The two of them embraced like this until Mo Shanshan stopped sobbing, and only then did Zhang Qiling speak up: "I'm sorry."
"Ahem." Zhang Xilin, sitting at the dining table and seeing that the porridge was about to grow cold while the two of them still showed no sign of letting go, had no choice but to give a deliberate cough to remind them: "The food is getting cold. Let's eat first."
Only then did Mo Shanshan notice that there was someone else present. She gently pushed Zhang Qiling away, wiped her tears, walked over to the table with him, and gave a bow as she said: "Shanshan will never forget the elder's life-saving grace."
Zhang Xilin reached out to steady her. "No need for such formal courtesies. I live here all alone. The two of you can just settle in here and recover from your injuries in peace. Come, let's put that aside for now and eat."
The three of them sat down around the dining table, chatting as they ate.
Through casual conversation, he learned that the two had met while fleeing from pursuers, and that Zhang Qiling truly hadn't meant to deceive him—they really could be said to have been picked up along the way...
As for the rest, he genuinely couldn't remember.
After the meal, the three of them sat in the courtyard. Mo Shanshan leaned against Zhang Qiling's shoulder, feeling the evening breeze, listening to the cicadas of midsummer, and looking up at the moon in the sky as she reflected on how these past days hadn't exactly been wonderful experiences, but fortunately, they hadn't been entirely without rewards either.
Zhang Qiling looked up at the moon in the sky alongside her, a faint smile curving the corners of his lips. He was finally no longer alone.
A deity fallen from the heavens had received the favor of the skies for the very first time.
Zhang Xilin sat alone off to the side. He had been peacefully gazing at the moon when his peripheral vision inadvertently caught sight of the two of them. Unable to stand the sight of these lovey-dovey youngsters any longer, he turned and went back into his own room.
When drowsiness finally crept up on her, Mo Shanshan got up, intending to return to her room to sleep. She had only walked halfway when she realized a serious problem, so she turned around and asked, "Where are you sleeping tonight?"
Indeed, where was he going to sleep? For the past few days, he had kept watch by her bedside, occasionally catching a nap here and there, but now that she was awake, he couldn't just sit by her head all the time, could he?
She glanced at Zhang Xilin's tightly shut door. Neither option for setting up a floor mattress felt quite appropriate, so Mo Shanshan tentatively asked, "Would you like to squeeze in with me?"
In the end, neither of them laid down a floor mattress; they simply squeezed onto the same bed for the night.
She had originally thought that sharing a bed with someone for the very first time would make for a restless night, but who could have expected that, aside from a slightly awkward atmosphere at the very beginning, both of them would sleep exceptionally soundly through the night.
Early the next morning, Zhang Qiling followed Zhang Xilin out to work the fields, while Mo Shanshan was left behind at home on the grounds that her body was still weak. With nothing to do, she could only prepare a meal and wait for the two of them to return.
At noon, the two of them returned from the fields carrying hoes, and the three of them sat down to eat together just like a real family.
For these past days, the three of them maintained this lifestyle. Once their injuries were mostly healed, the two of them intended to take their leave of Zhang Xilin.
After so much time had passed, Zhang Xilin had actually long since grown accustomed to this way of life. Therefore, he suggested to the two of them that they might as well stay by his side a little longer, and wait until they heard news of a place called Mochi Garden before leaving.
Zhang Xilin did not deny that he had his own selfish motives. If he had continued living alone, he wouldn't have felt lonely, but now that the two of them had suddenly barged into his life and they had spent so much time together, returning to his former solitary existence wouldn't be easy.
After some discussion, the two homeless wanderers ultimately stayed by his side in the roles of son and daughter-in-law.
From then on, the world had one less Zhang Qiling, and Zhang Xilin gained a son named Zhang Yude.
Days passed one by one like this, but the tree desires stillness while the wind will not cease. Just when the two of them thought they could live a peaceful life here, the masked figures found them once more.
