Ch 11: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Yu Xiang’an wanted to buy sanitary pads. Despite their “exorbitant” price and her current financial struggles, she decided she needed a transition period. Holding back her frustration, she repeatedly rinsed her menstrual cloth in hot water, stuffed it with coarse paper, and, stiffly, went to the supply co-op with her money and ration tickets.

At the co-op, Ye Qijia’s colleague, who recognized Yu Xiang’an, tried to dissuade her, saying it was too expensive and not worth it. Yu Xiang’an forced a couple of dry laughs and insisted. The colleague then checked the inventory and informed her that only three pads were left since someone had purchased most of them the day before, asking if she still wanted them.

Yu Xiang’an: “…” She was speechless.

With the five yuan Yu Qingshan had given her, buying the three pads was manageable. In the future, she promised herself, she would use sanitary pads every month—no more coarse paper or ash-stuffed cloth! For now, she resolved to “splurge” this once, mentally cheering herself on.

Never had she imagined that buying sanitary pads would one day feel like buying luxury goods.

On her way home, she spotted Ding Minxiu hurrying past.

The sky was already dark when they returned—usually a time for dinner or rest. Electricity was expensive, and most people wouldn’t keep their lights on for long. Ding Minxiu’s hurried expression and pale face caught Yu Xiang’an’s attention. Was it morning sickness? Or was life in the Zhou household treating her poorly?

But even if it were the latter, it was her own doing. Yu Xiang’an had no intention of being a saint. Ding Minxiu’s actions had cost the original Yu Xiang’an her life. While Yu Xiang’an was grateful for her second chance, she was firm about distinguishing between gratitude and grudges.

As she felt another wave of discomfort and the warmth of a new flow, her walking posture became stiff.

It was, in every sense, indescribable.

Yu Xiang’an could only pray the next wave would come slower. She didn’t even want to imagine the mess if the coarse paper became saturated.

She distracted herself by planning: save money, make a trip to the city, and stock up on enough sanitary pads to last a while. She couldn’t endure this ordeal monthly.

Ding Minxiu hadn’t noticed Yu Xiang’an. She was out buying sour plums to ease her severe morning sickness, which only felt better when she sucked on one. With the plums at home gone, she had no choice but to step out herself.

Zhou Boyang, exhausted after a long day at work, refused to go. As for his grandfather and father, they wouldn’t lift a finger for such trivial errands. Zhou’s grandmother and mother were busy preparing dinner, and Ding Minxiu didn’t want to inconvenience them either.

Although they were polite for the sake of the child she was carrying, Ding Minxiu knew that if she gave birth to a daughter…

The thought sent shivers down her spine.

She clung desperately to Zhou Boyang. If the Zhou family rejected her, she truly had nowhere else to go.

Her own father was unreliable—he didn’t yet know about her situation. If he found out, he’d likely demand a huge bride price. If she were cast out of the Zhou household, her father might marry her off to some unknown man just for money.

At times, even Ding Minxiu couldn’t understand how things had spiraled so badly. How had their secret been exposed? How had everything fallen apart when she’d planned it all so carefully?

Returning home, Yu Xiang’an immediately took a bath and prepared to use the sanitary pads. Zhao Qiaoniang, hearing the commotion, came to check. Seeing Yu Xiang’an washing her menstrual cloth, she said nothing, simply fetched a large stack of coarse paper for her and returned to her room to rest.

Yu Xiang’an’s lips twitched: “…”

This month, she had no choice but to rely on her menstrual cloth and coarse paper. Next month, with her salary and final conclusions from the Xixi Farm, her situation would improve.

The soybeans in the farm didn’t fetch much, but the apples were a luxury. In these times, with people struggling to fill their stomachs, managing orchards was a rarity. Fruits were a scarce commodity in the market. Based on the original Yu Xiang’an’s memories, apples—being a northern specialty—were something she had tasted only once, brought back by her cousin in the military. It had been small, slightly sour, and shared sparingly among family members.

The apples from her farm were large, visually appealing, and smelled incredibly fragrant. She hadn’t tasted them yet but was sure they’d be delicious and fetch a high price. However, she’d need to disguise their origin before selling them—freshly picked fruit was too suspicious, especially given how early it was in the season.

To avoid attention, the train station, with its mixed crowds, seemed like the safest option to sell them. She’d also need a solid disguise to prevent complications if caught. Luckily, her farm offered an escape in emergencies. If things went south, she could hide inside for a while.

