As Jiang Le was about to leave, his gaze inadvertently fell on the supply and marketing cooperative’s display window, where hair ties for girls were hung.  

These so-called hair ties were essentially just sections of wool yarn—five cents would buy you a piece, which could then be used to tie up braids.  

Neither Zhao Meilian nor Jiang Huan had proper hair ties; they simply used strips of cloth to tie their hair, paying no attention to aesthetics as long as it kept their hair out of the way.  

So Jiang Le bought three hair ties: two red ones for Jiang Huan and his eldest sister, Jiang Weihong (whom he hadn’t met yet). Since Zhao Meilian was older and might not prefer red, he chose a purple one for her.  

As for Grandma Jiang, she kept her hair short, just below the ears, so she didn’t need hair ties. Instead, Jiang Le bought her a hairband—the simplest kind, solid black. Back in modern times, he’d seen elderly women in the village wearing similar ones.  

Except in his time, hairbands came in dizzying varieties of designs. Here, the most you could get was a different color—for example, a red one cost five cents more than the black one, which was priced at fifteen cents.  

The three hair ties were cheap—five cents each, totaling fifteen cents.  

To round out the amount, Jiang Le spent another two cents on two sugar candies. There were two types: one penny for two (unwrapped, stored in a plastic jar, with the salesperson scooping them out by hand) or one penny each (individually wrapped in candy paper). Jiang Le opted for the latter since they were easier to store. He didn’t plan to eat them right away, and the wrappers made them more convenient to carry in his pocket.  

All in all, he spent another thirty-two cents, bringing his remaining money down to six yuan—nearly half gone.  

Not daring to look at anything else, Jiang Le hoisted the books he’d scavenged from the recycling station onto his back and trudged home.  

By the time he returned from town, it was already noon, time for lunch. Grandma Jiang had already prepared the meal. Since Jiang Le had eaten two buns earlier, he wasn’t very hungry and only ate a little.  

“Oh, little brother, you bought buns too!” Jiang Huan leaned in, her eyes widening at the sight of the oil-stained buns, her mouth watering instantly.  

Jiang Le: “Yeah. I saw you’d already eaten, so we can heat these up for dinner.”  

The walk home had taken an hour, and even though Jiang Le had hurried, the buns had cooled. Reheating them wouldn’t make them as good as fresh out of the steamer, but in this era, buns from the state-run restaurant were a rare treat. Some people bragged for ages in the village just for having eaten one once—whether they were fresh or not didn’t matter. Either way, they were delicious!  

Jiang Huan swallowed hard but didn’t touch them, glancing instead at Grandma Jiang.  

Jiang Le had braced himself for questioning from the old woman, but to his surprise, she didn’t press him. She simply took the buns to the kitchen. “Alright, we’ll eat them tonight.”  

Jiang Huan watched longingly as her grandmother carried the buns away, the lingering aroma making her crave them even more.  

But soon, the thought of having them for dinner made her cheer up again.

For the past few days, there had been meat at every meal. Though each person could only have a few pieces, for Jiang Huan, just tasting meat was already an incredible luxury. And tonight, they even had buns from the state-run restaurant! Jiang Huan had never dared to dream of such a life—what kind of heavenly existence was this?  

But there was an even bigger surprise waiting for her. Jiang Le pulled out a bundle of red hair ties, and Jiang Huan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are these… for me?”  

Jiang Le smiled. “Yeah, one for you, one for Mom, and one for Big Sister.”  

Zhao Meilian’s eyes had already begun to sting with emotion, thinking how much more thoughtful her son had become—but she never expected a hair tie for herself. “Oh, at my age, using something like this is just a waste of money…”  

Jiang Le immediately disagreed. “Mom, you’re still young. If we went out together, people would think you were my older sister.”  

There was definitely some exaggeration in his words, but it instantly made Zhao Meilian laugh. “You silly child, talking nonsense. If I really never aged, I’d be a monster!”  

Still, when she took the purple hair tie, she couldn’t stop smiling. What woman didn’t love beauty? She was just too embarrassed to show it.  

Jiang De watched his wife’s rare display of happiness and sighed at his own thoughtlessness. The last time he’d bought her a red hair tie was back when they got married…  

Jiang Le glanced at his father and mischievously suggested, “Dad, Mom’s having trouble tying her hair. Why don’t you help her?”  

Zhao Meilian was about to say that he wouldn’t know how, but before she could, Jiang De took the hair tie and clumsily attempted to tie it for her.  

She had just started feeling a little shy—until she saw the result. Any trace of embarrassment vanished instantly. “What on earth is this? Even the kids in the village tie grasshoppers better than this!”  

Jiang Huan, having happily tied her own hair tie, skipped out of the room only to find Jiang Le and Jiang Junqing laughing, Zhao Meilian looking annoyed, and Jiang De scratching his head awkwardly.  

Confused, she asked, “What’s so funny?”  

The moment she spoke, even Zhao Meilian burst into laughter, and Jiang De joined in.  

Jiang Huan scratched her head, baffled. What’s the joke?

But the beauty-loving little girl quickly shrugged it off, too busy admiring her braids adorned with the new red hair tie.  

Back then, Er-Ya had flaunted her own red hair tie in front of her, rubbing it in her face. When Jiang Huan couldn’t resist touching it, Er-Ya had scolded her, saying she’d dirtied it.  

