Farmers live at the mercy of the weather and depend on the land beneath their feet for their livelihood; a handful of yellow earth is a treasure in their eyes.

The Liu family didn’t have much farmland. A few years ago, they’d followed the example of other villagers and cleared some virgin land on the hillside behind their house. But the village’s arable yellow soil was nearly gone, and what they’d cleared was sandy soil littered with stones. They’d already planted three crops there, yet stones were still scattered everywhere.

It’s impossible to pick out every tiny pebble from the sandy soil, but there are still plenty of stones the size of fists or eggs scattered throughout the field.

Sandy soil isn’t suitable for growing wheat; mostly, they plant crops like soybeans and sweet potatoes that aren’t picky about the soil. March is just around the corner, and in another month or two, it will be time to tie up the sweet potato vines, so naturally, the land needs to be tended to properly.

Liu Qishuang is most diligent when working. Instead of wandering aimlessly through the field with a back basket, he uses his eyes to mentally divide the land into invisible ridges, working back and forth in rows like an old ox plowing a field, leaving no corner of the field untouched. He not only picked up the stones lying on the surface but also used his sickle to dig out those buried in the sandy soil, collecting them all.

“Shuangshuang, don’t worry about the small ones—just focus on the big ones. Just make sure they don’t catch your parents’ eye, or they’ll think you’re slacking off and give you a good scolding.” Grandpa Liu had a dustpan by his side, filled with fist-sized stones. Seeing that his grandson’s back basket contained even walnut-sized pebbles, he quickly spoke up to warn him.

Liu Qishuang hadn’t thought that far ahead. He simply reasoned that his parents weren’t monsters—they’d grow old eventually, and this land would be his sooner or later. If he put in the effort this year, he’d save himself some trouble next year. In a few years, once the stones were cleared from the field, it would be prime farmland.

But after a moment’s thought, he realized his grandfather had a point. It’s better to be safe than sorry. His parents were still a long way from old age, so there was no need to rush. He nodded obediently and went back to picking up only the large stones.

The stones were heavy; once he’d filled half his back basket, he had to carry it to the edge of the field and dump it into the thicket. Just as Liu Qishuang finished dumping the stones and turned around, he saw Wan Dongyang climbing up the slope toward their family’s plot.

Liu Qishuang and Wan Dongyang hadn’t spoken much to each other. There was a significant age gap between them, and their family backgrounds were different; they had almost no interaction in their daily lives. With the misunderstanding that had arisen today, he dared not approach him.

But while he didn’t dare speak to Wan Dongyang, he wasn’t afraid of him. Ever since his family had started discussing his marriage, there had been only one person on his mind.

Wan Dongyang had a terrible temper; he’d hit anyone. He remembered that just two years ago, he’d even beaten up one of his own uncles. But Wan Dongyang wasn’t just hot-tempered—he also had a kind heart. When his cousin was bullied, even though the bully was a Xiucai, he wasn’t afraid to stand up for him and give the bully a taste of his own medicine.

He was so kind to his cousin; surely he would be kind to his fulang as well. Though he longed to be his fulang in his heart, he dared not utter a single word.

Liu Qishuang stopped walking towards his Grandfather, crouched down, and began picking up pebbles from the ground nearby. But even though his body wasn’t moving in that direction, his eyes knew how to turn—he kept stealing glances toward Wan Dongyang.

He saw the man slip something into Grandfather’s hand before leaving. Only after he had walked far away did Liu Qishuang dare to approach Grandfather’s side.

“Grandpa, why is he here?” Liu Qishuang was still a little scared; after all, he’d pushed someone into the rice paddy today—he really was incredibly bold.

Seeing his grandson approach, Grandpa Liu chuckled and reached down to his chest. With a sleight-of-hand gesture, he opened his palm to reveal two beautiful pastries.

“Did he give these to you?” Liu Qishuang’s eyes crinkled with a smile, making his uneven eyes almost indistinguishable.

This muddy ground actually had its advantages; the soil wasn’t as sticky as loess. Liu Qishuang patted his hands clean, took the pastry, and immediately popped it into his mouth. Only after the sweet pastry had melted in his mouth did he have a moment to call out to his Grandpa to eat some too.

“Grandpa, don’t save it for later—eat it now.” When Liu Qishuang was enjoying something delicious, he couldn’t bear to swallow it in big bites; instead, he ate it slowly, one small bite at a time, so the wonderful flavor in his mouth would linger a little longer.

