Chapter 17: Digging for Medicinal Herbs

When they returned home, the gate was tied up, and there was no one inside.

As soon as Song Liangzuo entered the house, he dashed straight to the kitchen, grabbed a ladle from the water jar, and gulped down half a scoop of water.

When he returned to the main room, his grandmother had already taken out the pig lard from the bamboo basket. Seeing him come in, she tossed a few meager-looking bones onto the table.

“Here, something even the dogs wouldn’t touch. Why are you bringing this back? It’ll just waste firewood,” she chided him.

Song Liangzuo giggled, gazing at the two split leg bones like treasures. “But didn’t the boss at the meat stall say that these make for good soup?”

Indeed, when they had bought the pig lard at the stall, he had asked the vendor about those bones, and the vendor had chuckled, “If you want them, take them for free. When you cook soup, you won’t see the meat in the pot, but you’ll definitely taste the flavor of the meat!”

Thus, he had ended up with two free bones.

“You’re believing his nonsense! If it was really good, would he just give it away? You might just end up losing your teeth,” the grandmother teased. However, her good mood shone through; the sternness of her words lacked real bite.

Song Liangzuo gasped in mock fright, playfully covering his mouth, which made the already merry grandmother laugh even harder. Finally, he said, “I’ll just drink the soup; I won’t gnaw on the bones.”

“That stuff isn’t worth drinking; you might as well have hot water. Now eat this and don’t tell those two,” she added, opening the bag of snacks she had bought today. She pulled out a piece of mung bean cake to give him, then tied the bag back up and headed to the east room.

His grandmother truly cared for him; that bag of snacks cost twelve wens, and she didn’t hesitate to buy it.

When the grandmother returned and saw her grandson staring blankly at the snack without eating it, she poked his forehead. “Eat up! If you don’t, the mice will take it away. Let me see what’s in the kitchen; we’ll make do with something and head to the fields.”

Once the grandmother walked away, Song Liangzuo swallowed hard and broke off a small piece to pop into his mouth, hiding the rest of the snack in the west room.

“Grandma, I heard the shopkeeper say that dandelions can be fully used as medicine. Just be careful not to break the roots when you harvest them,” Song Liangzuo worked to showcase the knowledge he picked up from the pharmacy.

“That’s not complicated,” the grandmother replied, using her rough hands to gently loosen the soil around the base of the dandelion. She twisted and gently pulled upward.

Song Liangzuo watched as the earth around the dandelion’s roots formed a small mound. Then, with a strong tug, the whole dandelion came out intact; only the fine roots snapped, releasing a barely noticeable white sap.

Song Liangzuo was amazed, clapping his small hands. “Grandma, you’re so amazing!”

The grandmother’s face instantly brightened as if a gentle spring breeze had caressed her wrinkles, making her appear several years younger.

Basking in the praise, she chuckled and scolded him playfully, “I’ve been farming my whole life; it’s no big deal to pull out a weed.”

She continued to dig up several dandelions, but seeing that Song Zhao was still dazedly standing by, the grandmother’s cheerful demeanor faded a bit, and she snapped at her, “What are you doing just standing there? Are you here to watch the show?”

Startled by the reprimand, Song Zhao quickly set her sights on a dandelion and got to work.

In contrast, Song Liangzuo pretended to be foolish, saying, “Grandma, it must be because you’re too good; even my sister is fascinated watching you.”

“You’re the only one who talks.” The grandmother could barely suppress her smile.

Uncertain if the wild herbs they were digging up could fetch money, she had called Song Zhao over to help, while her daughter-in-law, Wang Chunlan, and Song Pandai were still in the fields weeding.

Pulling weeds required some technique, and Song Zhao’s skills were not outstanding.

Noticing that his sister was about to discard the broken dandelions, Song Liangzuo quickly whispered, “Sister, keep those; we can feed them to the chickens.”

Song Pandai nodded and then set aside the broken dandelions carefully.

Though his strength was limited, Song Liangzuo’s ability to dig medicinal herbs was impressive; with each pull, lift, and loosen, he managed to pull up dandelions with perfect root systems and placed them into his sister’s basket, helping her collect more.

When the grandmother glanced over at him, he pretended to break several dandelions, feigning ignorance while pointing to Song Zhao’s basket and saying, “Grandma, why is it that I keep breaking them while my sister can do it so well?”

Song Zhao looked at her little brother in confusion, just about to mention that he put all those in her basket.

Just as she was about to speak, Song Liangzuo burst into boisterous laughter and artfully placed the broken ones into her basket, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence and saying, “Grandma, did you see? Those bad ones aren’t mine! They’re all from my sister!”

He was playing the “thief shouting to catch the thief” with surprising skill.

The grandmother couldn’t help but laugh heartily, raising her hand to point at him teasingly while saying, “You little monkey! Hurry up and learn from your big sister. If you don’t pull a few good ones today, forget about eating oil residue tonight!”

Being praised now made Song Zhao puff up her chest with pride.

Song Liangzuo, hearing his grandmother praise his sister, felt delighted, his heart swelling like a little mouse that had stolen some oil.

Dandelions and plantains were everywhere in the fields. By the time the sun began to set, they had filled an entire bamboo basket and a large basket full.

“Auntie, why are you harvesting so many dandelions? They’re already too old to eat now,” a neighbor from the village remarked curiously upon seeing their haul.

The grandmother chuckled and shrugged, “There are some tender ones mixed in that can be stir-fried with water, and the rest can be fed to the pigs.”

Once they returned home, the family worked together to lay all the medicinal herbs they had gathered out in the courtyard, one by one, to dry.

Following that, Wang Chunlan rendered the pig lard she had bought from town into oil, and on Song Liangzuo’s “request,” she used the bones to make millet porridge, not forgetting to remind her to add the wild herbs and a little salt to the pot.

The grandmother served up some oil residue into a small bowl for the three kids to eat.

During this break, Song Liangzuo cleverly lured his two sisters into the west room, taking out the hidden mung bean cake and dividing it among them, while urging, “Eldest sister, second sister, this is from Grandma, just for you. Quick, eat!”

“Grandma told you to give us this?” Song Zhao looked at the snack hesitantly.

“Grandma never gives us treats like this,” interjected Song Pandai, whose five-year-old heart was prone to emotional outbreaks, almost breaking into tears at that moment.

Her round buns, styled in a little ponytail at the top, had barely held their form through all the excitement.

Song Liangzuo knew they wouldn’t believe him, but he continued the ruse, understanding his sisters’ need for their grandmother’s approval since they were often criticized for their shortcomings, leaving them desperate for validation.

Thus, he kept playing the role of the doting little brother, intent on bringing a little happiness to them.