Not wishing to implicate Zhang Xilin, they prepared to leave, only to see Zhang Xilin wave a hand. "This old man is still alright at fighting, don't worry. I'll be right back." With that, he walked outside.
After spending so much time together, even though he couldn't yet truly regard Zhang Qiling as his son, Zhang Xilin had long since adapted to the role of a father. What a father fears most is not being troubled by his children, but rather that his children no longer need him.
Just as he had said—"I'll be right back"—moments later, the old man strolled back with his hands clasped behind his back as leisurely as if he had just gone out for a walk. He sat down at the table, picked up the teapot to pour himself a bowl of water, took a delicate sip as if savoring fine tea, and set it down gently, his mighty deeds deeply hidden and his fame unspoken...
Although dealing with the masked figures was child's play for Zhang Xilin, operating on the principle that fewer troubles are better than more, the family ultimately decided to move.
After packing up all their belongings, they drove their donkey cart straight into the vast sea of humanity, and the masked figures were never able to track them down again.
...
In the autumn of 1963, Zhang Xilin's family arrived in Liujia Village and put down roots here. Relying on a few mu of reclaimed wasteland, supplemented by Mo Shanshan's fine calligraphy which could occasionally subsidize their household expenses, life was somewhat bitter, but the whole family felt that things were already very good just like this.
This was also the first time Zhang Xilin had felt a sense of "home" since leaving Mount Longhu.
In the summer of 1964, the two old houses from last year had transformed into a cozy little courtyard, and the wheat planted last year had now reached harvest time.
Over half a year had passed, and Zhang Qiling had already become a qualified farmer—one could even call him an excellent one.
He had now undoubtedly become the pillar of the household, the backbone of the wheat harvesting effort, with no exceptions.
Even the fellow villagers praised Old Zhang for having a good son; though he looked young, he was someone who could endure hardship, even if he didn't talk much.
At this moment, the blazing sun hung high in the sky—it was prime time for harvesting. Zhang Qiling took the lead, his sickle flashing continuously at a blistering pace, leaving Mo Shanshan and Zhang Xilin far behind. When he reached the edge of the wheat field, he tied up the harvested wheat, loaded it onto a nearby donkey cart, and turned back to help Zhang Xilin.
If anyone were to glance back at this moment, they would discover that the ground was completely clean except for the harvested wheat stubble.
Walking up to Zhang Xilin, he simply said, "I've got this," and bent down to continue harvesting.
In less than an hour, the entire plot of land—including the portion Mo Shanshan hadn't finished cutting—was completely cleared by him, while Zhang Xilin and Mo Shanshan followed right behind him tying the wheat into bundles.
After loading the harvest onto the donkey cart, the three of them sat down in the shade of a tree. Mo Shanshan wiped the sweat from Zhang Qiling's brow, while Zhang Xilin sat nearby in his undershirt, fanning himself with a straw hat.
While the three of them were already resting in the shade, a family of three not far away was still hard at work.
A woman wearing a straw hat straightened up, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and looked at the three resting under the tree, couldn't help praising: "That young man is certainly nimble at work." She then glanced back at her own husband and sighed, "You can't compare people without making them angry, and you can't compare goods without throwing them away."
The sweating man was displeased upon hearing this, though his hands never stopped moving. He grumbled discontentedly, "Look at what you're saying—how am I supposed to compare with a strapping young lad like that!"
"You couldn't compare to him even when you were young!"
The man also looked up at the young man resting in the shade, shut his mouth in sheepish silence, and turned around only to find his son standing there flashing a mouthful of big teeth in a silly grin, prompting him to kick the boy right in the rear.
The man merely glanced at him, bent back down to continue working, and shouted without raising his head, "What are you grinning for? Don't want to take a wife? Get back to work!"
The family returned to the rhythm of their toil, though the competitive streak deep in the man's bones made him wave his sickle as fast as a motorized toy plugged into electricity.