Chapter 32: Only Work in Mind

"Really?" Huan Ya's eyes sparkled as if they were filled with light.

When Mother Song said it the first time, Huan Ya thought she was just joking. But this was the second time; surely she must have done a good job?

In that case, if she were to cut some bamboo and bring it back...

"It's true, but don't go thinking about weaving these to sell," Mother Song said, instantly reading Huan Ya's mind. She felt both helpless and amused.

This girl was just too earnest.

Having her thoughts exposed, Huan Ya pursed her lips in embarrassment, but then nodded earnestly. "Alright."

Fearing she might overthink it, Mother Song explained, "Don't let your imagination run wild, child. I just think weaving these items is exhausting work. Besides, it's the busy farming season now, and the families who needed them have already bought them. Taking them out to sell now wouldn't be easy, and it would just waste your energy."

Huan Ya nodded. "I understand, Auntie. But if we ever need any at home, just let me know! We could save quite a bit of money that way!"

What household didn't need back-baskets or bamboo crates? A single woven back-basket cost twenty or thirty copper coins!

If the ones she made were usable, wouldn't that save them twenty or thirty coins? Just thinking about it made her happy!

Mother Song didn't know what was going through Huan Ya's mind, but seeing the girl's happy smile made her own mood lift as well.

"Fine, we'll see if we need any in the future."

"Okay! Let's head back then. It's just the right time to go shell some corn."

Mother Song was momentarily speechless. This girl—was her mind only filled with chores?

Although she had indeed decided to "buy" her back to help with the work, this girl was a bit too proactive.

"Auntie, I'll walk in front, and you follow behind. Make sure to keep up."

Mother Song wanted to say that she had climbed this mountain countless times and could find her way home even with her eyes closed.

But when she truly looked at Huan Ya's thin, frail frame walking in front of her, her eyes grew moist.

Ever since her husband passed away and Chengzi started his studies, she had been shouldering every big and small matter in the household alone. Even though Chengzi would help, a boy was still just a boy—how could he be as attentive as a young girl?

"Auntie?" Huan Ya had walked a few steps, heard no movement, and turned back to see Mother Song standing there, her eyes red and on the verge of tears.

She quickly set down the basket in her hands and stepped back.

"Auntie, what's wrong? Are your eyes uncomfortable?"

"No, I'm fine, child." Mother Song wiped away the tears that had welled up and said with a smile, "It seemed like something fell into my eye just now. It's out now. Let's go."

Huan Ya observed her for a moment longer, satisfied that Mother Song was truly alright, before nodding and heading off in front again.

She picked up the basket of perilla leaves, while carrying another on her back. With one in front and one behind, the protruding leaves almost completely obscured her head.

Yet, Huan Ya's steps remained light and quick; she didn't stop at all.

Seeing this, Mother Song quickly reminded her, "Huan Ya, slow down. Watch your footing."

Huan Ya shook her head, wanting to say it was fine—she had only twisted her ankle a little, and it was better by morning. But thinking that Mother Song couldn't walk very fast, she replied "alright" and truly slowed her pace.

The two made their way down the mountain one after the other. Mother Song hurried forward, taking two steps for every one of Huan Ya's. "Huan Ya, give me this basket. You've been carrying it the whole way; let me handle it for the rest of the path."

Huan Ya didn't try to be brave and handed the basket to Mother Song. The basket had been full for over ten minutes, and with the weight of the vines themselves, it must have been over twenty pounds. Holding it like that the entire time had made her arms quite sore.

"How many pounds do you reckon these will be once they're dried?" Mother Song asked, looking at the perilla leaves in the basket.

Huan Ya counted on her fingers. "A pound of fresh leaves probably dries down to about two or three ounces. Between the two back-baskets and this one, plus the bit I carried back earlier, there should be about ten pounds once they're all dried!"