“Grandpa, there were too many people around earlier, so I didn’t get the chance. I was just about to have Chang’an bring some over for you.”
Fenniang carried over the bamboo tray with a smile. “Take a look.”
Not only were there a lot of eggs, they were more than a full size larger than the native chicken eggs he was holding.
“Mom, when do we get to eat the eggs?”
Zhuo Changgui sucked on his finger as drool ran from the corner of his mouth down his neck.
Zhuo Changfu also looked at her eagerly.
“Mom, I want one too.”
“You’ve only just finished eating. Can you really eat any more?”
Fenniang couldn’t help laughing. After a moment’s hesitation, she gently explained to her two sons,
“It wasn’t easy getting these eggs. We should save them and sell them in town so we can buy medicine for your father.”
“My leg’s been rotten for days already. What’s the rush?”
Leaning against the edge of the kang, Zhuo Dawu grinned at her.
“Let the children eat them! Grandpa’s here too, so let’s just boil them all and let everyone satisfy their cravings.”
“You say it’s nothing, but you’re in pain every single day!”
Though she scolded him, Fenniang couldn’t bear seeing the disappointed looks on the children’s faces. Softening, she said,
“Chang’an, go bring some firewood.”
It had been so long since anyone in the family had even smelled eggs.
Everyone stared eagerly at the pot.
Grandpa slapped his thigh and sighed.
“What a wonderful day! We actually get to eat eggs!”
Although Zhuo Dawu had said to boil them all, Fenniang still couldn’t bear to.
There were seven people in the family, but she only boiled six eggs. Even Zhuo Ling, who had already eaten eggs earlier, was given one. Fenniang simply claimed she’d already eaten her fill and would have one tomorrow instead.
“Mom, you should have some too.”
Zhuo Chang’an broke his egg in half and stuffed one half into Fenniang’s hand.
“If you don’t eat, then I won’t either. We can save it and eat it together another day.”
Fenniang hurriedly shook her head.
“I’m really not hungry…”
“Mom, you can have mine too.”
Swallowing hard, Zhuo Changfu copied his older brother and shoved half his egg into her hand.
“Mom… mmph…”
Zhuo Changgui had already crammed his whole egg into his mouth. His cheeks bulged so much he couldn’t speak properly.
“Just eat. All of you.”
Fenniang stroked her children’s heads, her eyes reddening once again.
With such thoughtful children, she’d never felt life was bitter, no matter how poor the family was.
…
That night, all six members of the family climbed onto the kang to sleep.
The three boys slept on one side. Zhuo Dawu lay in the middle, while Fenniang slept beside him with Zhuo Ling.
When the children were younger, the space had been enough. But now Chang’an was nearly fifteen, and the earthen kang felt much more crowded.
There wasn’t even enough room to turn over.
Zhuo Ling suddenly missed her own little 1.5-meter bed.
Back then, she could not only turn over but roll around however she wanted.
Now she didn’t even know where to put her tiny arms and legs, afraid she’d accidentally kick someone.
I need to make money as soon as possible and build the family a big house!
She had seen pictures of ancient houses in the Underground City’s database.
They were tall and spacious, with carved beams, painted rafters, bright windows, and spotless rooms.
High red walls.
Long covered corridors.
A large courtyard filled with flowers and trees, with a huge ornamental water tank in the middle where fish were kept.
The books called this kind of residence a zhai—a grand manor.
I wonder how much a beautiful mansion like that would cost…
“Pffft… pffft…”
A long, muffled fart interrupted her thoughts.
An overpowering stench immediately filled the room.
“It stinks! Who farted?”
Zhuo Changfu angrily smacked his youngest brother.
“Third Brother! Your farts are deadly!”
He was so full he couldn’t sleep and had been wondering how to convince their mother to let him eat tomorrow’s egg after the hen laid it.
“It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!”
Covering his nose guiltily, Zhuo Changgui mumbled,
“It… it was Big Brother…”
“Pfffft!”
Before he could finish, another loud fart exploded from Zhuo Changfu’s quilt.
He instantly lost all confidence.
Now the whole family was covering their noses and waving their hands to chase away the smell, while one fart after another erupted nonstop.
It couldn’t be helped.
