Chapter 26 Part 3

Qiao Ning choked. Whatever wistfulness he’d been nursing was startled clean out of him.

“Besides,” the Old Village Chief continued, “your brother left it deliberately. It wasn’t left for me—an old man—so who else could it be for?”

Qiao Ning didn’t dare make a sound, and dutifully stowed away all the keys.

Keys in hand, Second Aunt Yang couldn’t wait: “Let’s go, Little Qiao—hurry home and sort out that luggage of yours. You can’t sleep with it all unmade, can you?”

Qiao Ning rose to bid the Old Village Chief farewell, and Second Aunt Yang stood too. “Granduncle, we’re off!”

The Old Village Chief waved a hand, dismissing them.

Keys tucked in his pocket, Qiao Ning followed Second Aunt Yang back.

By the time they reached the house, only Granny Yang the Third and Granny Wang the Sixth remained in the yard; the other grannies had gone.

Before he could ask, they said: “They’ve gone home to fetch some rice, flour, and vegetables—otherwise what would you eat, staying here all alone?”

Qiao Ning hastily said, “No need, I can buy some myself—”

“Buy, buy what!” Granny Wang the Sixth scoffed. “Homegrown grain and vegetables—what are they worth? You won’t be staying long anyway, and a whole sack of grain—you’d buy it and never finish it.”

They all still assumed Qiao Ning was only back for Qingming, to sweep his grandfather’s grave.

Qiao Ning had planned to explain once he’d settled in, but now he had to make it clear—though not TOO clear. So he took the excuse he’d fed his roommates, tweaked it, and told it again.

“It’s not that. This time I’m back for a long stay.”

Qiao Ning lowered his head, looking dejected. “I wasn’t feeling well a while back, so I went to the hospital. The doctor said I’m anemic—arrhythmia, things like that—and told me to rest properly. I thought I’d come home and stay a while. After all, renting in the city costs money.”

At this, their expressions changed, and they looked him up and down.

“Oh—look how pale the child’s face is, there’s hardly any—”

She’d meant to say “hardly any color at all,” but Qiao Ning’s complexion was actually excellent. The walk back had warmed him, and his fair cheeks were tinged pink—pink on white, positively lovely.

“Very pale,” Second Aunt Yang corrected course smoothly. “Far too pale. Must be a blood shortage.”

Granny Wang the Sixth said, “Heart—heart the what-now? Your heart’s not right?”

“Must be,” Granny Yang the Third said. “Heart trouble is no small thing. I remember—you were a sickly child too.”

“Granny Yang the Third, you’ve misremembered,” Second Aunt Yang said. “The sickly one was his brother.”

Granny Yang the Third said, “Then how did it come to this? A young boy like him.”

“It’s got to be Qiao Chenggong and his black heart,” Granny Wang the Sixth declared, not the least bit shy about cursing the man in front of his own son. “He was rotten even as a child—sneaking and thieving. Old Qiao treated him so well, and this is his conscience!”

Qiao Ning nearly applauded. Wasn’t it the truth?

Qiao Chenggong cut quite the figure back in the region these days—but these hometown elders had watched him grow up. Not to exaggerate: they held a complete record of his every dark history from childhood on.

Seeing Qiao Ning take it calmly, Second Aunt Yang joined in: “These days, what family can’t feed their children? Even our village hasn’t seen a hungry belly in years—and this boy ends up anemic!”

Qiao Ning took the opening to mention that Qiao Chenggong hadn’t paid his tuition—he’d worked part-time jobs all through university to pay his own way.

The elders grew angrier with every word. A university student! Their own grandchildren couldn’t test in if they tried, and that black-hearted Qiao Chenggong wouldn’t even pay the boy’s tuition!

No wonder Qiao Ning was young and already sick—it was all that father of his.

Did a man like that deserve to be called a father?

