Chapter Forty-Seven: Qizhao Di’s Past

When Han Li and his companions returned home with the seeds, Yun Jingjing and her sister had already come back from the county town. As soon as Han Li stepped into the courtyard, he overheard them complaining about the scarcity of goods in the county.

“We wanted to buy some meat to thank you for letting us cook here, but there wasn’t even a bone to be found,” one said.

“And I took my soap ration ticket to the supply store, but they didn’t have any soap…”

Han Li replied, “No need to be so formal since we’re all neighbors. If you want to buy soap, you’d be better off waiting for the big market day.”

“There’s more goods at the big market, though it’s a bit chaotic. It’s best to go with a few people,” he added. “By the way, you can use the stove first for cooking. I still have to plant the cabbages.”

Yun Yingying asked, “Vegetables? Do you need any help?”

Glancing at their dresses, Han Li replied, “No need. It’s just a small patch—won’t take long.”

“We’ll help you with the cooking then.”

“Just make your own, don’t worry about me.”

“We’re using your kitchen. No need to be so polite—it’s just a matter of adding an extra bowl of water.”

Han Li…

The ground in the courtyard had already been tilled, and planting vegetables was a simple matter for Han Li. With a horse stance, a tip of his toe made a hole, he tossed in a seed, and with a drag of his other foot, covered it up. The whole process was smooth and efficient, though hard on his shoes.

During this, Yun Jingjing asked Han Li which families were easier to negotiate with for bartering, and then went out.

After planting all the seeds, Han Li used a shovel to form a ridge, making it easier to water later.

Fetching water, however, was a labor-intensive task. Carrying buckets on a shoulder pole, he brought them back one by one.

“Han Li, why don’t you eat first?” someone suggested.

In this era, few women didn’t know how to cook—even if their food wasn’t tasty, they could still make a meal. That evening, the Yun sisters made egg noodles with fried sauce. Han Li had no idea where they’d managed to barter for white flour and eggs.

The sauce was flavorful, and the noodles were finely and evenly cut. With a garnish of cucumber slivers, Han Li felt a sense of nostalgia, as if he were dining in the capital.

Yun Jingjing watched Han Li and asked, “How is it? Does it taste alright?”

“Very good—not inferior to the state-run restaurants in the capital,” Han Li replied.

Yun Jingjing smiled, “Of course, my sister learned how to make the sauce from a chef. Everyone who’s tasted it says it’s excellent.”

“But I cut the noodles myself. I didn’t know what kind you preferred, so I went with what I’m used to.”

Han Li said, “This thickness is just right—any wider would be too coarse, any thinner too fine.”

As they ate, most families in the village were also having their meals. The youth courtyard was bustling, with two pots being used by several waves of people cooking.

Qi Zhaodi didn’t have to work today, and she had made her meal before the other youths finished their chores. She chose not to eat with the older youths, nor did she try to join anyone else.

Having managed her household from a young age, Qi Zhaodi knew all too well that the grain advanced by the village wouldn’t last long. If she joined the others, it certainly wouldn’t last until the next distribution.

She’d gathered firewood and picked wild greens, though the greens were tough and not very tasty. Still, combined with the advanced grain, she reckoned she could make it to the distribution.

At that moment, she quietly gnawed at a bun stuffed mostly with wild greens, yet felt deeply satisfied—after all, she could finally eat her fill.

In her eighteen years of memory, Qi Zhaodi rarely had enough to eat. From the time she could understand, she’d been standing on stools to scrub pots, cook, and take her younger siblings to gather pig feed.

She handled all the cleaning, all the laundry—everything. Even so, she seldom ate her fill, having lost her father early.

Her mother remarried and sent her back to her grandmother’s house in the countryside, where she became the family’s designated maid. Her grandmother favored boys, thinking girls only needed to survive, and after all, every girl had to work.

This continued until this year, when her mother’s new family faced the prospect of sending a daughter to the countryside. Only then was Qi Zhaodi brought back, her household registration transferred to the new family, and sent to take the place of her younger half-sister. She was given two changes of clothes, a thin quilt, ten yuan, and an enamel washbasin—then put on the train to the countryside.

She’d never attended school, only knew how to write her own name. As long as the numbers matched, everything else was settled for two packs of cigarettes.

This year, her mother’s new family managed to get by—but what about next year? They were city dwellers; perhaps they’d find a way.

At first, Qi Zhaodi believed this too, but on her journey she saw and heard too much. Many families, even the very best, had no choice but to send their children down to the countryside.

With her mother’s reconstituted worker family, on what grounds could they keep their daughter in the city?

Thinking of this, Qi Zhaodi almost laughed—what if they couldn’t find work next year? What if the neighborhood committee conducted another sweep, or someone reported them? Would her mother be able to conjure up another daughter to take their place?

…

That evening, Han Li enjoyed his second most satisfying meal since arriving in the countryside—the first had been in a state-run restaurant. This proved the Yun sisters had real culinary skill, though he had no intention of working with them long-term.

He found them a bit affected, and preferred to keep his distance until he knew them better.

Watching them walk into the youth courtyard, Han Li returned to watering the garden. When he finished, he saw Hao Hongmin and the others seeing He Mi off.

Usually, people just exchanged greetings and moved on, but Yang Xiuying suddenly exclaimed, “Han Li, you’ve carried several loads of water this afternoon—are you still at it? Have you already finished planting?”

Han Li replied, “The courtyard isn’t big, planting’s quick. If you ever need help, just let me know.”

It was meant as a polite gesture; last time, when he tilled the yard, it had been the same. But this time, Yang Xiuying seized the opportunity, nodding enthusiastically. “That’s wonderful! After work tomorrow, help us carry water, and we’ll have Hongmin fry eggs for you tonight.”

Han Li said, “…Alright, just remind me tomorrow.”

As Han Li carried water back into the courtyard, He Mi couldn’t help asking, “You seem to have a good relationship with Comrade Han?”

Hao Hongmin smiled but said nothing, while Yang Xiuying launched into an explanation—starting from their chance meeting on the train and continuing up to the present.

In her telling, Han Li was an exemplary comrade, always ready to help.

(Han Li… get lost…)