Chapter 27: The Dragon Boat Festival

Wang Zhaodi caught the meat Zhang Guihua tossed over, hugging it tightly in both hands for fear it would fall to the ground. She looked up, but Zhang Guihua had already scurried away. She called out toward the courtyard entrance, but no one answered.

"Mom, should I take this back to Aunt Guihua?"

"It’s a kind gesture; it would be embarrassing to return it! Xiaolan, get the stove going. We’ll add another dish. Go pick two chili peppers! It’s hot out, and we can’t let this meat spoil!"

Hearing his mother’s cheerful tone, Yang Xingwu hurried to the vegetable garden, picked two chili peppers, washed them, and brought them into the kitchen.

Wang Zhaodi busied herself stir-frying all the meat. It was such a large portion that once cooked, it filled nearly half the pan. After simmering it for a while, she called the family to eat and scooped a bowl of the chili-fried meat for Yang Xingwu.

"Go on, take this bowl to your grandparents and let them have a taste!"

Yang Xingwu took the bowl from his mother and headed out of the courtyard. It must be said that people in these times were deeply affectionate; whenever a family made something delicious, they would always send a portion to their loved ones.

After walking for a few minutes, Yang Xingwu arrived at the old family home and called out toward the yard, "Grandpa, Grandma, I’m here to see you!"

Before long, Yang Xinglong came out to open the gate and ushered his brother into the yard. "Second Brother, you’re here? Have you eaten? Want to sit and have a bite?"

"Not yet, I’m bringing you an extra dish!"

Seeing the meat in the bowl, Yang Xinglong felt a pang of hunger. "Come on, let’s go inside. It’ll be ready to eat in a moment!"

Yang Xingwu followed his younger brother into the house. Seeing his grandfather and his second uncle’s family eating, he greeted them warmly. "Grandpa, Grandma, Second Uncle, Second Aunt, Aunt Guihua just gave us some meat. My mother cooked it up and sent a bowl over for you all to try!"

As he spoke, he handed the bowl to his second aunt. Sun Chunni took it, hurried to the kitchen, emptied the contents into a serving dish, and returned with the two bowls. She handed the empty one back to Yang Xingwu and placed the meat on the table.

"Did your Aunt Guihua sell all her wheat ears?"

"She did. Looking at how happy she was, she must have made a good profit!"

"That’s good. Your Aunt Guihua is someone who remembers a kindness. If she comes to you for help in the future, do what you can!"

"I know, Grandpa!"

"Well, have you eaten? Stay and have some!"

"No, thank you. We’ve just finished cooking at home, so I’ll head back to eat."

"That’s fine. Now that the corn is planted, there isn't much farm work left. You should focus on your studies. The remaining chores are light!"

Yang Xingwu nodded repeatedly at his grandfather’s advice before taking his leave.

In Yangzhuang, the tradition for elder care generally followed the principle of the eldest son moving out; he would be given a house, while the parents would live with the youngest son. For instance, Yang Kaishan lived with his youngest son, Yang Donglai. The elderly couple was quite fond of their youngest, though they were careful not to overindulge him. As the eldest, Yang Chunsheng was also very supportive of his younger siblings. Whenever he found a profitable venture, he would always think of them, making for a rather harmonious extended family. As for his mother, Wang Zhaodi, she had no complaints; living apart from her parents-in-law meant fewer constraints, and her life was quite comfortable.

When Yang Xingwu returned home, the food was already on the table. Wang Zhaodi called him over to eat. He set the bowl in the kitchen, washed his hands, and joined them at the table.

...

After the corn was planted, life in the Yang household returned to a semi-leisurely pace. With the farm work no longer pressing, Yang Xingwu began to focus intently on his studies.

Every morning, while it was still light, he would recite English vocabulary, Chinese poetry, political texts, and various biology concepts in the courtyard. Although biology was a science, it felt more like a humanities subject, with so many points requiring rote memorization. The total score for biology was only fifty points, and the fact that the original owner could score forty showed just how diligent and hardworking he had been.

Over the past week or so, Yang Xingwu had mastered a significant amount of foreign language vocabulary. After reciting his textbooks, he would review various scientific concepts, reading through his high school books twice and completing all the exercises to ensure there were no gaps in his knowledge of math, physics, and chemistry. Only then could he feel at ease.

Throughout that week, Yang Xingwu drank a bowl of malted milk powder every day, and his health improved significantly; his complexion grew increasingly rosy. Coupled with the steamed egg custard Wang Zhaodi made for him every few days to supplement his nutrition, he felt much stronger.

After seven days of hard study, the Dragon Boat Festival arrived. Early that morning, Wang Zhaodi went to the town supply and marketing cooperative and bought two catties of glutinous rice for seven mao.

This region was a wheat-producing area, and they ate rice only a handful of times a year. Usually, they would only have zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) during the Dragon Boat Festival, or perhaps enjoy a bowl of rice during village banquets. That dish, known as "Eight-Treasure Rice of Celebration," was a local specialty consisting of rice and honey dates, steamed in a bowl, inverted onto a plate, and sprinkled with white sugar—a favorite among the elderly and children.

Otherwise, most people were reluctant to eat rice. Aside from the fact that it cost at least five cents more per catty than wheat, the poor transportation meant that shipping it in required significant labor and resources. Furthermore, people accustomed to flour-based staples felt that rice didn't fill them up, leading them to eat more than necessary. As a northerner, Yang Xingwu understood this well; a steamed bun had twice the calories of the same weight of rice. Once, when he wanted to lose weight, he switched his staple to rice and dropped ten pounds. Because of these factors, most northerners of that era weren't particularly interested in rice.

With the rice secured, there was no need to worry about making zongzi. The dates were harvested from the old groves and cost nothing. Wang Zhaodi soaked the glutinous rice at home and asked Yang Xingwen to take his brother to pick some reed leaves for wrapping the dumplings.

Following his mother’s instructions, Yang Xingwen took Yang Xingwu to a nearby pond and hauled back plenty of reed leaves. Wang Zhaodi soaked the rice all morning. As noon approached, she began preparing lunch, and after the family finished, they started wrapping the zongzi.

Wang Zhaodi picked up a reed leaf, folded it a few times into a triangular funnel, and used her hand to scoop in a bit of glutinous rice as a base. She then took a large, washed date, tucked it inside, and added more rice until the date was completely covered and the rice was level with the top of the funnel. She then folded the remaining leaves over to seal it and tied it tightly with a thin grass stem. A red-date zongzi was complete.

Wang Zhaodi and Yang Xiaolan worked for a long time, using the two catties of rice to make over twenty dumplings. After wrapping them, they boiled them for over an hour, and the steaming, fragrant zongzi were ready.

Yang Xingwen took five or six of them while they were still hot to deliver to his grandparents so they could have a taste. That evening, the family had zongzi as their main meal. Yang Xiaohong picked one up, bit off the grass stem with her teeth, and peeled back the reed leaves to reveal the plump, white dumpling. One bite—soft, sticky, and sweet—made her involuntarily lose herself in the flavor, her eyes crinkling into little crescents.