The Good Days Are Coming

When he stepped on it, it felt no less hard than reinforced concrete.

The ground in the countryside was especially uneven.

Every step brought a slight jarring sensation underfoot, and a moment's carelessness could twist an ankle.

"Whew..."

Qing He Miao breathed out a long stream of white vapor, which instantly condensed into fine frost on his eyelashes.

That was why the north was always called "frozen ground."

Anyone who had never experienced it firsthand could never understand the despair of farmers who scratched a living from the soil when faced with ground like this.

The ground was frozen so hard it could practically be used as a hammer.

One could imagine what things were like in the Russkies' country even farther north.

No wonder people in history were always being exiled to Siberia to dig potatoes.

He hunched his neck, shifted the gifts to a more comfortable position, and trudged along the frozen-hard dirt road, his feet rising and falling over the uneven ground.

After walking for about three to five minutes, he came upon a small, low mud-brick courtyard house.

Its walls were built of rubble and yellow earth and had begun to lean. The wooden gate stood ajar, with icicles hanging from its hinges.

The courtyard was silent. A few bare fruit trees and a woodpile covered by a tattered plastic sheet, with a few dead branches poking out, looked especially bleak in the depths of winter.

"Fourth Great-Uncle! Are you home, Fourth Great-Uncle?"

Qing He Miao stood outside the gate and called into the house several times.

His robust voice carried clearly through the icy air.

After quite a while, the wooden door of the main room, its window panels covered with paper, creaked open a crack.

A stooped old man with sparse, graying hair leaned halfway out, wearing an old padded jacket that did not look very thick.

The old man narrowed his somewhat clouded eyes and peered toward the courtyard gate. "Who is it?"

"Fourth Great-Uncle, it's me! The one from Old Qing's eldest son's family, Qing He Miao! My mom sent me to see how you were doing!"

Qing He Miao raised his voice and explained whose family he was from again.

"Huh? Who?"

The old man cocked an ear and shuffled forward a couple of steps. After puzzling over it, understanding finally dawned on him.

"Oh! Oh! You're the one from the Qing family's eldest son's household! Just look at my memory. It's cold outside, hurry in before you freeze!"

The old man hurriedly pulled open the gate and gave him a warm welcome, though his movements were somewhat clumsy.

The gate was nailed together from wooden planks, and the planks were loose. Qing He Miao was afraid of catching the old man's hand, so he did not dare step forward to help.

Instead, he turned sideways and stepped back, patiently waiting for him to open it. Then he followed him into the courtyard and on into the house.

As soon as he entered, an air that was far from warm enveloped him, mixed with the musty, decaying smell of old furniture.

Unlike the floor at Qing He Miao's house, which had already been replaced with ceramic tiles, the floor here was still made of old stone bricks.

In later years, floors laid like this would be rare even out on the streets.

Bricks like these could only be seen at construction sites.

The light was dim, a thin layer of frost patterned the wooden window frames, and it was not much warmer inside than outside.

In the main room, the bedding on the kang was rolled up in a heap, evidently not yet tidied away after getting up.

An ancient cabinet stood against the wall, its paint mottled and peeling. On top were a thermos, several enamel mugs, and a coarse ceramic bowl with a lid.

Old newspapers, long since yellowed and peeling away in large patches, covered the walls. Their faded print and pictures were still faintly visible.

The whole room had the air of the quintessential old house he remembered.

"Great-Uncle, sit down. Don't fuss."

Qing He Miao set the meat and milk he had brought on the square table against the wall and spoke before the old man could get busy.

The tabletop seemed uneven too, rocking up and down slightly.

He himself sat down familiarly on the edge of the kang, almost instinctively slipping a hand beneath the bedding and pressing it against the kang's surface.

The next moment, he instinctively pulled it back.

The part of the kang covered by the mattress held only the faintest trace of warmth. It could hardly be called cold, but it was certainly nowhere near warm.

The whole series of movements came entirely from the habits of a country person from beyond the pass.

Only after he had finished did Qing He Miao realize what he had done.

And Fourth Great-Uncle, who was also from beyond the pass, naturally understood the reason for every one of those movements.

He rubbed his thin, bony hands together and turned rather hastily toward the outer room.

"Look at me... I'm the only one at home, so I haven't really kept the fire going. I'll go add some firewood. Have some water first... I've got Wukong Wang tea..."

"No, no, Great-Uncle! Really, don't go to the trouble!"

Qing He Miao hurried to his feet and stopped the old man.

"I just walked over from home, and I was sweating the whole way. If you heat it up, I'll have to take my coat off. Besides, I don't really like tea, even at home. Please sit down and rest. I just came to see you; we can sit and have a chat."

Drawn back into the room by him, the old man looked a little embarrassed. He still brought out two tea bowls and poured hot water into them, muttering, "Look at this... I haven't even tidied the place. Have some hot water and warm your hands..."

"It's fine. We're family, so don't stand on ceremony."

