Chapter 130 Stealing
The thin, red-lined telegram paper was clenched taut by Chen Jiahui and Chen Suying, and they gripped it tighter and tighter.
A thin crack spread out from the edge of the telegram with a "rip".
The air seemed to freeze instantly. Chen Jiahui and Chen Suying stopped breathing, staring at the thin crack on the telegram. The force of their reaction force abruptly ceased.
The crack was about a finger's width wide, and the telegram swayed, nearly being torn in two.
Chen Jiahui quickly folded the telegram again, trying her best to control her panic and make her voice sound as calm as possible, "Grandma Xie, the telegram didn't say anything, it wasn't bad news, just told us to wait. You go to bed now..."
As she spoke, Chen Jiahui stuffed the telegram into her pocket, then strode out while clutching the pocket tightly.
Chen Suying knew that the telegram must have contained some bad news, which was why Jia Hui's face was so pale.
Looking at the two children in front of her, An'an held a half-eaten egg in her hand, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at Chen Jiahui's retreating figure as she walked out the door. Ningning, with an egg still in her mouth, stared at her like a puppet with its strings cut. The two children even held their breath, forgetting to continue eating their eggs, their eyes filled with a tension beyond their years.
Chen Suying didn't press Chen Jiahui any further. Watching her walk away, she suddenly felt uneasy.
The telegram from Jincheng suggests that the eighth or ninth floor is not a good sign.
The smile on Jia Hui's face, which was as bright as the sun on the ceiling a moment ago, turned ashen as if covered with frost in the blink of an eye. Coupled with the way she almost tore up the telegram before letting her see it, Chen Suying concluded that there was danger in the telegram.
You can guess a bit without even asking.
Will his grandchildren and Jia Hui's father be sentenced to prison or what?
But she was afraid that asking any more questions would frighten An'an and Ning Ning. The children were still young and shouldn't be involved in these distressing matters. She didn't ask any more questions, but her heart was in turmoil.
She picked up her cane leaning against the table, stepped onto the hardened mud floor of the cowshed, and despite her leg problems, quickly walked towards the threshold of the cowshed.
The cane clattered on the muddy ground, each beat striking her chest and stirring her emotions. The old woman tried her best to control herself and called out, "Jiahui!"
Chen Jiahui had already walked to the row of osmanthus trees, which were dozens of meters away from the cowshed.
Late August is the season when osmanthus flowers are in full bloom.
The air was filled with the rich fragrance of osmanthus blossoms, and the breeze carried a refreshing scent. Yet, Chen Jiahui felt as if she were carrying a heavy boulder in her chest.
Hearing the old lady call her, the tears in her eyes could no longer be held back and fell one by one. She didn't dare to turn around, and tried to calm her terrible emotions in a hushed voice, and answered the old lady.
The old lady looked at her, took a deep breath, "...Jia Hui, Xing Yue is still pregnant. Your mother and your Aunt Lan are getting old, about the telegram..."
Chen Jiahui stood under a row of osmanthus trees, her cloth shoes crunching on the scattered osmanthus petals. A breeze carried the sweet fragrance of osmanthus blossoms.
But she couldn't smell anything; she only felt tears sliding down her cheeks and flowing into her mouth, filling her mouth and heart with a bitter taste.
She choked back tears, her throat tightening, but she tried to remain calm as she replied to the old lady with her back to her, "Grandma, the telegram said there's still no news about my father, Uncle Xie, and the other brothers, Zhongming. But everyone is alright and safe."
Chen Suying knew that Chen Jiahui was definitely lying.
The matter in the telegram must be a matter of life and death, otherwise Chen Jiahui's face wouldn't have turned as white as paper in an instant.
Her words meant she had decided to keep the matter in the telegram a secret. Chen Suying knew perfectly well that she had lied, but she didn't expose her. Her reminder to Jia Hui was also meant to make her consider Xingyue's pregnancy and the fact that her mother and Aunt Lan were getting old, so that she wouldn't tell everyone the truth.
It seems that Jia Hui understands what she means.
Chen Suying didn't say anything more. "Okay, be careful on the way to the fields!"
After Chen Jiahui responded with an "okay" and disappeared, her sleeve was suddenly tugged.
Chen Suying quickly wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, turned her head and gave An'an, who was tugging at her clothes, a kind smile, "An'an, Ningning, let's go back and eat eggs."
Even after she wiped away her tears, An'an still noticed the tear stains at the corners of her eyes. "Great-Grandma, why are you crying?"
"No, sand got in your eyes." Chen Suying leaned on her cane with one hand and held An'an's hand with the other, then let Ningning follow. "After you finish eating the eggs, Great-Grandma will take you to cut some tender grass to feed the chicks and ducklings, and then water the seedlings in our vegetable garden."
