The morning light had just spilled through the window lattice, casting pale gold patterns on the bluestone courtyard wall. Lin Wanqiu was stirring the soy milk in the earthenware basin. The milky white liquid, carrying the rich aroma of soybeans, swirled at the bottom of the basin, rising to fine bubbles like scattered silver. Her fingertips rested on the rim of the basin, her fingertips just touching the cool porcelain surface, when she suddenly stopped—the coarse cloth she had specially covered the basin with last night was crooked at the corner, and there were still bits of straw that didn't belong to her own stove stuck to the edge.
Shen Nian'an squatted in front of the stove, adding firewood. The firelight made his little face rosy. He clutched a twig he had just picked and whispered to the flames in the stove, "Make the fire bigger, Mom is going to make pumpkin tofu. Xiao Zhuzi said he wants to try it." Lin Wanqiu turned to look at him, a warm feeling rising in her throat. But when her gaze fell back on the bowl of soy milk, her heart sank slightly.
She remembered that when she finished work last night, she had neatly straightened the cloth and even tucked the edges into the gaps of the basin. How could it be crooked? Moreover, the ceramic bowl on the stove, which should have been placed to the left of the soy milk basin, had been moved to the right. There was also a light brown mud stain on the bottom of the bowl—that was the clay unique to the old locust tree at the entrance of the village. Her own yard was paved with river stones, so there would never be this kind of mud.
"Nian'an, go to Aunt Wang's house first and ask if her soybeans are ready." Lin Wanqiu's voice softened as she reached out to brush away the embers from her son's clothes. Shen Nian'an blinked and placed the paulownia branch by the stove. "Mom, I'm going now. I'll be right back to help you start the fire." As soon as his little figure ran out of the yard, the gentleness on Lin Wanqiu's face faded. She leaned closer to the bowl of soybean milk, her nose twitching slightly. Besides the aroma of soybeans, she could faintly smell a very slight bitterness, like the husks of dried croton seeds brushing against her nose.
In her past life, when she was a food blogger, she specifically researched croton seeds for her videos on "identifying toxic ingredients"—when ground into powder and mixed into food, it initially had only a faint bitter smell, which could only be detected upon close inspection. She dipped her fingertip into some soy milk, lightly licked it with her tongue, and the bitterness instantly spread, stronger than she remembered, indicating that a considerable amount had been added.
"Zhang Lan." Lin Wanqiu uttered these two words, her knuckles turning slightly white. Who in the village, besides Zhang Lan, would scheme so deliberately to harm her? Just a few days ago at the village entrance, Zhang Lan was still standing there, hands on her hips, scolding her for "putting on airs." Later, when she delivered tofu to the supply and marketing cooperative, she bumped into Zhang Lan and Zhao Jianjun whispering in the corner, their eyes filled with sinister calculation as they glanced at her cart.
Without a word, she picked up the basin of soy milk and walked to the old elm tree in the corner of the yard, pouring all the liquid into the ditch beside the tree roots. The milky white soy milk seeped into the black soil, quickly creating a damp patch, startling a few sparrows pecking at insects under the tree roots. Then she turned and went back to the kitchen, taking out fresh soybeans from her storage space—these soybeans were plump and larger than those in the market, which she had specially saved for later use.
Grinding and boiling the pulp, her movements were slower than usual, but her ears were perked up, listening intently to any sounds outside the courtyard. Sure enough, a moment later, soft footsteps came from outside the courtyard wall, the soles of shoes scraping the ground with a guilty, dragging gait. Lin Wanqiu deliberately stirred the firewood in the stove, making a loud crackling sound that could be heard outside the courtyard, while her hand swiftly took out an empty porcelain bottle from her spatial storage, poured in some cornstarch that was similar in color to croton powder, and then stuffed some dried locust leaves into the bottom of the bottle—if Zhang Lan came to steal "evidence," she would surely fall for it.
The footsteps stopped at the courtyard gate, followed by the rustling of fabric, as if someone was peeking through the crack in the door. Lin Wanqiu picked up a porcelain bottle containing cornstarch and deliberately placed it conspicuously next to the stove. The bottle was still stained with soy milk, making it look like it had just been used. Then she picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the freshly boiled soy milk in the iron pot, muttering loudly, "You have to put in the right amount of plaster powder. Too much and it'll be tough, too little and it won't hold its shape. Luckily, I bought some new plaster from the commune's supply and marketing cooperative yesterday; it's much finer than the old one."
The person outside the courtyard gate seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, their footsteps tiptoeing away as they headed towards the west end of the village—the direction of Zhang Lan's house. Lin Wanqiu's lips curled into a cold smile. She had guessed correctly; Zhang Lan had indeed come to test the waters, probably waiting for her to deliver the laced tofu before reporting her to the commune, ensuring she could never recover.
Not long after, Shen Nian'an ran back, followed by Aunt Wang and several women from the village. Aunt Wang was carrying a cloth bag filled with soaked soybeans, and she said with a smile, "Wanqiu, we've soaked them all. Today we have to learn how to make your pumpkin tofu. My husband said that if we learn it, we can sell it in town to make some money."
Lin Wanqiu smiled and agreed, leading everyone into the kitchen. Pointing to the freshly boiled soy milk, she said, "Today we're making pumpkin tofu. We need to steam the pumpkin first, then mix it with the soy milk. This way, it has the aroma of soybeans and the sweetness of pumpkin, which the children love." As she spoke, she took out two bright yellow pumpkins from her spatial storage—these pumpkins were much larger and brighter in color than those in the market. She had grown them in the soil of her spatial storage and had specially saved them to demonstrate for the women in the village.
Everyone gathered around the stove, watching closely. Aunt Wang's daughter-in-law, Cuilan, took notes while whispering, "Sister Wanqiu, how much plaster powder should we put in? I tried it myself last time, and I put in too much; the tofu was as hard as a rock." Lin Wanqiu picked up the porcelain bottle containing cornstarch and deliberately shook it. "Look, just this much. This is new plaster, very fine; just a little is enough." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a garment flashing past the courtyard gate—it was Zhang Lan's usual blue cotton shirt—and an idea immediately formed in her mind.
After steaming the pumpkin and mixing it with soy milk, just as they were about to add the gravy, Lin Wanqiu suddenly exclaimed "Oh dear!" and slapped her thigh: "I forgot, I think I put the plaster powder I bought yesterday in the drawer in the main room. This bottle is what was left over from last time, I'm afraid it won't be enough. Cuilan, can you go to the main room and look for it for me? It's in the leftmost drawer, wrapped in red cloth."
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