Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Decision

They carried the baskets back to Third Master Tang. With his help, they loaded three bulging baskets onto the ox cart.

The other villagers still hadn’t returned. Most didn’t come to town often, so of course they wanted to wander and shop until the last possible moment.

Third Master Tang eyed their baskets, curiosity plain. “So heavy. What’s in there?”

“What else could it be?” Li Tao Hua replied lightly. “Cornmeal, flour, that sort of thing. What else could we possibly afford?”

“Heh.” He waved his hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just asking.”

He tore into his mixed-grain bun and drank from his water flask, satisfied with the day’s profit.

The villagers returned one by one, arms full, faces flushed. When they saw the Tang household’s baskets, their curiosity flared again. Someone reached out to lift the weeds, and Li Tao Hua slapped his hand away and shouted, “Bandit! Robbery!”

Passersby glanced over. The man’s face turned beet-red as he stumbled back, humiliated.

In the past, Li Tao Hua had cared about her image. Now her tongue was sharp and her skin was thick. She no longer guarded the face she’d once valued most, and once the others saw it, no one dared provoke her again.

Qin Hui Yin was only 11. Li Tao Hua kept her tucked close, so she didn’t have to face the women’s nasty sarcasm head-on.

Qin Hui Yin had grown up relying on her grandmother. After her parents divorced, one swore he was going to the city to make big money—only to become a kept man who swallowed another family’s inheritance and fathered a son with his new wife. The other rekindled an old romance with a first love, got caught red-handed by the first love’s legal wife, and made such a public scene that it ended up on local TV news. After that, she vanished and never came back.

Qin Hui Yin had never known a mother’s love.

Now, held in Li Tao Hua’s arms, she felt a kind of safety she hadn’t even known to want. It wrapped around her cold little heart and warmed it, slowly, stubbornly.

When the cart reached the village again, Third Master Tang helped them unload and walked them as far as their bamboo fence gate.

Tang Yi Xiao was waiting there. The moment he saw them, he took the basket from Tang Lu Wu’s hands.

“You don’t have to carry it,” Tang Lu Wu said quickly. “Don’t tire yourself out.”

Tang Yi Xiao ignored her. He slung the basket onto his back and strode into the main room without looking at anyone.

Tang Lu Wu had wanted him to help Qin Hui Yin too, but the words stuck. She picked up Qin Hui Yin’s basket and carried it in herself.

Qin Hui Yin stayed outside to help Li Tao Hua with the last load.

Li Tao Hua wiped sweat from her brow—sweat that still somehow smelled faintly sweet on her—and latched the bamboo gate behind them.

“Let’s eat something simple at noon,” she said.

Then she froze.

On the table sat a pot of corn mush, steaming gently.

Tang Yi Xiao stood nearby, head lowered, working in silence.

“Coming home and there’s food right away—what a nice feeling.” Qin Hui Yin smiled at him. “Thanks, little brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” Tang Yi Xiao snapped, as if someone had jabbed him with a needle. “I did it because I didn’t want my sister to get tired.”

Qin Hui Yin blinked, the smile still on her mouth.

Tang Lu Wu’s eyes reddened. “Little brother… don’t talk like that. Auntie Li and Yin Yin went to buy medicine for you. This month’s medicine is secured. I went with them. I saw the apothecary fill the prescription myself.”

She needed him to believe it—to know it was real medicine, clean and proper, not cheap trash, not a trick.

Tang Yi Xiao’s brows knitted.

He wasn’t as naive as Tang Lu Wu.

Why had that mother and daughter suddenly started treating them well? If someone claimed they had no other motive, he wouldn’t believe it. He’d seen through their nature long ago. People like them didn’t grow hearts overnight.

Li Tao Hua’s patience snapped. “Eat it or don’t. If you won’t eat, then starve. I don’t owe your family anything. Even if you died right in front of me, I wouldn’t even blink.”

Qin Hui Yin pressed her lips together hard.

