Chapter 162: 162. Sunning Quilts_1 Chapter 162: 162. Sunning Quilts_1 After the Qingming Festival had passed, there was a rare sense of leisure at home.
Of course, this leisure was limited, such as Wu Lan, who still went to the mountains to pick tea daily, tirelessly.
Song Sancheng led his workers to clean up Seventh Uncle’s home spick and span, and Wu Lan even helped pack up the old cotton quilts, letting Song Tan take them to town to be refluffed.
After soaking up the warm sunshine all day, Seventh Grandma and Seventh Uncle couldn’t wait to go back to sleep in their own home that evening.
In fact, sleeping at Song Tan’s house was fragrant and sound, making one wake up refreshed and invigorated!
But as comfortable as it was to sleep, there was always a bit of discomfort in the heart before sleeping. An old saying goes, “A golden house or a silver house is not as good as one’s own doghouse.”
The elderly couple especially was not used to it.
So back at home, with two thick layers of mattress laid out and the coarse cotton bed sheets spread out, the temperature in the countryside was still a bit low, especially since they were older and felt the cold more.
A thin cotton quilt was then added on top…
The next morning, the elderly couple both came over covering their cheeks with their hands.
Song Tan got up early in the morning and went to Chestnut Garden to feed the dogs, taking advantage of the heavy dew and deserted atmosphere, spreading the “Spiritual Energy,” as it was evenly distributed among them.
The chestnut trees were lush and verdant, stretching out tender green leaves, stacking and crowding one another on the branches, which made the place exceptionally lively.
Amidst the leaves, the oblong buds were partially hidden, but would soon bloom, and it looked to be a bountiful year.
Along the edges of the garden, the Golden Sakura sprouted tender shoots on the fences that were enclosed, and Song Sancheng had secured them with ropes, showing considerable initiative to climb up.
The soft leaves above unfurled while the purplish-red tender stems below were robust and stout, with nail-sized buds peeping out here and there, a vibrant picture of vitality.
Inside the luxurious doghouse in the garden were Sanbao and Sibao, who had been fulfilling their duties very well during this time. Song Tan had accompanied them for a good while and now parted from them with reluctance.
Just as she entered the yard, she saw the elderly couple looking this way and, out of curiosity, couldn’t help but ask.
Seventh Uncle hummed:
“I’ve got heatiness.”
But thinking it over, there wasn’t anything particularly heat-inducing in yesterday’s meal, was there?
Zhang Yanping snickered, “Seventh Uncle, did you secretly soak ginseng last night? How can you be so severely heaty?” Especially at your age, normally the body reacts much more slowly; I am surprised that your reactions are still this strong.
Seventh Uncle became even more irritated: “What do you young people know? I told you those quilts should not have been sunned, but not a single one was spared. What a strong fire the sun has! My gums swelled up overnight.”
Zhang Yanping was gobsmacked: “Isn’t sunning things supposed to kill mites? Seventh Uncle, you can’t blame others for your heatiness.”
Song Sancheng, however, started laughing: “Yanping, you don’t understand. Sunning quilts can indeed lead to heatiness if you sleep under them at night. It’s the yang energy, and those who are weak can’t handle it—Uncle, shall I get you some wild chrysanthemums to steep?”
Seventh Uncle waved his hand: “I’ll drink tea; I don’t care for your wild chrysanthemums.”
Swiftly, they prepared breakfast, and then, with a small trowel in hand, called for Qiaoqiao: “Let’s go, let’s go, we’re off to dig up vegetables.”
Thinking it over, since he was currently on a wage, it seemed only right to show some respect to his employers, so he feigned earnestness and asked, “Is it okay to have dandelion for lunch? It cools down the heat.”
Wasn’t that question superfluous? Anything cooked by the master chef was delicious, so naturally anything was fine for everyone.
Only Zhang Yanping sighed once more about the diversity of life back in the village—after picking ground ivy after the last heavy rain, he had been selecting it all morning, and now they were going to dig up dandelions.
“I’ve come to eat the species of the entire village…”
He muttered to himself, but spontaneously picked up a small basket and left with Qiaoqiao.
Song Sancheng was tightening the handle of the shovel in his hand, now he said with a smile, “Yanping has become much more diligent.”
Song Tan chuckled: He’s just looking for business opportunities and trying to lose weight on the side.
Besides, with three large bowls per meal, if he doesn’t do any work, Song Tan would have to send him back.
At this moment, she remembered something else, “Dad, I saw some silver ear mushrooms on the mountain are almost ripe; we could pick some for us to try.”
They’re surely not going to be bad.
Song Sancheng stopped his work and thought deeply, “Speaking of which, it’s strange. Everything has grown well this year. Apart from more insects, there really haven’t been any diseases.”
“I remember when I used to grow silver ear mushrooms, they were prone to gray mold disease. I’d scrape off the mold from the trees with a small bamboo strip every day and even had to apply lime water to disinfect… Now it’s much easier.”
As for the silver ear mushrooms, he had been airing them out daily, paying close attention!
“I checked; this first batch won’t yield much after drying, maybe only about one or two pounds.”
Song Tan muttered, “This stuff is sold by the gram online.”
There was another matter—
“At Chestnut Garden, half of the area under the trees is planted with black and silver ear mushrooms, but the other half is empty. What do you think about interplanting something there?”
Now that there weren’t any pressing tasks at hand, Song Sancheng wasn’t resistant to planting anymore. After all, anything would do, as long as it wasn’t sweet potatoes.
He thought for a moment, “How about planting more beans? We can’t go without soybeans.”
They could make soy milk and tofu, pick the bean curd skin, and even fry the soybean dregs as part of a dish.
Of course, if they didn’t want to cook with them, they could also feed them to the chickens and pigs, or press them for oil.
Song Tan clapped her hands, “Do we still have any soybeans saved from the last harvest? I’ll go plant them in the morning when no one’s around.”
Song Sancheng thought for a moment, then picked up a hoe, “The ground was tilled last time, but since it just rained heavily, I’ll turn the soil over a bit more at the front, and you can follow behind sowing the seeds.”
Song Tan was now much stronger than Song Sancheng. She took the hoe inconspicuously and handed a small bag of soybeans to him, “Dad, let me do it.”
In the blink of an eye, the entire yard was empty again.
The three local dogs made a few rounds in the yard, found nobody around, and with a snort, started rooting around in the pile of miscellaneous items again.
Meanwhile, Seventh Uncle had set his sights on a neglected barren field and walked across the green paths overgrown with grass roots.
Seventh Grandma might have been suffering from a sore mouth, but her mood was rather good. She was even in the mood to humor the child:
“Qiaoqiao, do you want to eat some grass roots? Grandma will dig some for you.”
Qiaoqiao nodded happily: “I want to.”
Seventh Grandma promptly scraped the hoe on the field path, unearthing several tender white ends of thatch grass roots.
Chewing these grass roots gives a sweet taste; they were perfect for rural children to pass the time.
Seventh Grandma washed a handful of thatch roots in the ditch water, ready to give them to Qiaoqiao. But then she thought that children nowadays were accustomed to tap water and probably didn’t have the sturdy stomachs of her childhood…
It was better to take them back home.