Song Tan’s Chronicle - Chapter 88

As the conversation continued, the topic drifted far afield. Once everyone had left, Song Tan calculated and then said to Wu Lan, “Mom, please ask the aunts to help sort the tea leaves after dinner. I need to take seven pounds tomorrow.”

Five pounds were for Yuncheng, one pound for the police station, and another pound for the poor old men.

Oh, right. She remembered one more person.

“Make it three more pounds to send to the capital. And give Grandpa a pound for him to enjoy. Don’t mention the price. Let him drink as much as he wants. Dad too—it’s our own stuff, he shouldn’t be hesitant to try it. Just make sure he doesn’t give it away.”

Tea leaves aren’t a staple food; how much can one drink in a year?

Wu Lan, bound by habit, felt a pang of heartache at the thought of their own family consuming the good stuff.

Their practice had always been to sell the best and keep the imperfect for themselves. But since this involved the child’s grandfather, what could she do?

She compromised, “Leave half a pound of spring tea for your dad. The rest let him drink the summer tea.”

Summer tea is cheaper than spring tea, so Wu Lan felt less heartbroken about it.

Song Tan sighed, “Mom, with the quality of our tea this year, even the summer tea might fetch a good price. Some people might prefer its bitterness.”

So she had no intention of selling it cheaply.

Wu Lan’s heart ached again but brightened up as she calculated, “Wow! We’ve sold ten pounds already!”

She quickly ran some mental calculations. Even factoring in the costs, like the three thousand yuan for the dogs, their combined funds of twelve thousand yuan had already returned in just one month! She hadn’t realized that farming could be so lucrative.

Song Tan: …

The three pounds to the capital were not for sale. They were gifts for someone who didn’t want repayment and preferred to remain anonymous. She hoped the spiritual energy in the tea would help with his recovery.

…

Wu Lan, beaming, went to the kitchen to prepare a simple meal, not feeling tired at all.

Unable to rely on her son, and with her daughter’s cooking skills barely adequate, Wu Lan had to take on the extra workload herself to prevent her children from ruining the food.

At that moment, Song Sancheng returned, carrying a hoe, followed by a dejected Zhang Yanping.

In just one morning, his branded sweatshirt was now caked in mud, sweat, and grime. The old rubber shoes Song Sancheng had given him because of the morning dew were now a heavy, sticky mess.

Qiao Qiao ran up immediately, “Brother, Dad said you worked really hard today, so you get a bubble gum!”

Zhang Yanping almost angrily grabbed the bubble gum and stuffed it into his mouth. The cheap flavor overwhelmed him, making him realize what he had just accepted—

Sure enough, Song Sancheng looked approvingly at him, “Yanping, you did well! I thought you’d be too weak to work in the afternoon, but you have perseverance. This afternoon, I’ll build some dog houses. Come and help.”

Zhang Yanping wanted to collapse from his seat.

He was exhausted, really exhausted.

He stretched out his hands to show the two blisters on his once soft palms.

“Tan Tan, look at me. I’m really not cut out for this. Let me off, please.”

Song Tan examined his hands, then firmly grabbed his wrist, “Mom, get a needle! Let’s pop these blisters!”

Zhang Yanping instantly yelped.

As he cradled his injured hand, feeling forlorn, Song Sancheng asked, “Tan Tan, I checked the back of the chestnut forest and the vegetable garden this morning. Where do you want the dog houses built?”

Song Tan thought for a moment, “The dogs don’t need fancy houses, but they do need sturdy ones. For example, King needs a solid foundation with bricks and cement.”

Song Sancheng nodded, “Sure, your grandpa mentioned he has old blue bricks we can use for the flooring. I’ll see who in the village has some extra cement and red bricks to borrow. We’ll just need to build a basic structure.”

“We can use old roof tiles for the top.”

“Then we can fill the inside with old clothes and straw. Change it out every month or so to keep it clean and warm.”

He added proudly, “I picked a good spot—shady in summer, sunny in winter. The dogs will be more comfortable than people!”

Qiao Qiao’s eyes widened, “Can I sleep with King?”

Sleeping with King wasn’t an issue—he was clean and well cared for. But the problem was—

“No, the brick floor is too cold and damp,” Wu Lan immediately refused.

Seeing Qiao Qiao’s face fall, Song Tan pointed to the German Shepherd wandering around with the other dogs, “Qiao Qiao, if you only focus on King, the other dogs will feel neglected. You need to take care of them too.”

Qiao Qiao was suddenly torn. King was reliable, but the other seven dogs each had their own charm. Who should he take care of first?

How could he care for them all without making any of them feel left out?

This complex question occupied his young mind, leaving him with no time to think about anything else.

But the work wasn’t done.

Farming is like this—there’s always more work to do.

“Dad, can you contact the guy with the plowing machine? The upper field of blooming vetch needs to be turned over.”

Song Sancheng was hesitant, “It’s just a few hours of work with the machine, but paying a whole day’s wages—500 yuan—doesn’t seem worth it. Giving less, and he might not even bother coming…”

After all, he’d need to transport the machine on a tricycle.

Wu Lan rolled her eyes, “You’re being foolish. Planting vetch is rough work, but Tan Tan’s going to plant vegetables. The field needs thorough plowing. It’s delicate work that will take all day.”

Zhang Yanping was confused, “Is the machine expensive? Can’t we buy our own? 500 yuan for labor is too much!”

Song Sancheng shook his head, “The 500 yuan covers labor, the machine, and fuel. We don’t have to worry about anything. Buying our own isn’t expensive, but those machines break down a lot, and we don’t know how to fix them. Plus, who’s got the time to plow the fields now? Sitting on that machine all day in the field isn’t easy work.”

Zhang Yanping quickly retreated, “Hiring is better!”

—

Tobacco leaves: Privately growing a few plants isn’t illegal, but large-scale cultivation requires a license. With a license, they can even be sold at markets.

Agricultural superstitions: Some people just seem to have a natural knack for farming, while others struggle no matter how hard they try.

Crop yields: Perennial crops often follow a cycle of high and low yields each year, a pattern well-known among local farmers.