Chapter 20: Meng Shiqiao’s Counterattack

Meng Ling didn’t say anything aloud — words alone prove nothing. “Catch the thief with the stolen goods” — some rules were still worth following.

“Zhang Xiaoyu, why’s this turtle shell lying here at your place? You know you can sell one of these for two coins, right?”

Zhang Xiaoyu glanced at the shell and said, “Really? I’ll put it away in a bit then.”

Meng Ling continued, “That was a big one — did you catch it?”

Zhang Xiaoyu replied, “My dad caught it last year when the water rose.”

“Oh, your dad’s pretty capable then. Alright, you go on with your work.”

She wasn’t sure if he was lying — most likely he wasn’t.

Just as she returned home, she saw Meng Shiqiao practicing archery.

“Sis, look! I can shoot this far now!” Meng Shiqiao pointed at a straw target in the yard.

Meng Ling saw that the distance was a little over four zhang (about 13 meters), and the arrow was stuck at an angle in the straw.

“That’s farther than that monkey’s pee from the tree,” she teased. “See? I told you — you work more, you eat more. You eat more, you get stronger. You get stronger, you shoot farther.”

She patted his shoulder. “Now do you believe what I said was true?”

“Uh… it kinda makes a little sense, I guess?” Meng Shiqiao scratched his head.

He wasn’t sure if she was right — it just sounded kind of logical.

“Only a little sense? You sure?” Meng Ling gave him a mock angry glare, pretending to scare him.

Terrified, Meng Shiqiao quickly said, “All true! It all makes sense!”

After three days of drying, the rice was completely done. Meng Ling grabbed a handful and used her thumb and forefinger to pick one grain from her palm and bite it with her front teeth.

Crunch!

The grain let out a crisp sound.

Pfft!

She spat it out and tested a few more. Confirming they were ready, she concluded they just needed to run the rice through the windmill once more before storing it.

The next day, Meng Liang came back from town with a pound of pork. They were finally going to enjoy something special.

“Erwa! Come here!”

Meng Ling called, “Go pound some rice. We’re having meat today, so clean it well.”

“Alright!”

Hearing there would be meat, Meng Shiqiao was instantly energized. He carried a few jin of rice to the stone mortar under the eaves.

When they needed only a little rice, they used their own stone mortar. For more, they’d go to the village mill — which was probably crowded today.

Soon, he was done — drenched in sweat from the heavy work.

“Even just eating takes effort,” Meng Ling thought.

The small stove was used to cook rice, the big one to stir-fry.

Meng Ling cleaned the pork belly and ribs, chopped them into neat squares, and stir-fried them until golden.

She added various seasonings and braised the meat over high heat. When it was nearly done, she added diced radish and continued cooking.

Once the radish softened, she turned up the heat to reduce the sauce, then sprinkled in chopped wild scallions, gave it a quick toss, and plated it.

The radish and meat were similar in color — you couldn’t tell them apart at a glance.

“Sis, let me taste!” Meng Shiqiao said, swallowing his saliva.

Meng Ling picked out a piece for him. He stuffed it into his mouth in one bite. The juicy pork belly burst with flavor.

The fatty part melted instantly; the lean part was tender and soaked with the aroma of radish. The radish carried the richness of meat — the perfect mix of light and hearty. One bite left him craving another.

Soon, all the food was on the table.

Meng Shiqiao dug in, head down. The new rice was aromatic, slightly sweet, and soft. Just the smell made you want a second bowl.

“The meat’s so good!” little Meng Qingqing’s soft voice made everyone laugh.

“Hahaha! So you do know your sister’s cooking is delicious,” Shen said with a smile.

Meng Shiqiao had three full bowls and now slumped in a chair, stuffed.

After more than ten days of drying, all the rice had been stored. As the weather turned colder, families began gathering straw from the fields.

“Erwa! Let’s go catch loaches in the field,” Meng Ling called.

“Okay!”

Each of them carried a straw-pulling hoe on their shoulders, with hands resting on each other’s tools. A small wooden bucket hung from the front, swinging as they walked.

“Hey, where are you two headed?” Aunt Zhang asked when she saw them leaving.

“We’re off to dig loaches!” Meng Shiqiao replied.

Aunt Zhang curled her lips and muttered, “Those things are so slimy and fishy — what’s so good about them?”

