The next morning, Chen Qiaoyu got up early. Her plan now was to rise early each day, finish her work quickly, and if she had extra time, make a trip to the modern era.
There was too much work in the fields right now—she had to go every day. She couldn’t take on construction site work in the modern era like last time. Instead, she could only spend time on the pedestrian street after sunset.
To her surprise, when she got up, Chen Qingyang got up too.
Chen Qiaoyu made corn grit porridge and asked him, “Why are you up so early?”
Chen Qingyang rubbed his eyes, squatted by the back door of the kitchen to brush his teeth, and pressed the toothpaste tube—already flattened like a piece of tin—against the doorstep, squeezing hard until he finally got out a pea-sized dab.
“There’s no more work at the brick kiln. The people in Dalugou Village found out and won’t let us go anymore.”
That made sense. The brick kiln was Dalugou Village’s enterprise; of course they wouldn’t allow outsiders in. Their own village kids were already too many to employ, so they certainly wouldn’t let children from other villages take the spots.
Chen Qingyang took it in stride. “But now even the kiln workers are getting in on it. They’ve taken away all the half-broken bricks. There are even fewer fragments left. Even if I went back to scavenge, there wouldn’t be much.”
Chattering away while brushing, he finished rinsing his mouth and said, “So I want to see if there’s any other work.”
Chen Qiaoyu ladled out two bowls of porridge, leaving one in the pot for Zhong Sinian.
At the farewell dinner last time, she had learned that the firewood left at Qingyang’s door had been placed there by Zhong Sinian. It was a return favor for the pumpkin pancakes.
That made Chen Qiaoyu feel a bit ashamed—those pumpkin pancakes had no oil, no salt, no glutinous rice flour—they were barely edible. Yet Zhong Sinian had repaid her with a whole bundle of firewood.
So after that, when she set aside sweet potatoes for Zhou Quan, she left one for Zhong Sinian too.
Then he left another bundle of firewood at Qingyang’s door.
Chen Qiaoyu: “…”
Fine. Now that there were only three people left in the educated youth courtyard, cooking for two wasn’t much different from cooking for three, so she just made enough for everyone.
In return, she and Qingyang no longer had to gather firewood on the mountain.
That said, Zhong Sinian didn’t eat with them. His routine was to go up the mountain early and come down late—sometimes they barely saw him.
Chen Qiaoyu simply left the food in the pot. By the time she returned from the fields, the pot would be empty, and the kitchen never lacked firewood. That was enough.
Squatting by the kitchen’s back door, slurping their corn grit porridge, the siblings discussed their plans. Chen Qiaoyu said, “Qingyang, how about you don’t look for work today? Come help me in the fields. We’ll finish early and visit our maternal grandfather’s house.”
At the mention of going to their grandfather’s, Chen Qingyang perked up happily. “Great! Two pumpkins in our field have ripened. Should I pick one?”
The siblings generally didn’t visit their uncles and aunts unless necessary, given their own circumstances. Their uncles and aunts felt sorry for them. Every time they visited, they would scrape together two eggs—even if it meant pulling them from the chickens’ behinds—to host them.
But earlier, their grandparents had fallen ill, taken medicine, and passed away. Both the medical treatments and burials had cost a lot.
Chen Liang was heartless and had already remarried. The uncles and aunts hadn’t asked Chen Qiaoyu and Chen Qingyang to contribute; they had shouldered the debt themselves.
That was why Tu Huidong always looked at the siblings with disdain—she pitied them, yes, but she also resented that their family had neither contributed money nor effort.
It left a bitter taste.
Chen Qiaoyu thought for a moment. “Alright, pick one. I traded with Granny Yao for some eggs. We’ll bring those too.”
Chen Qingyang didn’t show any craving at the mention of eggs. Though he wanted to eat them, since his sister said they were for their grandfather’s house, he had no objections at all.
After breakfast, the siblings filled the jars left by Xiang Dong and Zhou Quan with cooled boiled water, tucked the sweet potatoes into their pockets, and headed to the fields.
The sun scorched the ground until it seemed to warp, the air itself appearing to distort under the intense heat.
