Chapter 16: Where Did My Japonica Rice Go?

Xiaomei knew Aunt Zhou meant well, and although she was very grateful, she couldn’t tell the whole truth.

In the village, kids could only start school after the age of eight—very different from how things are nowadays.

“Auntie, don’t worry. I’ll study hard. Things are a bit special right now, but once we’ve paid off our debts, I’ll come on weekends or after school. It’s fine if I get home a little later. And there’s still holidays and summer and winter breaks—plenty of time.”

Seeing how clever and quick-witted the little girl was, Zhou Huifang could only nod helplessly. “Remember, nothing is more important than studying.”

Besides, you’re just a child—studying should be your only job, Zhou Huifang thought, though she said nothing more since it wasn’t her child.

She changed the subject abruptly: “The matter with the Demerol likely isn’t a big deal. We should get news in the next couple of days. When you come to sell vegetables, stop by the shop first. Your grandma probably needs liquid food. This is a vegetarian multigrain porridge—you just need to soak it in boiling water. And maybe you should buy some milk powder for her to drink.”

Xiaomei nodded. “I’ll go buy some later. Auntie, how much is this porridge?”

“It’s free. It’s from my own stash at home—I’ve got plenty. Take it for your grandma,” Zhou Huifang replied generously.

“Auntie, I have money.” Xiaomei pulled out a big handful of bills from her pocket, mostly ten-yuan notes.

Zhou Huifang helped her count: “125 yuan. Not bad—an opening-day success!”

“So Auntie, I have to pay for the porridge. You’ve already helped my family a lot. We can’t just keep taking things from you.”

Zhou Huifang loved Xiaomei’s sensible nature and laughed. “Alright, let’s do it your way. I can’t stop you from showing filial piety! How about this—you take one box first. If your grandma handles it well, then come buy more later, okay?”

One box had ten packets. Zhou Huifang had paid 50 yuan for it wholesale, and Xiaomei paid her 50 yuan accordingly.

It was expensive, and Xiaomei winced at the price. But if her grandma could drink it and get better, it would be worth it.

Besides, she could still sell vegetables, chickens, and eggs tomorrow—she could earn more money.

After saying goodbye to Aunt Zhou, Xiaomei went to a supermarket on the south side of the market to buy a bag of milk powder. She chose a mid-range brand—those in metal tins cost nearly 300 yuan, which she definitely couldn’t afford.

She picked a brand called Yili, a formula for seniors. It cost 36.8 yuan. Xiaomei saw the label said 400g and asked the cashier how heavy that was. When she heard it was only eight taels (400g), her eyes widened.

So expensive!

But since it was meant for elderly people, maybe her grandma would like it.

Xiaomei paid without hesitation.

Then she bought ten sesame flatbreads, which were also pricey—ten for 25 yuan.

So, after subtracting the porridge, milk powder, and flatbread expenses from today’s earnings, she had 13.2 yuan left.

Add to that the four or so yuan she had saved from the morning, and Xiaomei had just over 17 yuan.

That’s not much by local standards, but in her village, it was a huge sum!

Carrying her purchases, Xiaomei headed home in high spirits, thinking about all she had accomplished today.

Her two trips out today had made Grandma Wang very anxious. She was practically growing roots in the backyard garden waiting.

This couldn’t go on.

Grandma Wang didn’t dare move the four rosebushes to the front yard—what if they died? The issue wasn’t whether Xiaomei could go, but whether she’d be able to return—or worse, if she’d end up in some strange new place.

Still, despite the unfamiliar surroundings, based on what Xiaomei had said, the people over there seemed kind—especially Zhou Huifang, who was very warm-hearted.

All things considered, Grandma Wang felt reassured.

So, they’d stick to the current plan. If they really earned some money, they’d make further arrangements.

After returning home, Grandma Wang hurried to cook dinner—just a pot of plain congee. Thankfully, Xiaomei brought back the sesame flatbreads. For them, this was already a very good meal.

After dinner, it was Wang Peigen and his wife’s turn to stay overnight with the patient. Grandma Wang gave them the multigrain porridge and milk powder.

