Chapter 17 – Vegetable Plot, Farm Work
The land lay abandoned.
Lu Miao said:
“Before, it was because there were too few people, and no one could manage it. Now that there are more of us, let’s clean it up. The vegetables we grow can be shared by everyone. Whoever has time can keep an extra eye on it.”
Lu Miao made the decision firmly:
“Just tell me where the plot is. I’ll arrange this!”
Vegetables weren’t considered official rations, but at least they were food.
There were so many people at the educated youth station, and of course, some were better off than others.
Those with means wouldn’t want to bother, but those who were often hungry would surely be willing to take better care of it.
Gu Ying thought Lu Miao was being too idealistic, but still told her honestly:
“It’s just at the corner of the pond out front. That spot gets a bit of sun. The ground’s overgrown now, but there used to be a loofah trellis there. You’ll see it when you go.”
Lu Miao nodded and pulled Ren Bingxin along to take a look.
The plot hadn’t been tended for a long time. The path leading there was overgrown with weeds up to their calves. Lu Miao didn’t dare walk through, so she had Ren Bingxin go ahead with a stick, clearing the way, while she followed behind, stumbling with every step.
The vegetable plot lay against one side of the pond, its shape curving with the pond’s edge into a crescent.
It was about one tenth of an acre. Because it hadn’t been managed for so long, the vegetables once planted had grown thin and woody. Though still green and tender-looking, the stems snapped toughly at a pinch, proof they had already become fibrous.
The loofah vines that Gu Ying mentioned, however, had done well. Being near water and sunlight suited them, so even amid the weeds, the vines thrived.
The tendrils climbed from the makeshift bamboo frame up into the trees. Looking up, several old loofahs hung four or five meters high, with small yellow blossoms and hooked little loofahs scattered among them.
“The old ones are too tough to eat, but the little ones could be, if they grow more. It’s just hard to pick them from so high up,” Ren Bingxin observed, then asked:
“Miaomiao, what do you think?”
Lu Miao surveyed the situation, then turned to leave.
“No ideas yet. Let’s watch for a couple of days first.”
“Oh!”
Ren Bingxin agreed and followed her back.
Gu Ying and Yang Xiaojing were old educated youths. They knew exactly where the team was short-handed each day, so they usually went straight to the fields.
Now that the weather was heating up, the two of them went out early each morning to avoid the worst of the sun.
Lu Miao remembered that Fu Jingyou had told her to leave early. So the next morning, when she heard Gu Ying’s bed creaking, she immediately got up too.
Gu Ying was surprised.
“Usually I have to call you several times before you’ll get up. How come you’re up so early today?”
With her eyes still closed, Lu Miao groped for the comb on Ren Bingxin’s bedside, then sat sleepily at the edge of her bed, already braiding her hair. After these past few days, she could manage neat pigtails with ease.
“Today’s field is far. Auntie said I should leave early.”
Gu Ying nodded knowingly. There were indeed several fields far away; leaving early was wise.
“If it’s too far, you probably won’t come back for lunch. Don’t forget to bring some food.”
“Alright.”
Without any way to keep food fresh, Lu Miao refused to eat leftovers.
Since the educated youth station didn’t cook in the mornings, she couldn’t steam her rations. So she planned to just bring two raw sweet potatoes.
She thought to take two, but when the time came, she put one back. Instead, she unlocked the box she kept her things in and pulled out half a bag of peach crisps she hadn’t finished.
The original owner hadn’t brought much luggage—just bedding, basic daily necessities, and no proper containers. Lu Miao thought about borrowing from Ren Bingxin and the others, but seeing them still fast asleep, she didn’t disturb them.
Once she was ready, Lu Miao put on her straw hat, held a hoe in one hand, and busied the other—her pinky hooked through the bag of peach crisps, and a small sweet potato clenched in her palm.
At the northeast corner of the pond, she met Fu Jingyou, who asked:
“That’s your ration?”
Lu Miao nodded, thinking he was asking why she hadn’t packed it. She explained:
“I only have one net bag and a trunk. The trunk holds my clothes, and the net bag is for rations. I don’t have anything else to pack with.”
Fu Jingyou had actually meant that the amount she brought was too little.
But he said nothing. He only lifted his chin to signal her to follow.
Lu Miao trotted behind him. Her hat had no chin strap, and with the morning breeze, it lifted precariously as though it might fly away.
She let go of the hoe to grab at her hat. Then, trying to catch the hoe again, the sweet potato in her other hand slipped and rolled along the pond’s edge—nearly falling into the water.
Watching her flustered antics, more dramatic than a stage play, Fu Jingyou finally couldn’t help himself. He reached out and took the hoe from her hands.
With one less item to carry, she instantly felt lighter. Her eyes sparkled as she flashed her little white teeth.
“Thank you!”
They walked on. Noticing he wasn’t carrying any tools, Lu Miao asked curiously:
“You’re not taking a hoe? No ration either?”
Fu Jingyou replied flatly:
“I’ll get them when I go home later.”
Lu Miao caught the undertone and lifted her gaze toward the road ahead.
They had reached the edge of the village. At the path’s end, on one side stood houses shadowed by bamboo and trees; on the other side, a threshing ground piled with old straw.
Home…
That house surrounded by bamboo and shade—that was Fu Jingyou’s home?
Lu Miao thought it and asked aloud.
Fu Jingyou’s mood sank.
“Mm,” he answered with little interest, clearly unwilling to dwell on the subject.
The Fu family had once been wealthy—that was a stain.
And so, almost the entire family had perished, leaving only him to barely survive. That blue-brick tiled house was all that remained.
Most in the village lived in mud-brick homes. Even Captain He Hongjin’s house was red brick in front and mud brick behind.
Though the Fu house hadn’t been repaired in years, it still stood out with its solid blue bricks and tiles.
Because of this, even if no one mentioned it openly, both Fu Jingyou and the villagers knew—he was different.
They were honored poor and lower-middle peasants. But Fu Jingyou was not.
He even braced himself for the moment when Lu Miao realized his tainted family background—expecting her disgust and distance.
But instead of reproach, she asked a completely off-topic question:
“Are the dates from your trees tasty?”
Fu Jingyou jerked his head, baffled.
“What?”
“What, what? Were you not even listening to me?”
Lu Miao frowned in displeasure, jerking her chin toward the Fu house.
“I asked if the dates on the trees in front of your house are sweet!”
In front of the Fu house there was no courtyard, but an open space with three tall date trees.
It wasn’t the season for ripening yet, but looking at the branches already laden with fruit, Lu Miao was already full of expectation.
(End of Chapter)
