She once again realized that this was an era without human rights, where women could be discarded with ease. In any household disturbance, it was always women who suffered first.
She now prayed that Father Zhou and Mother Zhou still had some familial affection for her and would not easily sell her off, because once parents made a decision, there was truly no place for a child to argue.
Fortunately, the Zhou family still had some grain stored, though not much. It was uncertain how long it could last.
If one day the Zhou family truly ran out of food, the first to be sacrificed would definitely be her.
After all, when Mother Zhou went to talk with others, she had even asked about the price of selling a person.
So now she had to change her strategy—she had to make herself valuable.
Without exposing her storage space, she had to find something edible.
Zhou Qingling steadied herself. Once her mind cleared, she slowly sat up.
Mother Zhou glanced back but did not say much. She herself still felt dizzy. At this time of year, people could still dig wild yam in the mountains, but this year it was hopeless. Anything edible had already been dug out.
Looking at the roots on the ground, Zhou Qingling thought of a food—kudzu starch noodles.
In modern times, kudzu starch noodles mixed with seasoning and side dishes were especially appetizing and refreshing in the summer heat.
Right now, starch noodles were out of the question, but the plant itself was edible.
Here, fern—called “small horn root” by villagers—was harvested for its young shoots in spring and summer. However, eating too much caused dizziness, nausea, and blurred vision, so villagers did not favor it. At this time of year, the plant was dry and hard, so few people bothered digging it up, which meant there were still plenty of fern roots left in the mountains.
Now that she had found a food source, how should she explain it to Mother Zhou?
Forget it. She would dig it first. Once it was made into food, Mother Zhou would understand naturally.
Zhou Qingling began digging with effort. The roots grew in clusters, and soon she had dug up a large handful.
Seeing her digging something so useless, Mother Zhou scolded irritably: “You’ve got a pig’s brain. Why are you wasting energy digging this? It’s dry and hard.”
Zhou Qingling did not explain much and maintained her usual behavior. “Mother, I want to see if it can be eaten.”
At the mention of food, Mother Zhou swallowed back the words she was about to scold. Seeing her daughter’s eager expression, she said nothing further. She also did not take the matter seriously.
After the two of them dug up a wild elm tree bark together, they saw that the sky was getting late and headed home.
After returning home, Mother Zhou went to the kitchen to cook.
Zhou Qingling washed the fern roots clean, then repeatedly pounded them until the fibers broke apart. She soaked the crushed roots in water, stirred them evenly, and filtered out the impurities.
However, she did not have filter cloth, so she had no choice but to borrow a piece of fine cotton cloth from Mother Zhou.
Mother Zhou was unwilling at first, thinking she was wasting good cloth for nonsense.
Only when Father Zhou saw the murky water in the basin and thought there might be a chance did Mother Zhou reluctantly take out a small piece of fine cotton cloth.
With that, she was able to continue the process.
The remaining liquid only needed to be left to settle. After some time, the starch in the fern roots would sink to the bottom. It could then be collected, kneaded into dough, and steamed into soft fern root cakes.
If pan-fried with oil and sprinkled with sugar and sesame, it would taste even better—but given their situation, that was impossible.
The filtered liquid had to settle for several hours, so it could not be completed that day.
After the family finished a simple dinner, night fell. Zhou Qingling slipped into her storage space and ate her own private meal.
Looking at the grain inside the storage space, she felt deeply satisfied. Although the stored food was not much, if used sparingly, it would last her one or two years.
She did not demand to be fully fed every meal—only that she would not be mistreated.
With this fern root starch, the family now had food. At least for this period, she should be safe.
After eating, she left the storage space and fell into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile, on the side of Father Zhou and Mother Zhou, the two lay in bed with their stomachs growling in emptiness.
At night, since they did no labor, they did not need much strength and thus ate even less. After a full day of work, the small amount of food they had eaten was not enough to satisfy hunger.
