The busy harvest season was coming to an end. Chen Qiaoyu and the others had finished picking all the cotton in their fields.
This year’s harvest was good. After Yao Jinbao handed over the quota to the commune, there was still plenty left, so he distributed some to each family based on their work points.
Chen Qiaoyu received a small bag of cotton bolls—mostly the defective ones the commune wouldn’t accept: either low-quality cotton or bolls that hadn’t split open and had to be pried apart.
Still, something was better than nothing. If she hadn’t split from the family, the bolls she got this year, combined with those from the previous two years, would have been enough to make a small item.
The grain was handled the same way: first deliver the quota to the commune, then distribute the remainder to the villagers.
Yao Jinbao was a decent village cadre. Every year, he led everyone in finding ways to earn more. The duck-raising initiative was something he learned about while attending a training session at the county level and brought back to the village.
Their village didn’t have the natural advantages of Dalugou Village, which could use the yellow soil from the mountains to fire bricks. They had to make do with whatever they could get from the fields and the river.
They tried every method possible, and the results weren’t bad.
Chen Qiaoyu and Chen Qingyang’s summer grain share came to two hundred jin: fifty jin of unhusked rice, fifty jin of sorghum, eighty jin of sweet potatoes, and the remaining twenty jin made up of various beans and peanuts.
Adding it all up, they could actually make it until the autumn grain harvest.
Chen Qingyang was over the moon with joy. Without letting his sister worry, he stayed up all night waiting in line, dragging and hauling their grain back home without a moment’s delay.
He was young and not very strong, and since they didn’t have a cart or large sacks, he could only carry about twenty jin at a time.
He’d carry one load, dump it in the yard, then go back for another. He ran back and forth like that all night.
Chen Qiaoyu didn’t realize until the next morning that Qingyang had only fallen asleep near dawn. She went into his room and saw the thin, reed-like body marked with several red and bruised patches.
But there was still a faint smile at the corner of his lips.
She covered him with the small blanket Qi Xiangdong had left behind. Before she could turn away, Qingyang, feeling the warmth, kicked it off.
“Jie?” He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. His hair stuck out in all directions like a bird’s nest. He glanced at the window with no glass—it was already daylight. “I’ll go sun the grain.”
They didn’t need to fight over the communal grain-drying yard this year. Their share could be dried right in their own yard and on the rooftop.
Because of the intense heat, Qingyang had slept without his undershirt. Sitting up, the ribs on his chest were clearly visible, and his belly was so flat the skin folded over itself.
Chen Qiaoyu knew improving their life couldn’t wait. So she went along with his words. “Alright then. I’ll leave our grain in your hands.”
Qingyang immediately promised, “I’ll dry it bone-dry! I’ll guard it every day and won’t let a single bird peck at it!”
The countryside was full of birds and animals. Every year during grain-drying season, sparrows came to steal food. Some kids in the village took the chance to catch them.
Afraid the adults would scold them, they’d take their catch to the woods outside the village to clean and roast them.
There wasn’t even two taels of meat on one, but for kids, it was a rare treat.
Chen Qiaoyu left the household chores to Qingyang, taking only the mung beans, black beans, and peanuts she’d received.
“I’m going to town to check the supply and marketing cooperative. See if I can trade for some things.”
Qingyang didn’t suspect a thing. “Go ahead.”
His sister made all the decisions at home. Ever since their mother passed away, none of the siblings trusted their father, Chen Liang. They all listened to Chen Qiaoyu.
After their stepmother moved in, that was even more true.
Chen Qiaoyu tidied up, hid two pairs of socks at the bottom of her basket, then placed the cloth bag full of beans on top, covering everything completely. She headed off to town.
Along the way, she flagged down a three-wheeler. Five cents got her all the way to town.
Chen Qiaoyu could endure hardship, but she had no intention of playing the tragic little victim, nor of grandstanding about her own selfless devotion and sacrifice.
Chen Qiaoyu believed that if Qingyang could handle something, she let him handle it. And when it was time for her to enjoy things, she allowed herself that too.
She didn’t have much money now, but the four-odd yuan she had in the 1970s was still enough for a three-wheeler ride.
It was just five cents. Besides, the busy harvest season was over. There would still be farm work ahead, but nothing like the nonstop grind from sunrise to sunset, day after day.
As Chen Qiaoyu sat on the three-wheeler, she ran into a familiar face from a neighboring village.
A while back, Qingyang had wanted to completely cut ties with Chen Liang and Yao Jinhua. To stop them from secretly using Chen Qiaoyu’s name to arrange marriages behind her back, he had taken his friends Da Niu and Er Niu and spread the word through every nearby village.
They told everyone about Chen Liang and Yao Jinhua’s behavior and made it clear that the siblings had split from the family.
So when someone from a neighboring village saw Chen Qiaoyu on the three-wheeler, they asked right away, “You really split from the family?”
Chen Qiaoyu didn’t hesitate. “Yes, we really split.”
She had wanted to for a long time.
Hearing that Chen Qiaoyu had moved into the old Chen house, the neighbor added, “You’re really living in that old place? I’ve heard… it’s not exactly clean there.”
Oh?
Chen Qiaoyu’s heart stirred, but she kept her face neutral. “Auntie, what do you mean by ‘not clean’?”
The village women loved to gossip. They could go on for days about the smallest things, let alone about the old Chen house, which had indeed seen some strange occurrences.
Two other aunties and an old man with his grandson on the three-wheeler all chimed in.
“People used to say they saw strange things at the old Chen house. Late at night, your place would glow!”
“And remember when so-and-so’s family in your village lost a chicken? They followed the claw marks straight to your house, but the chicken never came out.”
“Exactly! That’s why no one wanted that old house of your second uncle’s afterward. Nobody would take it.”
“Until those educated youths moved in. Young and full of energy, their vitality kept things calm.”
The aunties chattered on, and Chen Qiaoyu pieced together most of the story.
It seemed the old house had issues long ago, but the villagers had chalked it up to ghosts and spirits. The idea of “time travel” never crossed their minds.
Still, from everything she heard, nothing involved any actual person.
And since Qi Xiangdong, Zhou Quan, and Zhong Sinian had all been perfectly normal—no one ever raised any problems—she figured very few people had been as unlucky (or lucky) as her, hopping back and forth so easily.
Still, Chen Qiaoyu made a mental note: keep people out of the kitchen as much as possible.
Especially don’t let anyone bring eggs or duck eggs in there.
The ride to town felt short with all the chatting. When they arrived, the aunties were still eager to keep asking questions.
Chen Qiaoyu looked helpless. “Nothing happened when the educated youths lived there, and nothing’s going to happen to me and Qingyang either.”
The aunties tried to press further, but Chen Qiaoyu cut them off. “We have my mother’s portrait with us. If anything were to happen, she would protect us.”
Hearing that, the aunties suddenly remembered Chen Qiaoyu’s late mother. They smiled awkwardly, murmured a few words, and went their separate ways.
Chen Qiaoyu let out a breath. She couldn’t help thinking—maybe her mother really was watching over her. Otherwise, why would this have happened to her and no one else?
She picked up her basket and began weaving through the streets and alleys, sizing up the situation.