Thirty dollars a kilogram of flour wasnât much more expensive than wheat, and it also saved them the effort of washing wheat and rolling mills. Itâs a good deal!
âThen next time you deliver duck eggs, please send twenty-five kilograms of white flour.â
âOk! I assure you itâll be high-quality.â
Zhong Cheng pushed his cart and left.
Now that the Mo family has stabilised their business, including the money from selling salted duck eggs, they could earn over two hundred dollars per day. On a market day, they could earn more than 300 dollars. Thatâs a decent amount of income.
It was getting colder every day, and Mo Yan didnât know how the group of little beggars lived through the night. So far, she hadnât found a way to help them, and Mo Yan went to the back of the road to take a look.
She went around and saw a straw shack at the east wall just outside it. When she got closer, she saw that it was a small lean-to against the wall of the road, supported by branches.
There was a broken curtain hanging on the entrance of the shack.
Just as Mo Yan was about to reach out and touch the curtain, someone behind her shouted, âWhat are you doing? Are you here to steal something?â
Mo Yan turned around and saw a little beggar with a stick staring at her. Mo Yan glanced at him, âWhat is there to steal here? I wanted to know how you lived.â
Seeing that it was Mo Yan, the little beggar swaggered over and said, âI made this lean-to you see here, and I pray I wonât freeze to death in it.â
âWhat about the others?â
âWhen itâs cold, itâs hard to beg for food. Those with relatives go to them, and those who have friends go to them. Iâm the only one whoâs an orphan and has nowhere to go!â
He was the only one there! Mo Yan turned around and gave him a wrap she was holding. The little beggar hesitated for a moment, but reached out to take it and thanked him.
âAre you going to spend the winter here?â Mo Yan asked.
âI donât know. Itâs a long way back home, and Iâm alone, so thereâs no point.â
âThen Iâll give you something to eat every day. Iâm also very poor, so I canât help you more.â
Mo Yan left. The little beggar held the wrap in his hand, staring blankly at her back, until she turned a corner and could no longer be seen.
From that day on, Mo Yan gave the little beggar some food every day, and if he wasnât around, she would put it in his shack.
When she was going back to the stall, she saw the postman that often bought wraps from theirs, who asked, âYouâre from Chenzhong Village, right? Do you know Mo Zenian?â
âThatâs my father!â Mo Yan replied.
The postman was overjoyed when he heard this, âThatâs great, then I donât need to go any further, your father brought you money!â
With that said, the postman handed her a letter and a small package. âMo Zenianâ was written on the package, and on the envelope was the words âfor my son Mo Fengâ. The handwriting was much neater than Mo Fengâs.
Mo Yan weighed the package in her hand, and guessed that there were almost a thousand dollars in it, maybe not even it.
Mo Ling had seen the postman give her something, and when she returned to the stall, she said, âDonât open the package. Otherwise, the old woman will think we took some money from the package and we wonât be able to prove our innocence!â
âWhat about the letter?â
âYou can read it. Sheâs illiterate and will tell Mo Feng to read to her anyways.â
Mo Yan opened the letter. There were rows of small and well-written letters on it, comparable to Mr. Tianâs. It seemed that their father was really someone educated.
It read, âMother, I have been living in peace, do not worry about me. The Mid-Autumn Festival is fast approaching, and I cannot return home and be filial towards you. Today, I am sending 800 dollars to you so you can live better. Your son, Mo Zenian.â
It turned out that there were only 800 dollars, which was the same as Mrs. Liangâs monthly salary. Mo Ling didnât allow her to open the package, and they didnât need the money either.
Her father gave this money to the old woman for the Mid-Autumn Festival! Itâs tomorrow!
The Mid-Autumn Festival was a day where family members reunite and visit their elders. Mo Yan realised she hadnât visited her master ever since the master-disciple ceremony! [1]
âSis, I want to see Master during the Mid-Autumn Festival. What should I buy?â
âTea leaves!â
After closing up shop, Mo Ling accompanied her to the tea shop on North Street. The best tea leaves there cost two hundred dollars per kilogram, which wasnât very expensive, but they only earned two or three hundred dollars a day!
âBuy a kilogram, and pair it with some smoked meat.â Mo Ling said.
They had almost spent all the money they had made today with those purchases. They didnât know how their mum would scold them.
âItâs alright, we can use some of the money we hid that time, and say we made a little less money this time.â [2]
Afraid that Mrs. Liang would feel distressed when she saw her purchases, Mo Yan didnât even go home, and went directly to the Zhao family manor. Mo Ling made her a wrap with the remainder of the ingredients then went home with the money and letter from her father.
Mo Yan didnât go to the Zhaoâs hospital, but directly entered the courtyard behind it. The yard was quiet and no one was there. She called out âMasterâ, and a plump woman in her forties came out from the north house, âYanâer, come in quickly, your master was talking about you!â
This was Mr. Zhaoâs wife, whom she saw when she came for the ceremony. Mo Yan greeted her, and the woman let her in with a smile.
She just stood still in the main room, when the curtain in the door lifted.Her master smiled and stood at the door, telling his daughter-in-law, âMy apprentice is here, make the tea!â
Mrs. Zhao started boiling water to make tea, and Mo Yan put down the tea leaves and bacon in her hands on a table, âI havenât seen you, so I bought you a kilogram of tea leaves and some smoked meat to pay my respects.â
The old gentleman twisted his beard, âYou shouldnât have spent money, your family isnât rich. Iâll keep the tea leaves, but you should keep the smoked meat. I have no shortage of food.â
âEven if you donât, I should give you this as your apprentice! Just accept it!â
Mrs. Zhao brought in the tea set while saying, âShe brought it to you, so itâd be rude not to accept it. Just give her something else in return.â
The old gentleman nodded, âPrepare a return gift, I want to talk to my apprentice.â
When Mrs. Zhao went out, Mo Yan and the old gentleman were sitting in the main room talking. She had many questions to ask about storytelling, and her master was willing to answer them. The two talked until it was almost dark.
It wasnât until Mrs. Zhao came in and said, âDinnerâs ready, Yanâer, stay and eat!â that Mo Yan remembered the time.
âNo, I have to go back, otherwise my mother will worry.â
Mo Yan said goodbye to her master and went out. Mrs. Zhao put a small paper bag into her hand, âI didnât prepare anything, just grabbed some rock sugar from my husband.â
Rock sugar was a rare commodity! Mo Yan thanked her and hurried on his way.
Just after leaving the Zhao family manor, there seemed to be a cloud covering the sun, and the sky suddenly turned dark.
The crops on both sides of the road grew taller than people. If there were people hidden inside, no one would be able to see them. A gust of wind blew, and the crops were blown every which way. Mo Yan only felt cold and shivered.
Post-edit notes: Hey, the Mid-Autumn Festival! Thatâs in half a month or so.
[1] I almost forgot about that! It was really recent too.
[2] I did forget about this, but to be fair it was much longer ago.