He couldn’t bear to chew the small bite of pastry in his mouth; instead, he held it there, savoring the sweet flavor bit by bit, his eyes fixed on the pastry in his hand.

The pastry wasn’t large—each was about the size of an egg—but unlike an egg, it wasn’t round or flat. It was milky white all over, with just a touch of red in the center, and it was divided into two layers: a crispy, fragrant crust on the outside and a pale red, sweet filling inside. With a single bite, the aroma and sweetness burst forth, offering a full spectrum of flavors.

Seeing his grandson’s eager expression, Grandpa Liu handed him the last pastry he had, then patted his chest to indicate he had more. “The Wan family’s boy gave me a few. You go ahead and eat; I’ll wash my hands and have some in a bit.”

“Huh? Oh, hehe~” Hearing Grandpa say he’d wash his hands first, Liu Qishuang felt a bit embarrassed and quickly held out his hands to show Grandpa. “They’re clean—no mud on them.”

“It’s no big deal. A little dirt never hurt anyone.” Grandpa bent down and got back to work.

With another pastry in his hand, Liu Qishuang became more generous. Chewing on the pastry, his eyes drifted toward the figure heading up South Mountain. He muttered in confusion, “Why is he suddenly giving out pastries?”

Liu Qishuang was a bit puzzled. Could the water from the rice paddies have gone to his head?

“That Wan family lad just asked me what kind of wood is best for making a carrying frame. He’s got me all confused. It’s just a carrying frame—is he planning to pass it down to his descendants or something? Why bother picking the wood? As long as it has a bend to tie the firewood to, that’s—cough, cough, cough—good enough, isn’t it?” Grandpa Liu had probably spoken too much; he began coughing again. Only after the coughing subsided did he continue:

“That young man was quite polite, though. I just casually mentioned a few types of branches to him, and he pulled out some pastries for me. I never would’ve guessed that despite his fierce appearance, he’s actually a pretty decent fellow.” Grandpa Liu glanced in the direction Wan Dongyang had gone, thinking to himself that the young man wasn’t actually fierce at all—in fact, he was quite handsome, just like his older brother had been in his youth. It was just that he had a fiery temper, so he wasn’t as popular with young ladies and gers as his older brother had been.

Liu Qishuang had no time to worry about Wan Dongyang right now; his grandfather’s coughing was so grating it was unbearable, so he quickly asked him about loquat flowers. His grandfather was old and had seen a lot; he’d surely been all over the surrounding mountains and forests, and knew everything there was to know about the wilderness.

“Grandpa, where in the mountains can I find wild loquats?” He needed to go pick loquat flowers for the Jiang family as soon as possible; if he waited any longer, the blooming season would be over. “Wild loquats? There are some, but they’re far away.” Grandpa Liu glanced toward the mountains behind the Wan household.

Following his grandfather’s gaze, Liu Qishuang had a plan. He just needed to head toward the back mountain. He’d go tomorrow; even if he returned late, it wouldn’t matter. He could just say he’d been working late for the Wan family. His mother was a pushover; she wouldn’t dare go to the Wan family to verify it.

It was nearly March, and the days were already much longer than they had been in the first month of the lunar year. The grandfather and grandson set off for the mountains a little past the second hour of the afternoon and didn’t dare head home until they’d been at it for a full two or three hours.

As soon as they stepped through the door, they saw that Liu Congxiang had already started eating. The two of them didn’t react at all; after all, they weren’t sharing the same pot of rice, so it had nothing to do with them.

The grandfather and grandson squatted by the gutter along the courtyard wall to wash their hands, their backs turned to her. At that moment, Liu Qishuang was winking at his grandfather, occasionally glancing down at his chest.

Liu Congxiang sat eating by the wall outside the kitchen, her gaze never once resting on the grandfather and grandson nearby. Her bowl held white rice and stir-fried vegetable stems with cured meat. The cured meat was the real star—not only did it taste rich in the mouth, but even the wok used to cook it retained a lingering aroma of meat.

“Grandpa, go pick some tender leaves from a thick-skin vegetable. I’ll knead the dough.” He wanted to send his grandfather out; a single pastry wasn’t very big, and the time it took to pick a leaf would be enough to polish it off.

