The autumn sun shone through the poplar canopy of the Hongqi Production Brigade, scattering fine golden light across the bluestone path and onto the weathered wooden door of Lin Wanqiu's house. Inside, earthenware jars were neatly stacked in the corner, the brine seeping from their mouths gleaming amber in the sunlight. The rich aroma of fermented bean curd mingled with the sweet scent of freshly ground soybeans, weaving a warm and cozy net in the small courtyard. Lin Wanqiu was squatting by the stove, clutching a coarse cloth, carefully wiping the kerosene lamp she had just brought back from town—bought with her first earnings from selling fermented bean curd. The wick was thicker than the old lamp at home, illuminating the room brightly when lit, so she no longer had to fumble around in the dark to do calculations.
"Mom, Uncle Zhou sent another message!" Shen Nian'an, holding a crumpled piece of paper, ran in from outside like a little sparrow, his small leather shoes clicking on the stone slabs. These shoes were made overnight by Lin Wanqiu using cloth ration coupons given to her by Old Zhou to buy a piece of blue khaki cloth; a small cloth tiger was sewn onto the toe of each shoe, making them Shen Nian'an's most treasured possessions. He handed the paper to Lin Wanqiu, his bright black eyes brimming with excitement: "Uncle Zhou said that the supply and marketing cooperative in the neighboring commune also wants our fermented bean curd, and he wants Mom to send twenty more jars over!"
Lin Wanqiu took the note, her fingertips tracing the crooked handwriting, her heart filled with a sweet warmth. Since the fermented bean curd had found a market at the supply and marketing cooperative half a month ago, orders had been pouring in like autumn leaves. First, residents of the town sent people to place orders, and later even the commune canteen sent someone to inquire. She glanced down at the old watch on her wrist—it was the one Shen Tingzhou had left behind before his fake death. The glass on the dial was cracked, yet it still kept perfect time. The hour hand pointed to three in the afternoon; Shen Tingzhou should be returning from delivering goods from town.
Just then, the creaking of a wheelbarrow's wheels came from outside the courtyard gate, accompanied by Shen Tingzhou's deep voice: "Nian'an, come help your father unload these things." Lin Wanqiu quickly got up, and just as she reached the gate, she saw Shen Tingzhou pushing the cart in. Besides the empty ceramic jars, there was also a bulging cloth bag on the cart. He was wearing a faded military green jacket, and a thin layer of sweat was beaded on his forehead. The setting sun cast a long shadow on him, making his broad shoulders and narrow waist appear particularly upright in the light and shadow.
"Why are you back so late today?" Lin Wanqiu handed him a damp handkerchief, her fingertips inadvertently brushing against the thick calluses on his palm—the result of years of holding a gun and pushing a wheelbarrow. Shen Tingzhou took the handkerchief and wiped his sweat, a smile playing on his lips. "I talked to Uncle Zhou about a long-term supply deal. He even helped us contact the county's pickle factory, saying they'd be willing to buy our fermented bean paste if we could make it." He opened the cloth bag, revealing several packages inside—two jin of wheat flour, half a jin of brown sugar, and a piece of floral fabric. "To make Nian'an a new cotton-padded coat; it's getting cold."
Shen Nian'an threw herself into Shen Tingzhou's arms, hugging his neck and pouting, "Dad, I don't want a new cotton-padded coat, I want to help Mom save money to build a house!" Lin Wanqiu's eyes welled up with tears. Ever since she mentioned the idea of building a house to Shen Tingzhou at the noodle shop, the child had kept it in mind. Before, she always clamored for candy, but now she wouldn't even buy a piece of malt candy, saying she wanted to save the money to build "a big house that can get sunshine."
Shen Tingzhou lifted his son onto his shoulders and looked at Lin Wanqiu: "I asked Master Zhang, the bricklayer, in town today. He said building a three-room brick house, including the foundation and timber, would cost about two hundred yuan. How much have we saved so far?" Lin Wanqiu turned and took out an iron box from the inner room, which made a crisp "click" sound when opened. Inside, the banknotes were neatly categorized: a stack of small bills tied with a rubber band, several ten-yuan bills underneath, and a thick stack of cloth and grain coupons. She counted them, her voice filled with barely suppressed joy: "Including the money from selling fermented bean curd today, we've saved a total of sixty-five yuan and eight mao! After making two more batches of fermented bean curd, we'll have eighty yuan."
Shen Tingzhou walked to her side, looking down at the banknotes in the iron box, his eyes full of tenderness: "At this rate, construction can begin next spring. I've already arranged with Master Zhang to come and inspect the foundation after the autumn harvest. We've chosen that open space at the east end of the village; it gets good sunlight and is close to the river, making it convenient for you to fetch water for making fermented bean curd." Lin Wanqiu leaned on his shoulder, the faint scent of herbs emanating from him lingering in her nostrils, her heart filled with peace. The fear and despair of her early rebirth had long been replaced by a sense of security and hope—with her husband by her side, her son's companionship, and this good life earned through her own hard work, she finally felt that she had put down roots in this era.
In the days that followed, Lin Wanqiu became increasingly busy. Every day she would get up before dawn to soak soybeans. When grinding tofu, Shen Tingzhou would help with the fire, while Shen Nian'an would sit beside her on a small stool, helping to pick out impurities from the soybeans. The soybeans had to be plump and full, soaked until they could be easily crushed between her fingers; the soybeans had to be ground three times to ensure a smooth consistency; and the coagulant had to be made with old soy milk, and even a slight miscalculation in the heat would ruin it. Lin Wanqiu was strict with every step; she knew that only by guaranteeing quality could her business last.
That evening, Lin Wanqiu had just sealed the last jar of fermented bean curd when she heard Aunt Li's voice outside the courtyard gate: "Is Wanqiu home?" She quickly dried her hands and went to open the door, where she saw Aunt Li leading Aunt Wang and Sister Zhang from the village standing at the door, carrying sweet potatoes and pumpkins they had grown themselves. "Aunties, come in and sit down," Lin Wanqiu said with a smile, inviting them into the courtyard and pouring them a bowl of hot water.
Aunt Li took a sip of hot water and got straight to the point: "Wanqiu, we were all so happy to hear you were saving up to build a house. Seeing how hard you work making fermented bean curd, we thought we could help you with soaking soybeans and cutting tofu. You can just give us a small wage." Aunt Wang quickly chimed in, "Yes, Wanqiu, we don't have much to do at home. Being able to lend a hand and earn some money to buy the kids candy is wonderful!"
Lin Wanqiu felt a warmth in her heart upon hearing this. Ever since she started making fermented bean curd, the villagers' attitude towards her had changed—before, because she was a "widow," people would always gossip behind her back, but now, seeing that she was earning money through her own abilities and was willing to help everyone, they were all exceptionally kind to her. She smiled and said, "I'm more than happy that you aunties are willing to help! How about this, you come and help me for three hours every day, and I'll give you two cents a day, plus lunch, is that alright?"
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