Mother Zhou said: “Head of the household, do you think that small horn root Lao San was messing with earlier can really be eaten?”
Father Zhou, too hungry to speak much, only replied: “Let’s hope so.”
But in his heart, he felt a trace of anticipation. He was truly hungry.
He thought of the previous days when he delivered grain to the old master. The old man only accepted half, his back bent and his body noticeably more aged.
When he took back the grain bag the old man handed him, it felt unbearably heavy in his hands.
Yet he still took it back. Between his wife and children versus his parents, he ultimately chose his wife and children.
Thinking of this, Father Zhou’s eyes reddened. He felt he had failed his parents.
When would this damned life finally end?
The next morning, just before dawn, remembering that Lao San had said the food might be edible, Mother Zhou got up early.
At this time, Zhou Qingling was still sleeping soundly. When she opened her eyes and saw Mother Zhou’s face right in front of her, she was startled awake.
Helpless, Zhou Qingling glanced at the sky. Mother, she was still a child who needed proper sleep—but she dared not say it.
Since she was already awake, she got up to check the fern root starch. After settling overnight, a layer of white starch had formed at the bottom of the basin.
Zhou Qingling pretended to be pleasantly surprised and maintained her character. “Mother, quite a bit of white powder has settled. Let’s steam it and see if it can be eaten.”
Otherwise, how could a rural girl know something even adults did not?
Life was difficult; everything depended on acting.
Without further words, they started the fire and kneaded the starch into dough.
Soon, it was steamed. When the lid was lifted, Zhou Qingling endured the heat and took a cake to eat first.
Mother Zhou almost stopped her but held back.
How could she not see it? After living together for so long, even a cat or dog would develop feelings. Saying she felt no emotional disturbance would be a lie—but she ultimately let it pass.
After about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, seeing that nothing had happened, Mother Zhou also took a bite. The taste was surprisingly good, with a faint fresh aroma. Her eyes immediately lit up.
After eating one, she waited a while. Seeing both of them were fine and standing normally, confirming it was not poisonous, she broke into a smile.
She grabbed another cake and quickly ran to Father Zhou.
“Head of the household, this really can be eaten! Lao San and I both ate it and we’re fine—no poisoning at all!”
Father Zhou had not seen his wife so happy in years. He took a bite and nodded. “Mm, it’s quite fresh.”
The two of them were overjoyed, as if they had discovered treasure.
Zhou Qingling had not dug much the previous day. Roughly ten jin of fern roots produced only one jin of starch cakes.
Most had already been eaten by her, and the remaining amount was not enough for the whole family. So Mother Zhou added a few handfuls of coarse flour and made a thin porridge, allowing the family to finally eat until about half full.
At the table, Zhou Qingling rarely heard praise from Mother Zhou. “Lao San has a good brain—takes after me.”
Zhou Qingling: “……”
Yesterday, who was the one calling me a pig-brained child?
To avoid suspicion from villagers, Mother Zhou and Zhou Qingling continued going up the mountain to dig fern roots.
It was not that they intended to hide food from others—during famine years, survival itself was a skill. Whoever could live, lived.
They had to gather as much as possible before others discovered it. Once word spread, it would be difficult to keep it secret.
Thus, during the day, the mother and daughter went up the mountain to dig fern roots. Father Zhou, Zhou Guanghai, and Lin Guihua stayed home to secretly process the starch.
Two days later, Father Zhou quietly told the method to Grandfather Zhou and a few brothers from the same family line, after all, they were blood relatives.
Half a month later, the pounding sounds from the Zhou household eventually drew attention from other villagers. By then, the Zhou family had already stored a considerable amount of fern root starch.
Since it could no longer be hidden, Father Zhou simply revealed the method to the villagers, earning goodwill in return.
Although a few villagers complained that they had only just been told about the edible roots, most were grateful. In times of disaster, whoever found food usually did not hide it—and if they had found it themselves, they would likely have done the same.