Today, the grandfather and grandson had spent most of the day picking up pebbles. Not only were their pants and sleeves covered in dirt, but their fingernails were caked with it, too. Fortunately, sand was easier to wash off than mud; a quick wash of their hands was enough to get them clean.

Liu Qishuang clapped his hands and stood up. He’d made up his mind: instead of steaming buns today, they’d pan-fry them. His mother had just stir-fried some cured meat, so the pan must still be fragrant.

Liu Congxiang listened to her son’s words without batting an eye; she simply gazed off into the distance. Her husband had been gone for two days, and she had no idea when he would return. She was only two days past her period, and the doctor had said these were the days when she was most likely to conceive.

She couldn’t spend her life relying on just one ger; she had to have a son of her own. Only then would the two of them have someone to lean on in the future, and only then could they hold their heads high in front of her in-laws.

The two old women in the Wan family had both given birth to their sons when they were well into their thirties. She believed she could do the same; perhaps a son was simply a late arrival, and she wouldn’t have her own son until she was in her thirties, too.

When Liu Congxiang finished her meal and went inside to put away her bowl, Liu Qishuang was kneading dough. She didn’t even glance at her. The mixed flour and white flour were kept separate at home; white flour was off-limits to them, and she assumed the little one wouldn’t dare touch it either.

“When you go to the Wan household tomorrow, show some tact. Don’t stuff your face like a starving ghost reincarnated. Even if there’s meat on the table, don’t eat too much—just have a taste. Don’t let others think we’ve been neglecting you, pouncing on meat like a cat on a fish.”

“I know.” In the village, kids as young as teenagers would go out to work as laborers, but unless they were working for a landlord’s family, they wouldn’t get any cash—just free meals.

The villagers didn’t have much to talk about on a daily basis. Whether they ran into each other on the street or dropped by someone’s house, their conversations usually revolved around trivial matters—who had gone to help out at whose house, how much work they’d done, and how much food they’d eaten there. Zhong Youzhen, known for her big mouth, was often the subject of gossip; people said she ate enough food for three people.

Liu Qishuang certainly didn’t want to earn a reputation as some kind of starving ghost reincarnated, especially since he was going to the Wan family to help out—no, wait, he wasn’t going to help; he was going to work off his debt. There was no way he’d be getting any free meals; his mother was overthinking it.

But…

He might not get to eat at the Wan household, but he could still eat at home.

As soon as his mother stepped out of the kitchen, Liu Qishuang reached into the sack of white flour and scooped two generous handfuls into a bowl. Since his mother was having cured meat today, he and his grandfather deserved a little something special too.

Adding white flour to the cornmeal did indeed improve the taste considerably. Grandfather and grandson each had a bowl of vegetable soup in front of them, and in the earthen bowl between them lay several pale yellow cornmeal cakes. Since they weren’t fried in oil, the outer crust was charred black, but neither of them minded in the least.

Cornmeal is difficult to grind finely, and this batch still contained bits of corn husk. But with the smooth white flour to balance it out, the gritty texture was gone, and with the faint aroma of cured meat mingling in, the grandfather and grandson ate with great relish.

After swallowing the last sip of soup, Liu Qishuang let out a satisfied belch, but then pursed his lips, looking quite regretful.

With his father away these past few days, he’d grown much bolder. Today, not only had he secretly taken some white flour, but he’d also wanted to pour a bit of fragrant vinegar to dip his greens in. The tender leaves of the thick-skin vegetable tasted best with fragrant vinegar, but unfortunately, his grandfather, fearing he’d get beaten, wouldn’t let him pour any. 

As he put it, what’s the harm in eating it first? If his mother wanted to hit him, so be it. At most, she’d land a few punches on his arms, back, or head—and he wasn’t afraid of her fists. After dinner, Grandpa Liu went to tend to the vegetable patch. There was one last crop of baby bok choy left to harvest for drying.

Liu Qishuang finished washing the dishes and came out; it was already getting dark. His mother had put away her basket and was about to go inside, so he grabbed the broom from the corner and headed for the outhouse.

The weather was getting hotter by the day, and his grandfather must be suffering more and more in the cow shed. Until his grandfather’s cough cleared up, the shed would need to be cleaned frequently. Once he returned from helping out at the Wan family’s place, he’d weave a straw mat to lay on the floor—that should keep out most of the bugs and ants.

This will have to do for now. Once he’d fetched the medicine from the Jiang family and his grandfather’s cough had cleared up, they could move back to the dry, clean woodshed.