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Seeing that Wang San didn’t recognize it, Wang Man cheerfully explained,
“Bamboo rats look similar to regular rats. One grows up eating bamboo, the other feeds on grain.
But eating bamboo rats feels a lot more reassuring than eating regular rats.”
That was just her opinion—more of a psychological comfort.
Wang San swallowed hard.
“How do you eat it?”
It had been ages since he’d had meat—his craving was intense.
Wang Man tied together four bamboo rats of varying sizes and said to him,
“There’s another hole over there. Let’s go take a look.”
Wang San nodded happily, but accidentally stepped on a burrow and nearly twisted his ankle.
Instead of getting angry, he laughed and said,
“Manniang, there’s a hole here. Do you think there might be a bamboo rat inside too?”
Wang Man took a glance and blocked the entrance with a large stone.
“Come on, let’s check the ones up ahead.”
The two were busy working when they heard voices nearby.
“Huh? Where did they go?
I just heard them talking here a second ago!”
Wang Man looked up, surprised.
“Wang Qing, Shitou, what are you doing here?
Come on over, we found something good!”
The two had been sent by their families to help carry bamboo. Upon hearing her words, their eyes lit up.
“You’re catching bamboo rats?”
Clearly, unlike Wang San who knew nothing about farming, these two recognized them.
With two extra hands, things got much easier.
After a busy round of digging, even energetic Wang Man felt too tired to move.
Feeling that familiar sense of dizziness rise in her head, she called out,
“Let’s stop for today. We’ll check that area tomorrow—who knows, there might be more.
Oh, and you’re both free tomorrow, right? Want to come along?”
Wang Qing and Shitou nodded quickly. Free or not, they weren’t going to miss this.
It was thrilling and exciting—and more importantly, there was meat to eat.
They had tried catching bamboo rats before, but the creatures were slippery.
There were burrows everywhere; dig on one side, and the rat would escape from another. They were incredibly tricky.
They hadn’t expected Wang Man to have so many clever tricks—blocking the entrance and using smoke to flush them out.
Today had been a learning experience. Next time they went hunting for bamboo rats, they’d do it her way.
Looking at the thirteen bamboo rats in total, Wang Man began dividing them.
The eldest uncle, second uncle, and third uncle’s families each got three large ones.
Her own household took the remaining four smaller ones—adding up to thirteen in total.
Wang Qing felt this distribution left Wang Man at a loss and offered to take only one for his family, leaving the rest for her.
Wang Man waved him off.
“This split is fine. It’s not like we’re strangers—don’t talk about gains or losses.
Your families have helped us plenty. We remember everything.”
Since she’d said that, Wang Qing and the others didn’t push it.
On the way back, each person carried a few bamboo stalks, bamboo rats tied at their waists, grins on their faces.
Some villagers who saw the bamboo rats even praised their luck for catching so many.
The happiest of all was Auntie Ma Liu.
Ever since Wang Man had joined their household, she hadn’t gone hungry once.
Even Wang San rarely made trips to town anymore.
At this rate, their family was sure to get better.
And look—today they even had meat to eat.
Sitting by the stove, she tended the fire while watching Wang Man cook, her smile never fading.
As for Wang San, he was cleaning the potatoes they had gotten from Wang Yida’s house.
This area did have sweet potatoes and regular potatoes, but the yield was poor and the sizes were tiny.
The main problem was their planting methods. They weren’t maximizing production.
Take these potatoes, for example. They only planted one crop in winter.
The potatoes they harvested were small—the largest no bigger than a baby’s fist.
And those were rare. Most were the size of longans, with many green ones looking diseased and impossible to cook soft.
The sweet potatoes weren’t much better—long and thin, with a poor texture.
So most locals here grew corn and rice.
Even wheat was planted sparingly.
Some even had the strange idea of leaving the land fallow just to “preserve the soil’s nutrients” for next year’s corn.
By the time Wang San finished cleaning the potatoes, his hands were almost numb.
Wang Man, seeing the pile of unpeeled potatoes, didn’t get angry.
She simply washed them again and dumped them all into the pot.
With potatoes this small, peeling was impractical—and chopping was unnecessary. It was better this way.
Unfortunately, the household had almost no seasonings—only salt and a single piece of ginger, which they had also gotten from the eldest uncle’s house.
Their seasoning stock was practically nonexistent.
Wang San, like a child, leaned in and inhaled deeply as the scent wafted from the pot.
“Manniang, how much longer till we can eat?
It smells amazing!”
Wang Man couldn’t help but laugh at him.
“There’s barely anything in the house. In a couple of days, we need to head into town and buy some oil and seasonings.”
Wang San responded absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the lid of the pot.
All he could think about was—when can we eat? This was torture.
Truthfully, bamboo rat stewed with potatoes didn’t smell all that incredible.
But to someone like Wang San, who rarely got to eat meat, it was a feast.
The next day, not only did Wang Qing and Shitou return, but even a few of the younger ones came along.
Officially, they were there to help chop bamboo.
But in reality, they came for the bamboo rats.
And they weren’t disappointed. After nearly a full day of work, they caught another dozen or so.
With that done, Wang Man began preparing to build a shelter and no longer joined the rat-catching group.
The few bamboo rats at home were already skinned and put into brine.
The old firewood cleaver with the chipped blade was really hard to use,
and Wang Man didn’t want to go out and sell something just to afford a new one.
So she gave Wang San one tael of silver and sent him to buy one.
To prevent him from sneaking off to the gambling den, Wang Man warned him sternly,
“If I don’t see a new cleaver by noon, I’ll break your legs.”
Whether Wang San took the warning to heart or not was unclear,
but he did agree.
Maybe luck wasn’t on his side—he hadn’t even left the village when he ran into Wang Yilou, who was also heading to town.
From afar, Wang Yilou spotted Wang San and could tell from the direction he was walking that he was going into town.
These past few days, Wang Man had kept him in check,
but now he was showing his true colors again—falling back into old habits?
Glancing around and not seeing Wang Man nearby, he suspected Wang San had sneaked out.
Grabbing a stick, he blocked Wang San and shouted,
“You little bastard! Skipping out again to mess around in town?
Stop right there! If you dare run, I’ll break both your legs!”
Wang San was speechless and replied honestly,
“Uncle, I’m not messing around. Manniang told me to go buy a cleaver. The one at home’s got a big crack—can’t use it anymore.”
“Bullshit! Don’t try to fool me. I know exactly what kind of person you are.
Get your ass back home! Manya’s just a girl and she’s working herself to the bone,
while you, a grown man, do nothing but laze around. Aren’t you ashamed?”
Wang Yilou didn’t believe a word of it. He was convinced this was just another lie.
Hmph. He was done trusting this scoundrel.
“Uncle, really! Why would I lie to you?”
Wang San was worried that the more he argued, the less time he’d have left to make a detour to the gambling den.
Wang Yilou’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, then suddenly brightened.
“Fine. I believe you.
Just so happens I’m going to town too. Hand over the silver—I’ll buy the cleaver for you.”