Fan Xiaojun said that water was inconvenient to get here—drinking water had to be fetched from the well in the village, and laundry had to be done at the small river down the slope. Each round trip took over half an hour, so they had to conserve water as much as possible.
Since the work was all physical labor, the grain rations would definitely not be enough. They needed to dig up as many wild vegetables as possible and dry them before the ground froze.
The trees in the forest belonged to the forestry station and couldn’t be cut down—they could only pick up fallen branches and leaves from the ground. If they wanted firewood, they either had to buy it from the villagers or cut brushwood from the gullies behind the slopes—and watch out for snakes and poisonous bugs.
In the dead of winter, temperatures here could drop to minus twenty degrees Celsius. Without enough firewood, they really could freeze to death.
It looked like besides cultivating, she’d also have to find a way to buy supplies. Relying on working hard for work points to exchange for goods was out of the question—her current body was weaker than a three-year-old’s.
Tomorrow, she’d have to find a way to convince the brigade captain to assign her the lightest possible work. Otherwise, the moment she set foot in the fields, she’d be exposed.
Perhaps they were all too exhausted. That night, although Chang Rufan complained endlessly, she didn’t pick a fight. Wei Ran didn’t stir up trouble either. Miao Qing cultivated peacefully through the night—the only disturbance being a passing mouse that stepped on her hair, but it wasn’t a big deal.
Still, that was better than Wei Ran, who found rat droppings by her pillow, or Chang Rufan, whose biscuits were gnawed on by a mouse.
The next morning, Miao Qing got up slowly.
First came the usual chorus of Chang Rufan’s shrieks and curses, followed by Wei Ran’s syrupy sweet remarks. She watched Zhang Jingshan caught in the middle, placating one and then the other, while she sat on her little stool, sipping water and nibbling on her corn bun.
What a lively, chaotic life this is.
After the three of them finally settled down, they called everyone together to discuss what to do next.
Wang Changzhu, who desperately wanted to feel relevant but was far too plain-looking to stand out, spoke first—offering a bunch of empty talk about mutual help, unity, and friendship.
Zhang Jingshan didn’t have any good ideas either. He’d underestimated how tough things would be here—he’d slept terribly last night. The kang was too hard, there were mice, and Wang Changzhu had stinky feet and snored loudly.
Wei Ran, on the other hand, was positively upbeat. She told them that the villagers had private plots with plenty of vegetables—they could buy radishes and cabbages from them and stock up for winter, which would be much easier than foraging wild vegetables and drying them themselves.
As for firewood, they could buy a cartload of offcuts from the forestry station in one go—cheaper and better-burning than buying from the villagers.
Taking turns cooking was a waste of time, she suggested. They should pool their money and see if they could buy another iron pot, and ideally a water vat too. From then on, the men could handle fetching water and chopping wood, while the women took care of boiling water and cooking.
Zhang Jingshan and Wang Changzhu were all for it. Chang Rufan wasn’t keen, but she couldn’t really object—she didn’t know anything and couldn’t do anything.
Wei Ran felt triumphant. She was well on her way to becoming Zhang Jingshan’s most trusted companion. First, good friends; then, girlfriend; and then, everything would fall into place. Perfect!
Miao Qing swallowed the last bite of her corn bun and spoke slowly:
“I’ll—eat—alone.”
Today was a good day—she’d finally managed to say three whole words!
Wei Ran was dumbfounded. Chang Rufan made no effort to hide her glee. Zhang Jingshan and Wang Changzhu stared in shock and confusion.
Miao Qing gave a slow explanation:
“I work—slow. Not strong.”
Zhang Jingshan automatically interpreted it as:
“So you’re worried that if you join us, you’ll be taking advantage of us, and you feel bad about it?”
Miao Qing nodded. Kid, you’d definitely score full marks in reading comprehension.
But honestly, it wasn’t about that. She just didn’t trust their cooking, and she wasn’t about to let them take advantage of her either.
With her wood-type ability in hand, food was never going to be a problem for Miao Qing. Plus, she had her space. All she needed was one good opportunity to stock up, and she’d be set for a long time. Why would she bother eating coarse grain and wild vegetables with them?
She was here to take it easy, not to struggle.
