The stove was completely empty. The kitchen had only two people in it—Chen Qiaoyu and Chen Qingyang.
Judging by Qingyang’s expression, Qiaoyu could tell he hadn’t put the eggs away.
So… where were the duck eggs?
Had they simply vanished from the kitchen out of thin air?
The educated youths all got up late. Aside from Zhong Sinian, whom she’d met on the hill, Zhou Quan and Qi Xiangdong were still in bed.
Seeing Qingyang’s bewildered look gradually turning into panic, Qiaoyu composed her expression. Calmly, she patted her pants pocket, pretending the eggs were inside. “I’ll return them later. That way, you won’t use it as an excuse to sneak into the river.”
Hearing this, Qingyang’s panic dissolved before it could fully form. He didn’t think much of it—after all, his sister was extremely strict about him going near the river.
It made sense that she’d take the eggs to return them herself, just to keep him away from the riverbank.
Secretly, Qingyang even held a little hope. Brother Dayong was a good man. If his sister really started seeing him, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Qiaoyu cut the old pumpkin in half. She sliced half into pieces and boiled them into a pumpkin soup. The other half she steamed, mashed into a paste, and pressed into flat cakes along the edge of the pot.
Without flour or glutinous rice flour mixed in, the cakes were a bit dry. But pumpkin was naturally sweet, so they weren’t hard to eat.
Qiaoyu set aside a bowl of pumpkin soup for Zhou Quan and told Qingyang to take a few cakes to the two male educated youths later.
“Even though we’ve taken back the old house, they were living here first. We’re intruding a bit.”
Qingyang nodded as he gnawed on a dried pumpkin cake. “Got it, Sis. I’ll go find something to use as a plate.”
They had moved out so bare-bones that they didn’t even have a single bowl. They were still borrowing from Zhou Quan and Aunt Jin’s family.
With that, Qingyang dashed outside, picked some wild pumpkin leaves, wiped them clean, placed the cakes on them, and set them on the windowsill of the two male educated youths’ room.
Village self-sufficiency plots had size restrictions, so outside the plots grew what the villagers called “wild pumpkins” and “wild sweet potatoes.”
As long as no one went overboard, the village turned a blind eye.
This small patch was something Qiaoyu and Qingyang had secretly planted in the past.
Whenever Yao Jinhua picked a fight and starved them out, the two would come here and gnaw on raw sweet potatoes to fill their stomachs.
Qingyang also picked a just-ripe green pumpkin and brought it back, grinning. “Good thing we knew to keep a backup. Otherwise, we’d really be in trouble now. The village won’t distribute grain until this busy season is over.”
Qiaoyu sipped her pumpkin soup with the pickled vegetables Aunt Jin had given her. “At least we’ve split off now. From now on, we earn what we eat. No more watching other people’s faces.”
“Exactly, Sis. I’d rather go hungry than see those people’s faces again.” Qingyang lifted his chin.
That family was no longer their family. Their twin younger siblings had been sent away, while Yao Jinhua’s son and daughter from her previous marriage had moved in.
After breakfast, Qiaoyu hurried off to the fields. She was now the main laborer in the family. Feeding two people on one person’s work points was no easy task.
The more she worked, maybe the more work points she’d earn.
Qingyang also tidied up and got ready to find Daniu and Erniu. “Today we’re going up the hill. Let’s see what we can find up there. At the very least, we need to gather enough firewood.”
Qiaoyu agreed. “Alright. If you really can’t find much, don’t worry. I’ll come with you after I’m done in the fields.”
She had seen this morning that Zhong Sinian alone had carried down two loads of firewood. There was definitely firewood up there. She’d go with Qingyang and venture deeper into the hill.
Qingyang wiped his mouth and headed out. Only then did Qiaoyu glance back at the still-empty stove and furrow her brow slightly.
She had some doubts.
There were plenty of tales in the countryside about spirits and strange forces—fox fairies, snake fairies, weasel sages. Chen Qiaoyu had heard them all.
But experiencing something like this firsthand was a first.
She wanted to get to the bottom of it, but the work in the fields wouldn’t wait. She had to head out.
Work points were what mattered most.
The sun blazed mercilessly over the cotton field. The cotton pickers were drenched in sweat, their breath seeming to carry fire.
But Qiaoyu didn’t complain at all. Her hands flew, and clumps of cotton practically dove into the large sack tied around her waist.
Aunt Jin, working beside her, grew more impressed the more she watched. “There’s not a single girl in this village who can match your hard work, Qiaoyu.”
Still basking in the joy of having split from the family, Qiaoyu replied, “Now it’s just me and Qingyang. If I don’t work more, we might not have enough to eat.”
Aunt Jin laughed. “I think you’ll actually eat better now that you’ve split off! Before, your father didn’t manage the household, and your stepmother was no good either—whatever food there was, she saved it for her own son and daughter.”
She continued, “Now that you’ve split off, you earn what you eat. It’s much better than living in that house! No more worrying about people eyeing your rations.”
Qiaoyu pressed her lips together and smiled. That was exactly how she felt.
She worked all day, chewing on a few dry pumpkin cakes at noon. Made without flour or oil, baked hard, they were a bit choking when cold.
Luckily, Yingzi had made an extra bowl of loofah soup when she brought Aunt Jin’s lunch and given it to Qiaoyu. With the soup, she managed to get the cakes down.
She worked until the sun was about to set, when brigade leader Yao Jinbao finally announced the end of the day.
Qiaoyu worked efficiently. She picked more cotton than anyone else and didn’t try any tricks—no adding debris to increase the weight. Yao Jinbao credited her with ten full work points.
Only then did Qiaoyu breathe a sigh of relief. She brushed the dust and twigs off her clothes and headed back to the old house.
When she got back, Qingyang and the three educated youths hadn’t returned yet. Qiaoyu looked around, then went into the kitchen and closed both the back door and the door leading to the main hall.
She’d thought carefully about it during the day. The kitchen was only so big. Qingyang had been feeding the stove at the opening, and she had been sitting with her back to the kitchen’s back door, peeling the pumpkin. If anyone had come in, she would have known.
It wasn’t a person.
Then it was… a weasel sage? A house snake?
Qiaoyu examined the area around the stove meticulously, but she couldn’t find any trace of a weasel or snake having crawled through.
Truly puzzled, she tentatively placed her hand on the spot where the duck eggs had disappeared that morning. The touch was cool and smooth.
Then, before she could react, a tremendous suction force suddenly erupted from beneath her hand, instantly pulling her into the stove!
“Cough, cough, cough!” Qiaoyu crawled out of the long-unused firebox, covered in soot and dust. She looked at the kitchen before her and was dumbfounded.
It was the same kitchen. But it wasn’t the same kitchen.
It looked as if no one had used it for over a decade. Thick dust covered everything. All sorts of… strange garbage lay scattered around.
Aside from a few broken bowls and jars holding rotted contents, everything else was things Qiaoyu had never seen before.
For example, a bright red plastic bag, square-shaped, with what looked like a bowl of beef noodles printed on it.
And old newspapers and wall calendars stuck to the walls. One glance showed dates ranging from the 1980s to the 1990s.
But this was only 1979! How could there be calendars from the ’80s and newspapers from the ’90s?
Qiaoyu frowned, wanting to step closer for a better look. But her foot suddenly stepped on a plastic bottle, which crunched loudly.
The sudden noise startled Qiaoyu, making her step back several paces. She accidentally bumped into the stove and, reflexively, placed her hand exactly on the spot she’d touched earlier.
The next second, she was back in 1979, in the kitchen of the old Chen house in Yaojiacun.