After going so long without eating protein, suddenly consuming a large amount made it difficult for their bodies to digest.
And protein farts were the smelliest of all.
It was practically a poison gas attack!
Zhuo Ling was nearly knocked unconscious by the stench.
A mansion.
I have to buy a mansion!
Immediately!
A mansion that can’t wait another day!
A grand manor should have a toilet, right?
After searching for quite a while in her dream manor, Zhuo Ling finally found one.
She pushed open the door.
It was spotless.
An automatic toilet.
Air circulation and purification.
It was exactly the same as the bathroom in her little home in the Underground City.
She eagerly sat down to relieve herself.
“Ah… so comfortable!”
Splash…
A sudden warmth spread across her legs.
Zhuo Ling jolted awake and found everything beneath her soaking wet.
Oh no.
I dreamed about finding a toilet!
A little kid’s bladder simply couldn’t hold it.
She’d wet the bed.
Zhuo Chang’an, sleeping at the head of the kang, stirred and softly called,
“Ling’er…”
Zhuo Ling bit her finger, so embarrassed that she didn’t dare make a sound.
Her body might belong to a child…
But inside, she was a grown woman!
Zhuo Chang’an quietly climbed off the kang, lifted Zhuo Ling out of her quilt, and whispered,
“Come sleep with Big Brother.”
Zhuo Ling’s old soul blushed bright red.
“…”
Wonderful!
Curled up in Zhuo Chang’an’s arms, Zhuo Ling—who had been single for twenty years in both body and soul—had never slept so soundly in her life.
By the time the sun had barely peeked over the horizon, a “world map” was already hanging in the courtyard.
The thatched cottage was filled with the faint smell of beans as Fenniang crouched by the stove, tending the fire while cooking bean porridge.
Zhuo Chang’an sat outside the door sharpening his woodcutting knife. After breakfast, he would head into the mountains to chop firewood.
Zhuo Changfu lazily swept the yard, stealing glances toward the house every now and then to see whether his mother had boiled an egg.
On the kang, only Zhuo Ling and Zhuo Dawu remained.
Leaning against the wall, Zhuo Dawu twisted hemp fibers into rope with his rough, calloused hands.
Hemp rope was one of the cheapest goods around.
Ten jin of it could only be sold for three to five copper coins.
Even if he worked nonstop all day, he could only make eight or ten jin.
It wasn’t worth much, but even a fly had some meat on it.
Anything was better than lying uselessly on the kang all day.
Seeing Zhuo Ling wake up, Zhuo Dawu chuckled.
“You wet the bed again last night, didn’t you? Hurry and get up. Let your mother wash your face.”
“Dad… good morn…”
Zhuo Ling almost forgot she was supposed to be pretending to be slow-witted.
She barely stopped herself before finishing the words “good morning.”
She had never known her parents since birth.
Now, calling someone “Dad” and “Mom” still made her feel a little shy.
“Hungry? Your mother’s cooking bean porridge… I had her boil you an egg too. Just one for our little girl, alright?”
Zhuo Dawu looked every bit the simple, honest country man, but whenever he spoke to Zhuo Ling, there was an indescribable gentleness in his voice.
He and Ling’er’s real father had been brothers who’d risked their lives together.
Before dying, his brother had entrusted the child to him.
To this honest man, Zhuo Ling was no different from his own daughter.
“Come here. Dad will help you get dressed.”
He shifted slightly to reach for her clothes.
That tiny movement alone was enough to bring a sheen of sweat to his forehead from the pain.
Zhuo Ling obediently crawled over to him while secretly examining his injured leg.
Zhuo Dawu’s wound was on his left calf.
A gash nearly half a chi long had split the flesh wide open, deep enough to expose the bone.
It was wrapped tightly in strips of cloth.
Blood and pus constantly seeped through the bandages.
The flesh around the wound had already turned black, and the foul stench of rotting meat drifted from it.
The infection had become extremely severe.
Unable to afford medicine, Fenniang had no choice but to boil water every day, dissolve in a precious pinch of the family’s coarse salt—which they normally couldn’t bear to eat—and use it to clean the wound before applying the wild herbs she gathered.
Every treatment was so painful it felt like it would kill him.