They cursed Qiao Chenggong six ways from Sunday, warmly greeting him and his ancestors eighteen generations back—Qiao Chenggong, though Grandpa Qiao’s adopted son, was no blood of his; his birth parents were from another village in this township, a family infamous for trouble-making and unreasonable ways.

Then several more grannies arrived hauling rice, flour, and vegetables, heard the cursing, and hurried over, curious what was going on.

Second Aunt Yang, quick-tongued, recounted Qiao Ning’s grievances in full—and just like that, the courtyard became a condemnation assembly, each curse different from the last. Qiao Ning found himself fascinated.

At this combat power, Qiao Chenggong himself standing here would faint from the verbal assault.

Once the cursing wound down and everyone had vented, they turned their concern to Qiao Ning—could his illness be treated? Especially that heart business.

Anemia was simple enough: in the elders’ understanding, anemia meant eating poorly—eat more blood-nourishing foods and be done with it.

Qiao Ning said the doctor had told him that with proper rest, he’d be fine.

“That’s good. They do say city air is bad—not like our mountains.”

“That’s the truth! I visited my son’s place—aiya, every single day my chest felt tight. No illness found when they checked me either. The moment I came back—cured!”

“That was just stuffiness from staying indoors.”

“Well, it didn’t sit right with me regardless.”

“Oh right—Little Qiao, you’re staying here now. What about your schooling? Are you still attending?”

Qiao Ning briefly explained the Graduation Design Project, claiming he could do it from home, communicating with his professor online, no classes needed.

“I’ll just go back to school for the defense and collect my diploma and degree,” he said.

The grannies didn’t follow a word of it, faces full of impressed bafflement.

But they understood he had his own arrangements and wasn’t falling behind in his studies, so they stopped worrying. They had Qiao Ning open the door and bring the goods inside.

Qiao Ning said he’d buy his own; the grannies refused—everything was already here; who ever took things back?

So Qiao Ning opened the kitchen door and let them set down the rice, flour, and vegetables.

The house had been tidied not long ago, but days unoccupied meant dust. They eagerly volunteered to help clean.

And in the course of poking around, they discovered the house was missing quite a lot.

No buckets, no rags, no broom—nothing.

The tap water ran cloudy at first and needed to sit. Second Aunt Yang smacked her forehead. “You have a well! Use the well water—save on the water bill.”

She bustled out, then bustled back in. “No good—that stone’s too heavy to move. We’ll need people.”

The big slab was heavy and thick; the Old Village Chief had needed two grown men to carry it over, precisely so the little rascals could never budge it.

Granny Dong the Third fancied herself up to it. “I’ll come help you move it.”

Qiao Ning stopped her at once. “Please don’t.”

If she threw out her back or hurt herself, he’d die of guilt.

“That’s right, you rest, Granny,” Second Aunt Yang said. “I’ll go round up some help in the village.”

Before Qiao Ning could say a word, she was gone.

Qiao Ning: “…”

He could have helped her move it, honestly. He wasn’t weak.

With Second Aunt Yang gone, the other grannies headed home too—for buckets, basins, rags, brooms—one even brought him an armful of firewood.

A warmth swelled in Qiao Ning’s chest. He’d met kind people over the years, plenty of them—but this wholehearted help came because he was a child they’d watched grow up. They accepted him: he was one of this village’s own.

A heart always adrift and rootless suddenly, in this moment, found a place to belong.

The grannies couldn’t be stopped. They’d even brought back more aunties and grannies, who set to cleaning the moment they arrived, working away while listening to tales of how Qiao Chenggong had abused poor little Qiao Naonao.

Qiao Ning: “…”

He dug through his bag and found the snacks he’d bought specially before leaving, plus the last remaining box of blueberries.

After a thought, he set aside a portion of the blueberries—Second Aunt Yang hadn’t returned yet; she deserved some too.

Qiao Ning washed the blueberries, picked out the softer, easier-to-chew snacks, arranged them on a plate, and brought them out for the grannies and aunties.

