Chapter 29 Sesame and Bean Sprouts
How can farm work make people hate doing it?
In the spring, she always felt that transplanting rice seedlings was the hardest work, then she felt that harvesting rice was the hardest, but now she thinks that transplanting rice seedlings is still the most painful work.
Looking in the mirror, Zhao Xuan used her fingernail to pick up a little mentholatum and gently applied it to her swollen eyelids. Lu An looked and asked, "If this gets in your eyes, it will sting, won't it?"
Zhao Xuan glanced at him sideways but ignored him.
Lu An doesn't attract many insects, or perhaps Zhao Xuan does, so mosquitoes don't bother him much. Sometimes he can go shirtless without any problems, and the bites he gets disappear in a day, while Zhao Xuan needs half a month.
“How about…” Lu An drawled out, “you don’t need to go this afternoon. There’s only one corner of the field left, and I can finish it by myself this afternoon.”
Zhao Xuan hesitated for half a second with his conscience before readily agreeing.
While Lu An was away planting rice seedlings alone for half a day, Zhao Xuan wasn't without work. In fact, as long as one was willing to look, work could always be found.
Zhao Xuan remembers that on hot summer afternoons before her serious illness, she would mostly stay in her air-conditioned room, snacking and watching TV. Going out for fast food was difficult for her. Now, without her phone and all other forms of entertainment, she can't even stay in bed with the fan blowing on her.
At 3:30 PM, 460 and Lu An went out together. Apart from the incessant chirping of cicadas outside the window and the rhythmic hum of the electric fan, the house became unusually quiet. Zhao Xuan felt a sudden unease being alone. She jumped out of bed, ready to find something to do.
She wanted to fill the emptiness in her heart with labor.
The dried grain was neatly arranged in the first-floor hall, packed in sacks and leaning against the wall. The second-floor storage room was already half full, leaving only two empty rooms on the third floor. Zhao Xuan cleaned the two rooms, preparing to use one of them to store the grain. The south is humid, and grain stored on the first floor would easily absorb moisture; it was better to store it higher up.
On the third-floor drying rack sat four large bamboo baskets she had carefully washed. Each square basket was about half a person's height and had a lid. Half a day of direct sunlight was enough to dry them thoroughly. Zhao Xuan collected the baskets, carried them into a room, and placed them neatly in a corner. She then lined the baskets with plastic sheeting for hanging baskets. With everything prepared, Zhao Xuan went downstairs, grabbed a large sack filled with grain, and with a heave, strained with all her might, but the sack wouldn't budge. So she switched from lifting to dragging, first slowly pulling it to the steps, then forcefully shuffling it up the stairs, one step at a time.
Zhao Xuan was panting heavily. The slight fear she had felt from the house being too quiet had vanished. She felt that she could knock anyone down with a single punch.
Moving the rice down at a snail's pace, it took Zhao Xuan more than two hours to carry nearly a thousand kilograms of rice up to the third floor. She used a small bucket to scoop the rice, one bucket at a time, into a large bamboo basket. The basket was finely woven, oiled, and the bamboo strips were shiny and tough—rats couldn't chew through them. She then lined the inside with waterproof plastic sheeting to prevent the rice from getting damp. She carefully wrapped the rice in the plastic sheeting, tied the opening, put the lid on, and finally placed several large stones on the lid to weigh it down. The job was done.
Zhao Xuan was very satisfied with her work. She looked around the large bamboo baskets for a long time, feeling content.
Then, he placed a basket of charcoal in the room, locked the doors and windows, and Zhao Xuan happily went downstairs.
It was almost five o'clock, and the temperature had cooled down. She picked up a small basket on her back, took a kitchen knife, and went to the vegetable garden not far away to cut some vegetables for dinner.
The vegetables they grow have always been in oversupply. There are plenty of wild vegetables in other parts of the village, including pumpkins, gourds, and winter melons. You can eat them for several days just by cutting one. Zhao Xuan and Lu An have also grown quite a lot themselves. Various vegetable seeds can be found in each household. Even after several years, some of the seeds have still sprouted. Others are seeds they saved themselves. The vegetables that grow from these seeds are not as good as those from commercial seeds, but they are still delicious.
The pesticide brought back from Taiping Town in the spring seemed to be working, reducing pests and allowing the vegetables to grow even more vigorously. However, Zhao Xuan didn't let the vegetables explode in the garden; she made various dried vegetables from the surplus, mostly radishes, followed by chili peppers. Cowpeas and gourds could also be boiled, dried, and eaten later, especially flavorful when stir-fried with cured meat. Some vegetables, like cucumbers and tomatoes, could be eaten raw when cravings, and garlic sprouts and okra were used in salads after blanching. Garlic sprouts and okra were particularly easy to grow; just two spoonfuls of farmyard manure and they would grow vigorously. The garlic sprouts were crisp and spicy, and the okra was sweet and smooth; both Zhao Xuan and Lu An loved them. She didn't plant chives or taro; they were readily available on the riverbanks and in the wasteland outside the village, and she would simply dig up a few baskets when she wanted some.
She picked a few old eggplants, a few cabbages that were badly damaged by insects, and a large handful of bean shoots before heading home. Autumn had arrived, and plants grow throughout the three warmer seasons of the year, but there wasn't much point in letting the new bean leaves grow after autumn, so Zhao Xuan would pick a large handful whenever she saw them. Bean shoots are the tenderest parts of the vines, with pale yellow leaves and curled tendrils; they're delicious whether blanched or stir-fried.
