Chapter Forty-Five: The Eldest Sister Returns to Her Family Home

Sha Le’er had no siblings—he’d heard his father’s new wife had given birth to a girl, but he didn't count her as kin. However, he had five cousins. His eldest uncle, Sheng Tian, had three daughters and only one son, Gang Mengzi. His second uncle, Sheng Tu, had two daughters and a son.

His eldest cousin, Peach Blossom, had returned to her parental home.

His eldest uncle told his aunt to invite Le’er for a meal. With the invitation from his uncle, Le’er was sure to go. But he couldn’t go empty-handed, so he stopped by the general store in Tao Village, buying two bottles of Guogong medicinal wine and two catties of pastries. The wine was a tonic, good for middle-aged and elderly people. The pastries were for his cousin; she had children, and they’d be a treat for them.

His cousin was thirty-five by traditional reckoning, and her eldest son was not much younger than Le’er, already in middle school, his forehead creased with wrinkles. Le’er remembered that as a child, he was most fond of this cousin. To him, she had been beautiful and kind. When she married at nineteen, he was only two. That winter, she wore a bright floral jacket, her hair neatly combed, a mirror hanging at her chest. Though her eyes were rimmed with tears, her whole being radiated joy. After marriage, she soon had a son named Liang. Whenever she returned home, she’d bring the child to play with Le’er and Gang Mengzi, always remembering to bring him little treats—two candies, a few peanuts, a handful of broad beans. Le’er had cherished these moments.

“Big Sister…”

Seeing her again, he felt a surge of emotion. Now, his cousin rarely came home. Life was busy, money was tight, and in recent years her father-in-law had become bedridden, a bottomless pit for money and energy. Even if she wanted to come, she barely had time.

“Le’er…” When his cousin saw him, she wiped her hands on her apron, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Good Le’er, you’ve grown so tall, a real man now, so accomplished, time you thought about marriage.”

Le’er had been a child of hardship. His cousin cared deeply for him, wanted to help, but was powerless. Now that he had built a new house and made something of himself, she was happy for him. Le’er smiled brightly and helped her wipe away her tears.

His uncle, seeing her weep, grew displeased.

“What’s this crying for? Le’er’s done well for himself, you should be happy.”

He had no gentle words for his daughter. Of course he loved her, but she belonged to another family now, and life was hard. She came home now and then to ask for money or a bit of rice. Today, she was here to borrow money—her children needed school fees, her father-in-law was ill again, and her husband’s work away from home brought little income. His uncle did have some money; Gang Mengzi had just sent him a thousand yuan, which he’d withdrawn only yesterday. Yet he lent his daughter just a hundred yuan, and his heart burned with each coin.

“Uncle, why the temper?” Le’er said with an easy smile. “Big Sister rarely comes home.”

“Better she didn’t! Every visit, she wants money or rice. Does she think I have a bottomless money pit?”

Le’er ignored his uncle, pulling his cousin outside to the courtyard. Quietly, he pressed five hundred yuan into her hand. At the sight of so much money, her hands trembled and tears once again welled up.

“So much money… Le’er, you…”

“Don’t say a word—careful uncle hears,” Le’er whispered with a soft smile. “It’s only five hundred yuan, use it for now. You don’t need to pay it back. If it’s not enough, just let me know.”

“How can I take this? You’ve just built a house, and you’re about to get married…”

Overwhelmed, his cousin fumbled with the money. In recent years, she’d borrowed everywhere—her relatives were wary of her now, and no one would lend her anything. Her father, in his state, could only manage a hundred yuan—already a sign of great kindness. She never expected Le’er to give her five hundred in one go. With this, she could breathe for a while.

She tried to speak, but the old man in the house called out.

“Le’er gave it to you, just take it. What’s the point of arguing back and forth? Such a fate, poor as dirt, never a good day in her life.”

The old man was shrewd—seeing Le’er take his cousin outside, he knew what had transpired. Peach Blossom dared say no more, quickly slipped the money into her clothes, and gave Le’er a tearful smile before going to help her mother with the cooking.

Le’er strolled back to the old man, who wore a sour expression.

“Money burning a hole in your pocket?” He puffed on his dry pipe. “Her place is a bottomless pit. That old man at home just won’t die, costing a fortune and dragging the family into ruin… Even if you have money, don’t waste it—spend it where it’s needed.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Le’er replied.

“Wife, what are you cooking? Have you slaughtered the chicken?” He banged his pipe and shouted toward the kitchen.

“I’m killing it now.”