It was customary in the village: when you helped at someone’s home, the host would put out snacks—peanuts, melon seeds, fruit—and often provide meals. So after token protests, and a couple of urgings from Qiao Ning, they accepted.

The grannies had never eaten blueberries and wouldn’t touch those strange dark berries; they ate the small cakes, sachima, and wafer biscuits Qiao Ning pressed into their hands.

“These have nuts inside—bit hard. If you can’t chew it, just spit it out,” Qiao Ning said carefully.

“What’s a nut?” Granny Yang the Third asked.

The newly arrived auntie, munching spicy dried tofu and sucking in her breath from the heat even as she found it delicious, paused to explain: “Walnuts, peanuts, almonds—those are all nuts.”

“Those, huh… then I’ll chew slow. I can manage.” Granny Yang the Third, mouth puckered, attacked a piece of sachima with her few remaining teeth. “This stuff Little Qiao bought is tasty. Not greasy. Soft AND crispy.”

The auntie beside her laughed. “Granny Yang the Third, soft and crispy both? What does that even taste like?”

Granny Yang the Third: “Eat it yourself and find out.”

Seeing the blueberries untouched, Qiao Ning pushed the fruit plate toward them again.

One of the newer aunties said, “Those are blueberries, aren’t they? I’ve had them—my daughter bought some. Expensive! Dozens of yuan a jin in the city. Take them back, child, eat them yourself.”

Granny Wang the Sixth said, “For hosting guests, just put out tangerines and apples. Our local tangerines are plentiful and cheap.”

Qiao Ning had no idea how to answer that, and just kept smiling.

He’d been born good-looking, and smiling made him better still. The grannies and aunties all delighted in watching him smile, and praised him another round.

Red-faced, Qiao Ning used his old trick, pressing blueberries into their hands, making them eat.

His Spirit Spring fruit tasted exceptional, and he wanted everyone to try it.

That left no room for refusal—putting it back would wound their pride, and the child’s sincerity was touching: fruit this expensive, offered to them so generously.

At last everyone put the blueberries in their mouths—and one bite in, no one could resist taking another.

Even Granny Yang the Third, teeth down to a precious few, ate one after another.

“So good. Too good. How is it this crisp?”

“Right? One bite and it’s all juice—sweet as anything!”

“Not juice—nectar! And the flesh’s delicious too.”

“No wonder it sells for dozens a jin. Expensive for a reason, I’ll say.”

Seeing everyone enjoying themselves warmed Qiao Ning’s heart.

He’d eaten plenty himself anyway, and there were blueberry trees in the suitcase—craving more, he could just accelerate another batch with concentrated Spirit Spring Water. So he divided up every last blueberry for them.

The final box held maybe half a jin and a bit; split among everyone, portions were small.

Some held back a few, wanting to bring some home for their families.

One auntie said, embarrassed: “Never had fruit this delicious. I’m keeping two for my girl to try.”

Others kept a few as well—only Granny Yang the Third and Granny Wang the Sixth kept none.

Both of their husbands had passed. Granny Yang the Third had borne two sons—the elder died of illness as a child, the younger died in a work accident when young.

Granny Wang the Sixth’s children were all far away; she and Granny Yang the Third had only themselves to feed.

Qiao Ning, of course, didn’t mind, and brought them more snacks.

Having eaten his “dozens a jin” fruit, the grannies and aunties felt too embarrassed to keep eating, and dispersed to their chores again.

Qiao Ning chased after them with the snack box, stuffing their pockets.

Mid-stuffing, Second Aunt Yang returned with company.

“Oh my, what a crowd! Auntie Xiuying, you came too! Why are your lips so red? Wearing lipstick, are you?”

Auntie Xiuying’s face went crimson. “What nonsense are you spouting! I ate the dried tofu Little Qiao gave me. It’s the chili!”

Then Granny Wang the Sixth spotted who had come in behind Second Aunt Yang, and exclaimed in surprise: “Tangyuan’s granny! Why did you bring Han Tou?”