Chapter 57

Chapter 57

It suddenly clicked, and she walked over. "Granny Chen, where did this pile of soil in your yard come from?"

It looked awfully like their own garden soil.

Granny Chen replied, "I dug it up myself from outside."

But the second-born rushed over, rubbed some soil between his fingers, and said, "This is our soil! You stole it from our garden! No wonder our veggie patch looked dug up! So what you stole wasn’t anything else—it was our soil!"

Most folks with yards grew veggies, but no one tended their garden as meticulously as theirs. They fertilized, aerated the soil—these kids were always hustling to the mill or lumberyard to scrounge up scraps for composting.

The dirt around the capital was lousy to start with. They’d started with moat silt, which was sticky and nutrient-poor. It had taken years of care for the dirt to gradually turn dark and soft. Only this year did their vegetables grow exceptionally well. The idea of their painstakingly nurtured dirt getting stolen made the boy see red—especially since he was the one who had put the most effort into the garden, mostly because he loved eating the produce.

Moreover, dirt could be cultivated to increase in volume. As compost decomposed, it turned into more dirt, eventually making it unnecessary to dig up dirt from elsewhere when expanding the garden. The kid was always saving rotten veggie bits and piling them by the bed for composting. Once fully decomposed, they became fertile soil.

Granny Chen shot back, "Don’t go pointing fingers! You say this soil is yours—where’s your proof? I say I dug this up myself outside the city with great effort. Maybe your family stole my soil!" She added smugly, "All soil looks the same under the sky. How can you prove this is yours?"

The boy’s eyes burned with rage.

Swiping dirt—now that was low.

Taking a little bit every day and smoothing over the vegetable bed—over time, it added up. But this soil represented someone else’s hard work. The boy was angrier than if someone had stolen their prized oranges. The kid, who’d kept it together even when wrongly blamed earlier, now sobbed in frustration.

Xu Meng gave his back a reassuring pat to soothe him. She got why he was mad—it’s not like they could guard the garden 24/7. If this old woman kept sneaking in to steal a bit here and there, it wouldn’t take long before all their soil was gone.

"Sis..."

"It’s okay," Xu Meng said. "The soil is the same."

Granny Chen’s smug look dropped. She had farmed before and assumed Xu Meng, a city girl, wouldn’t know better.

But Xu Meng was an exception. Though she hadn’t farmed in this life, in her past life, she had developed a passion for gardening in her later years and knew a lot about soil and cultivation.

Xu Meng marched over to the dirt pile, stirred it with a small shovel, and said, "Ours is the only dark sandy loam around. The surrounding area has yellow clay—they’re different."

Her eyes lit up as she continued, "If you still think that’s not enough proof, here’s more."

She dug out a piece of orange peel from the soil.

"That’s the orange peel I buried!" the second-born exclaimed, jumping up. The kid was a regular pack rat, always burying things in the soil—orange peels, rotten vegetable scraps—anything he could compost. As luck would have it, he’d just eaten an orange and casually tossed the peel into the garden, never figuring the old lady would swipe it right back.

Xu Meng held up the orange peel.

Same old kid—always burying everything in the soil.

This was a Jiangxi navel orange gifted by Han Jiming. The peel ran thinner than your average orange, and its fragrance was more intense.

Xu Meng said, "This is the proof. This variety’s different—its fibers are finer than other navel oranges. Auntie Liu, check this out—see how it’s not like the regular ones? If you don’t believe me, I’ll fetch another one from home to prove it."

Sister Liu’s eyes grew stern as she picked up the orange peel and examined it carefully.

This orange peel was indeed different from the usual ones. Oranges shipped north this time of year, if not well preserved, would have wrinkled peels.

The oranges given by Han Jiming were carefully packaged, each wrapped in a small bag, so even now, they remained as fresh as when they were first picked. The peel still looked vibrant. Second Brother had buried the orange peel in the soil, but with the low temperatures this season, it barely decomposed and was perfectly preserved.

"Auntie, here’s another orange. Peel it and compare," the eldest child said, producing an orange from somewhere.

Sister Liu had received a few oranges from Xu Meng before, so she recognized the peel at a glance.

"Granny Chen, you still insist you didn’t dig up soil from their house? Or did you go to their place to steal oranges instead?"

Xu Meng snapped, "Isn’t it obvious now? No wonder you’re always snooping around our place—you were after our soil! Today, Second Brother caught you in the act. Did you trip? Or maybe you threw out your back while digging and tried to pin it on him, didn’t you?"

To everyone else, she looked barely eighteen, still a child, so no one minded her harsh tone.

Folks might even admire her for standing her ground, standing up so fiercely for her neighbor’s child.

By then, Yang Sanshu had also pushed her way to the front, mortified by her mother-in-law’s antics. Now the whole neighborhood knew her shame—lazy, meddlesome, and shameless.

Yang Sanshu quickly apologized, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s our fault. I’ll return the soil for you."

