This all proves without exception that the owner of this house must be a hardworking person who lives a better life than his neighbors.

Of course, this must have happened a long time ago. After all, there are already many cracks on the mud walls, and the whitewash has almost fallen off. The owner of the house found a way to fill the gaps in the wall with mud that were big enough to fit a fist, but he never painted his walls again.

The owner of the house was probably waiting for guests. He didn't enter the room because it was terribly dark. Even though the family had sold everything they could, the bumpy dirt floor could still cause injuries to anyone walking in the dark. Once injured, it meant they couldn't work for at least a long time, which was fatal.

The owner squatted at the door of his house, looking towards the village in the moonlight. Bored, he picked up a branch of suitable thickness and held it in his mouth, taking a deep puff. Hmm, it's a pity that although branches and tobacco are both plants, they can't be used interchangeably.

The owner sighed and spat the branch on the ground. He seemed quite dissatisfied with the act of pulling out the branch, but after thinking for a moment, he picked up the branch and continued to hold it in his mouth.

Well, if you can’t fool your lungs, it’s good to fool your mouth.

From this we can see that Zuo Xiang’s policies were not entirely bad. After all, comprehensive poverty helped a large number of smokers quit smoking, made them healthier, and increased their life expectancy if they had not starved to death.

After a long time, several figures came from outside the village in the moonlight. Taking advantage of the little light before the moon was blocked by dark clouds, the owner looked at the figures of the people and confirmed that it was the person he was waiting for. He then opened the dilapidated door and walked in.

As soon as they entered the house, the owner couldn't wait to ask, "What took so long? Could there be some accident?"

A voice reached out from the darkness: "Nothing unexpected. It's just that the mine unearthed a bit more ore today, and the people from Qinghe had it transported overnight. But fortunately, at least they provided dinner and gave us five cents of lamp oil so we could light our way back home."

"Oh?" The owner was obviously interested and said anxiously, "It's good to have lamp oil. I have another oil lamp here. Light it up quickly. It's really too dark."

"I say, Mr. Liu, what are you afraid of in the dark? You've sold out all the things in your house long ago, so you don't have to worry about bumps and scratches. This lamp oil is top-quality rapeseed oil, wouldn't it be a pity to light it?" the voice continued.

The owner of the house seemed stunned for a moment, perhaps not expecting such an answer. He couldn't seem to remember the last time he had lit a lamp, and had almost forgotten what the light looked like in the dark. It seemed like it had been a long time since he had gone to bed at night, never needing to light up at night again.

"I have something here. It's the handwriting of 'Khmer Hero' Nguyen Thi Hao. Are you sure you don't want to take a look at it?" After a long silence, the owner of the house said softly.