Chapter 142

Chapter 142

"Xiaowu, did you remember? Did you learn it?"

The aunt and her nephews were full of fighting spirit, determined to grow a whole field of sugarcane as they bid farewell to the Shi Family.

After a few steps, Zhao Xiaobao felt the heat; every step she took dripped sweat down her face, and even with a straw hat, the sun felt scorching on her head. She wrinkled her nose, clasped her hands over her head to shield it from the sun, but in no time, the back of her hands felt like they'd been scalded by boiling water, aching unbearably.

"It's so hot," she grumbled, dragging her feet, not wanting to go on.

Zhao Xiaowu knew right away his aunt was being lazy. If anyone in the family knew his aunt's mind inside out, it was the nephews who spent all day running wild with her through the hills. Especially the eldest nephew—though it might sound weird, he'd watched her grow up, grew up on his back, a pampered little girl he carried everywhere.

Without a second thought, he crouched down. Zhao Xiaobao nimbly climbed onto her nephew's back, wrapped her arms around his neck, and her feet left the ground.

"Got it, doesn't sound too hard," Zhao Xiaowu said smugly. Shi Erlang was thorough, and he paid close attention. Growing food in the ground is all the same—a couple of tries and you'll get it. Anyway, we stash the sugarcane in the divine land, no worries about it spoiling. We've got several stalks; worst case, we plant one at a time and just get it to grow first.

Shi Erlang said it'd take less than a year for the sugarcane to grow. The rice harvest in the divine land doesn't follow the outside seasons either, so a crop of sugarcane probably won't take a full year. If he could just grow one stalk, he was confident he could grow a whole field.

With his uncle around, some things were better left unsaid. He turned his head and whispered to his aunt, whose head was resting on his shoulder: "I just wish I knew how to make brown sugar. If we had that skill, it'd be perfect."

When it came to planting sugarcane, Shi Erlang talked freely. But when it came to making brown sugar, he hemmed and hawed, unable to even bluff to the kids.

"Let's just try," Zhao Xiaobao said, innocent and carefree. "Once Xiaowu grows the sugarcane, we'll experiment one by one."

Brown sugar dissolved in water, and sugarcane is just chewing the pulp for sweet juice. Her eyes darted around as she rambled: "Who knows, maybe sugarcane just turns into sugar when you boil the water."

Zhao Xiaowu laughed, thinking his aunt was making it up, but it sounded plausible enough. He nodded, humoring her: "Alright, we'll try them one by one. No harm in trying."

The aunt and nephew whispered intimately. Whether others heard them was unclear, but Qing Xuan caught every word. As a martial artist, his hearing was sharp. From Old Man Zhao down to Zhao Xiaowu, no one seemed to take it seriously, their whispers falling into his ears without them knowing.

Qing Xuan glanced at the pair ahead again and again, baffled by their confident tone about growing sugarcane.

Wasn't this the same as Shi Erlang's thinking? They were fleeing a famine, and he was thinking about planting sugarcane? Did they even have land to plant it on?

No, they didn't.

But they could clear new land!

Zhao Xiaowu set his aunt down on the cart shaft, patted Xiao Heizi, who was lying on top, and signaled to his younger brothers before crawling inside.

Wang Shi and her daughters-in-law were resting around the donkey cart. Seeing Qing Xuan glance toward the cart repeatedly, she waved him over and said gently, "Come on, boys, eat your lunch quickly. After eating, grab some sleep—we've got a long way to go this afternoon."

"Grandma, is my stone pouch sewn yet? I need it," Zhao Deng said cheerfully, reaching into the basket on the ground for two flatbreads, rolling them up and taking a big bite.

"Uncle, do we really have to tie stones to our legs?" Zhao Xi asked nervously, already not wanting to learn how to "fly." "Can't we skip it? Walking's already tiring enough, and tying stones to our ankles—that's just making things harder for no reason," he muttered, dreading it, a stark contrast to his brothers' eager anticipation.

Qing Xuan hadn't planned on making them do it either; it was their own eagerness to improve. They'd pestered him to "fly" for them, and he couldn't resist, especially with Zhao Xiaobao loudly boasting about his deer-chasing exploits.

Boys, after all—how many could resist a little girl's admiring gaze and the teasing cheers of their peers? Qing Xuan was no exception, and he'd put on a show, leaping onto a tree with effortless grace.

Climbing trees was a natural skill for country boys, but as the saying goes, the same rice can taste different depending on who cooks it. Climbing was one thing—they scrambled and clung—but Qing Xuan flew, vaulted, jumped, and bounded. The brothers were awestruck and begged him to teach them.