But Granny Chen remained defiant. "Hmph, it’s just dirt. It’s not money or rice—what’s the big deal? Why the drama? Taking a little soil doesn’t count as stealing!"

*Taking a little soil doesn’t count as stealing*—what kind of logic was that?

True, soil couldn’t be measured in monetary value, but that didn’t mean taking it wasn’t theft. Her entitled logic was unbelievable.

And the old woman showed not a shred of remorse.

The eldest kid blew up. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to cultivate soil? My mom spent years nurturing the land, and Teacher Feng put in the same sweat. You think you can just take it for free from others and still act like you’re in the right?"

Granny Chen drew herself up to lecture the second child.

Second Brother was seeing red, gasping for air, taking a long time to calm down.

Sister Liu, ever the mediator, said, "You made a bet with Xu Meng earlier—whoever was in the wrong would sweep the streets for a month. Rest and recover first, then go sweep. Don’t even think of skipping out—I’ll personally supervise you."

She outlined the general area. Between the filth and biting winds, sweeping the streets was no easy task.

With the farce over, everyone dispersed and returned home.

Once the others had left, Granny Chen barked at her daughter-in-law, "Starting tomorrow, you’ll sweep for me."

Her earlier confidence in betting with Xu Meng stemmed from two things: first, she thought no one would notice, and second, if things went south, she could always make her daughter-in-law do the work.

Yang Sanshu saw red. "You were the one who made the bet. Why should I sweep the streets?"

Granny Chen retorted righteously, "Because you’re my daughter-in-law."

Yang Sanshu refused. "If you want someone to sweep, tell your son to do it. How’s that my problem?"

Granny Chen would never let her son do something so humiliating, but she had already made up her mind—once Zhao Shan returned, she’d have him force his wife to sweep. After all, Yang Sanshu was already a street sweeper—what harm was a little extra work?

Back home, they resumed preparing the hotpot.

This time, the broth was made with beef fat, making it smell downright heavenly. After all the earlier commotion, the potatoes had boiled to a soft, mushy texture. Xu Meng gently poked one with her chopsticks, and it fell apart into pieces.

"Want to taste it?" Xu Meng picked up a small piece and held it out to Second Brother.

The Second Child still had tears in his eyes that hadn’t been wiped clean, but the moment food came his way, his face lit up like sunshine. He opened his mouth wide, bit into the potato, and gulped it down without chewing.

Xu Meng: *[speechless]* Probably didn’t taste a thing.

The Second Child covered his mouth, widened his eyes, and gave a thumbs-up: "Sooo good! Best ever! But it can’t cook any longer."

Then, like a clingy puppy, the Second Child trailed behind Xu Meng, refusing to leave.

"Sister."

"I need to take something to the neighbors first." The thought that the hot pot she was delivering might end up being eaten by Granny Chen made Xu Meng reluctant to go.

But Feng Yanwen was someone who disliked owing favors. Earlier, Yang Sanshu had kindly helped push for half an hour, so sending some food over was just returning the favor.

"Mom is feeling much better now. We’ve used so much of their medicinal wine, and I really don’t want their old lady to have any of this, but Yang Sanshu has it tough too." Feng Yanwen thought of her own situation—whenever she gave away even the slightest thing, Granny Xue would berate her for ages.

"I’ll go with you." The Second Child adored his sister and, sensing she didn’t want to go alone, volunteered to accompany her.

Xu Meng sighed at the little shadow behind her and knocked on the neighbor’s gate. To her surprise, it was Granny Chen who answered.

Granny Chen *[gruffly]* snapped, "What do you want?"

Xu Meng said flatly, "I’m looking for Aunt Yang."

Calling Yang Sanshu "Aunt Yang" wasn’t wrong—she was around the same age as Feng Yanwen.

Granny Chen’s gaze slid from Xu Meng’s face down to her hands, noticing the steaming dish she was holding. Only then did she reluctantly lead her inside to find Yang Sanshu. When Xu Meng entered, Yang Sanshu was standing by the stove chopping vegetables, while Zhao Xing played in the small open space outside the kitchen.

Xu Meng greeted them with a smile and placed the bowl of hot pot ingredients on the stove.

"Aunt Yang, we made some hot pot at home just now. My mom asked me to bring you some." Xu Meng said, "Thanks for your help earlier. Mom said she’s feeling much better and insisted I bring this over to thank you. Please enjoy it."

Yang Sanshu hurriedly tried to decline. "We’re neighbors—it was just a small favor. No need for such gifts! You should take it back. I’m already cooking."

But the aroma was too enticing, and she couldn’t help sneaking longing looks.

The dish was swimming in spicy oil, its rich fragrance mouthwatering. In truth, she had smelled it earlier when Xu Meng was cooking at home.

