Ch 65: The Farmer Ger in the Apocalypse

The heated brick bed in the east room was warm and toasty. On the small table sat a few plates of snacks, a dish of sunflower seeds, and a pot of hawthorn, red date, and brown sugar tea. Miao Shi had just returned from a market fair in Miaoqian Village with Second Aunt Lian and Madam Guixiang, happily examining two newly bought bolts of woolen blue fabric.

“Don’t mind the dull color and the two dye stains—it’s not as fine as what’s sold in town. But once it’s made into clothing, who’s going to notice? Why be so picky about something for home use?”

She had actually seen this fabric in town before and thought it would look great on Shen Qing. Today, she happened to find a bolt of it at the market, though the shade was slightly grayish, and the edges had two straight black crease marks. Still, the fabric was sturdy and well-made.

Miaoqian Village hadn’t originally been a village. It was just a temple on the outskirts of Anping County, standing alone with no nearby settlements. No one even knew which deity was worshiped there—judging by the sparse incense offerings, it didn’t seem very effective. Only six or seven monks lived there, relying on a few acres of temple land for sustenance.

If, in the surrounding ten-mile radius, a family had a child they couldn’t raise—though rare, such things did happen—the child might be sent to this temple. Some families struggled to have even one or two children, desperate for a son, like the Shen family. Others, however, had children with surprising ease, giving birth to seven or eight with no end in sight. In such cases, if they truly couldn’t afford to raise them all, they would keep only three or four and abandon or give away the rest, regardless of gender. Any unwanted sons who couldn’t find adoptive families often ended up at this temple.

About ten years ago, one of these abandoned children grew up to be rather capable. Seeing how impoverished the temple was—where even the monks’ robes were patched and worn—he came up with the idea of holding a temple fair and market during festivals. He must have had some skill because, though it was difficult at first, and he had to plead with vendors to set up stalls, the event eventually took off. Over the years, the temple fair became a tradition for the surrounding villages, bringing more visitors and improving the temple’s fortunes.

Local villagers would bring their home-roasted dried goods, woven mats, bamboo baskets, surplus fabric scraps, and freshly made food to sell at the market.

Gradually, some vendors began settling nearby, building houses around the temple, mostly merchants who frequently participated in the fair. Once enough people lived there, it started looking like a village, and people began calling it Miaoqian Village—Temple Front Village.

Second Aunt Lian and Madam Guixiang both agreed with Miao Shi’s sentiment about the fabric. They had also bought some but chose more affordable materials. Madam Guixiang purchased a piece of fine cotton that had yellowed on one side—perfect for making an inner garment. Since it would be worn underneath, who would even notice the color?

Second Aunt Lian picked up a red floral print fabric. It was originally excellent quality, with beautifully dyed colors, but a row of tiny burn holes—probably from a stray spark—ran along one edge. However, she was skilled at embroidery and planned to stitch small flowers over the damage.

Most importantly, the fabric was half the original price—what a steal! This year’s harvest wasn’t particularly better than previous years, but it wasn’t bad either. Plus, thanks to all the wild boar meat Shen Qing had provided, their families had saved a significant amount of money. With those savings, they now had extra funds to spend.

Second Aunt Lian lowered her voice. “Before I left the house today, my mother-in-law secretly gave me a hundred coins, hiding it from my sister-in-law. She said if it weren’t for me, our family wouldn’t have had any extra money for meat this year. She told me to use it to buy something for the kids. All thanks to Qing Ge’er!”

“Why say that? No need to make it sound like he’s doing us favors. He’s just a young ger—he’s already been through so much.” Miao Shi waved it off, then changed the subject to the market fair’s liveliness. “The goods there may not be as fancy or refined as in town, but they’re real bargains! And the food is delicious.”

Miao Shi had bought quite a few snacks, including freshly roasted sunflower seeds. If a vendor dared to sell homemade food at the fair, they had to have real skill—the aroma alone was enough to prove it.

Meanwhile, Miao Xing and Miao Wang had taken their stock of frozen tofu to sell and made a considerable profit! Shen Qing had underestimated the demand—by the afternoon, news had spread to neighboring villages, and waves of people came to buy. Not only did they sell all the firm tofu they had set aside, but even half of their frozen tofu stock was bought up.

