Chapter 66: Nighttime Gossip, Not Worth a Damn!

Mrs. Huang clicked her tongue twice, “I tell you, that Comrade Liu really likes Comrade Qi! This morning, when they were assigning tasks, Comrade Qi was told to help haul soil with the villagers, but he refused, claiming his shoulder was swollen and he couldn’t work. Comrade Fang said this was a man’s job and everyone took turns at it—having a swollen shoulder was no excuse. Comrade Qi tried to switch with someone else, but none of the men agreed. Comrade Liu, feeling sorry for him, immediately offered to switch—she’d pull the cart, and Comrade Qi could go shovel soil instead.”

At this, Mrs. Huang chuckled. “Who doesn’t know her by now? The kind of task others finish in half a day takes her all day, and even then, she bursts into tears, making it seem like someone’s bullying her. So, of course, Comrade Fang, as the team leader, didn’t agree. Pulling the cart isn’t something you can take lightly. Comrade Liu started crying right there, accusing Comrade Fang of looking down on her and deliberately discriminating against female comrades. Comrade Fang ended up laughing in exasperation and assigned Comrade Cai to pull the cart instead, sending the two of them to carry the soil—and she specifically said to carry as much as the men, just to avoid Comrade Liu thinking she was being looked down upon.”

Mrs. Huang laughed loudly. “You should’ve seen Comrade Qi’s face—it was dark as thunder! If he’d been pulling the cart, he could have switched between pushing and pulling, giving his shoulder a chance to rest; plus, when returning with the empty cart, he could have taken another break. But now he had to carry soil—which was what made his shoulder swell in the first place. It must be worse by now.”

“So he tried to switch back to cart-pulling, but Comrade Fang refused, making the two of them continue carrying soil. Comrade Qi got angry, saying Comrade Fang was picking on him, but she wouldn’t indulge him, accusing him directly of having bourgeois tendencies and trying to shirk his revolutionary duties. He was left speechless, fuming as he walked off—he didn’t even have breakfast.”

“Then Comrade Liu chased after him with her own breakfast. I heard she traded a lot of things for eggs before coming here, boiled them all, and brought them along—she ended up giving them all to Comrade Qi.”

Mingdai suddenly understood. “So they went into the grove for a private meal.”

Mrs. Huang wore a mysterious expression. “You’re still young, you wouldn’t understand. Who goes all the way to the grove just for a meal? Tsk tsk, you’ll see, Comrade Liu is in for a hard time.”

Mingdai recalled seeing Qi Zhijun’s furious face that morning, but he was the one who ducked into the grove first. She wondered whether he just didn’t want to be seen eating Liu’s eggs, or if there was something else going on. If it was the latter, he was truly shameless—especially since he’d just been pushing Liu away, as far from himself as possible.

Mrs. Huang tossed out the dirty water, rinsed the basin, and as she peeled off her muddy trousers she grumbled, “Anyway, neither of those two are any good—one’s sly on the inside, the other’s foolish on the outside. Best to just ignore them.”

Mingdai smiled in agreement. “Right, they came to ask me to go hunt field mice with them earlier—I sent them packing.”

“That’s exactly what you should have done! Hunt field mice? Don’t they have work tomorrow? Oh, what’s this? Why is it so warm?”

Mingdai shrank back. “It’s a bottle of salt water. Be careful not to kick it over, I filled it with hot water so it’ll stay warm for half the night.”

Mrs. Huang was so touched she nearly cried. “Little Ming, you’re such a good soul! Even my own sister’s never been this thoughtful.”

Mingdai just laughed. “Come on, let’s get some sleep, we’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

Mrs. Huang wiped her face. “Yes, yes! Right away.”

Mingdai turned and glanced at Zhou Sinian on the other side of the woodpile. “Zhou Sinian, time to sleep. Turn off the lamp, you can look at it tomorrow.”

Zhou Sinian obediently put away his comic book, burrowed under the covers and wiggled around until he found a comfortable position, then turned off his flashlight.

Just as Mingdai was drifting off, Zhou Sinian suddenly spoke, “I want to eat eggs.”

Mingdai rolled her eyes in the darkness. So out of all that, all you heard was ‘eggs’?

“There aren’t any eggs, only salted duck eggs. You can have one tomorrow.”

Zhou Sinian’s voice sounded aggrieved. “Alright, then.”

Mrs. Huang, with her head under the covers, sighed to herself: That crazy kid sure is lucky—even gets to eat salted duck eggs.

They all slept soundly that night. Zhou Sinian, thanks to the herbs Mingdai had added to his medicine, and Mrs. Huang, because Zhou Sinian hadn’t popped up unexpectedly and she was worn out from the day.

When they woke, Mrs. Huang went off to boil water as usual, and Mingdai took out five steamed buns and four pieces of rice cake, putting them on the stove to steam. Zhou Sinian chose fried flour for himself, filled three bowls halfway, and used the hot water Mrs. Huang had boiled to mix it up.

Mrs. Huang was astonished to see the crazy boy had even served her some—she felt flattered. After all, he never let anyone else touch his things, not even to look at them, without risking a beating.

Zhou Sinian didn’t look at her, just set his big tea mug by the stove, took a rice cake from the small oven, and alternated bites of rice cake and fried flour.

Mingdai, having washed her face, came over with chopsticks and handed Mrs. Huang a piece of rice cake and a red date bun. “Try it, I made it with red dates.”

Mrs. Huang was still staring at the fried flour on the stove and hastily waved her hands. “No, no, I can’t take it.”

Mingdai glanced at Zhou Sinian, who was already eating a red date bun, then leaned closer to Mrs. Huang and whispered, “Are you about to have your time of the month?”

Mrs. Huang stared at her in shock. “How did you know?”

Mingdai smiled. “Traditional medicine relies on observation. I could see it—you get pain before it starts, right?”

Mrs. Huang, feeling a bit embarrassed—after all, Mingdai was just a young girl—admitted, “Yes, I feel terrible when it comes, can’t do anything.”

Mingdai nodded; she’d noticed and that’s why she’d given Mrs. Huang the hot water bottle. “There’s brown sugar in this, it’ll help. When we get back, I’ll find you some medicine—nothing serious, but if you don’t take care of it, it can get worse as you get older.”

Mrs. Huang was startled and obediently accepted the bun and rice cake.

“Eat while it’s hot. And don’t go to the river to wash vegetables for a while—I’ll go with Zhou Sinian. Fill that bottle with hot water morning and night, wrap it in a towel, and keep it on your belly, it’ll help.”

Mrs. Huang blushed and agreed, thinking to herself that little Ming really was a miracle worker—she hadn’t even taken her pulse and yet knew what was wrong. She also marveled at how much the girl knew, even about women’s ailments.

Looking at Mingdai, still a little slip of a girl, Mrs. Huang guessed she probably hadn’t even started her own cycle. She was right—this body of Mingdai’s hadn’t yet, only fourteen years old. In these times, girls usually didn’t start until fifteen or sixteen, sometimes even seventeen or eighteen if malnourished.

She’d have to take good care of herself, too—at fifteen it would probably start, so she’d best prepare.

After breakfast and tidying up, dawn was just breaking. Liu Guoqiang came over from his shed, arms folded, calling for Mrs. Huang.

“Coming!” Mrs. Huang called, clutching a stack of burlap sacks, while Mingdai and Zhou Sinian strapped on their baskets. The four of them stepped into the morning mist, heading for the nearby hilltop.