Even though all the other girls got to touch it! Jiang Huan had been furious. But now—hmph! So what if it was a red hair tie? She had one too! And her little brother had bought it for her!  

Her brother was so much better than Er-Ya’s siblings, who only ever fought with her over food.  

If Jiang Le knew what she was thinking, he’d have sighed in amusement—this girl really held no grudges. After all, the original Jiang Le had snatched plenty of things from her in the past.  

But Jiang Huan would have just waved it off. That was the annoying little brother from before. Now is now, and then was then.

After Zhao Meilian and the others left for work, Jiang Huan was about to head out to meet her friends—mostly because she wanted to show off her new hair tie a little.  

Just before stepping out, she suddenly remembered something and turned back. “Little Brother, why did you pick so many sour berries from the back mountain? They’re way too tart to eat.”  

Jiang Le was too embarrassed to admit he hadn’t realized how sour they were.  

Luckily, Jiang Huan didn’t press the issue. Instead, she added, “I sorted them out for you and washed them clean. They’re in the basin now.”  

Though she didn’t understand why her brother had gathered them, she’d had some free time anyway and took care of it for him.  

Jiang Le was instantly touched. “Thanks, Sis. You’re the best.” Even though he still hadn’t figured out what to do with the sour berries.  

Jiang Huan flushed at his direct praise. “Oh, it’s nothing special! I’m heading out now!”  

With that, she dashed off like a little rabbit.  

Jiang Le went to check and saw that the sour berries had indeed been thoroughly cleaned—not a speck of dirt remained. He’d gone through the trouble of hauling them back from the mountain, and his sister had probably spent a good while scrubbing them. Now I really have to find a use for these!  

But no immediate ideas came to mind. From Grandma Jiang, he learned that while the berries weren’t tasty, their biggest advantage was that they didn’t spoil easily—they could last ten days to half a month without issue. Relieved, he spread them out to dry before storing them in a bag.  

He even suggested to Grandma Jiang, “You could try using them in cooking, like vinegar.”  

He vaguely remembered reading online in his modern life that some places used particularly sour fruits as vinegar substitutes. Since fruit didn’t have any weird aftertaste, it could lend a fresh acidity—he figured these berries might work the same way.  

Grandma Jiang paused, surprised. “Why didn’t I think of that? Our little one’s so clever! I’ll give it a try later.”  

Jiang Le thought to himself, It’s not like I came up with it myself.

Glancing at the time and seeing it was still early, he returned to his room to study.  

Though the material he was learning now was simpler and less advanced compared to modern education, Jiang Le didn’t dare let his guard down. He knew he wasn’t naturally brilliant, so he had to work even harder to make up for it.  

 That afternoon, under the blazing sun, men and women alike toiled in the fields, their brows glistening with sweat. While the men remained oblivious, the women quickly noticed the new purple hair tie adorning Zhao Meilian’s braid.  

Auntie Zhang, who had spent a restless night stewing over Jiang Le’s words, was already in low spirits. The sight of Zhao Meilian glowing with contentment only darkened her mood further. “Tch. At her age, still primping like a young girl—how shameless!” she muttered sourly.  

Zhao Meilian, absorbed in her work, didn’t catch the remark. But Sun Yulan, working nearby, heard it loud and clear. She burst out laughing. “Oh please, Zhang Xiuhua! Since when is tying your hair up ‘primping’? Or are you just jealous because you’re stuck using that ragged old cloth of yours?”  

Zhang Xiuhua bristled. “As if I’d envy some cheap hair tie! I’m just saying—look at her family, barely scraping by, yet wasting money on frivolities. No sense of responsibility!”  

Sun Yulan spat in disgust. “Since when is how they spend their money any of your business?”  

Zhang Xiuhua’s face twisted, but she dared not retort further, knowing Sun Yulan’s sharp tongue. With a dismissive sniff, Sun Yulan strode off to join Zhao Meilian, their laughter soon mingling as they worked side by side.  

The two women hadn’t been close before, but ever since the incident with Jiang Le, Sun Yulan had carried a quiet guilt over nearly wronging him. Not only had she encouraged her children to befriend him, but she’d also begun reaching out to Zhao Meilian—and to her surprise, found her to be a genuinely kind woman, devoid of the pettiness others harbored.  

Sun Yulan had a temper and a penchant for gossip, but she knew right from wrong. And Zhang Xiuhua’s spiteful words? They rubbed her the wrong way.  

…

Elsewhere, Yu Hezhong found himself drawn back to the rabbit’s enclosure for what felt like the hundredth time that day.  

When he’d applied the medicine last night, the creature had been barely clinging to life, its leg wound grievous. He’d held little hope, already resigning himself to a stew pot tomorrow.  

Yet by dawn, the bleeding had stopped. By noon, the rabbit was nibbling weakly at greens. Now, as evening approached, its ears twitched with alertness—each visit revealed steadier improvement.  

What baffled Yu Hezhong was this: he’d only applied the medicine once. Fearing waste if it truly worked, he hadn’t dared use more.  

But the medicine’s potency defied logic. His lips pressed into a thin line as confusion creased his brow. Why would Jiang Le give me something this precious?