Five boys, each with different temperaments. Zhao Xiaowu wanted to learn bold, sweeping skills, like wielding a blade to look like a true master at first glance. Zhao Gu was more reserved, saying he didn't like fighting—he wanted to learn footwork to outrun anyone chasing him, basically to be fast. Zhao Feng was greedy, wanting to learn everything, even if he couldn't master it all. Zhao Deng just wanted to learn sneaky tricks—he admitted he wasn't a good person. The youngest, Zhao Xi, could only repeat, "Me too, I want it all."

Back at Qingxuan Temple, Qing Xuan had felt lonely, with only the silent tiger cub for company. Now, he wished he could pack up and return—did they think he was one of his eight senior brothers, capable of everything? And they were picky!

Zhao Xiaobao had a point: just teach what you can, and they still complained!

He grumbled inwardly but softened at their calls of "Uncle." No matter what they learned, the first step was mastering the horse stance. But conditions weren't right now. On the road, fleeing famine, their bodies and minds were stretched thin. Making them practice the horse stance at dawn was impossible—the mornings were cool, and back in the village, they'd already be on the move by then.

They walked most of the day. At noon, under the blazing sun, they'd grab a quick bite and collapse to rest. The afternoon brought endless roads, and by evening, as the sun set, they'd eat again and sleep.

No time to spare, so they had to find other ways.

Qing Xuan had endured plenty under his eight senior brothers—two years of running with sandbags tied to his ankles for an hour every morning, not to mention horse stances, balancing on stakes, sword practice, and memorizing acupoints.

With no sandbags available, he'd mentioned the idea, and Zhao Xiaowu asked if stones would work.

The grandsons were fired up, and Wang Shi didn't dampen their enthusiasm. She asked how to make the stone pouches, got the gist, and spent the journey collecting small stones. With her daughters-in-law, she wrapped them in cloth strips and sewed them up. The stones were rough on the feet, so they put in extra effort, using plenty of rags and even asking old sister Feng for some scraps, rushing to finish three.

"Try them on. If they're uncomfortable, tell me right away, and I'll fix them," Wang Shi said, handing the leg wraps to the fourth grandson to distribute.

Zhao Deng tied them on immediately. The other two went to the second and eldest brothers, ignoring the indifferent third and the relieved youngest.

The wraps were stitched tightly, and even the careless boys could see how much effort Grandma had put in—this wasn't something to take apart. They jumped in place, feeling the weight immediately, their steps heavier. It was hard to imagine wearing these for half a day without their ankles giving out.

Though Zhao Deng wanted to learn sneaky tricks that didn't involve running or jumping—basically, doing the most with the least effort—his aunt was watching, so he didn't dare act up. He'd do whatever his uncle said.

"Grandma, they don't rub. No need to change them," he said, walking a few steps, his collar already soaked.

"Good, then sew two more like this," Wang Shi said, satisfied, ignoring her youngest grandson's look of despair. She turned to Qing Xuan, who was munching on a flatbread, and asked, "Could your uncles and brothers wear these too? Would they help?" She clearly had high hopes for every man in the family.

"Huh?" Qing Xuan's eyes widened. He stammered, "I, I don't know much. Teaching Xiaowu and the others is fine, but I really wouldn't dare claim I could teach your uncles."

Given his age, even though his senior brothers called him a once-in-a-century martial arts prodigy and had taught him everything they knew, Qing Xuan still thought they were exaggerating. Their praise was just a way to push him not to slack off.

After all, their training methods were brutal—anyone else would've been dead nine times over.

He was self-aware enough to teach kids his age, but pretending to be a master of eight hundred martial arts was too much.

The pressure was real.

Seeing him wipe sweat nervously, Wang Shi chuckled and stopped pressing him. She pushed the basket of flatbreads toward him: "Eat up. I was just asking. Don't take it to heart. Those boys get excited over anything new, and who knows if they'll stick with it. Just treat it as fun. Teach them some simple self-defense if you're willing. Times are unstable, and we don't know what we'll face on the road. I hope they can protect themselves and their aunt."

With that, she stopped looking at the kids, covered her face with her straw hat, and lay down to rest.

Qing Xuan finished his flatbread, drank some water to wet his throat, and couldn't help glancing at the cart again. What were the aunt and nephew up to so secretly?

The sun was blinding, the earth scorched. All he could see were people lying on dry grass and leaves, trying to nap. Without something underneath, their backs would burn after half an hour.

Some couldn't sleep, whispering softly. Qing Xuan didn't want to listen, but he heard it anyway—worries about food, about getting sick on the road, about when it would rain.

"Tough times," he sighed.

The sigh was swallowed by the chorus of snores. He slowly closed his tired eyes.

