Chapter 55

Yan Lei got some whitewash for Qiao Wei and borrowed a set of tools and brushes, including a roller.

Compared to the future, everything was very rough in craftsmanship. The roller used to paint the high places was just a bamboo pole tied to the roller handle with a rope.

Very rudimentary.

But it didn’t matter, as long as it worked.

The first thing they painted was, of course, Yan Xiang’s room; both the inner and outer walls were too dirty.

They started with the inner room.

Qiao Wei first rolled up all the items on his kang, such as the mattress and mat, and moved them to the west room.

Yan Xiang didn’t have a large wardrobe; in this era, large wardrobes were considered big items and children didn’t have them. He had a wooden box to store clothes for all seasons.

There was also a simple small rack made from leftover wood. It only had three layers and a cloth curtain nailed on top. It served as Yanxiang’s own makeshift wardrobe. The clothes for the current season were washed, neatly folded, and placed inside. A conscientious child like him could find his clothes by himself from the top.

The box and the makeshift wardrobe were placed against the kang wall, so they didn’t need to be moved; they just needed to be shifted to the center of the kang.

There were two small stools on the floor, and other than that, there wasn’t much else in the room.

It was empty, so the dirty walls were particularly prominent.

But this made painting the walls very convenient; there were no large pieces of furniture that needed to be moved.

The whitewash at this time wasn’t plaster or latex paint from the future. It was primarily made of lime. Painting with whitewash meant painting with lime water.

Qiao Wei had learned from Yan Lei the proper ratio of whitewash powder to water. After mixing a basin, she tested it by brushing a few strokes on the wall near the bedroom door. It looked good after painting; it turned white immediately.

Qiao Wei then carried the basin to the kang and climbed onto it herself.

Yan Lei brought back some old newspapers from the camp, and Qiao Wei spread them on the kang to prevent the whitewash from dripping all over. The roller was tied to the bamboo pole, dipped into the basin until soaked, then lifted and shaken to remove excess liquid. Once it stopped dripping, Qiao Wei lifted it and started painting the walls.

Yan Xiang had been watching all along.

Qiao Wei said to him, “Go play in the yard.”

Yan Xiang refused.

“Read a book then.”

But Yan Xiang still didn’t go. “I want to watch you paint.”

“Then watch.”

Qiao Wei soon realized that Yan Lei was right; this work was indeed… very tiring.

Physical labor was definitely not as easy as it seemed.

However, Qiao Wei was renovating her own home, and she wasn’t relying on this for a living. When she wasn’t in a rush, she painted slowly and methodically.

The roller covered much more area than a brush, so it was more efficient.

After finishing the highest part of the wall above the kang, Qiao Wei continued using the roller for the middle section.

After a while, she suddenly heard Yan Xiang ask, “Mom, is this how you paint?”

Qiao Wei turned around and saw that while she was focused on her work, Yan Xiang had picked up the brush she wasn’t using, dipped it in the whitewash, and started painting a rectangular shape on the wall, starting from where Qiao Wei had tested the color.

By the time he called out to Qiao Wei, he had already painted a rectangle taller than his own height, plus half of his forearm.

It was probably the highest height he could reach by raising his arm and tiptoeing.

Qiao Wei chuckled. “Tired or not?”

“Not tired, it’s fun. Mom, can I paint?”

“You’ve already started painting before asking if you can. That’s called taking action before reporting.”

“Then… can I paint or not?”

Qiao Wei had the roller tied to the bamboo pole, which made it inconvenient to paint the lower parts. She thought she would paint all the higher areas first and then untie the bamboo pole to paint the lower parts.

But unexpectedly, Yan Xiang wanted to join in.

In this era, there were no conveniences of the future. It felt like everyone—regardless of gender—had to have strong practical skills.

Sister Yang was close to being omnipotent. Lin Xixi was not far behind. They were all very capable.

Yan Lei was also skilled; he could do anything.

It was the characteristic of the times. Qiao Wei felt that Yan Xiang should also be encouraged to do more hands-on work. After all, he had completed the sandbox project all by himself without relying on adults.

“You can. Come up here. I’ll paint the higher areas, and you can paint the lower ones.”

Yan Xiang cheerfully stepped onto the small stool and onto the kang. Mother and son began to work together, with Qiao Wei holding the long pole roller to paint the upper and middle parts, while Yan Xiang painted the lower part on the other side.

Qiao Wei occasionally glanced back at Yan Xiang, but soon she realized there was no need to worry.

Yan Xiang had a strong sense of order.

Actually, Yan Lei also had a strong sense of order. When he wrung out clothes, he did it from the collar to the hem, and the same with towels, from one end to the other. He even arranged the bedding on the bed according to a symmetrical pattern.

But Yan Xiang’s sense of order seemed even stronger. This was evident when he was digging the sandbox.

He divided the sandbox evenly into several sections, and the workload for each section was what he had completed on the first day of digging.