She was lazy, couldn’t stand hardship, hated trouble, and was petty to boot—there was no way she could fit in with a group.
Ignoring Chang Rufan’s snide remarks, Wei Ran’s subtle probing, Zhang Jingshan’s earnest persuasion, and Wang Changzhu’s desperate but failed attempts to chime in, Miao Qing went back to her room on her own.
Slowly, she unpacked, quietly taking things out of her space and putting them away.
Only after Zhang Jingshan and the others had returned from collecting their supplies did she finally saunter over to the brigade headquarters.
On the way, she ran into two groups of kids arguing—over a pile of cow dung on the ground.
One group claimed the cow belonged to their brigade, so the dung was theirs. The other group said the dung was on their brigade’s turf, so it belonged to them.
Neither side would back down. They were red in the face, shouting at each other, on the verge of coming to blows.
But the adults passing by barely gave them a glance, as if this was perfectly normal.
Miao Qing was genuinely astonished. It gave her a much clearer picture of just how scarce resources were here.
A place where even cow dung was fought over—this was truly poverty at its worst.
She quietly swapped the ten-yuan note she’d planned to slip to the brigade captain for a pack of cigarettes, afraid that offering cash might scare him into reporting her for bribery.
The brigade headquarters sat on the flattest, most central piece of land in the village. Word had it that the building used to belong to a landlord.
Though it was still a cave dwelling, it was made of brick, with decorative trim over the door and carved patterns on the windows—much more refined. There were eight caves in total, with a main house and side rooms, and the courtyard was paved with blue bricks and had a flower bed. Definitely the home of a wealthy landlord.
She knocked and went in. Inside the main room, two men sat on the kang. One, smoking a pipe, was Liang Futian; the other, holding a enamel mug, was the accountant, Liang Mancang.
Wei Ran had mentioned that Qingfeng Brigade was so united because most of its leadership were from the Liang family. The whole brigade had three production teams, over two hundred households, and more than a thousand people—half of them surnamed Liang, all sharing the same ancestor.
That was why Liang Futian’s word was law in the brigade. Anyone who crossed him was asking for trouble.
She’d told them all this as a warning not to be as stubborn as the older educated youth who’d caused trouble before.
To that, Miao Qing only thought: You’re overthinking it. I value my life far too much for that.
As soon as she entered, Miao Qing apologized:
“Sorry—I’m—late.”
“You know you’re late, so why didn’t you come earlier? Dawdling all day—what the hell can you get done? What’s your name?”
Liang Mancang was in a foul mood and snapped at her without hesitation.
He pulled out his pen and opened his ledger, ready to go through the motions.
But Miao Qing didn’t follow the script. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed it over.
“Oho, I’ve seen these in the city—two or three cents a pack. You trying to bribe us?”
Liang Mancang picked up the pack, sniffed it, and grinned.
Liang Futian looked at Miao Qing with undisguised annoyance. She was just a young girl, so he held back his curses and was about to wave his pipe and shoo her out when Miao Qing spoke:
“I’m—sick.”
Liang Futian paused. Liang Mancang laughed in exasperation:
“You’re sick? Well, I’ve got medicine too—want me to prescribe something for your head?”
“Just—recovered.”
Miao Qing finally managed to get the second half out and pulled out her certificate of recovery.
Liang Mancang glanced at it, frowned, and handed it to Liang Futian.
After going through all her documents, Liang Futian’s weathered face seemed to grow even more grim. He frowned and asked directly:
“Girl, what exactly are you trying to say?”
Miao Qing explained slowly:
“I need—to rest—a few days. Please—do me—a favor. Use my—rations and—allowance—to board—with someone. I can’t—cook.”
Liang Futian and Liang Mancang found it exhausting just listening to her. This girl was far too slow—why did she have such a hard time speaking?
But at least they understood: she was in poor health and needed a few days of rest before she could work. She also wanted to board with a villager’s family, offering her rations and allowance in exchange.
What a ridiculous idea. They’d sent her to the countryside to be tempered through labor, not to corrupt the poor and lower-middle peasants. Even if she dared to offer money, they wouldn’t dare take it—it would be a serious mistake!
If someone reported them, they’d lose their positions for good.