Chapter 24: Zhou Sinian, Did You Wet the Bed?!

While they slept soundly, the young intellectuals in the front yard were plagued by hunger in the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep. In these times, even large families working together couldn't eat their fill, let alone the young intellectuals, whose status in the village was lower still.

Unless it was the busy farming season, the intellectuals only ate twice a day. In winter, darkness fell early, and to save lamp oil, their supper was at three or four in the afternoon. When Mingdai’s savory rice emerged from the pot, the smell awakened their cravings and stoked their hunger, leaving them so desperate they nearly wept.

Liu Yan curled up at the chilly edge of the kang, her blanket useless against the cold. She had no choice but to cover herself with a burlap sack, but still shivered. Having been beaten as soon as she arrived, she couldn't even get out of bed; meals were brought to her by older intellectuals, and gathering firewood was out of the question. The pain in her body flared again and again, and the thin gruel she’d drunk did nothing to ease her hunger. Unable to bear it, she started sobbing once more.

"Are you mourning the dead in the middle of the night?"

Song Lanlan, lying at the head of the kang, was hungry herself. Hearing Liu Yan cry only made her angrier, and she vented her annoyance.

"How dare you cry? Shameless! You ate up someone else's whole bag of rice—have the nerve to wail here, and I'll throw you out if you keep it up!"

Liu Yan was terrified. In this frozen world, without firewood, being thrown out meant certain death. Her crying stopped, and Song Lanlan rolled her eyes, muttering "useless thing" under her breath. She herself thought longingly of that bag of rice—if only it were hers.

Early the next morning, the body's internal clock woke Mingdai from sleep. A slender, pale hand emerged from under the covers, rummaging beneath the pillow for a long time, but found nothing. Eyes still closed, Mingdai finally remembered—there was no phone anymore; she must have been half asleep.

She checked the Plum Blossom brand watch she’d taken from her space: five thirty in the morning. So early! In her previous life, aside from her high school years, she’d never risen so early again.

She decided not to linger in bed. She needed to solve the firewood problem quickly; with the mountain sealed by snow, she’d have plenty of time to sleep later.

With great effort, she pulled herself from the warmth of the bed, packed away the innermost down quilt and electric warmer, took off her heated cotton pajamas, slipped into her floral cotton jacket, and finally braided her hair into two neat plaits. All set!

She jumped down from the kang, found her black cotton shoes, put them on, grabbed the bottle of saline, and headed outside.

Upon opening the door, she saw Zhou Sinian sitting on the threshold, playing with her red headscarf—putting it on, taking it off, thoroughly engrossed.

Mingdai walked over. "Did you brush your teeth and wash your face?"

Zhou Sinian said nothing, took the saline bottle from her hand and started picking at it.

"Don't pick at it; it'll break if you do."

Zhou Sinian paused and handed the bottle back to her.

Mingdai narrowed her eyes—this man was definitely up to something.

She placed the bottle on the windowsill and turned toward Zhou Sinian’s room. He followed, wanting to stop her, but Mingdai threatened him with breakfast, and the foodie relented.

She opened the door and was surprised by the emptiness inside. Truly barren—save for the kang, there was nothing else. That wasn’t the main point, though; the military blanket on the kang made her frown. It was far too thin. Moving closer, she saw the blanket’s colors didn’t match. She touched it—it was damp.

When she unfolded it, a puddle of unidentified liquid in the middle made Mingdai’s eyes widen.

“Zhou Sinian, did you wet the bed?!”

Zhou Sinian looked at her, confused, not understanding what she meant.

Mingdai glanced at the empty saline bottle nearby and realized he'd probably removed the cap in the middle of the night.

She sighed and looked him over—thankfully, his pants weren’t wet.

Picking up the bottle without its cap, she instructed, “Bring your blanket out.”

Zhou Sinian obediently cradled the blanket and followed her step by step.

She had him hold the blanket and stand quietly. Mingdai searched her space for a length of rope, grabbed some steel nails and an axe, hammered the ends into the courtyard wall, and strung up a clothesline.

She found the sunniest spot and told Zhou Sinian to hang up the blanket.

Touching the blanket, Mingdai sighed. From the first moment she saw Zhou Sinian, she knew he had more than just issues with his mind; his body was riddled with ailments. The cold had seeped into him, arthritis, constant wet clothes, damp blankets, sleeping on a cold kang without even a mattress—any ordinary person living under such conditions would have died long ago. That he was still alive was nothing short of a miracle.

“Zhou Sinian, where are your clothes and shoes from yesterday?”

Zhou Sinian watched as Mingdai unfolded the blanket, exposing the wet patch, feeling inexplicably embarrassed, wanting to flip it over. Before he could act, she stopped him, and he withdrew his restless hands, heading back into the room.

A moment later, he emerged with his tattered cotton jacket, worn cotton pants, and army boots.

Mingdai rummaged through them—none were dirty, but all were soaked through. The jacket and pants were beyond saving, the cotton all but gone, but the boots were still usable, well made and just needed a scrub.

She tossed the boots aside, then led him to wash up.

When they arrived, Zhou Sinian automatically poured water, washed his face, wiped it down, and waited for Mingdai to apply frostbite ointment.

Seeing Mingdai moving slowly as she washed her face, he frowned with disapproval.

Ha!

“There, that’s yours. Apply it yourself—only dig out a small bit each time.”

Zhou Sinian glanced at the small box on the shelf, picked it up, studied it, and twisted it open.

He inhaled the familiar rose scent, nodded with satisfaction, scooped out a small dab, and smeared it onto his palm.

He pressed his hands together, carefully rubbed, and gradually spread it over his entire face and neck, even massaging his ears a few times.

His expression was serious, as if not applying ointment, but conducting a top-secret experiment.

Mingdai paid him no mind, applying her own face cream.

When she looked again, Zhou Sinian had finished his face and was picking up the foot basin to fetch hot water.

“No foot washing in the morning!”

Mingdai hurried to stop him, and Zhou Sinian frowned again, stubbornly clutching the basin and staring at her.

Only after Mingdai declared she wouldn’t wash her feet either did Zhou Sinian relent.

Holding his tea mug, the two faced each other to brush their teeth—Mingdai brushing the top, he brushing the top; Mingdai brushing the bottom, he brushing the bottom.

Watching his earnest manner, Mingdai decided to tease him. She withdrew her toothbrush and mimed swallowing.

Sure enough, Zhou Sinian copied her, swallowing a mouthful of toothpaste suds.

Then, as he looked stunned, Mingdai spat her toothpaste out.

“Hahahaha!”

Zhou Sinian’s incredulous expression delighted her, and she rinsed her mouth in high spirits, put away her mug, and returned it to the kitchen.

A short while later, Zhou Sinian returned with a cold expression, similarly putting his dental set away, aligning both mugs and toothbrushes and straightening Mingdai’s crooked green towel.

Mingdai looked at him. “Take your foot basin.”

She carried out the water bucket herself.

“Fill a bucket, scrub your shoes. Just like brushing your teeth—top, bottom, left, right, inside and out, everywhere. Understand? Here’s some detergent, for the shoes; it’ll foam up. When you’re done, rinse thoroughly with clean water. Got it?”

Zhou Sinian looked at the shoes and detergent on the ground, nodded, took the bucket from her, and went to fetch water.

Watching his careful scrubbing, Mingdai turned back to the kitchen.

She still needed to climb the mountain today; she planned to make some flatbreads to take along.