Chapter Twenty: The Second Sister of the Zhang Family

Breakfast in the countryside was always a simple affair: plain rice and stir-fried vegetables, with meat scarcely seen. Only now, with the New Year approaching and Chen Xin returning home with their eldest grandson, did the Zhang family’s table boast a few more dishes of meat.

Chen Xin had met the eldest brother of the Zhang family more frequently in the first year or two, but every visit was brief—he usually spent a night in the living room before hurrying away. Later, as Chen Xin and Zhang Zhang’s days grew more comfortable, he stopped coming altogether.

Knowing she had no real experience with the large stove and wishing to speak privately with the eldest brother, Chen Xin washed up with hot water and slipped out to the hillside behind the house to find him.

Normally, wood was chopped in the yard, but the eldest brother, not wanting to wake Chen Xin and her son, had moved to the rear. Once he finished, he’d gather the wood and stack it neatly by the front wall. Aside from a noticeable limp when he walked, one would hardly guess at any ailment when he stood still. Though his stride was awkward, he was strong and capable; the heavy chores always fell to him and the eldest uncle.

“Big Brother, I wanted to ask what your plans are for the future.” Chen Xin didn’t begin by offering help; she’d met him enough to know that this honest country man possessed a deep sense of pride.

“I thought it over last night. What you said to the village chief made sense, and I’ve decided to try working with him,” Zhang Debing replied, lowering his axe and wiping the sweat from his brow.

He didn’t admit he’d barely slept, turning over Chen Xin’s words in his mind. They were all simple, obvious things, yet no one had thought of them before she spoke. That was the power of the educated.

“I have a suggestion, if you’d like to hear it. If it doesn’t sound good, just consider it idle talk,” Chen Xin said, choosing her words carefully as she squatted by the doorway, hands tucked into her sleeves, gazing out at the slope. “On my way here, I noticed our land is quite sizable. The bamboo grove behind the house—does that belong to our family as well?”

“Yes. There’s little arable land on the mountain, so each family was allotted more forest. But in recent years, logging has been restricted, so the mountain brings in no income.”

“There’s plenty of bamboo here. What do you think of starting a bamboo rat farm?”

Bamboo rat farming had begun in the early nineties, and by now the techniques were quite mature. The market price was high, making it a profitable enterprise. Yet it wasn’t easy; technical hurdles required time and study. Chen Xin hoped the eldest brother would agree to her proposal: to travel to Guangxi, learn from an established farm, and return prepared.

She’d already thought it over the night before. Even if the village chief’s plan went smoothly, it would take at least a year to complete the road. During that time, the eldest brother could study in Guangxi, and next year start planning for his own bamboo rat house. Most importantly, Chen Xin’s savings were nearly spent. She could fund a farm in one go, but it would be a heavy burden—especially risky if her brother lacked experience.

By next year, her café would be up and running, and with her income from translation and food writing, investing in a bamboo rat farm would be no trouble.

She didn’t mention her financial concerns, but carefully laid out the potential risks of starting without training, and the challenges inherent in the work. Construction noise, for example, could disrupt the rats. If everyone rushed in at once, finding help would be impossible—a real headache.

“It’s best to plan carefully and act later. Think it over, and maybe discuss it with Second Sister when she returns?”

Years ago, before Chen Xin’s brother-in-law joined the army, Second Sister had married a widower from a neighboring town for the family’s livelihood. He was a kind man, though his home life was tight. His first wife’s passing had left debts, and though they were paid off before the marriage, the couple started with nothing.

One comfort was that his son from his first marriage was raised not by them, but by his maternal grandparents—both teachers, who, after losing their only daughter, clung to their grandson. Second Sister and her husband weren’t hard-hearted; as soon as life improved, they sent living expenses every month, and he visited his son weekly. Second Sister delayed having children of her own, waiting for her husband’s son to grow and understand.

Now, the boy was in his second year of middle school—studious, well-mannered, and sensible. His grandparents raised him to be polite; he didn’t call Second Sister “Mother,” but he called her “Aunt” with genuine warmth. Last year, the boy approached his father, asking them to have a little brother or sister. This year, Second Sister hoped for a child herself, though it was too early to know if she was expecting.

Her husband had graduated from an agricultural college and worked at an agricultural institute, researching seed cultivation—a simple, honest man, a scholar with little to his name.

Chen Xin cared little for his other qualities; she wanted only to gauge his abilities. If he was capable, perhaps they could collaborate on some specialized cultivation. In her previous life, she’d traveled the world for culinary pursuits, meeting countless researchers and encountering myriad strange and wonderful plants. Many were of little practical use, but some—if managed well—were proverbial hens that laid golden eggs.

On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, Second Sister returned with her husband.

Originally, they’d planned to visit his family, but upon learning Chen Xin was home with her child, Second Sister grew restless. Discovering she was pregnant, her husband agreed to stay, promising his parents they would visit after Chen Xin left.

Her husband’s hometown was not far from his work—just over two hours by bus. His parents, though a bit displeased, were understanding enough, considering their son’s hardships, and let them spend the New Year with her family.

When Second Sister arrived, she found their mother playing with Zhang Zhang in the yard, chatting with the neighbor’s aunt.

“This must be my eldest nephew? Where’s Xin? I brought some local specialties for her—I hope she’ll like them.”

Second Sister carried a string of dried tofu tied with bamboo strips, while her husband held a cloth bag filled with festive goods from their town.

“Xin’s busy in the kitchen. I told her to rest but she insisted—said she wanted to show off her cooking for us.”

Grandmother Zhang beamed with happiness; though her words protested, the rare smile on her face showed her delight.

“That won’t do—I must go help her.” Second Sister set down her things and hurried to the kitchen. Her husband hesitated, wanting to speak, but held his tongue, his gaze never leaving her.