If it weren’t for Captain Zhao’s incident delaying Yan Xiang for a long time, Qiao Wei felt that he could really stick to his own work schedule and steadily complete the planned amount of work.

To ensure he finished on time, he even “worked overtime” to catch up on digging on Fridays and Saturdays.

So, as expected, on Sundays, he got his sandbox on time.

Now, as he stood on the kang painting the walls, his path resembled that of a robotic vacuum cleaner—neat, dense, and without any omissions.

Qiao Wei turned her head to look for a while before realizing how time had flown.

Because it was genuinely stress-relieving. If this were streamed live in the future, it would probably be as engaging as hoof trimming or carpet cleaning.

Qiao Wei said, “If you’re tired, take a break. If your arms get sore, stop painting.”

Yan Xiang replied, “I’m not tired.”

He was very focused.

After watching him for a while, Qiao Wei suddenly called out to him, “Yan Xiang.”

Yan Xiang stopped and turned to look at his mother.

Qiao Wei asked him, “Do you really like doing these things? Digging sandboxes, painting walls?”

A joyful smile appeared on Yan Xiang’s face. “Yes.”

“Why? What is it about them that you like?”

Yan Xiang thought for a moment and said, “It’s quiet.”

Qiao Wei gazed at him.

He continued, “When digging the sandbox, when painting the walls, it’s quiet. Very comfortable.”

“When is it not quiet?”

“Many times.”

“For example?”

Yan Xiang thought for a moment before firmly stating, “Many.”

Too many, too many to list.

Qiao Wei changed her approach. “When else do you feel quiet?”

Yan Xiang brightened up. “Reading.”

Qiao Wei understood.

Qiao Wei felt a bit sad.

At this moment, she felt annoyed at the author. Why didn’t they establish the entire setting properly before starting the story? Why add such a random element? The setting of this era wasn’t suitable for a “genius cute baby” character; those were only used in urban sweet pet novels.

Such a random element placed Yan Xiang in an inappropriate era.

His brain didn’t have enough nourishment to absorb, and most of the time, he had to endure the noise of the ordinary world. So, he turned to seek another way—simple, repetitive physical activities.

No wonder in the first few days after arriving, she always saw him squatting in the yard playing with small stones, repeating the same process over and over again.

Qiao Wei sighed. “I understand. Keep painting.”

Qiao Wei turned back to continue dancing the bamboo pole up and down.

“Mom,” came Yan Xiang’s tender voice from behind.

She turned to look at him.

“When you tell me things I don’t know, it’s also very quiet,” Yan Xiang said. “I like talking to Mom.”

The child’s eyes were bright and clear, and his smile was innocent.

In an instant, like sunlight dispersing a momentary shadow, Qiao Wei’s slight melancholy dissipated. Her heart brightened instantly, and her mood became cheerful.

“Really? Like telling stories?” she asked excitedly.

“Stories I haven’t heard before, and things I don’t know.”

“Got it! I’ll tell you more from now on! Just ask if you don’t understand!”

“Okay!”

“Let’s continue painting then!”

“Okay!”

In rural houses, the walls on the north side didn’t have regular windows; there was only a small, flat window high up for light and ventilation.

The sunlight that entered, being from the north, wasn’t enough to form distinct shapes but instead scattered around the window, creating a halo of light.

There was a hazy feeling in the air on the kang.

Mother and son, one holding a long roller and the other a short brush, worked in silence. Following a rhythm that, if observed for a long time, would feel extremely comforting, they gradually covered the worn-out walls with white paint.

When they finished their respective parts, they exchanged positions.

Yan Xiang filled the lower parts on Qiao Wei’s side with white paint, while Qiao Wei started painting the higher parts on Yan Xiang’s side.

…

Today, Yan Lei was looking forward to it. He was eager to know how Qiao Wei’s wall painting was going.

After everyone got off at the intersection, Captain Zhao turned his head and called out, “Yan…”

But Yan Lei was already gone.

Captain Zhao muttered, “…”

“I don’t know what’s going on recently. He’s always in a hurry to get home,” he grumbled.

Captain Ma said, “It’s strange. Lately, he seems unusually energetic. Have you noticed?”

“Maybe he took some kind of energy booster?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. He’s still young; I haven’t given him any.”

People who took energy boosters would have a flushed face and show signs of excitement. Indeed, Yan Lei just seemed to be in high spirits, which didn’t quite match the state of someone who had taken an energy booster.

As Captain Zhao and Captain Ma walked, they chatted.

“…He has several red marks on his neck; not sure what happened.”

“I asked him, and he said he scratched himself.”

“…Scratched what? His hands are so restless! Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I tried… Ouch, it hurts! Look, is it red?”

“…Where? I don’t see anything. Not a single bit.”

Old comrades’ children may come in a string, but their marital life was very simple and plain. There were certain things they hadn’t experienced in their entire lives.

They couldn’t understand what was going on when a certain young captain loosened his discipline and revealed red marks on his neck.