Chapter 24: The Kitchen Collapsed

The two of them ran to the back mountain and chopped at the bamboo, cutting over a dozen stalks. Fortunately, chopping bamboo wasn’t hard, so it didn’t take long.

They spent the entire morning dragging the bamboo back from the mountain.

“Daya, what are you doing with all this bamboo?” Aunt Zhang asked, seeing them carry so much.

“We’re reinforcing the house. I’m afraid the heavy snow will crush it. This old house can’t withstand much weight.”

As she spoke, Meng Ling picked up a saw and began cutting the bamboo.

Aunt Zhang glanced at the sky. Remembering the last time she ignored a warning and regretted it, she decided Meng Ling had a point and rushed home to discuss reinforcing their own house with her husband.

“Dahe, should we reinforce our house too? I saw Daya reinforcing hers—she’s worried about heavy snow.”

“Our house? We’ve only had it for three years. No way snow’s going to bring it down,” Zhang Dahe replied confidently.

Meng Ling had already cut the first piece of bamboo, sawing it right at the nodes. A bit short, but it could be propped with something.

They used the bamboo poles to brace the beams—every other beam got a support. The beams weren’t too large, so this should do.

She was worried the walls of packed earth might not hold. Some already had cracks as wide as chopsticks.

When Shen Shi heard they were reinforcing the house, she came to help.

They clattered and banged around, making a ruckus. Soon, Liu Shi—Zhang Fa’s mother—came nosing around to see what was going on.

Seeing them so busy, Liu Shi said, “You’re worried the snow’ll bring the house down? Come on, snow’s not that heavy.”

Snow’s not heavy? Meng Ling thought, Clearly someone didn’t study much. It might feel light in your hand, but snow can weigh a lot. She didn’t bother arguing.

She rolled her eyes and said, “This house is old. Better safe than sorry.”

Liu Shi added, “What’s the big deal? If it collapses, just build a new one. It’s old anyway.”

She made it sound like building a house cost nothing.

Meng Ling didn’t want to waste time on her. She wanted her gone so she could get back to work.

So she said, “Sounds like you’re planning to wait for your house to collapse before building a new one. That’d save you the trouble of tearing it down.”

Liu Shi was clearly annoyed. Her house was only a few years old—it still counted as new.

“Pah, collapse? My house is practically new. Yours is decades old. If it collapses, no big loss.”

Meng Ling thought, So your house can’t collapse, but mine can? Do you even hear yourself?

Shen Shi couldn’t take it anymore. “Liu Yu! What kind of thing is that to say? If our house collapses, are we supposed to come live with you? Are you wishing us dead under the rubble?”

Liu Yu had forgotten that people actually lived in these houses—she just wanted to flap her mouth, as usual.

Realizing she’d gone too far, she tried to brush it off, “Oh come on, I was just joking. Didn’t mean anything.”

Shen Shi scowled, “You call that a joke?”

“Alright, alright. Pretend I didn’t say anything. I’ve got stuff to do at home anyway.” She walked off without so much as an apology.

Meng Ling was speechless. She really just came to ruin the mood.

The three of them worked the whole day and finally got the house reinforced. The wind howled like a raging beast outside.

Aunt Zhang came by several times, still uneasy. In the end, she reinforced her own house too.

By evening, icy wind mixed with snow began to fall. Meng Liang finally got home, shivering uncontrollably from the cold.

He huddled by the fire, hands trembling, teeth chattering.

Meng Ling wrapped him in a blanket. It took a full half hour by the fire before he warmed up.

“This weather is brutal.”

Once he’d recovered, he asked about the bamboo.

Meng Ling explained everything. He praised her foresight—it was smart to take precautions, given how old the house was.

“Dad, you rest. I’ll stew some lamb to warm us up.” She headed to the kitchen.

But when she got there, she found wind whistling in from all sides. The kitchen had been built with ventilation in mind, but now the openings let snow blow right in.

The fire kept dying. What should’ve taken half an hour to cook would now take an extra half hour.

Even after eating lamb stew, Meng Ling went to bed cold. Her feet were ice. Even soaking them in hot water beforehand didn’t help—they froze right after getting into bed.

