Ch 23: The Farmer Ger in the Apocalypse

Snow greens are a rare type of wild vegetable that thrives even in winter, highly resistant to the cold. In autumn and winter, their leaves turn red, and they continue growing even under snowfall, hence their name, “snow greens.”

Fatty pork is sliced thin, slightly pan-fried, and then neatly arranged in a bowl with the fatty skin side facing down. It is seasoned with yellow wine, soy sauce, and salt before being topped with a layer of finely chopped snow greens. The bowl is then steamed until fully cooked and inverted onto a plate, resulting in a dish that is incredibly flavorful and delicious.

Miao Shi had great culinary skills and a natural talent for cooking. Aside from using the usual seasonings commonly found in the village, she experimented with additions like ginger slices, wild onions, star anise, and fermented tofu sauce. Even the simplest ingredients, when handled by her, always turned out tastier than others’.

At this moment, the entire courtyard was filled with the rich and enticing aroma of meat, but Miao Shi was extremely frustrated. Because of the commotion Old Lady Shen had caused outside, the steaming process had gone on for too long, and all the water in the pot had long since evaporated. Fortunately, she hadn’t added too much firewood, so when it burned out, the fire in the stove naturally died down—otherwise, the kitchen might have caught fire.

However, the prolonged dry burning caused a crack to form in the clay pot. Despite Miao Shi handling it with extreme care, the pot still broke into several pieces.

When they left Old Man Shen’s house, they only brought one clay pot for boiling water and cooking porridge. This clay pot had been purchased for twenty coins from a potter in Xiahe Village and had barely been used for long before breaking. Miao Shi felt utterly distressed over the loss.

Seeing this, Shen Qing quickly reassured her, “It’s okay, Mother. We’ve made some money from selling the pork, and I’ve also saved up a little. Tomorrow, I’ll go to town and sell our stored firewood, and then we can buy an iron pot.”

In the past, such a loss would have weighed heavily on him. What did it matter if Shen Zhigao was punished to push the mill for ten days? This was a real, tangible loss of twenty coins. However, thinking about the small bundle hidden in his room, Shen Qing knew that as soon as he took a few items to the pawnshop in town, he would have more than enough to replenish everything they lacked—and even enjoy a good New Year!

Most problems in the world could be solved with money.

But Miao Shi was unaware of this unexpected fortune. She only knew that her son had to laboriously chop a full load of firewood to earn forty coins, and now, half of that had vanished in an instant—half a day’s work wasted. Unable to hold back, she cursed Old Lady Shen, “How can she be so evil? She just can’t stand to see us having even a single good day! Every time we run into her, nothing good comes of it! She’s a curse!”

“That’s right! You should scold her more! Even if it doesn’t change anything, at least it’ll make you feel better,” Wu Guixiang said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Your problem before was being too quiet, and you’ve made Qing Ge’er the same way—he doesn’t even know how to argue properly.”

She was genuinely exasperated. Qing Ge’er was such a capable young ger, always thoughtful in his actions and words, but when it came to quarreling, he was hopelessly inarticulate—he could only resort to brandishing a knife and acting fierce!

The knife was effective, but wielding it too often would only invite gossip and ruin his reputation. Otherwise, why would a nineteen-year-old like Qing Ge’er still have no marriage prospects?

If he was bad at arguing, the blame lay with his mother! He had no good role model—where was he supposed to learn from? Wu Guixiang turned to Shen Qing and said, “You should start learning from your Second Aunt Lian. She’s sharp-tongued.”

Shen Qing scratched his head. He had never thought about this before. He wasn’t exactly tongue-tied, but he did need time to think things through before speaking. If he had to argue or come up with a quick excuse, it was really difficult for him.

Back in that other world, when facing Song Kaiji, he was always terrified of saying the wrong thing and revealing that he wasn’t from their world. So, he simply spoke as little as possible, sometimes not at all. When he did speak, it was only after careful consideration. Fortunately, Song Kaiji wasn’t the type to ask too many questions. If he didn’t answer, Song Kaiji wouldn’t press him.

But who wouldn’t want to be able to handle situations more smoothly? Watching Wu Guixiang put Old Lady Shen in her place today, Shen Qing couldn’t help but admire and envy her. He wished he could be as quick-witted and articulate.

Just then, Second Aunt Lian entered the house carrying a wooden basin. “You might as well say I’m just good at arguing.” Half the basin was filled with cold water. She poured in some warm water from a clay jar and called Miao Shi over. “Wash your face first. It’s cold, and with all those tears, the wind will chap your skin.”

“Being able to argue isn’t a bad thing.” Wu Guixiang leaned against the table, watching Miao Shi wash her face. It was strange—back when they were girls, it was people like Miao Shi who were praised and favored.

When Wu Guixiang was young, she was often scolded for being too sharp-tongued, told that she wasn’t a proper, obedient girl and that her husband’s family wouldn’t like her. Girls and gers were expected to be like Miao Shi—gentle, submissive, and enduring. If they weren’t too opinionated, they’d have an easier time finding a good husband.

But after getting married and living through so many years, she realized the truth. Men who preferred their wives to be gentle and submissive really just wanted someone who wouldn’t resist even when mistreated, who would suffer injustices without complaint. Just look at Miao Shi—she was the epitome of a well-behaved, obedient wife, but what kind of life had she ended up with?

It was better to be tough! But being tough ruined your reputation and made it hard to find a good husband. That was a difficult problem to solve. Unless… one could just pretend to be gentle on the surface.

Before she could think too deeply about it, the rich aroma of meat filled the air, interrupting her thoughts.

Though the clay pot had cracked, the steamed dish inside was still intact. When the bowl was inverted onto a plate, an irresistible wave of fragrance burst forth. Because it had been steamed for so long, the meat was extra tender and flavorful. The glistening, sauce-coated pork slices were layered atop the snow greens, trembling slightly as if teasing everyone’s appetite.

Miao Shi, having washed her face and hands, finally set aside her worries and pulled out a few fluffy white steamed buns from a woven basket. “Come on, dig in! I just traded with Fourth Aunt for fresh wheat flour to make these. They’re fragrant! If it’s not enough, there’s more in the pot.”

Today, Second Aunt Lian’s family and the village chief’s wife had helped them a lot. Since the meal was already prepared, it was only right to invite them to stay and eat. The men had left, but the women and children remained.

The children from Second Aunt Lian’s family were already clutching their chopsticks, eagerly waiting. The adults also started eating. Wu Guixiang, who had never been too fond of Miao Shi before, was tasting her cooking for the first time. The flavors were so rich and delicious that she nearly swallowed her tongue.

Everyone had grown up cooking, yet somehow, Miao Shi’s food always tasted better!

By the time the meal was finished, all prejudices were gone, replaced only by a growing sense of friendship. “You used to keep to yourself too much, but you should come out more often! It’ll lift your spirits and even improve your health!”

Miao Shi lowered her head. “I just don’t want to run into them.”

“Why should you care? They’re the ones who should feel ashamed.”

As the lively chatter continued, Shen Qing, having eaten only one bun to avoid overeating at night, excused himself and went to his room.

He pulled out the small basket hidden under his bed, reaching under the fabric covering a small bundle. In the darkness, his eyes gleamed.

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