The next day, Yuan Zhao rose at first light, dressed, and reheated the leftover noodle dumpling soup from last night, stirring in extra dumplings to ensure there was enough.
Master Zhang dressed and stepped outside, seeing Yuan Zhao busy as ever. She quickly woke Shī Qīngyuè, preparing him to help in the fields.
“I can go, but what about Little Sister and Yuan Ge’er? Who will take care of Big Brother?” Shī Qīngyuè asked.
“Ah Xiang is fine; he can get up by himself. Just make the food—he’ll eat on his own,” Yuan Zhao replied with a smile. Now that Shī Wúxiàng was fully recovered, the household felt even better.
Shī Qīngyuè accepted this and finished his soup quickly, eager to help with the farming tools Yuan Zhao had borrowed earlier.
After heating the remaining soup, the firewood was ready, and only a bit more would be needed for breakfast.
With the house prepared, Yuan Zhao led Master Zhang and Shī Qīngyuè into the mountains.
The misty mountain air was cold, but after a short walk, their bodies warmed.
The fallow land they were assigned was far—otherwise, villagers would have claimed it already. The distance was actually beneficial, keeping others from coveting it.
By the time they arrived, Chief Niu was already at the land, rubbing his hands and pointing. “From here to over there, it’s yours. Don’t cross the forest—that belongs to someone else.”
“Thank you, Uncle Niu!” Yuan Zhao said cheerfully.
Master Zhang added her gratitude. “Thank you for coming all this way; we truly appreciate it.”
Chief Niu sighed. “Life’s hard for everyone. Since you’re back, make the most of it. Come to us if anything arises.”
Yuan Zhao recognized the genuine kindness behind his words and thanked him profusely. Chief Niu had come specifically to mark the boundaries; otherwise, cultivating someone else’s land would have brought trouble.
Watching the chief leave, Yuan Zhao rolled up his sleeves, ready to work.
Though the air was still a bit cold, early spring meant the ground was no longer frozen solid, making cultivation easier.
In his previous home with his second uncle, Yuan Zhao had done all such work. Swinging the hoe felt effortless, and the cold couldn’t keep him from warming up quickly, sweat beading his back.
Master Zhang hadn’t farmed in over a decade, and Shī Qīngyuè had never done farm work since birth. Their awkwardness showed, but they were diligent, taking breaks now and then.
Yuan Zhao said, “The chief has assigned this land to us. We just need to clear it before planting—it won’t affect the crops!”
Master Zhang understood he was reassuring her and nodded politely, swallowing her words.
“Farming really is hard work. Books are too general; it’s better to try it firsthand,” Shī Qīngyuè remarked, wiping sweat and smiling.
Yuan Zhao agreed, nodding. Experience was the best teacher.
The work was laborious for anyone, yet Yuan Zhao, though tired, felt joyful. The field, though distant from the village, was well-positioned, with a small stream nearby.
Finally, they would have their own crops! Yuan Zhao chuckled, imagining the vegetables they’d grow—no longer relying on foraging. Ah Xiang would have enough to eat; he needed to eat well to regain strength.
“Ah-choo!”
Shī Wúxiàng sneezed heavily, and a handkerchief was quickly offered. Shī Qīngrán’s worried voice followed. “Brother, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, let’s eat,” Shī Wúxiàng sighed internally.
Waking up to an empty bed, he had hurriedly attended to personal needs. Returning to the yard, he saw Shī Qīngrán and Yuan Yuan adding firewood to the pot.
As an adult, he couldn’t wait for two children to serve him, so he took over the task himself.
Shī Qīngrán, with a childlike smile, said, “That’s good. Mother and sister-in-law went to the field. At noon, we’ll bring food over and check on our plot.”
“Who’s cooking?” Shī Wúxiàng asked after a pause.
“I can…” Yuan Yuan raised his swollen, stubby hands. “I often cook with Brother. I can manage…”
Shī Wúxiàng examined him—barely reaching his waist, thin, wind-chapped hands, and fragile. He looked even worse than typical left-behind children in the old world.
He couldn’t stand seeing a ten-year-old cook.
“I’ll do it,” Shī Wúxiàng said firmly.
“Brother, you can’t cook. Don’t be stubborn. Yuan Ge’er and I can handle it,” Shī Qīngrán worried.
