The bamboo grove had no owner. Ever since Yuan Zhao could remember, it existed. In spring, when shoots sprouted, villagers from Qingluan would rush to dig them. He had done it before.
Even though he didn’t eat much himself, Yuan Ge’er loved them.
Taking advantage of a break, Yuan Zhao went to the bamboo grove on the opposite slope. He wasn’t early; some people were already digging, after all, a free meal from heaven—everyone wanted it.
However, village rules forbade overharvesting, lest the bamboo whip be damaged.
Yuan Zhao didn’t know everyone in Qingluan. Seeing strangers, he didn’t bother greeting them, just picked a spot and started digging.
Planning who to give them to, he dug more than initially intended to have enough.
The thorny baskets were deep, but shoots varied in size. Six or seven shoots filled one basket.
Yuan Zhao stripped a tree branch, rubbed and straightened it, then tied each shoot with the pliable bark.
He didn’t overharvest; he planned to do it just once. Ten or so shoots were enough to share.
He carried the heavy bamboo shoots home, checking whether Ranran and Yuan Ge’er followed his instructions. To his surprise, the courtyard was full of thorny branches.
Thorns grew year-round, covering hills and valleys. The purple flowers were medicinal, and some collected them to sell, though time-consuming and not very profitable.
“Brother!” Yuan Ge’er ran to help him carry the bamboo shoots, calling Ranran too.
“So many shoots!” Shi Qingran also looked delighted, enjoying the tender, crisp texture. “Thank you, sister-in-law.”
With the two little ones praising him, Yuan Zhao felt proud. “Tonight, we’ll stir-fry the shoots with meat. Freshly dug shoots are the most tender. Then we’ll simmer rice and eat!”
Shi Qingran and Yuan Ge’er drooled, wishing it was evening already.
Yuan Zhao divided the shoots and began weaving thorny baskets. Shi Qingran and Yuan Ge’er stayed by his side, lending a hand wisely.
The thorny branches seemed alive in his hands. Crossing a few made the base, continuing to weave until the basket was complete in no time.
Seeing the hour late, Yuan Zhao placed a few shoots into the finished basket, slung it on his back, and held two empty baskets in hand.
“I’m going to Xiahe Village. You two start the fire; I’ll be back soon.”
Yuan Ge’er looked shocked and hurt. “Brother, who are you delivering these to?”
“I’ll explain when I return.” He had many deliveries, and knowing Yuan Ge’er, he would ask too many questions, wasting time. “I’m off. You two work.”
He didn’t notice that as he turned to leave, tears had already gathered in Yuan Ge’er’s eyes.
First, Yuan Zhao would deliver to Uncle Daxiong’s house. The bamboo shoots and baskets he made were for them, as part of fulfilling the condition for giving Shi Wuxiang a ride by ox cart—he had to complete it well, showing gratitude.
After leaving Uncle Daxiong’s, he would head to Yuan Daguang’s, then to the neighboring Zhou He’s.
“Brother He, are you home?” Yuan Zhao called out.
“Brother Zhao!” Zhou He ran out, clearly delighted. “You’re back! You didn’t even check in, and they scolded me terribly! Aren’t you afraid they’ll see you?”
Yuan Zhao smiled casually. “I dug some fresh bamboo shoots today, tender ones, specially bringing a few for you.”
Zhou He frowned slightly. “You really should keep food for yourself, why give it away? How’s the one at your place? I heard he’s awake. Is he good to you? Any mistreatment?”
Yuan Zhao shook his head, smiling in a way he never had at Yuan Daguang’s house before. “He’s a scholar, very upright. Much better than I imagined.”
Seeing he wasn’t faking, Zhou He relaxed. “Good. Since you left, everyone argues all day. Even Yuan Xiangxiang and Yuan Jiangen started working—a bunch of lazybones!”
Yuan Zhao hadn’t expected it. At Yuan Daguang’s, he handled everything. Yuan Jiangen was so lazy he didn’t even fetch firewood. But now, they were forced to work.
Yuan Jinbao was still the “pillar” of the household; as long as he pretended to study, no one would make him work.
After a short chat, Yuan Zhao hurried home to cook, so Grandma and A-Yue would have hot food.
Returning, he found the two little ones quietly tending the already-lit stove, not greeting him.
“What’s going on?” Yuan Zhao rolled up his sleeves, ready to cook, puzzled at their silence.
“Sister-in-law, who exactly are you delivering the shoots to?” Shi Qingran asked, a little upset but not shouting, sounding somewhat aggrieved.
She had heard from Yuan Ge’er about their situation at the Yuan household—the family was terrible!
Yuan Zhao stir-fried the sliced meat, the sizzling oil accompanying his voice. “Delivered a few to Brother He and Uncle Daxiong.”
Hearing this, Yuan Ge’er, who had been sulking, immediately ran into Yuan Zhao’s arms. Yuan Zhao was ready, holding him steadily with one arm.