“Since we’ve already come all this way, might as well buy extra to freeze at home,” the customers reasoned.

Even Old Lady Shen had heard about a family in Shiqu Village selling tofu. She spent half a day mentally preparing herself to go buy some—only to find out halfway there that it was Miao Xing’s family selling it. The people walking with her chuckled at her misstep, and she turned back, embarrassed and furious, only to take out her frustration on her family when she got home.

The next day, the Miao family soaked an extra five pounds of soybeans, but they still sold out completely. They had underestimated the purchasing power of the neighboring villages.

During this season, tofu wasn’t just for everyday meals—it was a great New Year’s gift as well. Some frugal households would mash up the tofu and mix it with meat for dumpling filling. The tofu absorbed the meat’s flavor, making it taste almost like a full meat dumpling—saving them money on meat!

With customers from other villages, they also raised the prices slightly—this was an unspoken rule. If they didn’t offer better prices for their own village, people might complain about them doing business locally. By the end of the day, they had earned sixty to seventy coins—not even counting the soybeans and grain they traded for.

At the market fair in Miaoqian Village, their earnings were even higher.

For one, the crowd was larger, and nearly every household ate tofu. Many people stocked up, fearing the fair would end in a few days. Secondly, at the market, only cash was accepted—no bartering with grain. And since sales continued in the village, they managed to earn nearly a tael of silver in just a few days.

The Miao family was thrilled! Making tofu was exhausting, but in less than half a month, they had made more money than ever before.

Today, while at the market with the village women, Miao Shi happened to run into Miao Xing, who insisted on handing her share of the profits over immediately. She tried to refuse, but when he insisted, she accepted—more than needing the money, she wanted people to see her receiving it publicly. This way, she could openly buy things without raising eyebrows.

And this was just one time people noticed. Others would surely speculate in private, wondering how much the Miao family had given Shen Qing and his mother. In just a few months, the mother and son had gone from being pitied by everyone to living enviable lives.

Madam Guixiang sighed, “Qing Ge’er is so clever. Money sitting idle gets spent before you know it. Investing in his uncles’ tofu business guarantees a steady income.” Her tone was full of admiration. What a wonderful ger! If only she had such fortune…

Then she brightened—recently, since making regular trips to Shiqu Village for tofu, she had gotten to know some of the local families. She had her eye on a girl from Shiqu Village—strong-willed and decisive, and closely related to Miao Shi.

She had already tested the waters, and the girl’s parents seemed interested. After the New Year, she planned to send a matchmaker over. Finally, the last child in her family was about to have their marriage arranged!

Second Aunt Lian, however, rested her chin on her hand, lost in thought. “A business like this, steady and profitable in the long run—if only my family could do something similar.” If she had money, she would beg her in-laws to split the household. She wouldn’t take a single coin from the main branch, just for the sake of peace and quiet!

“You wish! I’d love that too!” Madam Guixiang teased, knowing she was daydreaming. “Still arguing with your sister-in-law every day?”

“Who’s arguing with her?” Second Aunt Lian huffed. “No big fights, just endless little annoyances! She goes out of her way to get under my skin. The other day, I washed my hair at Chunlei’s place and borrowed one of her headscarves. The moment I got home, my sister-in-law was sour about it, and the next day, the scarf disappeared. Later, I found it in the pigsty! Absolutely disgusting!”

There was no proof she had thrown it there, so arguing would be pointless. But Second Aunt Lian knew exactly who had done it—who else but Wang Shi? She always pulled these nasty tricks that hurt no one but made people miserable!

Speaking of the pigsty, Second Aunt Lian suddenly remembered, “Oh, right, in a few days, we’re butchering our pig. You all must come over for a feast! My mother-in-law specifically told me to invite you.”

Of course, Miao Shi and Madam Guixiang gladly accepted. After comforting Second Aunt Lian a little, the conversation drifted from pork feasts to hair care. Miao Shi simply brought out her bottle of hair oil and a comb, and the three old friends sat down to help each other groom their hair.

Meanwhile, Shen Qing was in the kitchen, frying sweet potato fritters with Lian Ou’s help. The fragrant, golden treats filled the room with a sweet aroma. Nearby, Lian Rong played with a shuttlecock, sneaking a bite now and then.