She couldn’t remember it ever being this cold. Even with her cotton coat on top of the blanket, she still shivered.

That night, the wind howled. She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but the cold woke her at dawn.

—-

The snow had stopped. The room lit up from the reflected white outside.

Still under the covers, she pulled on an extra layer. Now she looked like a marshmallow.

It was the most she could wear, but her feet in cotton shoes still felt like ice.

She rushed to start a fire. The rest of the family began to stir, except the two little ones who were still in bed.

When she went to wash her face, she found the water in the bucket completely frozen. She couldn’t break it even with a stick. Shaking it let her hear the water inside.

Opening the door, the dazzling white nearly blinded her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

The sky remained gray and heavy—no sign of sunshine.

The spring water flowing into the yard had frozen over. The snow, over a foot thick, had hardened. It crunched loudly underfoot without sinking much.

Meng Ling guessed it was at least -5°C.

She grabbed a chopping blade and cracked the ice on the water vat to get water.

She made a pot of porridge with some pork cracklings and pickled vegetables. After eating, everyone felt warmer.

“Dad, how are you feeling?” she asked. A cold now would be serious.

“I’m fine. That lamb stew really helped. Kept the chill from settling in.”

Everyone was relieved.

They gathered around the fire. The moment you stepped away, it felt like standing naked in the snow.

The sky darkened again—it looked like more snow was coming.

“Dad, have you ever seen it like this?” she asked.

Meng Liang thought for a moment. “No. But your great-grandfather did—over fifty years ago, when he was just a child.”

“Ah! I forgot to feed the chickens!”

Meng Shiqiao finally remembered his daily chore.

“They didn’t freeze to death, did they?” Meng Ling asked.

Everyone rushed outside to check. In the pigsty, they found a pile of straw.

The two goats had grown noticeably. They huddled together, trembling. Without help, they’d probably freeze to death.

The chickens were all hiding in their coop—no major issues there.

“Bring the goats inside. They’ll die otherwise,” Meng Ling said. Goats don’t burrow like pigs.

They carried the goats inside to the fire. It took a long time for them to stop shaking. Any later, and it might’ve been too late.

Meng Liang added more straw to the pigsty. The corn was cooked.

The pigs didn’t even want to come out to eat. After some coaxing, they rushed out, gobbled everything up, then dove back into the straw.

The two goats were placed in a wooden box padded with ash and thick straw. They were fed some corn.

“Sigh… it’s snowing again. Who knows when it’ll stop,” Meng Liang said, brushing snow off himself after feeding the pigs.

“Were you cold at night?” he asked.

He and Shen Shi had slept with their youngest, so they were warm enough.

“Cold. My feet were freezing,” Meng Shiqiao replied, rubbing his hands by the fire.

“Same here. Even wrapped in the blanket, it was freezing,” Meng Ling added.

“If only we had bed warmers, we could at least keep our feet warm,” Meng Liang sighed.

That gave Meng Ling an idea.

“There are some big river stones behind the house. What if we boil them and wrap them in cloth? That might keep us warm for a long time.”

Meng Liang nodded. “Worth a try!”

He fetched two fist-sized stones from behind the house.

They couldn’t be put directly into the fire—that’d get too hot. So they boiled them in water.

Meng Ling wrapped the steaming rocks in thick layers of cloth and placed them under the blanket.

To her surprise, the warmth lasted about three hours. With someone lying next to them, they might last even longer. If they used more stones, it would be even better.

That night, each person had two “goose-warmers” in their blanket.

“I’m a genius!” Meng Ling declared the next morning when she woke up with warm feet.

“If only this dreadful weather would end. Every day I just want to stay in bed.”

She stretched and rolled over.

Looking through the cracks, she saw the snow had piled up even more. Last night, she’d vaguely heard something collapse.

—-

“Meng Liang! Our kitchen collapsed!” Shen Shi shouted from outside.

“Oh no!” Meng Ling scrambled to get dressed and rushed out.

Sure enough—the kitchen had caved in. Her parents were digging through the debris for utensils.

The clay pot was shattered. Meng Ling just prayed the iron one survived.

She jumped in to help. “How did we forget about the kitchen!?”