Three days later, at the Red Flag Production Team’s threshing ground.
Standing on a raised wooden platform with a tin megaphone in his hand, Su Jianguo looked out over a dense sea of villagers—men, women, and old folk—seated before him.
“We are holding this meeting today to address one matter and one matter only,” Su Jianguo said, his voice booming with unquestionable authority. “The atmosphere in our village these past couple of days has been foul and toxic! Some people refuse to focus on earning work points and boosting production, spending all day poking their noses into other people’s private business and gossiping behind their backs. You’ve all seen what happened to Zhao Dazhuang. That is the punishment meted out by the laws of our country!”
A dead silence fell over the crowd. A few women who usually loved to spread rumors pulled their heads down toward their chests.
“And another thing!” Su Jianguo’s gaze swept precisely toward the area where the educated youths were sitting. “Some of you comrades came here from the city to support our construction, and you have book smarts. But that culture should be used for the right path. Don’t think that hiding in the shadows and fanning the flames means no one knows. I, Su Jianguo, will put it plainly right here: whoever dares to undermine village unity and stir up trouble again—well, our Red Flag Brigade’s temple is too small to house such big Buddhas. Wherever you came from, you can go right back!”
Chen Xiaoman sat in the middle of the youth group, her face as pale as a sheet of paper. She hunched her shoulders, not even daring to breathe too hard. Su Jianguo’s words might as well have been a direct slap to her face.
After the meeting was dismissed, the mood in the village changed noticeably. No one brought up Su Nianqiu jumping into the river anymore, and even when people ran into Li Xiulan on the path, they greeted her warmly and politely.
The gates of the Su family courtyard remained tightly shut as they lived their quiet, private days inside.
Lying on the heated brick kang in the east wing, Su Nianqiu let her consciousness sink into her spatial dimension.
In just three days, the black soil inside the space had transformed completely. The wild vegetable seeds she had planted weren’t just thriving—their leaves were thick, lush, and already producing seeds.
This growth rate was even faster than the one-third ratio recorded on the silk manuscript. Su Nianqiu guessed it was because she had irrigated them directly with pure spiritual spring water.
She walked over to the bamboo building. Out of the half-bag of rice seeds, she had picked out a small handful and scattered them across a newly cleared patch of paddy field. Green shoots were already poking up, looking vibrant and full of life.
Most importantly, there was the jar of ginseng rootlets hidden in the compartment.
Su Nianqiu carried the pottery jar out and removed the lid. A rich, heavy fragrance of ginseng immediately rushed to her senses.
The three withered, blackened rootlets had drunk their fill of the spiritual spring water, turning plump and round. Their skins had taken on a translucent, amber hue, and tiny new buds were even sprouting from the forks of the roots.
Though she wasn’t a veteran traditional Chinese medicine practitioner, Su Nianqiu had an exceptionally sharp eye. With this kind of quality and aroma, never mind thirty years—if she took this out and claimed it was a sixty-year-old wild mountain ginseng, people would believe her.
It worked.
She carefully fished out the three ginseng rootlets and wrapped them neatly in a clean piece of cotton cloth. She couldn’t let them soak in the water for too long, or the medicinal potency would become too fierce and end up drawing unwanted suspicion.
Withdrawing from the space, Su Nianqiu pushed open her door and stepped into the courtyard.
Li Xiulan was busy in the kitchen, while Su Jianguo was chopping firewood in the yard.
“Dad, Mom,” Su Nianqiu called out as she walked over.
“Qiu’er, why’d you come out? It’s chilly out here,” Su Jianguo said, setting down his axe.
“I’m fine, I’m much better now,” Su Nianqiu said, looking at her parents. “Dad, I want to take a trip to town tomorrow.”
Su Jianguo froze, his brow furrowing. “What are you going to town for? You’re in no condition to be running around right now.”
“I just want to go check in at the town health clinic,” Su Nianqiu offered an airtight excuse. “Even though Dr. Chen said I was fine after I jumped in the river the other day, I still don’t feel entirely at ease. I want a proper doctor to take a look. Besides, I need to pick up some fine cotton cloth at the supply store so I can make a couple of outfits for the baby ahead of time.”
At the mention of the baby, the expressions on Su Jianguo and Li Xiulan instantly softened.
“That’s true. Old man Chen’s medical skills can’t hold a candle to the doctors in town anyway,” Li Xiulan said, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped out. “I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
“No need, Mom,” Su Nianqiu quickly refused. “The harvest is about to start; the fields can’t spare anyone. You’re the head of the Women’s Association and Dad’s the production team leader—if both of you go off, people will start talking. I’ll just go by myself and have Deaf Grandpa drive me in the ox cart. I’ll be quick and head right back.”
Su Jianguo thought it over and nodded. “Alright. Having old Deafie drive the cart is steady enough. I’ll get you two yuan.”
“No need, I have money,” Su Nianqiu replied.
At dinnertime, the Su family table featured an extra basin of cold-dressed wild vegetables and a large bowl of dough-drop soup.
Holding her bowl, Li Xiulan looked puzzled. “I picked these wild vegetables right by the back wall, so why did they grow so plump? They taste even better than meat.”
Su Jianguo slurped down two large bowls of the soup, a fine layer of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Xiulan, what did you add to the flour when you made this soup today? After drinking it, I feel like I’ve got strength to spare. My back’s been aching ever since I tweaked it chopping firewood yesterday, but it doesn’t hurt a bit right now.”
Looking down, Su Nianqiu quietly sipped her soup, hiding a smile at the corner of her eyes.
Of course it tasted good—the vegetables came straight from her space, and the water used for the dough was pure spiritual spring water.
“Probably just because my mood’s been good these past few days, so everything tastes amazing,” Su Nianqiu casually deflected.
Li Xiulan nodded repeatedly. “That’s right! With that pest finally locked up, the heavy stone in my heart has finally lifted. Here, Qiu’er, eat a bit more.”
Under the dim, flickering glow of the oil lamp, the family of three enjoyed a hearty meal unlike any they had ever had before.