Chapter 39

After gesturing to the two of them, Lin Yonggang looked at his sister’s expression and nodded hastily. “Actually, the three of us already talked it over. If the family doesn’t have money to buy things, the three of us will chip in and buy it ourselves.” After Lin Yonggang finished speaking, Lin Yumei also nodded along.

Zhao Lanxiu looked at the three children and was momentarily speechless. “Alright, alright, I don’t know what I did to deserve you three. I already bought the things and locked them in the cabinet. The key is under the quilt. Be careful when you take it out, and remember to close the cabinet door afterwards. If a rat gets in, you’ll be in trouble.”

“Yay!” Lin Yonggang was clearly the most excited.

“Now you’re satisfied, right?”

Lin Yun had initially wanted to say, “That’s not really any different from what you said before.” But then she thought about how at least Zhao Lanxiu had answered their earlier question this time, so she held back. Things like this couldn’t be rushed and needed to be approached gradually.

The three of them went to Zhao Lanxiu and Lin Chuntian’s room. Inside, there was a wardrobe and a cabinet. The wardrobe was mostly used for clothes, while the cabinet was used by Zhao Lanxiu to store important items. It was locked with a small lock, and she usually kept the key on her. Probably only around New Year’s could the three of them get access to the items inside.

Lin Yun opened the cabinet. There actually wasn’t much inside—a new ceramic basin, a small piece of cloth, a neatly folded mosquito net, and some odds and ends. These were probably things Zhao Lanxiu had collected and tucked away over time.

“Jie, Mom actually bought snacks this year!” Lin Yonggang leaned over to look. The snacks looked like little mushrooms, each only about the size of half a palm. Lin Yun had never seen or eaten anything like it before, but judging by Lin Yonggang’s excitement, they must taste pretty good.

Maybe it was because the family had actually made some money this year—Zhao Lanxiu had bought quite a few things, which, for this time period, wasn’t insignificant. Two packs of snacks, a pack of what Lin Yonggang said was candied winter melon, and a pack of sunflower seeds.

“Mom will probably make some other things too. I bet she’s making more this year than she did in the past,” Lin Yumei said, full of anticipation.

Sure enough, Zhao Lanxiu didn’t disappoint. Early the next morning, she called the three of them up. “Come help out, we’re preparing New Year goods today.”

Both Lin Yumei and Lin Yonggang were still a little groggy. The New Year was one of the few times they could sleep in—there wasn’t much farm work to do, and everything was filled with festive cheer. Adults would usually be a bit more lenient with the kids around this time too.

Lin Yun didn’t mind, though. In fact, she was excited. She had never seen homemade snack-making before. In the modern era, this would be considered true hand-crafted treats.

Zhao Lanxiu got all three of them up, but once they were all ready, Lin Yun realized Zhao Lanxiu might still be holding a grudge over last night’s conversation—because she didn’t let Lin Yun do anything. Or rather, she didn’t let her help at all.

When Lin Yun tried to tend the fire, Zhao Lanxiu kept saying it was either too hot or too weak. No matter what, it was never the right temperature. And if she couldn’t even get the fire right, she obviously wasn’t allowed to help with anything else. All she could do was watch as Zhao Lanxiu steamed glutinous rice, mixed it with something unidentifiable, and then said to let it sit for now.

Lin Yun had expected to see some nostalgic snack make a grand appearance. But in the end, that was it. She was a bit disappointed.

But soon, she noticed Zhao Lanxiu wasn’t stopping. After cleaning the pot, she told Lin Yun to keep the fire going, saying the fire didn’t need to be carefully controlled this time—just make it hot.

Then Lin Yun watched as Zhao Lanxiu, like performing a magic trick, brought out peas, pumpkin seeds, peanuts, and roasted them one by one in the pan. Her hands never stopped. Just watching made Lin Yun feel exhausted. She wanted to help, but Zhao Lanxiu wasn’t having it.

“You guys don’t have enough strength. If you don’t stir properly and burn the batch, are you going to pay for it? You think this stuff is free?” After hearing that, Lin Yun fell silent. Fine then—no help it is.

That whole day, Zhao Lanxiu stayed in the kitchen, moving from one task to the next. Whenever the three kids tried to help, she waved them off. They could only step in to help when she called them over.

Peanuts and sunflower seeds were relatively easy—they just needed to cool down after being roasted. The glutinous rice item was the tricky one. Lin Yonggang said it was mátáng (a kind of sticky rice candy), but Lin Yun didn’t really know what that was just from the name.

She watched as the fermented liquid was boiled into a paste, then stored away and hung from a beam to cool. But since it was getting late and there was a risk of rats coming in at night, it couldn’t be left out for long.

The next day was February 6, 1983—the day before Little New Year. The village was clearly livelier now. Lin Yun saw Zhao Lanxiu pulling sugar all day at home.

She watched with her own eyes as the sugar, under Zhao Lanxiu’s strong pulls, changed from light yellow to white, eventually becoming a big block of white mátáng.

Though it was called mátáng (sesame candy), there wasn’t a sesame seed in sight—no one knew where the name came from. After it was finished, Zhao Lanxiu stored it in a clay jar with some flour added in. Lin Yun tasted a piece after it was ready.

At first, she doubted whether she was eating sugar or just flour. But once she got past the floury coating, the sweet aroma of the candy emerged. As she chewed, she could feel it slowly softening, though it started off tough and sticky.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t had candy in a while, but Lin Yun thought this simple sweetness rivaled even the fancy candies she’d eaten in her past life—at least, until the candy glued her upper and lower teeth together so tightly she couldn’t open her mouth. Up to that point, though, she had been fully impressed.

But the more she chewed, the more she realized something was off. The candy was too chewy. Not the nice kind of chewy—this was the kind that stuck so badly it made chewing nearly impossible.

After just one small piece, her temples were throbbing. It took her a while to recover. Still, despite that, she found herself wanting more afterward.

That day, Lin Chuntian finally came home for good. He told the family he wouldn’t be going out to sell jars anymore this year.

The three kids fully supported that. He had worked so hard this year—Lin Yun had even seen him come home late at night after selling jars, only to head right back out to hunt centipedes. As long as it made money, he was willing to try anything.