Even though she said it quietly, Meng Shiqiao heard her.

“Blame the rice when you can’t cook. Blame the pot when you can’t stir-fry…” he said loudly, dragging his words.

“You brat!” Aunt Zhang’s face turned sour instantly.

Before she could say anything more, they had already walked far away.

Aunt Zhang truly didn’t cook well — it used to be Zhang Dahe’s job, now it was Zhang Xiaoyu’s. She didn’t seem like a mother at all.

In the field, the straw had been dried, and families were bundling it up to carry home.

Uncle Wang Fugui was tying straw when he saw the two siblings entering the field.

“Daya, taking your brother out to dig loaches?”

“Yep! Are you gathering straw, Uncle Wang?” Meng Ling greeted him.

Wang Fugui asked, “Da Ya, the turtle I bought from your place last time tasted great! Can you still catch them in winter?”

“Oh, that’s all thanks to Aunt Wang’s cooking. But no, you can’t catch them in winter,” Meng Ling smiled.

“You really know how to talk,” Wang Fugui said happily.

The fields were full of loach holes, easy to spot. Meng Ling aimed at one. Her first hoe strike was shallow — it revealed a smooth tunnel. She judged the loach’s direction, and with a second strike, she found one diving downward.

She lowered the hoe right beside it, pressed down hard, and lifted up — scooping up the mud and loach together.

This way, the loach wouldn’t be injured. A careless strike could cut it in half.

“Sis, I broke another one,” Meng Shiqiao said.

He either cut them in two or injured them — under his hoe, no loach survived whole.

Eventually, he resorted to using his hands halfway through — luckily, the mud wasn’t hard.

Meng Ling preferred using a hoe, though it gave her blisters.

“Sis! Come quick — this hole is huge! I can fit my whole hand in!” Meng Shiqiao suddenly shouted.

“It’s probably an eel. Let me see.” Meng Ling walked over.

The hole was very smooth. While digging, Meng Shiqiao reached in and felt around to determine its direction.

“It’s going under the ridge.”

The ridge wasn’t wide, and he soon dug through to the other field.

After a while, the tunnel sloped downward — the soil grew hard and digging got tough.

“Sis, you try. It’s too hard,” he said, sitting on a straw pile, panting.

They had already dug over two meters and found five or six loaches along the way.

The tunnel was now deep, likely close to the end.

Meng Ling saw that the entrance was still wide. She estimated the eel weighed over a jin.

Fifteen minutes later, she finally saw the eel’s head — about the size of an egg.

“Got it!” she shouted.

Meng Shiqiao jumped up from the straw and ran over — a golden tail was sticking out of the hole.

“Keep digging!” he urged, excited.

Meng Ling kept going, and soon half the eel was visible — gleaming golden-yellow.

“So big!”

Meng Shiqiao shouted and reached out to pull it out.

“Wow, it must be one and a half jin!” he said joyfully.

“Close,” Meng Ling agreed, thrilled by the rare catch.

“Yo, found a monster eel! That’s huge!” Zhang Fugui called from the field — it was the biggest he’d ever seen.

“Yeah, a real eel spirit, haha,” Meng Shiqiao said, turning it in his hands.

After playing with it a while, he lost interest. “Sis, this thing’s big, but it’s not even tasty. No one eats this stuff.”

“That’s because you’ve never tried my cooking. Just wait.”

They caught about three or four jin of loaches — plus a small eel weighing around a jin. That giant eel stood out in the bucket.

As they neared home, Aunt Zhang saw them coming and rushed over, leaning in to peek into the bucket.

Seeing her approach, Meng Shiqiao suddenly lifted the bucket up close to her face.

“Ah! A snake!”

“Ow!”

She screamed and jerked backward, smashing her head against the hoe handle on Meng Shiqiao’s shoulder. The hoe slipped and fell back hard.

Meng Shiqiao quickly let go and darted forward a few steps — or he might’ve split his leg open.

Thud… thunk!

The hoe landed with a dull thump.

“Aunt Zhang! All I did was say one thing and you’re trying to kill me?” Meng Shiqiao shouted first.

Aunt Zhang was still clutching her forehead, groaning in pain. Seeing that, Meng Ling couldn’t help touching her own forehead — it really did look painful.