Chapter Fifty-Four: Seeking Help from Sister Jia

Sister Jia from the township Animal Health Station was a warm-hearted woman. When the Zhang family first wanted to raise bamboo rats and went to the station for advice, it was Sister Jia who connected them to the farm where Yan Chunhua worked.

Sister Jia’s husband was also a soldier who had been transferred to civilian work for five or six years and now worked at the township agricultural office. He was an honest man, often so involved in formulating and implementing agricultural technology policies that, like the ancient Da Yu, he passed his own doorstep without entering, nearly causing his son to enter adolescence prematurely out of neglect.

Previously, when the village chief from Zhangjia Village wanted to consult about agricultural policies in town, it was Brother Kuang he sought out.

Chen Xin had met Sister Jia twice before, chatting for over an hour. While she couldn’t guarantee Sister Jia’s character absolutely, from their conversations and her behavior, she judged her to be upright and sincere. Moreover, Second Sister Zhang had mentioned that Sister Jia was very concerned about their bamboo rat farm, even collecting information for them and delivering it to their home.

Still, this wasn’t something Chen Xin could decide alone. She planned to discuss it with her second sister before considering how to ask Sister Jia for help.

“I also think Chunhua is a good person. But... do you think she’d be interested in our family?”

Though Chunhua was a country girl, she was well-educated. Even if she married in town or the county, it would be easy for her to find a stable, respectable job.

“Don’t look down on yourself, Second Sister,” Chen Xin replied. “And don’t underestimate our eldest brother. If he really gets the farm running, and when the road is repaired, and we add more ventures, living in the mountains won’t be any worse than the city.” Chen Xin knew well how hard it became later to even acquire a rural household registration—so many people wanted to rent land in the countryside but couldn’t.

“What’s so special about the city? Everyone’s crammed into apartment buildings—just a few dozen square meters for a whole family. If you have money, sure, buy a few more apartments and live separately from your parents. But if you’re stuck together for too long, conflicts will arise. Sure, rural families have their mother-in-law issues, but Grandma Zhang isn’t the petty type. There shouldn’t be any major problems. If it comes to it, Big Brother can apply for another homestead next door; that way, you have your own space and can still look after the elders.”

Second sister wasn’t entirely convinced. In the countryside, sons supporting their parents was a must. Their family used to have two brothers, which was easier, but now with only the eldest brother left, if they lived separately, people would gossip about them.

Chen Xin had no experience dealing with this issue, nor did she want any, so she simply said, “We’ll deal with it later,” and shifted the topic back to Yan Chunhua.

“My only worry now is how Chunhua sees our big brother—and if her family disagrees, what she’ll do. That’s why I think it’s best to ask Sister Jia for help. We don’t have to be direct. If Chunhua isn’t interested, she’ll leave when the teaching term is over, and no feelings will be hurt.”

Second sister was a little reluctant, but couldn’t think of a better solution. Chen Xin was right: if she went straight to Yan Chunhua and asked her feelings, it would be fine if she was interested, but if not, the rest of the time would be unbearably awkward.

Since the decision was made, Chen Xin told her second sister that for now, they wouldn’t mention it to anyone else. She would quietly ask Sister Jia in private if she’d be willing to help. To find an excuse that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, Chen Xin made tofu again on Friday, this time using highland black soybeans. The resulting tofu wasn’t as pale as the yellow soybean kind, but was even more nutritious.

Soy milk was inconvenient to carry, so she filled small buckets with tofu pudding and tofu, wrapped them in straw, and placed them in a bamboo basket. Chen Xin then rode down the mountain on a farm tricycle that was delivering agricultural supplies.

Her first stop was the rice noodle shop owner. She gave her a bucket of homemade tofu pudding and checked on the chili sauce she’d made ten days earlier.

“I checked it for you yesterday—it’s fine. The only thing is, I think it’s not spicy enough and has a bit too much Sichuan pepper. You can try adjusting it next time. But this chili sauce with stir-fried minced meat is just perfect.” The owner happily accepted the tofu pudding and gifted Chen Xin a small jar of her own chili sauce in return. Each jar was about two pounds, enough for a family for a month.

From the shop, Chen Xin found a pedal tricycle to carry her basket and chili sauce jars to the Animal Health Station to see Sister Jia.

In those days, there wasn’t the later aversion to gifts; it was common for farmers to bring food to the station staff, and no one thought of it as bribery. Truth be told, the Animal Health Station followed strict rules—unless there was an outbreak, there was little opportunity for corruption.

Chen Xin strode into the station, where Sister Jia was chatting with colleagues. It was Friday afternoon, and with nothing pressing, everyone was just passing the time until they could leave.

“Chen Xin, what brings you here? Is there a problem with the Zhangs’ farm?”

Because Sister Jia’s husband was responsible for the agricultural development plan in Zhangjia Village, she was particularly attentive to the Zhang family’s venture.

“No, nothing like that. I just came into town on some errands and brought some homemade tofu pudding and tofu—our own beans from the mountain. I thought you’d like to try some.”

The buckets weren’t large—those small wooden pails held about five pounds when full. Chen Xin filled each about two-thirds full, so there were just over three pounds of each. She also brought the rice noodle shop owner’s chili sauce for Sister Jia, knowing that a quick fry with vegetable oil, a little garlic, ginger, and scallions made a perfect dip for tofu pudding.

Chen Xin had once eaten the most famous tofu pudding in a small county town in Sichuan. The water there was unrivaled, but what truly set it apart was the dipping sauce—fragrant, spicy, and numbing, yet never overpowering the tofu’s delicate sweetness, with each ingredient in perfect balance. It was said the sauce was always handmade by a master, passed down through generations, with no outsiders ever taught the recipe. Chen Xin tried every trick but could never persuade the master to teach her.

When Sister Jia lifted the bucket lid, the fresh aroma of beans greeted her. She couldn’t help herself and immediately fetched her lunchbox, scooping some tofu pudding to eat with the chili sauce. The sauce was fresh and spicy, not complex, yet combined with the silky tofu pudding, it was simply delicious.

Seeing how much Sister Jia enjoyed it, her colleague also helped herself to some. At the first bite, her eyes widened, and she asked Chen Xin if she had any to sell.

“It’s all homemade for our family. We live up in the mountains—it’s not convenient to bring it down to sell in town.”

The colleague was disappointed and tried to persuade Sister Jia to share some, explaining that her mother-in-law had bad teeth and could only eat soft foods. The tofu pudding melted in the mouth and could be eaten sweet or savory—certain to be a hit with the elderly.

Sister Jia didn’t hesitate. Knowing Chen Xin wasn’t stingy, she filled a lunchbox with tofu pudding and cut off a piece of tofu for her colleague to take home.

As they finished, the workday ended. Sister Jia took Chen Xin home with her, eager to show off her own cooking and have Chen Xin taste her skills.