Chapter Fifty-Five: Agreeing to Help

Sister Jia’s family was doing fairly well; both she and her husband had steady jobs, and their parents on both sides were also employed. Their child studied at Brother Kuang’s parents’ home, spending weekends with Sister Jia and her husband, before being brought back on Sunday nights.

On the way home, Sister Jia bought half a chicken and half a pound of sticky rice chili paste. Her best dish was spicy chicken. The version here differed a bit from the ones in Sichuan and the Xiang River region—the difference lay in that sticky rice chili paste.

In Sichuan, spicy chicken was deep-fried, the chicken meat dry and flavorful, with a chewy texture, and the chili peppers mainly brought heat, lacking the layered complexity of the sticky rice chili paste. Over by the Xiang River, the dish was even fierier—one bite and you felt you could breathe fire.

Here, though, the spicy chicken was stir-fried together with the sticky rice chili paste, resulting in a milder heat that lingered pleasantly on the palate. The chicken stayed tender, not tough, with a delicate texture.

“When it comes to food, your Brother Kuang’s mother is still the best cook. I learned my spicy chicken from her. Her sour soup fish is unrivaled—every year, the sour soup she makes isn’t enough to go around. Next time your Brother Kuang visits his mother, I’ll have him bring you two bottles back,” Sister Jia said.

She moved quickly; within just over half an hour of getting home, she had two dishes and a soup ready: spicy chicken, stir-fried cured pork with fish mint, and a bowl of sour soup tofu.

Brother Kuang had gone to the township again, so Sister Jia was alone. If Chen Xin hadn’t come by, she’d probably have just boiled some noodles for herself.

“You want me to sound out Yan Chunhua?” Sister Jia squinted thoughtfully. She didn’t recall much about Yan Chunhua, only that she was a quiet, capable girl. Last time at the Zhangs’, she’d seen her go up the mountain with the eldest Zhang to cut bamboo for a fence.

“I remember Yan Chunhua isn’t from around here, right? She probably wouldn’t want to marry into a mountain village. Are you sure you want me to ask?”

“It doesn’t matter much, I just feel she and Brother Zhang get along well, and they have things in common. You know how reserved Brother Zhang is, but he’s different around Yan Chunhua—he seems livelier.”

“All right, I’ll help you ask. As it happens, on Monday we’re heading out to the countryside for an epidemic prevention inspection. I’ll talk to the leaders and make sure we start with your village. I’ll find a chance to chat with her. But let me be clear: if the young lady isn’t willing, you can’t be upset.”

“How could we be upset?” Chen Xin smiled. “This sort of thing is only worthwhile if both sides agree. I was just thinking, since Yan Chunhua and Brother Zhang seem to get along, why not ask? If she doesn’t agree, that’s that. My second sister and I have worked it out—the bamboo rats have settled in, and in about eleven or twelve days, Yan Chunhua’s teaching stint should be over. If she doesn’t want to stay, she’ll leave, and we probably won’t see much of her after that, so there’ll be no awkwardness. But if she’s open to seeing Brother Zhang, we’ll talk to the boss over there and ask to retain her as a consultant for another month to see how things go.”

Chen Xin had thought through all the details. This was a kind of indirect matchmaking—if nothing came of it, there was still goodwill. After all, they weren’t selling brides; no one could force the girl.

Sister Jia asked about the Zhang family's situation, and after hearing Chen Xin lay out their plans for the future, she nodded. “Sounds good. Although Zhang Debing has trouble with his leg, it’s not really an issue. He can still farm, and once the farm is up and running, he won’t have to exhaust himself, especially if they hire two more people.”

Sister Jia had once worried the Zhangs’ foundation was shaky and that after starting the farm, they’d be left with nothing. But after hearing Chen Xin, she realized the Zhangs actually had some savings—they just weren’t willing to spend it, feeling it was left by their lost son for his eldest boy.

“Honestly, the Zhangs worry too much. My brother-in-law and sister left behind some money, which I split into two portions. One part I gave to the Zhangs last New Year, and with the other, I bought an apartment in the city for Zhang Zhang’s future. I’ve done the legal paperwork, and the military district officials know—once Zhang Zhang comes of age and can register a household, the apartment will be his.”

“My sister had only one son, and I have only one nephew—I would never let Zhang Zhang go without. It’s really the Zhangs who need that money more, so I persuaded them for a long time before they agreed to use some of it to set up the farm.”

Chen Xin explained that since the farm was built through the combined efforts of Brother Zhang and Second Sister Zhang, any future profits would be split between their families, with a set monthly allowance given to the elders. The compensation her brother-in-law left would remain as security for the grandparents—so if they ever fell ill, there’d be funds for treatment, and Brother Zhang and Second Sister wouldn’t be under too much financial strain.

Sister Jia glanced at Chen Xin and sighed. “You’ve thought of everything. Imagine, you’re not even a member of their family by name, yet you’ve considered your sister’s in-laws so carefully. But when I go to the countryside, I see so many people fighting to the death over a little money—families that don’t act like families at all.”

Chen Xin sighed too. “It’s always about money. If people really had enough, who wouldn’t care for their own parents?”

Sister Jia wanted to say something more, but held her tongue. She liked Chen Xin even more now. She hadn’t considered persuading her to stay with the Zhangs; after talking to her, it was clear the girl had big dreams, even wanting to go abroad. A rural man wasn’t likely to hold her back.

It wasn’t a matter of looking down on anyone, but rather the differences in upbringing and worldview. If her own child ever wanted to go abroad and had the ability, she’d never let them stay in a small town either.

Having settled things with Sister Jia, Chen Xin took her homemade jar of chili paste and headed back up the mountain. It was Sister Jia who found her a ride, offering double the fare before the driver agreed to take her up. Even now, the road was just barely passable—before, no one would have made the trip for any amount, since the money wouldn’t even cover the wear and tear.

By the time she got home, it was already dark. There weren’t as many lights on the mountain as in town, but the moon was bright tonight, and the family sat in the courtyard burning mosquito-repelling herbs, the flickering embers dancing as if in quiet delight.

“How did it go? What did Sister Jia say?”

“She said she’ll be here Monday for the inspection and will find a chance to talk to Chunhua.”

They exchanged a few quick words before Chen Xin set down the jar and went to bathe. Little chubby Zhang Zhang, wearing a vest and shorts, clung to the edge of the table, reaching for the jar. He was convinced that anything his aunt brought home must be tasty and meant for him.

While the adults were distracted, there was a loud crash—the jar’s lid hit the floor, and the jar itself rolled over, knocking into the little one.

A wail rang out, echoing through the night, and lights flickered on at the village head’s house. People looked over, probably wondering if, for the first time ever, the Zhang family was actually spanking their child.