Wei Chang held his wife, Jing Pan, who was pale with pain and sweating heavily, the moisture beading on her forehead and upper lip. "A few days ago I pulled every string I could just to get a little alcohol. We wiped the wound but it kept festering. It was only getting worse. I called today thinking it might be to say goodbye. Jing Shu, thank you and your whole family. I'll remember this favor forever." His voice was thick with relief and exhaustion.
With no medicine, a large wound like this rotting and festering in the heat meant nothing but waiting for death, a slow, feverish decline.
Jing Pan lowered her head in embarrassment, avoiding their eyes. "Go get some apples for everyone."
Wei Chang went down to the cellar, his footsteps heavy on the wooden steps, and came back with a basket of some shriveled apples, their skins wrinkled and dull. "They've been stored too long. Make do." He placed the basket on the small table.
Jing Shu's palate had grown picky from the Cube Space's bounty. She was no longer used to these dry, wrinkled apples. She sat quietly in the corner on a low stool, peeling and eating Brazilian pine nuts one by one, the shells making soft cracking sounds. Second Aunt Jing Zhao, however, grabbed a few apples and bit in greedily, the sound loud, while Li Yun wolfed his down in two messy bites, juice running down his chin, looking half starved.
"Where's my grandson Wei Zheng?" Grandma Jing looked around the dim room, not seeing him.
"He's digging a well in the orchard. The water shortage is too severe. Even with military rationing, each family only gets one bucket of water a day. It's nowhere near enough for the vegetable patch, and many apple trees have already dried up, their leaves brown and crisp. We've dug two wells. They had water at first, a little muddy flow, but they're bone dry now. The whole town is short on water and food." Wei Chang sighed, the weight of it in his shoulders.
He went on to describe the robbery, his words slow. The town was small; half the people knew each other, faces from the market or fields. The first time someone came to 'borrow' grain, they all lined up after, a procession of need. Familiar faces knocked on the door with empty sacks, but as soon as it opened, friendly smiles vanished, knives came out and they looted the place, a swift, brutal inversion. A fight broke out, chaos in their own courtyard.
Wei Chang didn't need to spell out the end. Everyone understood: the one left alive was the one telling the story. Jing Pan had been wounded in that scramble.
"We traded a thousand jin (roughly 500 kg) of wheat half a year ago. After removing the bran ourselves with the old stone mill, we have about seven hundred jin (roughly 350 kg) of white flour left in sacks. Mom, this time I'll send half with you. You and Jing An live together with a bigger household. You'll need it more. Next year's harvest is unlikely, the fields are dust. If the government doesn't distribute grain, a lot of people will starve," Wei Chang said, his hands gesturing to the hidden cellar.
Second Aunt Jing Zhao's eyes lit up, fixed on Wei Chang. "Brother in law, could you lend us some too?" Her voice was eager.
The conversation turned to her, the room's attention shifting.
Grandma Jing glared at her disheveled second daughter, taking in the matted hair and stained clothes. "What happened to you? How did you end up in prison?" Her tone was sharp, demanding the story she'd been kept from.
Second Aunt Jing Zhao mumbled, eyes on the floor, "We needed money. I sold some cigarettes and alcohol at high prices, hoarding from the shop, and they arrested me for profiteering. They confiscated everything in the shop too. Dozens of thousands worth of stock… gone." Tears welled as she spoke, genuine loss in her voice.
"You needed money? Out of the three sisters, you had the best life. Running that shop in the county town brought in over a hundred thousand a year. What money did you need?" Grandma Jing's voice rose, frustration breaking through.
Grandma Jing jabbed her daughter's head repeatedly with a stiff finger, scolding harshly. Years ago, country families would yank a girl by her hair when reprimanding her, and the old habit showed in her forceful gestures.
"We bought a villa in Wu City. Just finished renovations… then the housing market crashed. It's worthless now. Wuwuwu…" Jing Zhao's plump hands wiped her tears, smearing dirt. In her agitation, her cracked lips bled again, a bright red bead. She nearly toppled from her chair under her mother's relentless prodding but didn't dare fight back, just swayed.
"This…" Wei Chang looked hesitantly at Jing Pan, caught in the family drama.
Jing Pan sighed, a long, weary sound. "Wei Zheng's been single for thirty years and finally found a girl. But her family demanded two hundred jin (about 100 kg) of white flour as a bride price. We gave them that and kept some for ourselves. With another mouth to feed soon, we won't have much left. The most I can spare is twenty jin (about 10 kg)." She looked apologetically at her sister.