He couldn’t help laughing. “Why sulk? How could I ever deliver to the Yuan family?”
Yuan Yuan let out an embarrassed little hum, “Brother, I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you,” Yuan Zhao said with a smile, patting him gently. “Alright, we’d better get dinner ready. Your aunt will be back soon, and she won’t have a hot meal otherwise.”
As dusk fell, Shi Zhang and Shi Qingyue returned home, dragging their exhausted bodies behind them.
Yuan Zhao hurriedly invited them to eat first, setting aside some food for Shi Wuxiang in advance, and kept extra of the tender stir-fried bamboo shoots.
By the time Shi Wuxiang returned, night had fully fallen.
After getting off the ox cart, he handed over two copper coins Yuan Zhao had given him. “Uncle Daxiong, thank you for your hard work. I’ll be riding again tomorrow.”
Uncle Daxiong waved his hand with a smile. “I can’t take your coins. Brother Zhao already told me in advance. Didn’t he tell you?”
Shi Wuxiang looked puzzled. “He already gave you the fare ahead of time? How long ago? From now on, I can pay myself.”
Uncle Daxiong laughed as if he’d heard a joke. “Neighbors help each other, that’s all. You help me, I help you. It’s just one more passenger. Besides, it’s not without reward—Brother Zhao promised me ten woven baskets!”
Shi Wuxiang didn’t fully understand this sort of “exchange,” since in his previous life, debts of kindness could never truly be repaid. Anything that could be solved with money was trivial.
Still, to say he wasn’t moved at all would be a lie.
He hadn’t expected Yuan Zhao to think of even this. Just so he could keep a little extra money in his hand, Yuan Zhao would tire himself out weaving baskets.
Shi Wuxiang had seen basket-weaving before, which was why Yuan Zhao had gone out of his way to buy the materials.
“Thank you, Uncle Daxiong. I’ll head back now,” Shi Wuxiang said, not lingering on the matter, and took his leave.
The village paths were pitch dark. Few households used candles; most lit a torch briefly for meals and then extinguished it. The darkness made the village look deserted.
He made his way home by feel, and not long after, noticed a light in the distance, gradually approaching.
“Yuan Zhao?” he called out.
“Ah Xiang!” Yuan Zhao’s voice responded, bounding toward him. “It’s too dark! I’ll come meet you!”
Shi Wuxiang instinctively quickened his pace, meeting him and taking the torch from his hands. The warm, dim light illuminated their faces.
Yuan Zhao looked at him with surprise. “Why are you smiling? Did your work go well today? Were you praised?”
Had he really smiled?
Shi Wuxiang touched his own lips in surprise and realized, indeed, they were curved upward.
Noticing it, he stifled his smile and said softly, “It was easy work. Just tallying accounts. Nothing worth praise…”
Yuan Zhao had a different view. “You’ve never done this before. Not a single mistake on your first day—that’s praise-worthy!”
They walked side by side toward home. The night’s chill made them huddle closer. Shi Wuxiang found himself liking Yuan Zhao a little; anyone would love a younger brother like him.
Shi Wuxiang wasn’t picky with food, yet he couldn’t help feeling touched at the extra tender bamboo shoots Yuan Zhao had set aside.
Once he finished eating, the rest of the family retired to their rooms. Yuan Zhao, as usual, brought hot water for him to soak his feet, but Shi Wuxiang stopped him.
“You soak your hands first,” he said.
“My hands are clean!” Yuan Zhao glanced at his own hands along Shi Wuxiang’s gaze. Though swollen and cracked, they were truly clean.
“Oh?” Shi Wuxiang said. “I was going to wait until you washed them to give you a gift—”
“I’ll wash them now!” Yuan Zhao shouted, setting the basin down and squatting to soak his hands, muttering, “You should’ve told me earlier! Then I would’ve washed properly. What are you giving me? I’ve never received a gift before, hahaha…”
He soaked the cracked skin until soft, rubbed it hard, dried his hands, and held them out to Shi Wuxiang with wide, expectant eyes.
“Hold out your hands,” Shi Wuxiang said with a smile.
“All right…” Yuan Zhao opened his palms eagerly.
A small, round box landed in his hands.
It was balm!
Shi Wuxiang said, “Use this daily. It’ll soothe the cracks. There’s also an ointment; mix it and apply it.”
Yuan Zhao was truly flattered, a little dazed. “It’s expensive, isn’t it?”
Shi Wuxiang choked slightly, anticipating Yuan Zhao might scold him for spending money unwisely, considering their modest circumstances.
But Yuan Zhao surprised him.
“And what about you? First day on the job—did you get yourself anything nice?”
Yuan Zhao looked up at him, his clear, bright eyes undimmed even in the dim room.
Shi Wuxiang felt moved again—Yuan Zhao always surprised him.