The porridge box had instructions, and the packaging did too—including a production date. Grandma Wang poured the powdered porridge into a jar and stored the box and bag in her camphorwood chest, planning to have Xiaomei throw them away on the other side tomorrow.

She did the same with the milk powder.

Thankfully, Zhou Huifang had reminded Xiaomei that Grandma Wang’s condition made it better to cook the porridge.

Xiaomei repeated that advice, and Grandma Wang passed it on to her son and daughter-in-law.

Milk powder was easier to prepare, and Wang Peigen knew how to make it.

This couple was really careless. The household had gone through some major changes lately, and yet they hadn’t noticed anything.

Maybe they were focused on the patient, or maybe they were just used to Grandma Wang running everything. Other than working for labor points, they simply went along with whatever she said.

That saved Grandma Wang a lot of talking—but she also sighed inwardly. What a dull son and daughter-in-law, but at least they had a clever daughter.

That night, once Xiaohua had fallen asleep, the grandmother and granddaughter began their quiet “night talks.”

Xiaomei described everything she’d seen and done that day and mentioned she’d go sell vegetables again tomorrow. She’d already taken stock—there were pumpkins and such.

“Xiaomei, have you thought about this? The money you earned today—can’t be used here. So how are we going to pay the hospital back?” Grandma Wang asked.

Xiaomei had vaguely thought about it, but not seriously. Now that Grandma Wang said it out loud, she realized how serious the issue was.

Grandma Wang noticed how her granddaughter’s little body went stiff.

She quickly patted her. “Don’t worry. Listen to Grandma.” She tucked in her grandson’s blanket as she spoke.

Xiaohua, oblivious as ever, had played wildly all day and now slept like a piglet.

“Xiaomei, let me ask you something. This morning, you bought Japonica rice for Grandma. Japonica rice tastes much better than Indica rice. Every year, our team used to give us a fair amount. But now there’s not a single grain of Japonica rice in our house. So, where do you think it all went?”

Xiaomei thought for a moment and shook her head. “I don’t know. I only remember eating Indica rice since I was little. Oh! I remember once I had a fever, and Grandma made Japonica congee for me—it was so tasty!”

“That’s right. Japonica congee is fragrant, sticky, and filling. Most families would keep three to five catties at home for when someone got sick. For everyday meals, they’d use Indica rice.”

“Grandma, where did our Japonica rice go?” Xiaomei asked.

Grandma Wang sighed. “Years ago, villagers rowed boats to Shanghai to collect trash—it was all household garbage, which made excellent fertilizer. People used pig manure, river sludge, and trash—great for crops. It’s not like now, when the commune sells us chemical fertilizers.”

“At some point, boats heading to Shanghai began carrying hundreds of catties of Japonica rice. Once there, people would go street to street trading it. Typically, one catty of Japonica rice could fetch 1.2 or 1.3 catties of Indica rice. Sometimes they’d throw in gloves or pillowcases. Country folks lacked everything, so they saved on food to trade for daily necessities.”

“If they couldn’t trade well, they’d at least bring back Indica rice. The boats left light but came back heavy—full of garbage and dozens or even hundreds of catties of Indica rice.”

“Indica rice wasn’t liked in Shanghai but treasured here. So what to do? People went to Suzhou to sell the surplus—particularly near Xumen, where many migrant workers lived. These laborers had money but not enough food. So villagers sold them the extra rice and used the money for things like oil, salt, vinegar, matches, or cloth for new clothes.”

“Your uncle’s family and ours had a lot of mouths to feed but only two people working. Some food was distributed by headcount, some by labor points. So we didn’t get much. You didn’t eat much, but your uncle’s sons were big eaters.”

“Your uncle could eat! Once he ate twenty rice balls plus two bowls of rice. I think he’s only been 70% full for years. Look how skinny he is.”

“Your dad had a problem—he’d get nauseous after eating. The food would come up into his mouth like vomit. But he never spat it out—he swallowed it again, because otherwise he’d be hungry. We couldn’t afford two portions of food for him.”

“Every village family was like this—scrimping and saving. If everyone stayed healthy, life was manageable. But if someone got sick, it all fell apart.”