Lian Ou swatted at her hand. “You just touched the shuttlecock, and now you’re reaching into the bowl? Did you even look at your hands? They’re filthy!”

Lian Rong stuck out her tongue. It was too cold to wash her hands. The water was icy, and when the wind hit her wet skin, it felt like needles pricking her fingers. She quickly hid her dirty hands behind her back and looked up at Lian Ou with wide eyes. “Brother, feed me one!”

Lian Ou sighed, shook his head, and used the end of a chopstick to pick up a fritter. He blew on it twice before dropping it into her mouth. “Is it too hot?”

It actually was, but Lian Rong quickly rolled the fritter around in her mouth and swallowed it almost whole, pretending nothing was wrong. “It’s fine,” she insisted.

Shen Qing chuckled and ruffled her hair. “Swallowing it whole—what’s the point of eating if you can’t taste it? There’s warm water on the stove. Go wash your hands, and then find my mother. She’ll put some balm on them. If you use it, your hands won’t get chapped from the cold.”

“Really?” Lian Rong’s eyes widened. She had seen some older village girls applying balm to their faces, but she had never seen anyone waste it on their hands.

“Really. And if your hands aren’t clean, you won’t be allowed to sit at the table later,” Shen Qing warned.

Lian Rong gasped and rushed to the stove to pour warm water. Missing out on Aunt Chunlei’s cooking? That would be a disaster! Under Shen Qing’s watchful eye, she scrubbed her hands thoroughly before dashing inside to find Miao Shi.

As soon as she entered, the conversation among the women shifted from hair care to skincare.

Shen Qing turned back to see Lian Ou watching Lian Rong run off with an envious look in his eyes. Hesitating, he asked, “Uh… do you want to go too?”

Lian Ou quickly averted his gaze and shook his head. “I don’t need it.”

Unlike Shen Qing, who didn’t fit the usual mold for a village ger, Lian Ou was the perfect embodiment of traditional ideals. He had delicate, refined features, a slender build, and an almost feminine grace. From afar, he could easily be mistaken for a young woman. His demeanor was gentle and reserved, and even his speech was soft and measured.

Because of this difference in temperament, despite the close friendship between Miao Shi and Second Aunt Lian, Shen Qing and Lian Ou had never played together much as children. In fact, Shen Qing was probably closer to Lian Rong—she was loud, a little brash, and sometimes completely tactless, but her straightforwardness suited his personality.

When it came to Lian Ou, though, Shen Qing always found himself lowering his voice, feeling awkward for no reason.

If Shen Qing had read more books, he might have realized that this was the same kind of nervousness scholars felt around noble young ladies—the instinctive fear of offending someone too refined.

Since Miao Shi and the others had spent all day at the market and were still too excited to focus on cooking, Shen Qing had volunteered to fry the fritters. But while he knew his way around a kitchen, he wasn’t particularly skilled. Worried he’d mess up, Miao Shi had asked Lian Ou to help him.

In the end, “helping” gradually turned into Shen Qing playing assistant. He scratched his nose, feeling a little embarrassed, but he was also glad Lian Ou hadn’t left yet—there were still several bowls of batter waiting to be fried!

Since they were making a variety of fritters today, Miao Shi had prepared several different fillings in advance. To avoid mixing flavors, they started with sweet potato fritters first. Next would be a vegetarian mix of radish, egg, and glass noodles, and then shredded potato and radish fritters—great for making vegetable soup.

There were also crispy wild vegetable fritters, meant to be eaten with garlic sauce, and then the highlight—meat fritters: radish and pork, wild greens and pork, and pure meat. These were perfect for braised dishes or stews.

Shen Qing’s fritters were all oddly shaped, while Lian Ou’s were perfectly round, as if they had been made with a mold.

Watching the contrast, Shen Qing sighed in defeat. “I never thought I was bad at this, but compared to you, my skills look downright awful.”

Lian Ou glanced at the fritters—one batch neat and uniform, the other wildly inconsistent. He pursed his lips and chuckled softly. “What does it matter? They’re just fritters. They’ll all end up in someone’s stomach anyway. The filling is the same, so does the shape really matter? It’s not like they’ll taste different once eaten.”

Then, after a brief hesitation, he added quietly, “Compared to you, I’m the one who feels lacking.”

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