui pulled her close and looked at Hu Cuihua, displeased: “Why are you scolding her?”
“I’m just looking at who’s really insolent!”
“Manman is only five, but she’s far better than your children, who run around all day, never at home!”
“In a village, children this age should already be helping adults. You, on the other hand, just play!”
Jinbao, whose name had just been mentioned, was unhappy. Normally, in the mornings, he and Yinbao would share an egg, but today they could only have porridge like everyone else.
Even after pleading several times for an egg, grandmother pretended not to hear.
Now he had to gather firewood on top of all that.
“Grandmother, I’m not going!”
“Why should I gather firewood?”
Erfen followed: “If brother’s not going, neither am I!”
Lu Minggui didn’t get angry; she just said calmly: “Not going? Then there will be no dinner tonight.”
“Old lady, I keep my word. Go ahead, play all you want. Let’s see how you survive on empty stomachs tonight!”
Having been weak for so long, the children no longer feared her. Jinbao, especially, put down his bowl, patted his mouth, and bolted.
Hu Cuihua spoke lightly: “This child, really… Don’t worry, mother, I’ll teach him a lesson later.”
Lu Minggui didn’t expect Hu Cuihua to discipline the children. She snorted coldly and said nothing.
Hu Cuihua tried again: “Mother, I think weaving at home is good—productive, and I can also take care of the household.”
“Manman is too young to be of much help!”
Hearing her mention weaving again, Lu Minggui suddenly remembered something.
The eldest daughter-in-law refused to do fieldwork, yet her hands were skillful. She liked weaving at home, visiting other women in the village to embroider, or making shoes.
But where did those creations go?
Lu Minggui had never seen a single coin from any of it. The couple didn’t contribute household funds; they sold copper coins but hoarded the money in their private stash.
Lu Minggui frowned: “Why rush to weave? Haven’t you seen other people watering their bean sprouts?”
“Laziness has reached the sky! You postpone fieldwork at every turn, with no sense of urgency!”
“If you keep being careless, this year’s crops won’t yield much. When food really runs short, let’s see how you survive!”
Currently, including the children, the Song household had nine members and twenty-seven acres of land.
It may sound like a lot, but with so few able-bodied laborers, the crops suffer if unattended. So the harvest is never abundant.
The eldest couple were lazy, and so were the children, meaning the annual harvest barely covered taxes and sustenance.
Now, the eldest branch was expecting her—one elderly woman—to work the fields! Even if she worked to death, she couldn’t finish.
Lu Minggui resolved to leave them to it. She declared that if the eldest branch refused to work, let them go hungry.
Feeling her keys tucked safely at her side, she knew clearly that as long as she still had the household’s food and money, she could be in charge.
Moreover, since this family hadn’t exploited her to the last drop, they wouldn’t make a scene.
With this thought, she slung a bamboo basket over her shoulder and went to the fields.
After lying in bed all of yesterday, the daylilies at the field edge were ready to harvest.
The Song family had planted plenty.
The plot was narrow and beside a small river, not fertile for other crops, so they planted two rows of daylilies along the ridges.
This was the perfect time, just before bloom. The buds were plump, tender yellow with hints of green.
Daylilies must be picked early, before the sun rises. If you wait until the sun is high and the petals open, half the freshness is lost.
Lu Minggui walked confidently to the field, taking in the lush green expanse and sighing with relief.
The crops were still in good condition; no drought yet. But it wouldn’t last long. She needed to collect the harvest while she could.
The daylilies were precious: delicious fresh, delicious dried. Skipping a day’s harvest would be a pity.
Harvesting daylilies was light work, and her nimble fingers moved quickly among the flowers. Soon, the bottom of her bamboo basket was lined with golden yellow buds.
Nearby, the river flowed gently. Dragonflies skimmed the surface.
Lu Minggui paid them no mind, swiftly finishing the two rows.
The sun slowly rose, half visible over the horizon.
Villagers began passing along the small paths.
“Busy, huh?”
“This year your daylilies are plentiful!”
Lu Minggui looked up and saw neighbor Zhao Dasao, two years older than herself.
She replied simply: “Yes, heading to the fields?”
“Yep,” Zhao Dasao glanced at her and offered some comfort: “Poor Dahe… life was cruel. You just have to think ahead.”
Though her words were casual, Lu Minggui felt a pang. Many young people in the village had died recently; life wasn’t easy for anyone.
She nodded: “Yes. People… we still have to live on.”
“I’d better get busy. I just picked the daylilies, ready to steam and dry them.”
Seeing Lu Minggui unwilling to chat, Zhao Dasao left quietly. With so many children gone, the heart isn’t light; you just endure.
“Alright, I’ll be off now.”