Chapter 5

Gu Zhenqi comforted Ruiduo and Fei’an, then headed to the kitchen. She picked up the coarse apron with a pudding pattern hanging on the wall, one that had seen years of use.

She circled around the kitchen, checking the remaining food supplies at home: half a bag of cornmeal, about twenty jin (10 kg) of small sweet potatoes, a small handful of white flour, and less than a bowl of rice.

In a corner of the kitchen, there were two pickle jars. One contained fewer than ten pickled radishes, and the other had four or five heads of preserved mustard greens.

After checking everything, Gu Zhenqi couldn’t help but frown. It was now September, still three months away from the autumn harvest—right in the middle of the “autumn gap” when old grain was running out and new grain wasn’t yet ready.

The Chen family was already struggling to keep their pot boiling. On the surface, there were two able-bodied men: the eldest, Chen Guo, and the second son, Chen Qiang. Together with Wang Guiying, Ge Yun, and Fan Chun—three hardworking women who never shirked labor—they earned just enough work points throughout the year to receive barely enough government-rationed grain to survive. Not enough to be full, but at least three meals a day with something to fill the stomach.

But things didn’t go as planned. Last year, during the farming off-season, Chen Guo injured his leg while digging a canal. Although the brigade gave them some grain compensation at the time, there was no money for proper treatment. Plus, in the countryside during those years, it was common for farmers to get injured in the fields.

The standard mindset was to not take it seriously—thinking rest alone would heal it.

That kind of thinking severely delayed Chen Guo’s recovery. By the time they realized it was serious and went to the county hospital, the injured ligament had already healed incorrectly.

The county hospital had limited medical facilities. If he wanted proper treatment, he would have to go to a major hospital in the provincial capital or even the national capital.

But they couldn’t even get enough to eat, let alone afford such a trip. All they could do was give Chen Guo some painkillers.

He rested at home for a while, and then when spring planting began, the entire brigade became busy. Whenever Chen Guo exerted himself, his leg hurt badly. At first, he endured it with one or two painkillers a day.

Later in the rainy season, the brigade had to rush to plant before the rains came, and the workload increased sharply. Chen Guo then needed to take painkillers three times a day, at least three pills each time.

Over the year, his leg only got worse. Now, he even walked with a limp. Once able to earn full work points in a day, he could now only manage seven at most.

Chen Qiang was now the only one in the family who could still earn full work points. Wang Guiying, Ge Yun, and Fan Chun could each earn between three and five points a day.

They toiled hard year-round, yet the food they consumed wasn’t even enough to fuel their physical labor.

Sometimes, before they’d even swung a few hoes in the field, their stomachs would already be growling. Fainting from hunger in the fields wasn’t uncommon.

The Chen family had an extra military canteen compared to others. It was one of two that their third son, Chen Kuo, brought back when he returned home for a visit three years ago. One he gave to the family, and one he left with Gu Zhenqi.

That canteen turned out to be incredibly useful. Every morning before work, Wang Guiying would fill it with sliced ginger, a pinch of sugar, and warm water, mixing it well before carrying it on her back.

In the fields, whenever Chen Guo, Chen Qiang, Ge Yun, or Fan Chun got dizzy from hunger, they’d come over for a sip of that “miracle water.”

So while many others in the village fainted from hunger, the Chen family never did, thanks to their little trick.

Each year at the brigade’s annual meeting, they were publicly praised for this and even received an extra five jin (2.5 kg) of coarse grains as a reward.

When the brigade distributed meat, they also received an extra two liang (100g) of pork belly, much to the envy of many village women.

—-

“Sigh…”

Standing at the stove, Gu Zhenqi let out a long sigh.

People always said the Chen family was poor, but she had never cared. Chen Kuo received a monthly allowance of over 20 yuan, and occasionally the army would issue a few canned goods, luncheon meat, or compressed rations. Chen Kuo always tightened his belt to save those and mail them home.

Naturally, all of it ended up in Gu Zhenqi’s hands. Her parents and brothers, worried she might not have enough to eat or wear, would also send her things from time to time.

It could be said that, despite the hardships of the 1970s, while others endured hunger, Gu Zhenqi had never once gone hungry and had no concept of what hunger felt like.

“Living in bliss and not realizing it… I was so self-indulgent!” Gu Zhenqi couldn’t help but criticize her past self.

She had been loved and cherished by many, but never gave back that love. In this new life, aside from her child, it seemed she had also owed kindness to others who had treated her well.

Gu Zhenqi stopped overthinking it. Rather than dwell on regret, it was better to cherish the present and begin treating them well.

With that thought, she took from her space enough premium flour to make buns for lunch, along with two jin (1 kg) of high-quality pork belly. She used a meat grinder from her space to prepare the minced filling.

Then she fetched two heads of pickled cabbage and one pickled radish, cleaned and dried them, and pulled out the only stainless steel basin in the kitchen.

She poured in the flour, added some yeast and a large bowl of warm water, and kneaded the dough into a smooth, soft mass. Covering it with a sorghum-stalk lid, she left it to rise.

She then chopped the pickled vegetables into tiny cubes, squeezed the moisture from the cabbage, and took out a ceramic basin from her space.

She mixed in the minced meat and pickled veggies with various seasonings, stirring it all well and setting it aside.

Next, she washed a large iron pot, added pre-rinsed millet, red dates, peanuts, dried longan, and about a dozen eggs, added the right amount of water, and covered the pot.

She lit both stoves. When the water began to boil, the dough had already doubled in size and was full of airy honeycomb texture.

She set a steamer on top of the big pot, laid a layer of white gauze, and began wrapping the buns with the risen dough and prepared filling, placing each bun into the steamer.

After about ten minutes, she had arranged nearly thirty large buns in the pot.

Gu Zhenqi washed her hands, covered the pot, and walked to the kitchen door. Seeing the sun was already high, it was almost noon—time for the workers to return from the fields.

Since both stoves were in use and she didn’t have time to stir-fry dishes, she went back into the kitchen and took out three large portions of stir-fried dishes and a tomato and egg soup from her space.

She neatly arranged them near the stove to keep them warm.

Just as she finished, a voice came from the courtyard:

“Mom, I was wondering why there was smoke coming from our chimney. Turns out while we were out, our little rich miss was treating herself to a private feast.”

As she spoke, Wang Guiying and Ge Yun—who was originally supposed to cook lunch that day—entered the kitchen.

Without even glancing at Ge Yun, Gu Zhenqi looked at Wang Guiying, whose expression showed no displeasure toward her, and smiled:

“Mom, you’re back. Was the work hard today? Quickly wash your face. My brother sent me some flour and meat, so I made buns especially for you, Uncle, Second Uncle, and Second Aunt to enjoy. I cooked a special lunch for our family. Mom, you’re not mad at me, are you?”