Chen Qiaoyu wore the only hat they had. Chen Qingyang, on the other hand, picked some willow branches by the roadside and wove himself a makeshift straw hat.
Once in the fields, the siblings worked together with practiced efficiency. They didn’t take a midday break, simply eating sweet potatoes and hurrying back to work.
By three in the afternoon, they had finally picked enough cotton. They handed it over to the production team leader, Yao Jinbao, and only felt at ease after watching him record their work points.
Sitting under an old tree, Yao Jinbao said to Chen Qiaoyu, “Once this busy period is over, the village will distribute the summer grain first. I’ve separated your work points from the others. Based on your points, you’ll get twenty more catties of grain than your father.”
Chen Qiaoyu understood that Yao Jinbao was looking out for them. Otherwise, her work points for the first half of the year would have been combined into the Chen family’s ledger, and she definitely wouldn’t have been able to get grain separately. It was a hassle to separate the accounts, and he could have simply avoided the extra trouble.
People could be good or bad. Chen Qiaoyu pulled Chen Qingyang along to thank Yao Jinbao. “Thank you, Brigade leader Yao!”
Yao Jinbao waved his hand, not wanting to say more.
Between the village branch secretary Yao Deshui’s hints from above, his same-surname childhood friend Yao Dayong’s pressure and persuasion from the side, and his mother and Aunt Jin constantly nagging him day in and day out, he’d been badgered from all sides. They insisted that he calculate Chen Qiaoyu’s work points separately so that Chen Liang and Yao Jinhua couldn’t take advantage of her even a little.
Yao Jinbao hadn’t wanted the hassle, but with all the pressure from every direction, and after Yao Jinhua’s last incident nearly brought the Women’s Federation to their doorstep, he was angry enough to ask the accountant to calculate her points separately.
After returning home, the siblings took turns drawing water to rinse off. While Chen Qingyang washed, Chen Qiaoyu scrubbed their clothes by hand.
They had just split from the family and didn’t even have a bar of soap—she had to scrub with nothing but water.
She made a mental note to find a way to buy soap on her next trip to the modern era. It would be useful for both bathing and laundry.
Thinking about how the modern era didn’t require ration coupons for purchases, Chen Qiaoyu wished she could buy everything her heart desired.
By the time the clothes were hung up to dry, her hair was nearly dry too.
She re-braided her pigtails. Fresh from her bath, she hadn’t buttoned the top button of her shirt, and the exposed skin of her neck looked even paler against her jet-black braids.
She selected twenty eggs, tucked in two new pairs of socks, found a jar, and set aside half the brown sugar.
Finally, she covered everything with some vegetables before heading out with Chen Qingyang to Xiaolugou Village.
Before they left, Chen Qiaoyu noticed Chen Qingyang was wearing his old sandals. She asked him, “Didn’t those old sandals rub your feet raw after you patched them? Why aren’t you wearing the new ones?”
Chen Qingyang grinned sheepishly. “We have to walk on mountain paths. I can’t bear to wear them.”
From Yaojia Village to Xiaolugou Village, they had to pass through Dalugou Village and walk over twenty li (about ten kilometers).
He couldn’t bring himself to wear the new sandals.
Chen Qiaoyu laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll take a three-wheeler this time.”
There were buses in town, but none in the village. This year, after policies loosened, some enterprising people had managed to get hold of three-wheelers and started ferrying passengers between villages.
Since they were just starting out, the fares were cheap—five cents per person. They could usually go anywhere not too far away, though they might take detours or stop to pick up and drop off passengers along the way.
But for the villagers, this was already a huge convenience.
Chen Qiaoyu said so naturally that they’d take a three-wheeler to their uncle’s house that Chen Qingyang shot her several glances.
She didn’t flinch. “We’re in a hurry. Otherwise, it’ll be dark on the way back, and that’s not safe.”
Chen Qingyang thought it over. He was only thirteen. If something happened while walking the night road with his sister, he wasn’t afraid of laying down his life, but he was afraid of losing his life without being able to save her.
Chen Qingyang immediately agreed. “Then let’s take a three-wheeler.”