Qing He Miao smiled reassuringly.

Even with his cultivation protecting him, he still took the cup and held it firmly in his hands, a steady wisp of steam drifting before his eyes as he kept himself from looking around.

It's so damn cold!

The old man likewise found a spot on the edge of the kang that was not quite so icy and sat down.

The conversation that followed consisted of the most ordinary small talk: "Are your maternal grandma and grandpa still in good health? What about your paternal grandpa and grandma? Are they still getting around all right?"

Qing He Miao patiently answered each question, choosing the more reassuring things to say.

As they talked, the white vapor from each man's breath remained clearly visible in the chilly room.

The old man seemed to be in quite cheerful spirits.

After they had chatted for a while, Qing He Miao looked at the old man's aged face and could not help smiling as he asked, "The New Year's almost here. When are your children coming back?"

Fourth Great-Uncle waved a hand and said with easygoing acceptance, "Not for a while. They've all gone out to earn money. They won't be back until the New Year holidays. Besides, what would they come back for? There's nothing lacking at home. They're better off staying out there and earning money."

Chapter 38: The Good Days Are Coming

"Earning money is good. The economy outside has really been booming these past couple of years, and there are plenty of opportunities. This is just the time to save up."

Qing He Miao nodded in agreement and continued along the same lines.

"In another couple of years, when it gets harder to get by out there, your son will have saved some money. He can come back and spend more time with you, and you can live a little more comfortably."

Though he knew full well that, judging by the course of the times, things were very unlikely to turn out as he had said.

But what could he say?

His gaze swept over the cold, sparsely furnished room again. Qing He Miao changed the subject and asked, "By the way, Great-Uncle, haven't you applied to the village or township for some kind of assistance?"

"Assistance? Oh, that. I know about it."

Fourth Great-Uncle slapped his thigh, his tone indifferent, as though he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

"How could any of that ever end up in the hands of someone like me?"

"That's true. They're not very strict about checking these days."

Qing He Miao looked thoughtful, then forced a smile and offered some comfort.

"It's all right. Wait another eight or nine years. They should be managing that sort of thing more strictly by then, and your application ought to go through.

"That way, you'll get a fixed sum of extra money every month. It won't be much, but you won't have to do any extra work, and you'll have a steady income to make things a little easier."

"Haha, that would be wonderful! I'll take your good words as a blessing!"

The old man's face lit up with a happy smile.

He might not have believed it all, but whether it came true or not, hope for the future could itself bring a little warmth.

The two chatted on and off about other things. As the old man grew engrossed in the conversation and his spirits rose, he looked at Qing He Miao with a smile and asked, with some curiosity and a faint hint of expectation, "Little Miao, people in the village say that even though you're young and still in school, you're someone with 'ability,' and you know more than other folks. You've seen a lot. Tell me, is there a chance things will really get better in the future, like they do on TV?"

The question left Qing He Miao silent for a moment.

He did not know what kind of programs the old man watched on television.

"Of course they will! Just like I said, in another eight or nine years, things will definitely be much better than they are now. You just aim to live to a hundred! By then, the economy will be better, everyone will have more money in their pockets, and they'll be willing to spend it."

All he could do was stick to the facts and rack his brains for good possibilities from the course of the future that the old man before him might live to see.

"Development in different places will catch up too. Even some relatively underdeveloped areas will have things worth seeing. By then, you won't have to do anything. You can collect your assistance and have your son take you out for a nice trip.

"You've heard of the Great Wall, haven't you? You won't even have to go all the way to the capital. Some shorter sections of the Great Wall in other places will be developed quite nicely too. They'll be cheaper and closer. You'll be able to see them without wearing yourself out."

"You mean the stretch at Lin Yu Pass?"

At the mention of it, Fourth Great-Uncle perked up, a touch of pride in his voice.

"When I was young, I once went a long way to attend a feast. I passed by on a bus and saw it from a distance! It wound along the mountaintops and went on forever! I've just never been up on it."

"Something like that! That's amazing—you've seen it with your own eyes!"

Qing He Miao put on a look of admiration, giving the old man all the validation he could, then added, "But by then, you could also try going farther north. You've seen the Great Wall, and you see heavy snow every year. But walls and palaces made of piled-up snow, as tall and grand as the real Great Wall! You probably haven't seen those!

"By then, people from all over the country will come every winter. We live close, so we can pick a time just after it turns cold, avoid the crowds, and go experience it first. It'll definitely be fun."

"Winter? There are people who make a special trip up our way, even farther north? To look at things piled up out of snow?"

Fourth Great-Uncle looked utterly incredulous, though he was clearly still cheerful.

"All right, all right! I'll take your good words as a blessing! I'll do my best to live a few more years and wait to take another trip out somewhere by car! Hahaha..."

Qing He Miao watched the hands of the old-fashioned clock on the wall move, reckoned it was about time, and rose to take his leave.