Holding An'an's little hand, the lines on her palm pressed against the child's tender skin, and she dared not show the turmoil in her heart.
Chen Jiahui carried a hoe and walked a long way.
The row of mud houses and the two cowsheds next to the educated youth settlement were already in the distance.
She put down the hoe she was carrying on her shoulder and leaned against a tree trunk. She took out a telegram from her pocket, tore it to shreds, and was about to throw it on the ground when she looked at the lush green vegetables at her feet and thought that if she threw it like that, someone would definitely notice.
So he dug a hole in the grass.
The sun overhead was scorching.
Even though the ground was covered with lush green grass and the soil was in the shade, it was still hard to turn over. It took a long time to dig a slightly deeper hole. Then, the torn-up telegram was thrown in and buried again.
If her mother, Aunt Lan, and Xingyue asked, she would say that the security department wouldn't allow her to inquire about the situation, and that Songhua had only reported that everyone was safe and sound, and that they should continue to wait for news.
After burying the torn telegram, Chen Jiahui looked around as if she had done something wrong.
Seeing that no one was around, only the blazing sun shining on the nearby flowers, trees, and the chirping of cicadas, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Fearing that Xingyue and the others might notice something amiss, she scooped up water and washed her face again when she reached the riverbank.
...
At the foot of the mountain, on a newly reclaimed piece of wasteland, a group of people were sitting under the shade of a tree, eating the dry rations they had brought from home.
Some were gnawing on steamed buns, some were eating flatbread, some were swallowing cornbread, some were drinking noodle soup, and some were drinking wild vegetable porridge.
The ones drinking the wild vegetable porridge were Lao Dahong, her widowed daughter, and her six- or seven-year-old grandson, Xiaoguang. Their family had no able-bodied members; her husband was dead, and several of her sons-in-law had died. Even if the whole family worked in the fields, they couldn't earn many work points.
The workforce was already weak, and Lao Dahong liked to dawdle and slack off with her daughter and grandson.
The vegetable porridge in the aluminum lunchbox was thin and watery, and it didn't keep you full at all. Thinking that he still had to do physical labor in the afternoon, Lao Dahong had a crooked idea.
She noticed that Qiao Xingyue's family hadn't sat down for lunch yet. They were still on their allotted plot of land, some weeding, some turning the soil, all working very hard.
His gaze fell on the dry rations that Qiao Xingyue and the others had brought, wrapped in a piece of floral cloth, under the shade of a tree, and suddenly his eyes lit up with golden light.
Why does Qiao Xingyue's family have steamed buns at every meal?
Seeing everyone eating lunch under the shade of a tree, Lao Dahong nudged her grandson, who was gulping down wild vegetable porridge, and said, "Xiao Guang, do you want to eat a steamed bun?"
Xiao Guang looked up and nodded vigorously, "Yes!"
"Go!" Lao Dahong pointed to the old elm tree. "Steal all the dry food from that floral bag under the tree. Go around behind this patch of cogongrass, but don't let anyone see you. They not only have steamed buns, but also pickled vegetables with chili oil."
Xiao Guang swallowed hard as he listened, quickly put down the wild vegetable porridge in his hand, and crouched down to walk around from behind the unnoticed patch of cogon grass to the old elm tree. He continued to squat in the cogon grass, using a hooked branch to slowly move Qiao Xingyue's floral cloth bag inside.
The midday sun was blazing.
Everyone started working in the fields around six in the morning, before the sun had risen and before dawn.
After working for five or six hours, everyone was exhausted and starving. They were so focused on making lunch that they didn't notice the floral cloth bag under the old elm tree being dragged little by little into the thatch.
Lao Dahong's grandson, just like her, was dark-skinned and thin, with buck teeth like Lao Dahong. He frequently went up the mountain to raid bird nests and stole chickens and dogs in the village. If someone's cucumbers were growing well in their private plot, he would sneak away at night to pick a few. If someone's hen laid an egg, he would secretly steal it when no one was around. He even killed a villager's dog to eat meat.
He's only six or seven years old, and he's already a formidable person.
Stealing the dried food that Qiao Xingyue brought from the fields was a piece of cake for her.
The wiry Xiao Guang untied the knot on the floral fabric, quickly turned it inside out, revealing more than ten white steamed buns and two boxes of kimchi mixed with chili oil.
They occasionally have steamed buns at home, but when they are steamed, they are yellow and hard, unlike the white steamed buns in front of us.
There were also two boxes of cold pickled vegetables in aluminum lunchboxes, coated with a layer of red oil and sesame seeds. A fragrant aroma of chili oil wafted over. Before the six or seven-year-old boy could even return to Lao Dahong, he grabbed a steamed bun and took a big bite, then grabbed a handful of pickled vegetables and stuffed them into his mouth.
fragrant!
It smells so good!
...