Granny Chen’s face finally brightened. She swiftly fetched a large bowl from the kitchen, poured the contents from Xu Meng’s bowl into her own, then ran a finger along the rim of Xu Meng’s bowl to scoop up the remaining oil, sucking her finger clean. The bowl was now spotless.

Xu Meng was *[horrified]* speechless.

The Second Child’s eyes nearly popped out of his head—Granny Chen was greedier than he was!

When he took the bowl back, he could almost feel the old woman’s saliva on his fingers.

Yang Sanshu quickly walked them out and whispered, "Is your mom doing better? I’ll swing by your place later tonight to give her another massage."

Clutching the still-warm bowl, Xu Meng couldn’t wait to get home. She blurted a quick goodbye and bolted home.

Back home, she recounted the scene to Feng Yanwen, who howled with laughter.

"Yang Sanshu must’ve gotten an earful from her mother-in-law when she got back. That old woman is notoriously penny-pinching. I asked you to bring food over partly to spare Yang Sanshu from being scolded." Feng Yanwen sighed—she had walked that road herself.

Whether it was medicinal oil or even a bowl of cold water given to a stranger, her mother-in-law would complain.

"Doesn’t the medicinal oil cost money? Doesn’t boiling water cost fuel?"

Feng Yanwen didn’t want to dwell on it. The reason she avoided remarrying was simply because she couldn’t handle living with in-laws again.

After dinner, Xu Meng suddenly said, "Mom, maybe we should hire someone to do the housework?"

Both she and Feng Yanwen had their own things going on and were getting busier.

Feng Yanwen, of course, had been working around the clock since landing the job at the railway bureau. When she wasn’t teaching, she was preparing lessons at home.

On weekends, she spent most weekends at Zhang Mingqing’s shop. Now, what the mother and daughter earned in a month was equivalent to a regular worker’s annual salary. Help was cheap to hire these days, so Xu Meng said, "I think we can just hire someone just for cleaning. It wouldn’t cost much—maybe fifty or sixty bucks a month would be enough."

Feng Yanwen only thought for a moment before agreeing and decided to discuss it with Chang Xi's mother the next day.

That evening, Yang Sanshu quietly came over with the medicinal oil and gave Feng Yanwen another massage. This time, she was quiet.

After the afternoon’s incident, she still felt embarrassed.

Feng Yanwen, however, comforted her, "Try not to let it bother you. We can’t control what the elderly do."

Yang Sanshu didn’t respond. After a long pause, she gave a small nod, her eyes growing red without her noticing.

After the massage, Feng Yanwen said, "I feel much better. Where did you buy this medicinal wine? I’ll pick some up later."

Yang Sanshu replied, "It’s homemade. Bring a bottle, and I’ll pour some for you."

Feng Yanwen asked, "Was the hotpot good? You can add water to the leftover broth and cook more things in it."

Yang Sanshu just murmured "Mm," still quiet.

Feng Yanwen looked into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Yang Sanshu shook her head, managed a weak smile at Feng Yanwen before walking out into the yard.

Just as she reached her own doorstep, she saw her mother-in-law standing in the doorway, scowling, glaring at her.

Yang Sanshu shot back angrily. "All you care about is mooching off others. When Teacher Feng sent over food earlier, I didn’t see you refusing it."

The old woman snapped viciously, "That doesn’t mean you should give our things away! Do we have money to burn for you to squander? No wonder our family’s never prospered. Dashan really married a wasteful woman! I always said country wives are no good. He should’ve divorced you long ago. You shameless thing, running to the army to make a scene, ruining Dashan’s chances of marrying some official’s daughter. If it weren’t for you refusing to divorce, Dashan would’ve married a girl from a leader’s family by now!"

Mountains of gold and silver—what a joke.

And that nonsense about some official’s daughter—total nonsense.

Would any leader really take a liking to a pair of lazy troublemakers like them? Or to a family with two or three kids? But her in-laws had swallowed the flattery whole, convinced that Zhao Shan had some high-ranking official’s daughter pining for him.

Back then, Yang Sanshu was often sick, but later she grew wary and started handling the cooking. From then on, she held no respect for her mother-in-law.

She was sure the old woman had once tried to kill her back in the village.

If not for her luck, the grass on her grave would be waist-high by now.

When her in-laws followed them into the city, they tried to cause trouble again. Thankfully, Yang Sanshu was sharp—otherwise, she’d have died long ago. But no matter what, she couldn’t shake off this old woman and had no choice but to endure living with her.

Yang Sanshu turned and went back to her room, stashing the medicinal oil under the bed just as her husband, Zhao Shan, walked in.

"What’s wrong? Did you argue with Mom again? If she tells you to sweep the street, just do it. You were going to sweep anyway," Zhao Shan slurred, his breath reeking of liquor as he slumped onto the sofa, too lazy to move. He reached out for water. "I’ve told you—she’s old and stubborn. Just go along with her. Go get me some water."

Yang Sanshu gave him a cold look and left the room without a word.

Zhao Shan waited and waited, but no water came.