Still, using the farm as a hiding place was her last resort. Being caught and labeled a “demon” or “witch” would be disastrous.

With her period and her three sanitary pads used up, Yu Xiang’an returned to the uncomfortable grass-paper combination. Her workdays were tense, as she dreaded any accidental leaks. Only after her period ended could she finally relax.

By then, the vegetables they’d brought back from their grandfather and uncle’s house were gone. The options were either to buy more at the supply store or forage for wild greens. However, the nearby areas had already been picked clean. Whatever could be found was bitter and unappealing—fine for occasional meals but unbearable as a staple. In this era, most greens were simply boiled in hot water without oil or salt, making them far from delicious, merely edible.

Domesticated greens had earned their place on dining tables through generations for their pleasant taste, unlike the harsh flavors of wild vegetables.

To stretch the household budget, Zhao Qiaoniang refrained from buying fresh greens, relying on dried vegetables and pickles instead. This month’s supplies were due to arrive, and the earlier they bought, the better the selection.

That day, Ye Qijia came with news: both the co-op and the supply store had received fresh stock, urging them to line up early if they wanted to buy anything.

Having a connection in the supply chain was a definite advantage.

Yu Qingshan sent Yu Xiangju to notify the Qin family. The household quickly got ready for the task.

Every month, rationed grains and goods were limited. Exceeding the quota was impossible unless through trades or the black market. Even within the quota, shortages were common. Items like pork, for instance, were always in high demand. Though the family had half a pound of meat coupons per month, they hadn’t managed to buy any meat for four months straight earlier that year—a stark reminder of the times.

In a county this size, the number of pigs slaughtered each month was limited. With so many people and so little meat, it simply wasn’t enough. Even if you had money and coupons, it didn’t matter—if it wasn’t your turn, you’d walk away empty-handed.

No wonder everyone envied those who worked at the meatpacking plant. They could buy meat through internal connections, benefiting not only themselves but also their relatives who could occasionally enjoy a taste of it.

Originally, pork wasn’t so scarce here, but an outbreak of swine fever caused many pigs to die. The already limited supply became even more strained. Although the situation had improved compared to six months ago, the supply of pork still hadn’t fully recovered.

Yu Qingshan and Yu Xiang’an’s uncle, Yu Xianghai, got up in the middle of the night to line up for meat. Zhao Qiaoniang even switched shifts with someone to make time for shopping. Similarly, Ye Qijia adjusted her schedule. The men would line up early to hold their spots, and by morning, the women would take over so the men could head to work. Even young Yu Xiangju tagged along with Zhao Qiaoniang, as he was old enough to lend a hand.

Yu Xiang’an also joined the line at around 4 a.m., not as early as her father and uncle but still early enough. Sleep-deprived, she found it hard to stay awake while waiting, unlike the others who chatted happily in the dark, excitement evident in their voices.

By the time Yu Xiang’an returned from work in the evening, the smell of meat filled the air. It wasn’t just from her house; nearly every household nearby had the same enticing aroma wafting out. The usual sounds of children playing outside were absent, replaced by scoldings from parents warning their kids not to sneak bites before dinner. Clearly, everyone had scored big that day.

“Fifth Sister, you’re back! We’re having meat tonight, and there’s bone soup too!” Yu Xiangju’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Yu Xiang’an smiled. “What did we get?”

Puffing up with pride, Yu Xiangju scrunched his little nose. “We went super early and got all our rations without missing anything. We even got fish! We used two pounds of our meat coupons. If it weren’t for the limit, we could’ve bought more!” His voice held regret, knowing it might be a while before they’d get another chance like this.

In the kitchen, Yu Xiang’an inspected their haul. Though they’d bought two pounds of meat, it included one pound of fatty cuts and one pound of ribs. By local standards, fatty meat was considered the most desirable because it yielded oil, a scarce and precious commodity. Lean meat was seen as dry and tasteless, while ribs were considered a poor bargain. Unfortunately, without connections, there was no choice but to take whatever was available.

Yu Xiangju licked his lips. “They rendered the fat into oil earlier. I had a small piece of pork crackling—it was so delicious! I just wish there was more fat to go around.”

Yu Xiang’an: “…”

Internally, she lamented. Once a devoted carnivore, she hadn’t had meat in what felt like forever. Seeing pork for the first time since arriving here, she felt the weight of these difficult times.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

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