Li Yun stopped gnawing his apple core and scowled, his expression dark. "My dad's in prison starving too. They don't feed them properly, just gruel, and there's endless labor every day. Without grain sent in, they'll starve him to death, Grandma." He aimed the plea directly at her.
Grandma Jing fixed Jing Zhao with a hard glare. This daughter had always been sly, manipulative. Jing Zhao only had to raise her backside and Grandma Jing knew what pile she was going to leave behind. Li Yun's complaints were clearly orchestrated by her, a scripted appeal.
"Enough." Grandma Jing's voice cut through. "Jing An and I won't take any grain. Give the share meant for us to Jing Zhao. Give her one hundred jin (about 50 kg). The rest you keep. You'll have another mouth to feed soon. Maybe next year I'll be holding another grandchild." Grandma Jing's expression softened slightly at the thought, the lines around her eyes easing. Old folks always brightened at the idea of new life.
"But you…" She turned the sharp gaze back to her second daughter. "Stop trying to squeeze your family for every advantage."
Grandma Jing jabbed her second daughter's head one last, hard time. "Last year I called each of you, told you to stock up on food. Your sisters all hoarded grain, afraid it wouldn't be enough. Only you… and you bought a house! This is the last time I'll help you. Next time, don't come shamelessly begging. Call that sweet talking mother in law of yours who vanishes at the first sign of trouble." The dismissal was final.
Jing Shu covered her mouth, stifling laughter behind her hand. So that famous saying of Grandma Jing's, "If I were younger, I'd have..." was the real deal, her temper undimmed by age.
When the old lady spoke, everyone listened. The decision was made, the matter settled.
Just then, a pig's shrill, startled squeal rang out from the courtyard outside. Jing Shu exclaimed, a soft "ah," realizing she'd forgotten something important on the roof. The family hurried out, the door banging open, to find someone had thrown a stone over the wall that had struck the tied pig, now thrashing.
Jing Shu and Jing An rushed to unload the several hundred jin black pig from the car roof, untying the ropes, the animal heavy and frightened.
"This pig is…?" Wei Chang was stunned, his eyes wide. He hadn't even noticed what was strapped to the car roof earlier in the crisis.
"Find a cool place, tie it up, and give it some water," Jing Shu directed, calming the sow with a firm hand on its flank.
Wei Chang quickly tied the black pig in a shady corner of the cellar, the space cool and earthy, and fed it a handful of the three hundred jin of wheat bran they had stored in burlap sacks.
Back inside, the lantern light flickering, Jing Shu explained about borrowing money before the collapse and now paying back the debt with the pig. When Jing Pan and Wei Chang realized the pig was a gift, not a loan, they were too moved to speak for a moment, just looking at each other.
"This sow is pregnant. I felt at least six or seven piglets inside," Wei Chang said finally, wonder in his voice as he gestured with his hands.
"We have enough food. This pregnant pig is too precious. We don't dare take it. It's hard enough for you, supporting your elders. Take it back, slaughter it, or raise it for piglets," Jing Pan said, shaking her head weakly on the kang. "We never expected you to repay that loan anyway. Mom said to treat it as the three sisters chipping in." Her honesty was plain.
"No, we brought it all the way here. Jing Shu managed to get several pigs. This one settles the debt. You focus on healing," Grandma Jing said with pride, her chin lifted. Her granddaughter was a sharp one, thoughtful, thorough. Grandma Jing had raised her well, she thought.
"Then we'll keep it and let it give birth. This pig is priceless. And we've still got wheat bran to feed it. Jing Shu, I don't even know how to thank you. You saved my life and gave us this treasure. Whatever you need in the future, just say the word." Wei Chang's gratitude was earnest, his hands clasped.
Jing Shu smiled politely, a small, closed lipped curve. She wasn't counting on help. She just wanted them not to betray her if times got harder. Once bitten by a snake, she feared even a rope. Her vigilance never wavered, a constant hum beneath the surface.
Jing Zhao, however, couldn't take her eyes off the dark, glossy pig they'd just led away. The moment she heard there were more pigs at home, she blurted out excitedly, leaning forward, "Jing An, I pitched in when you needed money too. You've got extra pigs, right? How about you give me one?" Her voice was bright with sudden, naked expectation.