Chapter 141

Chapter 141

The next day, before dawn, the crowd moved like ants—pushing, carrying, dragging—slowly yet orderly emerging from the woods.

Shouts of work chants and cries of searching for children startled the birds into flight, waking those on the other side of the forest.

Under countless watchful eyes, Old Zhao lifted his daughter into the cart. The donkey cart led the way, guiding the villagers of Sunset Village onto the long, uncertain road of escape.

As before, Zhao Dashan walked at the front, Zhao Ertian and the village men walked along the middle on both sides, while Zhao Sandi and Zhao Sanwang brought up the rear to watch the back—both to help those lagging behind and to keep outsiders at bay.

The long line was well-guarded. The Shi Family trailed at the very end, unable to find a spot to squeeze in. Every household had familiar neighbors, and no one wanted strangers cutting in. Though Da Gen had agreed to let them come along, they were still outsiders—unfamiliar. They could walk with them, but caution was necessary.

"Why didn't they put us up front? The back isn't safe," Shi Erlang grumbled nonstop from the start. Who puts the guides in the back? Were they walking backward?

"Dad, keep your voice down. There are still people behind us," Shi Daohua said, balancing loads on a shoulder pole. After two days of rest, she felt her strength returning. Her legs were light, and even the heavy burdens didn't feel as tiring. Her heart was lighter than ever, as if a stone had been lifted from her chest.

Shi Erlang glanced at Zhao Sandi, who was at the very back. Yesterday, they had given sugarcane, and at dinner, the Zhao family had returned half a basket of flatbreads. His elder brother wanted to refuse, but the two children dropped the basket and ran off, leaving no chance for discussion. Even Shi Erlang, not the brightest, could see that the Zhao family didn't want to be indebted.

Or rather, a few stalks of sugarcane couldn't repay the debt of being allowed to travel with them.

"Second Brother, settle down. Don't complain where they can hear. Things are already pretty good," Shi Dalang said, satisfied with the arrangement. He was afraid his brother's big mouth would cause trouble, making others think they were ungrateful and leaving a bad impression.

Shi Erlang spat into his palms, rubbed them together, and sighed deeply as he looked at the endless heads ahead. He pushed the cart forward and followed.

In the forest, it hadn't felt so bad. But once out from under the trees, the world turned into a steamer—stifling and hot. Even though the sun hadn't fully risen, and it should have been the coolest time of day, a few steps and their clothes were soaked with sweat.

Children carrying pots on their backs, old men pushing carts, women bent under huge loads of clothes and bedding. A familiar scene: common folk leaving their homeland, trudging slowly, painfully, and anxiously toward an unknown destination.

After half a day of walking, at the hottest hour, the blessed words "rest here" came from the front. The message passed down the line, and when it reached Shi Erlang, he let go of the cart handles, grabbed his waterskin from a corner, and plopped down in the nearest shade.

He uncorked the waterskin. Though he wanted to gulp down water, he restrained himself, taking only a small sip. He let the water sit in his mouth until it warmed, then swallowed reluctantly. His dry throat was like parched earth, and the water's passage felt like rain on parched earth, bringing him back to life.

Shi Daohua helped her mother unload the basket, and the two women supported each other as they walked over. Shi Erlang handed them the waterskin, pulled out a hand towel to wipe his forehead, and squinted ahead. "It's noon. I heard from the front that the sun is too strong now—not good for traveling. Easy to get heatstroke. We'll have lunch and catch a quick nap."

They weren't used to this group's ways. Too tired to talk, they just did whatever everyone else did. If others didn't stop, they didn't dare stop either, scared of being left behind or making trouble.

Zhao Sandi and his group were diligent, always staying a step behind them. With familiar faces keeping an eye on them, they no longer feared being ambushed. Though their bodies were tired, their hearts were at peace.

So when Zhao Sandi kept staring at his waterskin, Shi Erlang, though he didn't want to, held it out. "Brother Sandi, want some water?"

Zhao Sandi sat not far away, pulling a bamboo tube of water from his waist. He shook his head with a smile. "I've got my own water. You drink yours." He just wished he'd bought a waterskin back then. They had bought everything—grain, medicine, cotton, cloth, medicinal wine—but never thought of waterskins. Country folks usually carried bamboo tubes; they were free and easy to make if you had the skill.

Too bad. Waterskins were so convenient—large capacity, easy to carry, and no worry about leaks.

Shi Erlang felt someone staring at him and wanted to throw the waterskin at the man's face to make him stop. But he couldn't bear to part with it, so he acted like he didn't notice.

The midday sun was blinding. Even sitting still, sweat poured down their faces like rain. The scorching heat made their skin red and hot. You could wring a hand towel out into a puddle on the ground.

Shi Daohua took out some flatbreads from yesterday, handing one each to her parents. Just as she sat down to eat, she saw a familiar little figure running toward her, followed by a bunch of kids.

"Sister Daohua, Xiaobao has something to ask you!" Zhao Xiaobao wore a straw hat, out of breath from running. Her fair face was clean, her clothes neat—not at all like someone fleeing a famine. The only sign she'd been running was a little sweat on her nose, from running from the front to the back.

The five nephews behind her and Qing Xuan, with a cat on his shoulder, looked just as messy—faces red from the sun, skin dark and flushed, sweat pouring down.

Shi Daohua stood up automatically, smoothed out her wrinkled clothes, and smiled, her dark, ruddy face lighting up. "Xiaobao, what do you want to ask? Sit down and talk." She turned to grab some grass for her to sit on, but a nearby woman silently handed over a clean cloth, folded into a square, and placed it on the ground.

"Auntie, having some flatbread?" Zhao Xiaobao wasn't shy and had a sweet tongue, greeting everyone she saw. Shi Daohua's mother, a quiet woman, smiled and nodded, pointing to the cloth for her to sit on.