Heavens. Her mother was too beautiful to be this mouthy. She really could have stayed quiet.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Qin Hui Yin said quickly, stepping between them like a small shield. “Let’s eat first. After we eat, I still have things to do. Later, Mom and Sister Lu Wu have to help me—and Tang Yi Xiao, you have to help too.”

Tang Yi Xiao’s “help” turned out to be the dirtiest task: taking plant ash to the river and scrubbing the pig offal until it no longer stank, then cleaning the pig heart and lungs and rinsing the pig head.

In other words, the whole village soon knew exactly what had been in those three baskets: a pile of scraps nobody else wanted.

The villagers who’d been itching with curiosity stopped coveting it at once. Their mockery came faster than their footsteps. Strangely, that made things easier. Better to be laughed at for buying scraps than hounded by greedy hands.

The Tang Family had a stone mill. Qin Hui Yin wanted to use it to grind the peas into flour.

It was brutal work. With no able-bodied worker in the household, the three women—Li Tao Hua, Qin Hui Yin, and Tang Lu Wu—spent the entire afternoon grinding all 30 jin of peas, hands aching, shoulders burning, sweat soaking their collars.

At last, Li Tao Hua straightened with a groan, pressing a hand to her lower back. “Daughter. What are you trying to do?”

Qin Hui Yin flashed a grin. “Mom, you don’t even know what I’m doing. Why are you cooperating so much? Aren’t you afraid I’ll waste all 30 jin of peas?”

“Peas aren’t expensive,” Li Tao Hua said, waving her hand like it meant nothing. “If you want to waste them, waste them.”

Her gaze softened, even as her mouth stayed sharp. “It’s rare to see you want to do something. Of course I’ll support you. But we’ve been at it all afternoon. You’ve made so much pea slurry—what exactly are you making?”

“You’ll know tomorrow,” Qin Hui Yin said lightly.

Tonight, she would let the water settle, skim away what didn’t belong, and pull the starch from the bottom. Tomorrow she’d dry it. By evening, she’d have what she needed.

She licked her lips, the hunger breaking through all her excitement. “Mom, I want to eat meat.”

“I’ll cook right away.” Li Tao Hua rolled her sleeves up. “We worked hard all day. We’ll eat something good.”

Qin Hui Yin put the pig head and the rest of the scraps into a bucket and lowered it into the water jar to keep it cool. There wasn’t time to deal with it today. She’d handle it tomorrow night.

Even while Li Tao Hua prepared dinner, Qin Hui Yin didn’t rest. The pea slurry still held grit and impurities. She rinsed it again, let it settle, poured off the cloudy water, then did it again—careful, patient, refusing to waste what might become tomorrow’s chance.

“Sister Lu Wu,” she said, glancing up, “shouldn’t you go boil little brother’s medicine?”

Tang Lu Wu had wanted to go for a while, but Qin Hui Yin was busy alone and she hadn’t felt right leaving.

Now she nodded quickly. “Then I’ll decoct the medicine first and come back to help.”

She had to boil it herself, or she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“There’s not much left here.” Qin Hui Yin shooed her. “Go on. I’ll go help my mom cook in a moment.”

They’d bought rice, flour, and seasonings in town. Li Tao Hua decided on noodles.

She cut off a small piece of meat, sliced it thin, and tossed it into a dry-hot pot to render the fat. When the meat turned golden and oil shimmered at the bottom, she poured in water and brought it to a boil.

The dough was already kneaded. Li Tao Hua lifted it, about to pull the noodles—

“Mom.” Qin Hui Yin caught her wrist. “Let me.”

Li Tao Hua blinked. “What?”

Qin Hui Yin didn’t explain. She took the knife, her hands suddenly crisp and practiced, as if she’d been doing this her whole life. She cut and flicked, cut and flicked, and noodle slices flew into the boiling water in clean arcs, like little swimmers diving one after another.

Li Tao Hua stood to the side with her lips parted, almond eyes widened into perfect circles.

She couldn’t move.