Chapter 9: The Autumn Harvest Ends

Born in the Northeast, one could clearly see the passage of time and the changing of seasons.

Truly, the climate followed nature’s rhythm. After the autumn equinox, in the Northeast, by a little after 3 p.m. and before 4 p.m., the sky was already dimming, and by 5 p.m. it was completely dark.

Wang Yi didn’t want to deal with her grandmother, but she also didn’t want to make things difficult for her mother. So she politely asked:

“Grandma, are you staying at our house tonight?” But asking that was already considered impolite.

“What? I need your permission to stay here? I see the older you get, the less likable you are…” Her grandmother rattled off a whole string of complaints.

Wang Yi could tell she was holding a grudge. This afternoon, Aunt Liu must have said something that really set her off. Wang Yi didn’t bother to respond—after all, she had never been treated well since childhood.

“Well, Grandma, you sit down. I’m going to get some work done,” she said as she walked out.

Even outside, while burning corn stalks in the stove, Wang Yi could still hear her grandmother shouting and scolding inside.

She really couldn’t believe it—how did this old lady still have so much energy?

Wang Yi dragged in two bundles of corn stalks, placing one bundle in each room. The weather wasn’t too cold yet, so one bundle per room was enough.

It was easy to heat the kang (heated brick bed). The corn stalks were from last year’s harvest, already very dry. One bundle thrown directly into the stove pit and lit was enough to get it going.

After heating the kang, Wang Yi decided to start cooking dinner.

She didn’t take any vegetables from her hidden storage space—she honestly didn’t want her grandmother to eat them.

Wang Yi remembered when she was little, visiting her grandmother’s house in winter. At that time, even the village would have small ice lanterns. During the New Year, married daughters would return to their parents’ homes, and everyone would take a few commemorative photos in front of the lanterns. If someone wanted a solo picture, they could just get it printed separately.

But her family had always been poor—no matter how hard they worked, they could never save money. On top of that, because her mother never listened to the old lady, they were treated even worse.

One year, during the New Year, they went back to her grandmother’s house. Thinking the whole family was finally together, they planned to take a group photo. Everyone agreed they would go in the evening after dark. But her grandmother wouldn’t allow it. She told her mother, “Hurry up and go home. We’re not taking pictures today.”

They waited until it was almost time to catch the train before they had no choice but to leave. But right after they left, her grandmother took the others to take photos anyway. All her cousins—grandsons, granddaughters, grandchildren—were in the pictures. The only ones missing were her brother and herself.

After that, she and her brother hardly ever went to her grandmother’s place anymore, not even during the New Year.

Realizing it was getting late, Wang Yi hurried to the garden to pick some beans. There weren’t many meals left with them anyway—some had already grown old and tough.

She picked a bowl of edible ones, washed them under the tap, and began preparing dinner.

First, she rinsed the rice and saved the starchy water. Later, she would use it to stew the beans, which would make them soft and sticky.

She cut up some pork fat—because stewed beans without fatty pork just weren’t as fragrant.

She stir-fried the pork until the color changed, then added the beans. Next, she broke up a potato (not sliced, but broken into chunks with a knife) and tossed in half a squash. After stir-frying for a few minutes, she added thirteen-spice powder, soy sauce, and most importantly, a spoonful of homemade soybean paste. Just a little salt was needed since the paste was already salty. Finally, she poured in the rice water and a bit of water, then set the rice on top of the pot with lotus leaves to steam. In half an hour, dinner would be ready.

Wang Yi also went to the pickle jar and took out a mustard root. She soaked it in water for a while; otherwise, it would be too salty.

While soaking, she chopped cilantro and green onions for garnish.

Once the mustard root was ready, she shredded it and mixed it with the onions, cilantro, and chili oil.

That night, only her immediate family ate together. Her uncle and aunt didn’t come.

Seeing her parents about to come back, Wang Yi boiled hot water so they could wash up before eating.

She set the table and laid out the bowls and chopsticks, sitting across from her grandmother, glaring at each other.

When her mother came in, she saw their red eyes and thought her mother must have scolded Wang Yi again.

That’s how the misunderstanding began—wasn’t it just both of them staring each other down, refusing to give in?

“Mom, when did you get here? We just finished harvesting at home,” her mother asked quickly.

“Yes, Mom, we’re done here. I’ll stay a few days before going back,” her father added.

Her grandmother, in a bad mood, said: “What do you mean done? My land hasn’t been harvested yet. I came here to ask you two to help with mine tomorrow!”

“Mom, we’re scheduled for tomorrow. We were just told on the way back—we have to start early,” her father said awkwardly.

“What do you mean scheduled? I only asked you to harvest a little bit for me! Don’t give me excuses. Tomorrow your elder sister, second sister, and younger sister will all be there helping. By 3 p.m. it’ll be done. You and your elder brother’s family can join in for a day. Don’t say you can’t—every year you all harvest together,” her grandmother insisted angrily.

Her parents exchanged a glance. They knew there was no way out—if they didn’t go, she wouldn’t leave.

Her father had no choice but to call his uncle, telling him they couldn’t help with his land tomorrow. Then he phoned Brother Zhang, who operated the harvester, asking him to go to the southern fields instead. Their family’s turn would have to wait a day.

When her grandmother saw her father make those arrangements, she finally smiled—the first smile since she arrived.

Wang Yi turned away and pouted. She just wanted to see how many people would really show up to help tomorrow. In the end, it was always her parents who were soft-hearted.

“Dad, Mom, the water’s ready. Let’s eat,” Wang Yi called.

When the dishes were brought out, her grandmother naturally sat in the main seat, crossed her legs, and began eating.

She nitpicked while eating—complaining the rice was too soft, or the vegetables too salty—always finding fault.

Her parents tasted the vegetables and immediately knew they weren’t from the hidden storage. The texture was different. Her father glanced at Wang Yi, but she pretended not to notice and went on as if nothing happened.

After dinner, everyone went back to their rooms to rest.

Wang Yi felt very upset, wondering why her grandmother always made things so difficult for her parents.

At midnight, she couldn’t sleep. Sharing a room with her grandmother, she was kept awake by the loud snoring.

After her grandmother fell asleep, Wang Yi slipped into her storage space to check the ginseng she had planted a few days ago.

To her surprise, two leaves had already sprouted. She didn’t really know if it was good ginseng or not, but she was sure of one thing—everything that grew in the space was top quality.

The next morning, around 3 a.m., her parents and grandmother set out on the four-wheeled cart.

Just as she had guessed, none of her other relatives showed up. Her parents didn’t complain and simply started working hard.

At noon, her grandmother had no choice but to go back to cook. She grumbled and cursed all the way home.

It wasn’t until 1 p.m. that she lazily returned with just plain rice and eggplant paste—a meal that had taken her two hours to prepare.

Her parents were used to her ways by now. They didn’t say anything, just hurried to eat so they could finish early—otherwise, tomorrow their own fields would be due for harvesting.

They worked all the way until 9 p.m., finally finishing the plot of land. The rest would have to wait until after their own harvest.

Her grandmother didn’t ask them to stay the night. Instead, she bought two buns and two sausages for them to eat on the road.

At home, Wang Yi waited for her parents, keeping the food hot on the stove for them.