Zhao Xiaobao had been jostling in the donkey cart all morning and didn't want to sit. But seeing the woman's gesture, she obediently sat down. Turning to Shi Daohua, she whispered, "Sister Daohua, that sugarcane was so sweet. I took a little bite—it was delicious. I really liked it."

Shi Daohua smiled, not thinking much of it. "I'm glad you liked it, Xiaobao. Take two more stalks back with you later. But remember, once the skin's broken or the ends are cut, it won't last long. Eat it quickly. If you see red spots, toss it—spoiled sugarcane can make you sick."

Pleased that her gift was appreciated, Shi Daohua couldn't help adding, "Sugarcane's great. It quenches thirst and cools you down. And..."

She paused, meeting Zhao Xiaobao's expectant eyes, and continued, "Xiaobao, have you ever had brown sugar water?"

"Mm-hmm." Zhao Xiaobao nodded. She had. There was plenty of brown sugar in the cabin—very expensive.

Shi Daohua glanced around, cupped her hand to her mouth, and whispered, "Brown sugar comes from sugarcane."

Zhao Xiaobao's eyes went wide. That morning, bored and restless in the cart, her father had cut her a piece of sugarcane to pass the time. It was amazing. The carefully selected sugarcane they gave away was even sweeter and juicier than the two stalks Shi Daohua had first given her. Her mother agreed it was good. The Divine Land was so vast—if wild pear trees could grow there, why not sugarcane?

Good things were never enough. Even Zhao Xiaobao knew the difference between one stalk and a whole field.

Wang had decided to save the remaining stalks for planting. But sugarcane wasn't like wild fruit—they had no idea how to plant one stalk to get a whole patch. So as soon as the group stopped, Zhao Xiaobao had rushed to the back to ask.

"Sugarcane... can make brown sugar?" Zhao Xiaobao was stunned. This was an unexpected treasure. If they planted sugarcane, it would be up to the brothers to work the land in the Divine Land. Grandpa and Dad were too busy. They had come along to learn how to plant it, afraid their aunt wouldn't understand or explain clearly.

"Keep your voice down!" Shi Daohua quickly looked around. In these times, skills were kept secret and passed down through families. They knew how to grow sugarcane, but not how to make brown sugar. They only knew brown sugar came from sugarcane because her uncle had heard it from his aunt.

Zhao Xiaowu wasn't angry at being shushed. He squeezed forward and sat down next to his aunt. "Do you know how to plant sugarcane?"

Shi Daohua didn't answer, but Shi Erlang, listening nearby, laughed. Lying on the ground with his arms behind his head and legs crossed, he said flippantly, "Why do you ask? You want to plant sugarcane?" He found it amusing. "We're fleeing a famine, kid. What are you thinking?"

Zhao Xiaowu stammered, "Just asking. If you can't say, that's fine." In the village, some old farmers hoarded their knowledge of seasons and seeds, as if higher yields made them superior. Brown sugar was expensive. His third aunt was always unwell, and the family kept brown sugar on hand for her monthly needs.

He thought: if they could grow a whole field of sugarcane and make their own brown sugar, his third aunt would never run out, and his mother and second aunt could have some too.

And Grandma. She was getting old. The eggs in the Divine Land's storehouse were piling up. If Grandma could have a bowl of brown sugar and eggs every day, she'd grow stronger.

It seemed like a lot to ask. The skill of making sugar was precious, and the sugarcane used for it must be special too. Asking to learn how to plant it so bluntly felt shameless.

He was about to apologize and leave when Shi Erlang snorted smugly. "You're in luck. In these parts, only my family knows how to plant sugarcane." Some villagers had tried to steal cuttings and plant them, but they rotted in a few days. Many had tried and failed, so they gave up.

Shi Dalang didn't stop his brother from showing off. Back in the village, he would have. But now, teaching or not didn't matter. He figured the kids just liked sugarcane, like wanting a never-ending supply of malt candy after tasting one piece.

He shook his head. Even if they learned, what could they do? There was no land to plant it now!

"Cut the sugarcane head into sections, about this long." Shi Erlang gestured. "Bury them lengthwise in turned soil, like a drainage ditch. After planting, water them and cover with grass or straw. Press it down firm, like seeding a nursery."

Seeing the boy listening intently, Shi Erlang stopped swinging his leg, sat up, and grew more serious. "It's about the same time as raising seedlings. Check the field often. When you see sprouts, move the straw aside. Once the sprouts grow, mound up the soil. In about two months, you'll see good growth."

Watched by eager young faces, Shi Erlang's vanity was thoroughly satisfied. He added more details about planting, fertilizing, and monitoring growth, ending with, "Then you wait. In less than a year, the sugarcane will be ready, and you'll have all you can eat."

The last sentence had a hint of humoring children.

The "humored" children's eyes lit up, nodding like chicks pecking rice. A strange feeling crept over Shi Erlang. Something felt off.

Were they taking him seriously? No way. Really?

"Thank you, Uncle, for the advice." Zhao Xiaowu clasped his hands, leaving Shi Erlang dumbfounded. Unease grew in his heart, along with a twinge of guilt for teasing them. He feared they'd go to their parents and cause trouble, landing him in hot water.

"Uh, I was just rambling. Don't take it to heart," he said, trying to cover his tracks. "Don't tell anyone I taught you. Please, don't say a word!"

"Xiaobao won't tell!" Only Zhao Xiaobao earnestly patted her chest in promise, as if swearing a secret oath. "Don't worry, Sister Daohua's dad!"

Shi Erlang was about to relax when she added, "When Xiaobao grows sugarcane, I'll give you the first piece."

"..."

No need!