Shī Wúxiàng calmly said, “Books contain golden houses, and naturally methods of cooking. I’ve just never had the chance to try.”
Shī Qīngrán couldn’t argue and let it go. The elder’s household decisions were his to make.
Feeling healthier, Shī Wúxiàng was more comfortable. The original owner’s memories merged into him. Even if noticed, he could claim it was “a rebirth after illness”—no one would suspect.
Shī Qīngrán mended small cloths, a skill learned early. Yuan Yuan obediently sat beside Shī Wúxiàng, recognizing him as the head of the household, a figure like Yuan Daguang.
“Go play, don’t hover over me,” Shī Wúxiàng thought, but Yuan Yuan stayed close, breathing softly.
“Do you know how to read? I can teach you to write,” he asked.
“Really?”
“Of course. Let’s start with your name.” Shī Wúxiàng grabbed a used stick from the stove and gestured to write on the clay wall.
He didn’t intend to stay here long—the conditions were harsh and needed improvement.
Yuan Yuan eagerly learned, making Shī Wúxiàng enjoy teaching.
But soon, they had to cook. Yuan Yuan took charge of the fire. The family’s single pot handled all meals, a hardship.
Shī Wúxiàng sighed but worked efficiently. He steamed whole-grain buns and stir-fried cabbage with the leftover vegetables. Packing them to deliver was the only challenge.
He borrowed a cloth from Shī Qīngrán to wrap the food, making it portable despite the effort.
“Eat by the pot first. Don’t burn yourselves. I’ll be back soon,” Shī Wúxiàng instructed.
“You don’t even know where our field is!” Shī Qīngrán exclaimed.
“You do?”
Shī Qīngrán’s expression betrayed frustration—his elder brother could be so capricious.
After giving instructions, Shī Wúxiàng hurried out.
A little while later, Shī Qīngyuè, sweaty, asked if they were ready.
Wiping his sweat, Yuan Zhao said, “Rest first. I’ll cook and deliver it. Ah Xiang hasn’t eaten yet.”
“All right,” Master Zhang agreed.
Yuan Zhao patted the dirt off his clothes and prepared to head back. Just as he turned, a familiar voice called out.
“Cough, cough… Ah Xiang!”
“It’s me,” Shī Wúxiàng, carrying the wrapped food, approached, looking somewhat weary.
Yuan Zhao ran to greet him, face bright with joy. “You! How did you get here? Are you feeling better? Haha, I’m so happy…”
Since his parents passed, he had never eaten food brought from home in the fields!
Shī Wúxiàng: “…” You’re already smiling.
Shī Wúxiàng gently pushed him back and
Mrs. Shi watched them bicker with a face full of smiles; the celebratory mood was truly well-timed.
Shi Wuxiang said, “I’ve already let Ranan and Yuan’er have some of the steamed buns and stir-fried vegetables. Just bring the bowls and chopsticks home when you return.”
Yuan Zhao glanced at him while eating, noticing his clothes were dusty, and frowned. “Did you fall on your backside?”
“…How did you tell?” Shi Wuxiang felt a little embarrassed.
“There’s dirt on your seat,” Yuan Zhao grinned, showing his teeth. “You’re not hurt, are you? Does it hurt?”
Shi Wuxiang, slightly awkward, said, “Do not speak while eating.”
Yuan Zhao, as if his lifeline had been pinched, immediately fell silent and focused on his meal.
Shi Wuxiang’s gaze lingered a little heavier on the three eating; now fully recovered, as a proper man, he could not comfortably let the old, weak, and young at home serve him.
He lifted his foot but let it fall back down, speaking softly, “I’m well now; I’ll go find some work to do.”
Upon hearing this, the three looked at him in unison.
“You’re not fully recovered yet…” Mrs. Shi disagreed slightly.
“I’ll go with you to find work!” Yuan Zhao quickly swallowed his food, raised his reddened and chapped hands, and looked at him with eager eyes. “I’ll go with you! If you faint, I can carry you home!”
Shi Wuxiang looked at his thin little arms and legs and smiled, “You can’t carry me.”
“I can! I can! I must accompany you!” Yuan Zhao imitated his stern expression. If he fainted in front of others, what if someone took him away?