Chapter Three: The Target

Yang Xingwu listened intently, and sensing that no one was around, he opened his eyes just a crack. After a long while, he began to make some noises to feign waking up.

In the next room, Yang Xiaohong was watching over her second brother; hearing the movement, she hurried forward to check on him. Seeing that Yang Xingwu had regained consciousness, she called out joyfully, "Dad, Mom, Big Brother, Big Sister! Second Brother is awake!"

Her sudden shout startled Yang Xingwu. Before he could react, the entire family had crowded around the earthen bed.

"Xiaowu, how are you feeling? Don't scare your mother like that!"
"Second Brother, how are you? Are you feeling any better?"
"Little Brother, are you alright?"

Seeing the concern on his family's faces, Yang Xingwu was deeply moved. "Dad, Mom, Big Brother, Big Sister, Little Sister, what happened to me? Why am I at home? Wasn't I at school?"

"You were studying so hard that you fainted. Your father and I brought you back from school!"

"How long was I out?"

"Not long, just two days! Thank heavens! You’re finally better, my son! Let’s stop this schooling; whatever happens, happens. If it’s meant to be, you’ll go to university, and if not, you’ll just farm here at home. I was so afraid you’d have some kind of accident!"

"Mom, I understand. I’ll rest at home for this month, but I still need to study. By the way, did you bring my books back?"

"That’s fine! The books are back; I’ll give them to you after you rest for a few days."

Hearing this, Yang Xingwu let out a sigh of relief. "That’s good."

"Xiaowu, what would you like to eat?"

"Anything is fine. I’ll eat whatever you make, Mom!"

"Alright, then you rest. Mom is going to cook! Xiaohong, stay here and keep your second brother company."

"Okay, I will!"

With that, Wang Zhaodi took her eldest daughter to the kitchen to prepare a meal, while Yang Xingwen followed his father to the main room to peel garlic.

***

Seeing his family leave, Yang Xingwu exhaled in relief.

Yang Xiaolan drew a few dippers of water into the iron pot. Before heading to the stove, she pulled some dried corn husks from behind her, selecting the tender, small leaves, and gathered them into a small pile at the mouth of the stove. She reached out to find a box of matches, pulled one out, and struck it hard against the red side. After a few "hissing" sounds, the match finally caught. Once it burned for a moment, she guided it into the furnace to ignite the corn husks. As they caught fire, she slowly added more fuel.

Once the fire was burning, she pushed all the firewood into the furnace. Perhaps due to the rain over the past few days, the room felt damp, and the fire wasn't burning vigorously. Yang Xiaolan pumped the bellows a few times, and the flames roared to life. Hearing the crackling sound of the firewood, she found it quite pleasant—after all, that sound meant a meal was on its way.

Seeing that her son had woken up, Wang Zhaodi was in high spirits as she cooked. She took a steamer rack made of sorghum stalks down from the wall, lined it with a cloth, and spread the washed locust flowers evenly across it. She then took a flour bag from a container hanging from the rafters, used a gourd dipper to scoop out half a bowl of slightly darkened cornmeal, and sprinkled it evenly over the locust flowers. She placed the rack into the pot and covered it with a lid—also made of sorghum stalks, known locally as a "small shushu."

After a while, hearing the sounds from inside the pot, Wang Zhaodi estimated the water had boiled. She scooped out another half-spoon of cornmeal into a bowl of water, stirring until it was completely smooth and free of lumps. Remembering something, she retrieved an egg from the rafters of the main room, beat it in a bowl, and placed it in the pot to steam.

When the water boiled, she poured the cornmeal paste into the pot. As the rolling water returned to a simmer, she added a handful of washed wheat grains. Three or five minutes later, Yang Xiaolan gradually removed the firewood, leaving just enough embers to let the porridge simmer. She was well-versed in the task of tending the fire, and her coordination with her mother was seamless.

Once the fire died out and the pot had sat for a moment, Wang Zhaodi lifted the lid. A wave of heat rushed out. Once it dissipated, she took the bowl of steamed egg custard off the rack and set it on the stove. Yang Xiaolan hurried to the main room to fetch the garlic her father and eldest brother had crushed.

Wang Zhaodi pinched the corner of the steamer cloth and inverted the steamed locust flowers into a basin. She shook them off the cloth into the pot, added salt, garlic, and two drops of sesame oil. Instantly, the entire kitchen was filled with a fragrant aroma. After handing the task of mixing the vegetables to her eldest daughter, Wang Zhaodi removed the steamer rack and checked the porridge with a spoon, nodding with satisfaction.

"Dinner is ready!"

Hearing Wang Zhaodi's call, Yang Xingwen rushed to the main room to fetch the bowls. Yang Xingwu rose to get off the bed, and his little sister quickly reached out to support him.

***

Looking at his little sister, whose hair was dry and yellow and whose face showed signs of malnutrition, Yang Xingwu felt a wave of pity.

As the family sat around the eight-immortals table, Yang Xiaohong exclaimed happily, "Oh! We have steamed locust flowers today! And egg custard too!"

"The custard is for your Second Brother to build up his strength. Eat as much of the locust flowers as you like, and there’s more porridge in the pot!" Wang Zhaodi said, placing the egg custard in front of Yang Xingwu.

Yang Xiaohong used great willpower to look away from the bowl. Witnessing this, Yang Xingwu felt a pang of sorrow; this era was so harsh that even an egg was a luxury. Looking at the custard, topped with a drop of sesame oil and a few green onions, he took a bite—it was salty, savory, and delicious. He then lifted a spoonful and placed it into his little sister's bowl.

Yang Xiaohong didn't look happy; instead, she said, "Second Brother, you eat it! If you eat it, you'll get better faster! Then you can take me out to play!"

"Alright."

Seeing how sensible his little sister was, Yang Xingwu felt even more heartbroken. He resolved that he must find a way to earn money. The portion of egg custard was small; after his little sister refused it, he tried to offer some to his eldest sister, who also refused. In the end, he ate the small half-bowl of custard with complex emotions.

Afterward, he picked up his bowl to drink the porridge. At first, he didn't pay much attention, but after two sips, he realized there was something in it. He picked up his chopsticks and fished out a few grains of wheat; however, due to the long cooking time, they had "blossomed" and softened.

Seeing this, Yang Xingwu felt as though he had discovered a way to improve their lives. But to be sure, he asked his mother, his heart pounding, "Mom, what is the date today?"

"April 18th!"