Song Tan’s Chronicle - Chapter 119.1

This bamboo grove wasn’t particularly large or small, spanning about an acre or two.

Entering the grove, the air suddenly felt damp, and there was a scent of fermenting bamboo leaves. The ground beneath their feet was soft and spongy.

It was early April now, and many spring bamboo shoots had already grown over a meter high. Song Hongmei skillfully avoided these, focusing only on the smaller, more tender ones.

With a single strike, she dug out a fat bamboo shoot.

For Qiao Qiao, it was like a treasure hunt. He wielded his hoe, targeting the fattest shoots he could find.

Song Hongmei laughed when she saw this, “Our Qiao Qiao is becoming more capable!”

“Of course,” Song Tan proudly chimed in, “I taught him.”

Most of it was indeed her doing.

Given Qiao Qiao’s situation, Wu Lan and Song Sancheng would only have him do some light chores like washing dishes, often pampering him. They had plenty of work themselves, rarely having the time or patience to teach him step by step.

After just a few words, they would both end up frustrated.

But Song Tan was different. Her patience now was remarkable—if he couldn’t learn something in one go, she would try two times, then four… Farming tasks required practice.

No matter what she did, she took him along. Over time, Qiao Qiao had become much more agile.

As she dug up more bamboo shoots, Song Hongmei sighed, “When I was little, I really hated this bamboo grove.”

“Why?” Song Tan asked, puzzled.

Her own memories of the bamboo grove were pleasant ones. When she was little, Song Sancheng would tie two pieces of rope between two bamboo stalks, place a wooden plank in the middle, and create a simple swing for her to play on.

When she got a little older, in the summer, they could hang a hammock there. That hammock cost two yuan and had been a summer companion for many years.

If not for one incident, where a plump green caterpillar fell from the bamboo leaves onto her face while she was swinging, this beautiful memory might have lasted a few more years.

Song Hongmei sighed, “Your childhood was already much better. There were many more ways to make money by then. But before you were born, even bamboo like this was in demand, selling for eight cents a piece.”

“Your grandpa was responsible for cutting bamboo in the grove, and your grandma would strip all the branches and twigs off the bamboo.”

“As for me, I didn’t have to do the heavy labor, but I had to drag these long pieces of bamboo all the way to the buyer.”

“Don’t think that our bamboo here is as thick as the southern varieties; it still weighed quite a bit. At most, I could drag two or three pieces at a time… By the end of the day, my legs would be so swollen I couldn’t lift them.”

This was the reality of rural life.

Song Tan was silent for a moment before asking, “What about my dad?”

Song Hongmei laughed, “Do you think your dad could escape? He had to help load the bamboo onto the trucks, which was truly heavy work. By the end of the day, his back would be so sore he could barely stand.”

“Tan Tan, don’t think your Aunt is so annoying now. Back in the day, she also suffered alongside your Eldest Uncle.”

Song Tan gave a small acknowledgment.

She had seen enough to know that everyone played different roles in different people’s eyes. There was no need to force things—just follow your heart.

She initially thought Song Hongmei would say something sentimental, but unexpectedly, the conversation took a different turn:

“Your Eldest Aunt’s just getting older, and her mind is getting more muddled!”

“Your grandma planted three rows of lettuce, probably around fifty or sixty heads altogether. I think she wants to pull them all up—how does she plan to eat them?”