On the way, she saw a pumpkin that was growing vigorously. Like a goose plucking feathers as it flew by, she picked up the pumpkin and took it home.
In the old house next door where the pigs were kept, Zhao Xuan started a fire. She chopped up the water hyacinths that Lu An had caught that morning and threw them into the pot. The water hyacinths were running low, but the pigs' appetites were increasing. Zhao Xuan wasn't worried, though; she had no trouble finding sweet potato leaves from outside the village to feed the pigs. She also chopped up the pumpkin, old eggplant, and the several-pound cabbage and threw them into the pot. She tossed a few pieces of firewood into the stove and left, letting the large pot simmer and boil. She timed it perfectly; once the two pieces of firewood burned out and the fire went out, the pig feed would be ready.
With the remaining handful of tender bean sprouts, Zhao Xuan returned to his own courtyard.
Blanch the bean sprouts in water, squeeze out the excess water, and cut them into small pieces. Then, take out a jar of sesame seeds she had treasured for a long time from the cupboard, scoop out a spoonful, grind it with a small mortar and pestle, add some salt and a spoonful of sesame oil, pour the ground sesame seeds over the bean sprouts, mix well, and it's done. Bean sprouts don't require complicated cooking; they have a naturally sweet flavor. Lu An loved this dish, so whenever Zhao Xuan saw it, she would pick some to eat.
The sesame seeds were stored in a sealed jar by a farmer and were very well preserved. She didn't see any sesame growing around the village, so once this jar of sesame seeds was used up, there would likely be none left. Sesame oil, however, was plentiful; she found many small bottles of sesame oil, all unopened and still retaining their original flavor, so they were safe to use.
Zhao Xuan really likes the taste of sesame seeds. After thinking about it for a long time, he decided to eat them this year to celebrate their first harvest of grain.
With this batch of grain, it's clear they've established a foothold here.
Cut off a small piece of salted pork, wash away the ash with rice water, slice it thinly, blanch it briefly in water to remove excess umami, and then pan-fry it over low heat until cooked. Now they eat some meat with every meal, and at the very least, they have eggs. The wild boar they harvested in the spring is still packed full in two refrigerators—they've added a cabinet-style refrigerator for storage, where they store fresh meat and sometimes freeze a pheasant or duck they've hunted.
As the weather grew hotter, the salted meat couldn't be kept at room temperature, so Zhao Xuan froze the remaining salted and smoked meat. She used the standing refrigerator next to her to store pickled radishes, salted vegetables, and other fruits she couldn't finish picking. Sometimes she would make drinks and put them in the refrigerator to chill. In short, their living conditions had improved, and they even had the leisure to categorize and arrange their food.
During this period, they ate salted and cured meat frequently. After the autumn harvest, many animals in the mountains began to fatten up, so they could hunt some and make new cured meat. Usually, Zhao Xuan would wash the meat to remove excess water, slice it, and fry it. He generally didn't add any other seasonings, not even oil. The salted meat was made of streaky pork with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, which naturally contained its own fat. If you wanted the meat to be more fragrant, you could add a few cloves of garlic.
She quickly prepared dinner, placing a plate upside down on the meat to prevent it from getting cold. Then she collected the laundry, folded it neatly, and put it away. After that, she swept the yard clean. Just as she was sweeping the dust outside, Lu An returned.
He finished planting the last corner of the field today, which means they have passed the busiest time of the year. In a little over a month, the crops on the dry field will ripen, but the harvest will not be as rushed as the rice.
Lu An has visibly gotten a bit darker these past few days, but it doesn't detract from his good looks. In fact, he looks more powerful and mature than when he was fair-skinned.
His appetite increased day by day, but he didn't gain weight. People who do heavy work usually have muscular bodies, firm and good-looking without being obtrusive. He shoveled rice into his mouth; for him, coming home to find Zhao Xuan cooking and waiting for him was the greatest happiness.
His son, Xuanxuan, knows how to farm, cook, and recognizes so many wild vegetables and fruits. His son, Xuanxuan, is really amazing.
Lu An was an optimist. He didn't want to think too deeply about things, let alone the worst. He seemed to have completely forgotten the damage his serious illness had caused him. He didn't even care that he had risked his life to keep Zhao Xuan by his side and had never let go of him once. He didn't need Zhao Xuan to repay him in any way.
"Lu'an," Zhao Xuan suddenly said, looking at the man in front of him who was eating heartily, "There's no farm work to do right now, so how about we go for a walk somewhere?"
"Want to go for a stroll?" Lu An asked, with food in his mouth. "Where to? What to look for?"
Zhao Xuan thought for a moment: "Do you remember the abandoned railway behind the village? We went there in winter. If you walk along the railway for half an hour, there's a big stream with lots of big rocks in it. Shall we go there to cool off?"
Lu An nodded: "Okay."
The journey wasn't far; the two of them could simply carry their bags with some food. The stream flowed down from the mountain, and the water was refreshingly cool. They could eat by the stream, take a nap, and then head back in the evening.
After dinner, Zhao Xuan happily went to prepare. She packed two large canvas bags with the fruit she would eat the next day: a few plums, a few loquats, two large bath towels, and of course, some cooling balm. She also added water; she sprinkled a handful of tea leaves into cooled boiled water and then put the water in the refrigerator to keep it fresh. Tomorrow morning, she would have refreshing, thirst-quenching cold-brewed tea.
For lunch, you can bring rice balls with dried radish and a soft-boiled fried egg inside.
The world is so vast and sparsely populated that they don't have to worry about traffic jams or crowds. They can set off anytime tomorrow, making it a truly spontaneous trip.
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