Chapter Eleven: Taking Stock of the Gains

No matter how noisy the old men and children were in the square, at this moment, Lu Kun was riding his bicycle home.

Fortunately, the moon was out, casting enough light to see the road, so he didn’t have to fumble his way in the dark.

Lu Kun steered the handlebars with his right hand and held a cassava pancake in his left, taking a bite.

The pancake was very dry. Lu Kun struggled to swallow it, nearly choking until tears welled in his eyes, but inside, he felt a sweet satisfaction.

He had earned some money; life at home would get better, and his eldest daughter’s hopes of attending school were now more tangible.

...

The bike rolled forward, while the fields along the roadside seemed to retreat behind him.

Lu Kun grew increasingly alert.

He’d often heard tales of “road bandits.” Things had been better in recent years—farmers’ lives were decent and people remained honest.

But in a few years, villagers living near the highways, incited by those with ulterior motives, would form road protection squads and stir up incidents of vandalism and robbery.

Lu Kun had never experienced this firsthand, but he’d heard a great deal about it. He’d made a good haul today; if he really ran into trouble, it would be a huge headache.

Clouds drifted over the moon, plunging the countryside into deeper darkness. From the fields, a chorus of frogs sang out.

Lu Kun was like a startled bird, eyes fixed ahead to identify every bump and dip in the road, ears attuned to every sound around him.

“Mmm... ah... ahh...”

He heard from the cornfield by the roadside a series of sounds, half stifled pain, half excited satisfaction, and instantly pumped his legs harder.

The bicycle shot forward, so fast that in the moonless night, not even a shadow was left behind.

Only after flying several hundred meters down the road did he feel his heart settle a little. Looking back, there was nothing but blackness.

Lu Kun became even more cautious for the remainder of the journey, not daring to be careless for a moment. Accompanied by the barking of village dogs, he hurried back home.

He carried the family’s only key. His movements were light, not wanting to wake his sleeping wife and daughters.

Perhaps the dogs were too noisy, or perhaps Liu Liping had deliberately stayed up waiting for him, for she had not yet gone to sleep.

As soon as the door opened, Liu Liping shone her flashlight at him.

Lu Kun gave his wife a big smile, his expression saying that everything had gone smoothly.

They shared a silent smile.

“Dinner and hot water are in the pot. Wash up and get some sleep soon. Here, take the flashlight,” Liu Liping whispered, clearly afraid to wake their two daughters.

Lu Kun didn’t stand on ceremony, taking the flashlight and heading straight for the kitchen.

Lifting the lid of the pot, he found a large bowl of loach meat and rice resting atop the hot water.

He peeked inside the stove and saw a big log still smoldering.

Liu Liping must have worried he’d get home too late for a hot meal and bath.

Lu Kun devoured the bowl of food, then filled a clean bowl with water and gulped it all down in one go.

He couldn’t recall how much he’d spoken that day—his throat was so hoarse it felt like it was burning, the pain nearly unbearable.

“Urp... urp...”

Satiated, Lu Kun could hear water sloshing in his stomach as he moved about.

He took the family’s only large wooden bucket, scooped all the hot water from the pot, then added half a ladle of cold water to the pot. When the water reached the right temperature, he carried it off to the bath.

The bathroom and kitchen were in the same room, separated by a wall from the firewood stack.

The bathroom had been built some years ago. Back then, there weren’t enough bricks, so Lu Kun had only been able to build the wall half as high as a man.

It was only in the last two years that Lu Kun had stopped growing; not long ago, even after having children, he was still shooting up.

Now, the wall was hardly useful.

For the eldest and second daughter, it was fine, but for Lu Kun and his wife, it was far from adequate.

Especially for Lu Kun, who stood at 1.78 meters—when he stood to bathe, even someone looking in from outside at eye level could see...

So Lu Kun and his wife usually bathed last, just in case one of the kids wandered into the kitchen and something awkward happened.

Hot water streamed down Lu Kun’s chest, making him drowsy, the world around him blurring at the edges.

He yawned, scrubbing away the grime and sweat with a towel.

A hot bath after a day of hard work was pure bliss.

He tipped the remaining water from the bucket over himself, towel in hand.

Without a change of clothes prepared, he had to dry himself with the towel and return to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

After seven or eight years of marriage, they were an old couple by now, and Lu Kun felt no embarrassment.

He caught the clean underwear his wife tossed him and slipped it on with practiced ease.

...

“How did the field snails sell?” Liu Liping asked in a hushed voice.

“Pretty well.”

Not sure how to elaborate, Lu Kun simply poured all the money he’d made selling the snails onto the bed, and together they started counting.

By the light of the flashlight, they counted each bill carefully, and after tallying up, discovered they’d made forty-eight yuan and sixty cents.

Convinced they’d made a mistake, they counted several more times before finally confirming the total.

Liu Liping was so excited she nearly cried out.

Lu Kun was no different.

Their family farmed two acres a year; after paying the grain tax, even if they sold everything else without keeping any for themselves, they’d only make about two hundred yuan.

Of course, selling all the grain was impossible—there were four mouths to feed.

Quickly, Lu Kun regained his composure, but Liu Liping was still stunned.

One night’s worth of snail sales was equivalent to half a year’s harvest.

Liu Liping’s long-held beliefs nearly crumbled before that pile of money.

Lu Kun leaned against the headboard, one leg on the bed, one on the floor, and said quietly, “Don’t forget, we still owe more than three thousand yuan. If we don’t figure out something, just farming won’t ever pay it back...”

The heat in Liu Liping’s chest was instantly doused by a bucket of cold water.

Still, with a way to make money, their family finally had hope. The days ahead were no longer completely dark.

Liu Liping asked Lu Kun for all the details of selling the snails.

Lu Kun told her everything that needed telling—there was nothing to hide. But he said nothing about the couple he’d encountered in the cornfield.

Such things were shameful, no matter who was involved, and spreading it around would do no one any good.

Besides, telling Liu Liping would only make her worry or become suspicious. Some burdens, a man should bear alone, so his wife could live in peace.

Even though he’d eaten loach meat, Lu Kun was exhausted.

He turned off the flashlight, plunging the room into darkness.

Husband and wife held each other tightly, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies, both settling into a profound sense of security. Before long, they drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep.