First, you have to peel off the outer skin, leaving only the white meat inside.
She carefully scraped the knife in circles, her movements meticulous, not daring to be careless in the slightest.
Then you have to soak, rub, and boil—several steps in total, and you can't skip any of them.
Soak it three times in water, rub it until the surface is smooth and free of sticky residue, boil it with wood ash or lime water to remove poison, and cook it over high heat for a sufficient amount of time.
After going through all this, I was exhausted, my back ached and my legs were weak, and my hands were white and wrinkled from being soaked in water.
But who cares about being tired if they want to eat well?
As long as it succeeds in the end, and I can cook that bowl of smooth and delicious konjac tofu, it's all worth the trouble.
That chewy texture and that fresh, clean taste are incomparable to anything you can buy at any market.
This wasn't her first time doing this, and with the help of the space, it wasn't too difficult.
Even under the dim light of an oil lamp, her movements remained practiced and methodical.
Her fingertips deftly turned the herbs, as if she had already reached some kind of tacit understanding with these withered roots, stems, leaves, and veins.
That hidden space operated quietly in her mind, silently providing the necessary dry temperature and storage location, saving her a lot of trouble of searching and drying.
She can even accurately sense the state of each medicinal herb, knowing exactly how much to dry it and which one needs to be left to stand for a while longer.
That's why she looked calm and composed, without a trace of anxiety in her eyes, as if the work she was doing was as ordinary as eating and drinking.
After Shen Jinhe finished tidying up the medicinal herbs, she immediately came to help her.
When two people work together, their hand speed immediately increases significantly.
Shen Jinhe wiped her hands, rolled up her sleeves, and came closer.
As she took the medicinal herbs from Su Qingzhi, she skillfully sorted, pruned, and removed impurities.
The two worked together seamlessly, one handing out the food and the other handling it, requiring almost no words.
The air inside was filled with a faint fragrance of grass and trees, mixed with a slight smell of dust.
The flickering lights cast soft shadows on their focused profiles.
As the pace quickened, the mountain of medicinal herbs gradually shrunk, leaving only a few scattered bundles on the table.
Their knuckles were slightly red, but none of them complained of being tired; they just kept their heads down and worked hard.
But that night, they wouldn't be able to eat konjac—by the time they finished their work, it was already completely dark.
The night outside the window was as dark as ink, and even the distant mountain shadows were blurred into a dark gray.
The yard was quiet; even the dog, which usually barked a lot, was curled up in a corner and dozing off.
The oil lamp in the room flickered on and off, as if it had reached its limit.
Su Qingzhi straightened her aching back and sighed softly.
The original plan was to finish collecting these medicinal herbs before evening so that there would be time to stew a pot of fragrant konjac soup, stir-fry some green vegetables, and have the whole family eat together.
But now that the work has been delayed until this point, the kitchen is cold, the pots and pans are untouched, and the meal is naturally ruined.
She looked at the last few processed medicinal herbs on the table, feeling a little regretful but helpless.
Su Wanshan and Su Yicen didn't return until evening. As soon as they entered the door, their eyes were almost closed, their faces were still wet with sweat, and their legs felt like lead.
They stepped across the threshold almost one after the other, their steps faltering and their bodies swaying.
Su Wanshan's straw hat hung askew on his shoulder, the brim blackened by sweat; Su Yicen's trousers were rolled up to his knees, his exposed ankles covered in mud, and a few dry blades of grass clung to the edge of his trousers.
Both of them reeked of sweat and dust, breathing heavily with their chests heaving.
As soon as she regained her footing, Su Yicen leaned against the door frame, panting. Her bangs were damp and clung to her skin, her lips were chapped, and her face was frighteningly pale.
Everyone looked at each other, wondering: What exactly did these two do?
How did you get so tired?
The people who had been talking in the main room all stopped talking and turned their eyes to the doorway.
Su Qianfan put down his pipe, his brows furrowed; Zhu Xiuqin stood up from the stove, still holding half a piece of firewood in her hand; even the usually meddlesome old lady Su widened her eyes and took two steps forward with her cane.
Everyone's face was filled with doubt and worry.
Although these two people work hard every day, they have never seen them in such a disheveled state.
Where did they go?
How far have we gone?
Did something unexpected happen?
"Village chief, what's going on?"
Su Qianfan couldn't help but ask.
His voice wasn't loud, but it sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet room.
After asking the question, he realized that his tone was a bit hasty, so he quickly added, "Judging from your appearance, did something happen on the way?"
As he spoke, he took two steps toward the door, intending to offer a helping hand.
But seeing Su Wanshan's unsteady posture, he hesitated again, fearing that touching him would only make things worse.
As soon as Su Yicen entered the door, she poured two large bowls of water without even taking off her shoes.
He handed over one bowl, then picked up the other and gulped it down in one go, without even breaking a sweat.
He practically lunged at the water vat, his hands trembling as he scooped water.
The large, rough porcelain bowl was filled to the brim, with tiny ripples on the surface of the water.
He first handed a bowl to his father, Su Wanshan, and though he did so quickly, not a single drop was spilled.
Then he tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, water dripping from the corner of his mouth, leaving a dark wet stain on his clothes.
After drinking two large bowls of water, he finally calmed down a bit and exhaled heavily, as if he had just surfaced from deep water.
Seeing how thirsty they were, everyone in the room was stunned.
In that instant, no one spoke; only the sound of water and heavy breathing echoed in the room.
Several children huddled in a corner, their eyes wide, their hands frozen in mid-air as they ate the sugar cakes.
Zhu Xiuqin quickly went to the stove to boil water again, and casually lifted the pot lid, and steam billowed out.
Su Qianfan silently squatted down and helped Su Yicen take off her mud-covered cloth shoes.
No one dared to ask a second question, for fear of disturbing their recovery process.
A tense and heavy silence filled the air, as if everyone understood that what they were experiencing was by no means an ordinary outing.
Once they had calmed down, Su Qingzhi said softly, "Dad, eldest brother, please sit down for a while."
Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable gentleness.
As she spoke, she quickly moved two low stools out of the inner room and placed them where the two of them usually sat.
He then grabbed a clean towel and handed it to Su Yicen to wipe her face.
Her eyes were full of heartache, yet she refrained from asking any further questions.
She knew that her father and elder brother were not people who would collapse easily; they would never show this state unless they had reached their limit.
At this moment, the most important thing is to give them a breather.
The two of them plopped down, and Su Yicen poured herself another glass of water, gulping it down in one go.
The stools creaked slightly, as if they too could not bear their weight.
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