“Uncle, you’re killing a chicken?” In the countryside, serving chicken meant honoring a distinguished guest. It wasn’t for his daughter, then—it was for Le’er. “Just for a meal, isn’t chicken overkill?”

“It’s my chicken, I’ll eat it if I want—what’s it to you?” His uncle shot him a glare.

Le’er could only smile. He didn’t dare cross this stubborn old man. Since childhood, he’d treated his uncle like a father, and his uncle him like a son, never distant, never formal. He feared no one—except his uncle.

Dishes were served: glossy green stir-fried vegetables, pale gourd with red chili, golden fried eggs, soup with shimmering oil stars floating over loofah, and a plate of bitter melon salad topped with red chili oil and white scallion slivers. The centerpiece was a large clay bowl, fresh chicken pieces straight from the pot.

City dwellers would never taste such fare. The so-called “green” vegetables sold in the markets couldn’t compare. No chemical fertilizers or pesticides ever touched their kitchen garden; no lingering toxins in the earth. The chickens weren’t raised for sale, only for honored guests. They weren’t fed grain, but grew fat on insects from the grass, imparting a savory richness that made one’s mouth water at the very scent.

Le’er poured a small bowl of Guogong wine for his uncle and a large bowl of fragrant glutinous rice wine for himself. This local specialty was not distilled, but steeped in spring water and sweet rice, yielding a mellow, sweet, refreshing taste. One could drink three or five bowls without getting tipsy, but once drunk, it was hard to wake for more than a dozen hours.

“Aunt, Big Sister, come to the table.”

But his aunt and cousin didn’t join. When there were guests, the women rarely sat at the table. Though his cousin was technically a guest, with his uncle present, she didn’t dare.

“Peach Blossom, Le’er called you—you’d better come,” the old man barked.

Obedient, she came but only picked at a few bites before rising. Her father shot her a look and, from his clay bowl, placed a chicken drumstick in hers. Le’er saw, as she turned away, fat tears falling into her bowl. His uncle, in truth, was deeply fond of his eldest daughter, who’d always been so well-behaved.

The old man and the young man, bare-chested, feasted heartily.

“Le’er, I hear Old Monster Shengshu’s wife came to see you?” The old man’s face was flushed with drink, his words loosened, his smile tinged with mischief. “Is it true you’ve got something going on with their daughter-in-law?”

“Uncle, have some respect for your age.”

“Heh, you might fool others, but not me.” He sipped a little wine, smirking. “Yinxiang, that little wife, is certainly a beauty. In our Lower Sand Village, you’d find none like her.”

Le’er could only smile awkwardly. In the countryside, there was an unspoken rule: tease about the truth, never the lie. Nowadays, even in jest, people wouldn’t joke about him and Yinxiang in his presence—only the old man dared. Le’er had made it clear before: anyone daring to gossip risked having their stove smashed and their doors kicked in.

“So what if you did? What’s there to fear?” The old man downed a big mouthful of wine. “Let’s see those Lower Village folks talk. Ha! They think they’re something because of Sha Qiang. Well, our Upper Village has Le’er, backed by the Party Secretary and the Village Head, and even close to the County Secretary’s daughter. What do we have to fear?”

It was already well-known that Teacher Feng was the County Secretary’s daughter.

Lower Sand Village and Upper Sand Village were both descended from the same ancestors, but after two or three centuries, kinship had grown distant. Though the villages were side by side, they’d long been rivals, openly and secretly. In the days of the People’s Commune, Upper and Lower Villages were separate production brigades; now they were different villagers’ groups. In recent years, Lower Village had lorded it over Upper Village, thanks to Sha Qiang and his many brothers, who’d made more money and were wealthier. Le’er’s uncle had long been irked by this.

Le’er listened to his uncle’s words with a wry smile, raising his bowl of wine and draining it in one gulp.

“You and Gang Mengzi must show spirit. Compete with Sha Qiang of Lower Village—don’t lose your pride.”

He never expected his uncle to raise his connection with Luo Yinxiang to such heights. Le’er was left speechless. Still, he couldn’t disagree—if Upper Village didn’t produce some strong figures, they’d always be suppressed by Lower Village. This became especially clear during Qingming festival, when both villages honored their ancestors.

In recent years, the arrogance and dominance of Lower Village during the ancestral rituals had sorely rankled Upper Village.

The head of Lower Village’s villagers’ group was Sha Qiang’s father; Le’er’s uncle, as head of Upper Village’s group, was the leading man of his own.