Chapter 12: What’s the point of looking good?
Lu Chun'e, who was stoking the fire behind the stove, asked Zhang Hongying curiously, "Mom, is the new educated youth really that pretty?"
Without waiting for Zhang Hongying to answer, Lu Mingjiang angrily said, "What's the point of looking good? Can you eat or drink it?"
Wen Wan locked the door and sat on the bed, wiping her tears. She hadn't even left to eat, and she sneezed several times in a row, which made her tears even more unstoppable. Wang Jianmao called her from outside, "Wen Wan, dinner is ready."
Wen Wan didn't even raise her head: "I'm going to sleep, you guys eat!" Her voice was mixed with a strong nasal tone, which made Wang Jianmao frown.
Liu Changqing and Zhu Feng had already prepared their meal and came out to ask Wang Jianmao, "How is it?"
"He said he's already asleep and won't eat. From what I heard, he must be crying in the house!"
Liu Changqing said, "Then let's eat first. We'll save some for her later. She definitely can't not eat. This is only the first day, and there are still many days to come!"
Zhu Feng held his bowl in silence, too exhausted to speak. He just wanted to eat first, then go to sleep. Not only Wen Wan, but even he felt a bit overwhelmed.
Wen Wan heard the noise outside very clearly, but she didn't have the energy to pay attention to it. She took off her pants quickly, leaving only a layer of autumn trousers, and then carefully rolled up the autumn trousers to reveal her slender and white legs underneath.
A large piece of skin was scraped off the knee and blood was oozing out. It happened on both legs, but the right leg was worse.
I dug out the red medicine from my bag with a flashlight, put a little on it, and smeared it on my legs, breathing in cold air. After applying it on my hands, I curled up in bed and cried until I fell asleep.
The next day, several men next door got up to cook, but she was still sleeping soundly.
It was Zhu Feng's turn to cook, another person who had never been in the kitchen before. Liu Changqing didn't have the patience, so Wang Jianmao had to help light the fire and teach him how to add water and how much grain to put in. Cooking is a science; even the simplest corn grits porridge has its own unique techniques. It looks easy, but it's not easy to cook it yourself.
I wasn't sure if Wen Wan had gotten up yet, so I didn't call her when I left.
Wen Wan rolled around in the warm quilt, continued to sleep without any distractions, and went to work.
When she woke up hungry, the sun was already high in the sky. She struggled out of bed, dressed neatly, poured some boiling water to soak some biscuits, and chewed two pieces of dried meat. Only then did she feel better.
My stomach feels better, but my body feels worse. It hurts every time I move. I feel stiff all over, and it's worse than yesterday.
She didn't wipe away her tears. She peeled a candy and put it in her mouth to coax herself out, then went out and locked the door. Then she carried a dustpan and walked slowly towards the place where she worked yesterday.
The wasteland halfway up the mountain was still busy with work, and from a distance one could hear the members singing folk songs at the top of their lungs.
Lu Minghai's face was even uglier than yesterday. He didn't say a word when she arrived, fearing he'd curse her if he opened his mouth. He'd thought she wouldn't come today, but she'd still come after noon, suggesting she'd shown some awareness.
Wen Wan didn't have any bullshit self-awareness, she just didn't want to be special. She was a stubborn little donkey, stubborn since she was a child, and she would do anything she set her mind to.
Yesterday, she was so upset she didn't want to stay in this hellhole for even a minute. When she woke up today, she still had the same thought. But then she thought again: she couldn't go back anyway. Was she supposed to write a letter to Old Wen and ask him to find a way to get her back? That was absolutely impossible. She had volunteered to go to the countryside. If she were to run back after just arriving here, what would that be? A deserter? She'd be ridiculed for the rest of her life if she went back.
No matter how difficult the path you choose is, you have to grit your teeth and walk on it.
They were still following Lu Mingjiang and his wife, but Lu Dongping was not there today, so there was a fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl and a half-grown boy following the couple.
The little girl is Lu Chun'e, and the boy is Lu Dongping's younger brother Lu Donglin.
The siblings, one in junior high school at the commune and the other in third grade at the brigade, couldn't come to work at this time of day, but they definitely came on Sundays. One raked the grass, the other collected rocks, working tirelessly and with impressive efficiency.
Wen Wan looked at it and felt a little ashamed. She was seventeen, and after celebrating the Lunar New Year, she was still no better than a child. Her body ached as if she'd been run over by a wheel, but she persisted. However, she changed her method. She started by picking up stones and piling them into small piles. Then, when her legs grew numb from squatting, she filled the winnowing basket with small amounts, carrying them back to the edge of the field one trip at a time.
While she was transporting stones, Lu Donglin and Lu Chun'e were discussing quietly: "Hey, sister, is that the new educated youth? She is so pretty. No wonder my brother likes her. But she looks so young.
——”
Lu Chun'e glared at him and said, "You're going to die. Stop talking nonsense. Be careful, I'll punish you if I find out."
Lu Donglin stuck out his tongue and made faces at her. When Wen Wan came over, he leaned over and said sweetly, "Sister, how old are you? Why did you come to our place?"
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