"Meow." The tiger cub curled up on his head, its tail gently brushing the fallen leaves, as bored as the men standing watch, staring at the withered trees, the hard road, the glaring light.

A hot wind blew, stirring up dust. Light flickered. Donkey hooves shuffled.

The cart was empty.

...

In the Divine Land.

Zhao Xiaowu found a spot in front of the banyan tree, leading the family's precious ox as he huffed and puffed, clearing new land.

He didn't bother separating fields from plots—he just picked a spot and started. With the ox, it was easy; in no time, he'd turned over a small patch. With only four stalks of sugarcane, Shi Erlang had said to cut the roots, so he didn't even really need the ox. He could've just used a hoe to dig a spot for planting. But wasn't this a novelty?

"Plowing without an ox is like, oh, what’s that thing about walking at night? Dad and the guys went to the county seat to hear storytelling and came back bragging—I caught a bit of it but didn’t remember."

"Xiao Wu, are you done yet?" Zhao Xiaobao sat cross-legged under the banyan tree, calling out to him over and over.

The banyan tree, yanked out by the roots, had been replanted somewhere else and was now lush and green, its leafy shade blocking out all sunlight. Zhao Xiaobao loved this cool spot.

When the tree was first dug up, the men had been careless and damaged the roots, and Old Man Zhao worried it wouldn’t survive. He was so worried he got blisters on his lips and stayed up two nights to plant it quickly. Good thing the divine land was something else; after daily watering and careful tending, the withered leaves on the branches showed signs of revival.

Over time, the banyan tree came back to life, its swaying branches seeming to express joy at its new home.

This was Old Man Zhao’s "banyan mama," and Zhao Xiaobao was real devoted to her tree granny, even choosing to plant her most anticipated sugarcane here.

"Just a little more, just a bit," Zhao Xiaowu thought. If it worked out, he’d have to keep clearing land anyway, so he might as well open up more space now to save trouble later.

Zhao Xiaobao saw right through his little scheme: "Xiao Wu just wants to play with the ox. Don’t tire out the cow, or I’ll tell Dad."

The little aunt wasn’t playing fair, so Zhao Xiaowu backed down. He shuffled over, grabbed the pre-cut sugarcane, and followed Shi Erlang’s instructions—burying them in a little trench dug like a ditch, sprinkling water, covering with soil, and then gathering some rice straw saved from harvesting to lay on top.

Though it was an experiment, they couldn’t just plant one stalk to test it, could they? The growing season would take a while. It was all riding on this one try. Zhao Xiaowu cut all four stalks and buried them, trusting the divine land’s soil. He even thought Shi Erlang’s advice might be unnecessary—whether one or two sections, as long as they were buried, sugarcane would surely grow.

Zhao Xiaobao crouched down, helping cover the straw while casually molding a few mud figures. Zhao Xiaowu didn’t call her out—his little aunt just wanted to play in the mud.

After burying the sugarcane, their stomachs were already growling. He had to drag his mud-obsessed little aunt back to the small yard, washed her dirty hands clean, then went to the kitchen to fetch a pot of porridge. The aunt and nephew sat in the yard, scarfing down bowls of porridge.

The pleasant temperature inside the divine land was a world apart from outside. Zhao Xiaowu cherished every chance to come here. With so many family members and workers, extra meals were hard to come by—if he didn’t eat his fill now, who knew when he’d get another chance?

Now, the divine land truly lived up to its name. Everyone fought to work inside; spending half a day there could ease the body’s fatigue. It was a peaceful spot worth more than gold.

"Little aunt, go sleep in the house for a while. I’ll cut grass to feed the fish, and I’ll wake you when I’m done." After feeding the dog, Zhao Xiaowu brought back the ox grazing by the fish pond, his mind on the fish. Grandpa and the others weren’t big on eating fish and always forgot to feed them. The pond was dug by him and his brothers, so they really treasured it.

"Okay." Full from eating, Zhao Xiaobao rubbed her eyes, went inside, kicked off her shoes, climbed into bed, and pulled a little blanket over her round belly. Pretty soon, she was softly snoring.

With each breath, the blanket corner rose and fell, her sleeping face sweet.

Zhao Xiaowu cut half a basket of grass and tossed it into the fish pond, careful not to overdo it. Fish had no sense of moderation—they’d stuff themselves until they died, and with warmer weather, they might flip in the pond.

He crouched by the pond, chewing on a blade of grass, watching the plump fish dart by, already mentally planning several recipes.

"Boiled fish, pan-fried fish, braised fish..." he muttered. "If Grandma would spare some oil, frying up some fish for a snack would be great."

"Plop."

A fish nibbling on water plants seemed to get it, whipping its tail hard and splashing water right into the face of the daydreaming human.

"..."

What, are you about to become a spirit?