Chapter Fifteen: Half a Bowl of Crispy Rice

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Zhang Xiao’e exclaimed excitedly, “Father-in-law, you really agree to lend her grain?”

“If it weren’t for Yueying, you wouldn’t have been able to marry into our family,” Zhao Zheng smiled. Both Wu Yueying and Xiao’e were from Jiuli Village. Back then, the Zhang family was so poor they could barely get by and were about to sell Xiao’e to a landlord as a servant. When Wu Yueying found out, she took the initiative to help arrange things.

No matter how poor a small mountain village was, it still had more people and strength than Jiuli Village.

At that time, the eldest son of the family had just arranged to marry Yang Zhaodi, and they couldn’t neglect the youngest son either. Zhao Zheng asked around and eventually married Xiao’e into the family for the price of five jin of millet.

A few months earlier, the situation wasn’t as dire as it is now, and with the government exempting taxes, every household in the mountain village still had some reserved grain.

But now, even the villagers of the mountain village were struggling to survive.

After receiving the affirmative answer, Zhang Xiao’e was overjoyed. “Thank you, father-in-law. I’ll go get the rice right away. Sister-in-law Yueying isn’t one to talk nonsense; she wouldn’t lie.”

There weren’t many people in the village with a good reputation; Wu Yueying was one of them. Moreover, she was quite kind to her two daughters-in-law. Zhao Zheng appreciated this kindness. Half a jin of millet was nothing to him.

“Go ahead.”

Zhang Xiao’e hurried off to fetch the grain.

Yang Zhaodi exhaled in relief. “With this half jin of millet, sister-in-law Yueying will have some explanation when she goes back.”

Zhao Zheng snorted, “Lazy men marry virtuous wives, shrews marry heroes—what kind of world is this?”

At that moment, outside the door, Wu Yueying was anxious.

So much time had passed without news; it probably meant no hope.

But if she couldn’t borrow any grain, her in-laws would surely scold her when she returned, and her husband might even beat her.

Her eyes dimmed as she prepared to leave.

“Sister-in-law Yueying, come in.”

Wu Yueying looked at Zhang Xiao’e and smiled bitterly. “Uncle Zhao doesn’t agree, does he? Forget it, I understand…”

“No, my father-in-law agreed.”

Zhang Xiao’e placed half a jin of millet into her hand and whispered, “Sister-in-law Yueying, my father-in-law asked me to thank you for taking care of us sisters-in-law these days. You don’t need to repay this half jin of millet right away; give it back when you’re able. My father-in-law trusts your character.”

“You know, everyone is just barely getting by now. You mustn’t tell anyone this came from our family…”

Wu Yueying was deeply moved; she hadn’t expected the usually stingy Zhao Zheng to say such words.

“Thank you, Xiao’e. I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.” With the millet in hand, her heart finally settled. “Please thank Uncle Zhao for me. Also, I’ll be waiting for you at the village entrance early tomorrow morning.”

Saying that, she hid the millet inside her clothes and left as if nothing had happened.

Zhang Xiao’e felt happy after helping Wu Yueying and hummed a tune while cooking at home.

Zhao Zheng looked over and thought, that was clearly the innocent brightness of a young girl.

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After dark, the three ate dinner early.

There wasn’t much entertainment in the village; everyone just shut themselves indoors and went to sleep.

Inside the room, a dim oil lamp was lit.

The stove fire burned steadily, and though the room was small, the temperature rose considerably.

After soaking his feet, Zhao Zheng lay down on the kang (heated bed). After nearly two hours of burning the stove, he was mostly done.

“Oh, this is so comfortable and warm!” Zhao Zheng hummed softly, enjoying the heat.

Yang Zhaodi smiled, weaving new straw sandals for Zhao Zheng using beaten Ula grass. It was cold now, and since father-in-law often went out, he needed to keep warm.

Ula grass was a treasure for the poor.

Zhang Xiao’e was busy weaving a bamboo basket. It wasn’t very pretty but was sturdy.

Hearing father-in-law’s humming, she said, “Father-in-law, you’re so clever. This way, cooking over the fire also warms the kang!”

Zhao Zheng said, “Enough with the busywork, come up here and warm yourself.”

“Father-in-law, I’ll finish this sandal first,” Yang Zhaodi responded.

“The basket will be ready soon. Tomorrow, you can take the new basket to dig for shepherd’s purse and dandelions!” Zhang Xiao’e’s favorite pastime was gathering wild vegetables.

Zhao Zheng didn’t say much; accustomed to modern nightlife, he still wasn’t used to the quiet of rural mountain villages.

Having just eaten well a couple of days ago, he was already thinking about ways to pass the time.

At that moment, there was a knock at the courtyard gate. “Zhaodi, I’m here to give Uncle Zhao a foot massage.”

“Li’s wife is here again,” Zhang Xiao’e pouted instinctively.

Yang Zhaodi asked, “Father-in-law, shall I open the door?”

“Yes, let her in.” Zhao Zheng was bored. A foot massage before bed sounded good.

Yang Zhaodi opened the door. When Zheng Chunmei entered, she shivered, “Phew, it’s warmer at Uncle Zhao’s house. Our place is like an ice cave.”

She wore thin clothes, just a single coarse hemp garment outside, with willow fluff and Ula grass stuffed underneath. Though bulky, it didn’t keep her warm.

Her feet were in straw sandals, and the exposed skin was purple from the cold.

Unexpectedly, stepping inside, she felt a long-lost warmth.

“Oh, has Uncle Zhao’s bed changed?”

She immediately noticed the kang.

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“Oh, this is the kang I built today. It’s really warm. Want to sit up and feel it?” Zhao Zheng smiled.

Zheng Chunmei walked over and touched it. “Ah, it’s hot.”

“Feels good?”

Zheng Chunmei was stunned, then plopped down. “So comfortable! Uncle Zhao, how did you do this?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Zhao Zheng said with a smile. He wasn’t a saint; after all the hard work he put into building the kang, why should he tell others?

Zheng Chunmei fell silent. If she could sleep on such a warm kang, would she still be woken by the cold at night?

She looked at Yang Zhaodi, leisurely weaving straw sandals, and Zhang Xiao’e warming herself by the stove, envy welling up inside.

“Uncle Zhao, let me massage your feet.”

“Not today. Massage my back.”

“Massage your back?”

“Come on up.” Zhao Zheng lay down on the kang.

Zheng Chunmei blushed, feeling shy. “Uncle Zhao, we agreed to only massage your feet. We never said backs.”

“Half a bowl of scorched rice,” Zhao Zheng pointed to the low table on the bed.

Zheng Chunmei looked and immediately brightened—scorched rice.

Even if burnt, scorched rice was still rice, incomparable to millet.

“Uncle Zhao, I didn’t mean that…”

“If that’s too little, forget it. Massage my feet then.”

Zheng Chunmei panicked; how could she let the precious scorched rice slip away?

Since last night, except for half a piece of cake given by Ma Dazhu, she’d only drunk a watery bowl of millet porridge and was nearly too weak to walk. This half bowl of scorched rice was a rare delicacy to her.

“Uncle Zhao, I’ll massage your back.” She took off her shoes and was about to get on the bed.

Zhang Xiao’e said, “Did you wash your feet? Getting on the bed like that?”

Zheng Chunmei was taken aback, awkwardly looking at her muddy feet. “No, it’s not that strict, is it?”

“This kang was freshly made by father-in-law and is clean. No washing feet, no getting on the bed!”