Qiao Xingyue and Shen Liping cut down the last stalk of cogon grass that was as tall as two people and had an incredibly tenacious vitality.
Sun Xiuxiu, Zhiyuan, and Mingyuan used pickaxes to dig up all the remaining roots that were deeply embedded in the soil.
This cogongrass is incredibly resilient. Even if it doesn't rain for six months, it can grow taller than a person and continue to grow the following year. Its roots are deeply buried in the hardened soil, making it extremely difficult to eradicate completely.
Therefore, everyone's work progress is relatively slow.
Fortunately, with everyone working together, the wasteland allocated to them by the brigade was reclaimed ahead of schedule.
Looking at the wasteland allocated to other commune members and villagers, some hadn't finished clearing the weeds, some had piles of cogongrass, and some hadn't even been turned over. Their families were large, and the wasteland they received was spacious, yet they had cleared it all cleanly, and the soil was turned over until it was loose and soft.
"Done!"
Zhiyuan is the eldest son in the family and works the hardest.
Qiao Xingyue took a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from Zhiyuan's forehead. "Alright, take the younger brothers to eat steamed buns."
Mingyuan, Chengyuan, and Boyuan swallowed hard when they thought of the big steamed buns with white sugar and the pickled vegetables that their fourth aunt made with chili oil.
The family quickly wiped their sweat, carried their hoes, and walked to the old elm tree.
Their lunch, wrapped in a floral cloth, was placed next to a stone under the elm tree, but they couldn't find it anywhere.
Zhiyuan searched around the rock but found nothing.
Sitting under the tree, Shen Liping called out, "Zhiyuan, hurry up and bring the steamed buns over."
Working in the fields is exhausting. After a morning of work, everyone was starving and their throats were parched.
As Shen Liping called out, she unscrewed the lid of the water bottle, not even taking a sip herself, and handed it to Wang Shufen first, then unscrewed the lid of the second water bottle and handed it to Huang Guilan.
Everyone's mind was filled with the dozen or so steamed buns with sugar that they had brought from home that morning, as well as two boxes of cold pickled vegetables.
Under the shade of the old elm tree, Zhiyuan led his three younger brothers to search and search, turning the pages again and again. They even used sticks to search through the reeds several times, but there was no trace of the floral cloth bundle.
Chengyuan panicked, "Big brother, did some animal steal our steamed buns?"
"What kind of animal can eat steamed buns?" Zhiyuan felt a pang of panic. "Even if it was stolen, it must have been stolen by someone."
As he spoke, Zhiyuan glanced at the villagers and educated youth sitting in the shade of the trees, one by one, his gaze filled with suspicion.
Seeing the children standing there in a daze, Shen Liping got up, dusted herself off, and went over to them. "What's going on?"
Qiao Xingyue also came over, "What's wrong?"
The youngest, Boyuan, had tears welling up in his eyes, but he held them back. "Auntie, Fourth Aunt, our steamed buns and pickled vegetables are gone. We don't know who stole them."
Just as Zhiyuan's gaze fell on the three people squatting under an old peach tree not far away—a half-grown boy and Lao Dahong—Qiao Xingyue's gaze also fell on the three of them.
The little boy was sitting cross-legged on the ground, with a steamed bun in his left hand and another in his right, wolfing it down.
Then look at Rong Dahong and her daughter Cuihua, each of them has two steamed buns in their hands.
On ordinary days, the three of them, grandfather, grandmother, and grandson, either drink wild vegetable porridge or corn porridge.
Qiao Xingyue has been in the Tuanjie Brigade for more than half a month, and she has never seen the three of them, grandfather, grandmother, and grandson, eat white flour steamed buns while working in the fields.
The three of them, grandfather, grandmother, and grandson, always shirked their responsibilities and received small portions of grain, so how could they possibly afford to eat white flour steamed buns?
"Let's go take a look." Qiao Xingyue was indignant. It was absolutely true that this poor and remote place was full of scoundrels; they even stole other people's food.
She took a step forward, followed closely by Shen Liping and her four children, each clenching their fists, and they arrived in front of Lao Dahong and his two grandchildren.
The three generations of the family, grandfather, grandmother, and grandchildren, showed no remorse upon seeing the newcomers. They all glanced up at them, completely oblivious to the fact that they were still munching on their stolen steamed buns. They were used to stealing; they'd stolen melons and vegetables from every household in the village. Being scolded was commonplace; they were thick-skinned. They only gave Qiao Xingyue and the others a quick look before continuing to enjoy their buns, occasionally picking up a piece of cold pickled vegetable to eat with them.
Lao Dahong took a big bite of the steamed bun and said, "What are you looking at me for? Do you expect me to share some of my steamed bun with you? It's like I ate your steamed bun. Let me tell you, this is my own steamed bun."
The roguish look in Lao Dahong's eyes was infuriating.
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