Chapter 17: There Is No Shame in Admitting Defeat

Back at home, his mother had already prepared the meal.

On the dining table, the braised pork and taro stewed with ribs sent forth waves of rich aroma that made one’s mouth water. Guazi sat primly to one side, her rice bowl in hand, and her mouth was already watering with anticipation. Yet she stubbornly waited until Liu Xing had served his meal before joining him at the table.

Liu Dazhao, seeing this, could only shake his head in amusement. Liu Xing, however, felt a pang of sympathy for Guazi. He picked up his chopsticks and piled several pieces of braised pork into her bowl. “Eat as much as you want today—there’s more in the pot. Just let Mom cook some more.”

In the 1980s, eating meat outside of the New Year was little more than a dream for most people. Now that he had the means to change that, he naturally wanted Guazi to have her fill.

“Mom said those are for Fourth Brother and Sister,” Guazi said, picking up a piece of braised pork and putting it in her mouth. She tilted her head, watching Liu Xing as she chewed, and as she tasted the tender, melting flavor, her eyes instantly lit up. She ate so quickly she nearly choked.

“Slow down, no one’s fighting you for it,” Liu Xing said, reaching out to pat her back. Seeing she was all right, he let out a sigh of relief.

Five jin of pork belly—no matter how much you set aside, it’s enough for two or three meals. Yet even now Guazi was thinking of her siblings. To be honest, that warmed Liu Xing’s heart. With such a sister, he truly had nothing more to wish for.

“Brother, you should have some braised pork too—it’s so delicious!” Guazi said, picking up a piece and placing it in Liu Xing’s bowl.

“Yes, it’s very good,” Liu Xing replied with a smile.

At this point, Liu Dazhao and Zhou Qiuxiang also served themselves and sat down at the table, beginning to eat. But neither of them reached much for the braised pork, instead focusing on the taro stewed with ribs. They’d thought the ribs would taste inferior to the pork, but after tasting that unique flavor, they exchanged glances in astonishment, as if in a dream.

After all, they had never tasted taro stewed with ribs before. They’d assumed it would be mediocre, but now they realized how ignorant they’d been—almost deceived by the simple name. Seeing Liu Xing watching them with a faint smile, they promptly sped up their eating.

As the family was nearly finished, Zhou Qiuxiang suddenly spoke up. “Child, where did you sell the river snails today? Tell me, so when your father’s foot is better, we can go there too and sell some.”

“There were lots of people there, I think it’s called… it’s called…” Guazi tried to answer first, but stammered, unable to recall.

Liu Xing smiled. “It’s not far from the Donghe Market. Mom, you may not know the place, but Dad often works outside with Foreman Li—he should know where it is.”

“Is it by the Donghe Police Station?” Liu Dazhao frowned.

“Yes,” Liu Xing nodded.

“What’s wrong?” Zhou Qiuxiang looked at Liu Dazhao.

“It’s complicated over there. I wouldn’t dare go. You don’t know—last year, Foreman Li contracted a project there. After finishing the work, he didn’t get paid, and nearly got beaten to death,” Liu Dazhao revealed.

“Really?” Zhou Qiuxiang was frightened. If that was so, then Liu Xing had been truly lucky not to run into trouble today while selling river snails.

“Dad, that happened two years ago. Isn’t it a bit outdated to bring it up now?” Liu Xing laughed and shook his head. He was about to explain further, but in the end he fell silent. As for the development prospects around Donghe Market, he couldn’t say too much now. The less said, the less risk of revealing his secret of rebirth.

Feeling a wave of fatigue, he said a few words to his parents and retired to his room to sleep.

...

When he woke, it was already past five in the afternoon.

Liu Xing sprang up with the sudden realization that he’d forgotten to take the cows out to graze. He rushed out, intending to check the cowshed, but his mother, who was washing river snails at the door, called out to him, “Where are you going, child?”

“To graze the cows! I slept right through and lost track of time,” Liu Xing replied sheepishly.

“Your father went. You just rest at home,” Zhou Qiuxiang replied without looking up.

“Dad’s foot is good enough for that?” Liu Xing asked in surprise.

“Dr. Wang came and gave him two shots, plus some medicine. His foot doesn’t hurt anymore,” Zhou Qiuxiang said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Don’t worry, your father knows his limits—he won’t go into the water.”

“I see,” Liu Xing breathed a sigh of relief. So his father’s foot was more or less healed; as for being left with a lifelong disability, that was no longer a concern. At the thought, Liu Xing felt a surge of joy—his hard work these past days had not been in vain.

“Sit,” Zhou Qiuxiang said, handing him a low stool.

“Mom, did you go to the river for snails while I was sleeping?” Liu Xing asked, sitting down.

“Yes. Tomorrow I’ll have your father go into town—if the snails sell well, we’ll collect more. You know, the rice fields need plowing and planting soon; there are plenty of expenses ahead,” Zhou Qiuxiang said, looking at him. “The money you gave me at noon, I’ve already spent most of it—paid the supply co-op for fertilizer and pesticides, and bought some daily necessities. Don’t blame us for spending your money; we had no choice. If we didn’t have it, we’d have to buy on credit, but we’d only do that if we had no other way.”

In the 1980s, pesticides and fertilizer were in short supply and highly sought after, driving up prices until the 1990s. Those who lived through that era knew there were even special coupons for urine and manure, used as fertilizer for the fields. Though those were phased out in the early 1980s, older farmers would still go out with baskets to collect manure for the fields whenever they could—especially dog droppings, which they wouldn’t pass by. The term “collecting dog droppings” comes from this practice—it was truly a bitter reality.

Liu Xing, of course, knew all this. “Mom, what are you saying? Isn’t it only right for parents to spend their son’s money?”

At that, feeling a bit uncomfortable, he changed the subject and glanced at the setting sun. “Dad should be back soon, right?”

“Yes,” Zhou Qiuxiang nodded.

“Then how will he get to town to sell the snails tomorrow?” Liu Xing asked. The old bicycle at home was broken; if he tried to ride the black calf, he’d surely have trouble controlling it.

“He’ll have to carry them. He’s not as good as you at riding the cow,” Zhou Qiuxiang said with a smile.

“No need to carry them—I’ll fix the bike so he can ride it,” Liu Xing said, rolling up his sleeves and pushing the old bicycle out from the main room.

Zhou Qiuxiang was momentarily taken aback by his actions, then laughed. “Child, don’t overdo it. We have some basic tools, but changing a bicycle tire is a real skill. Did you forget how your father tried to do it himself two years ago, and just made things worse?”

“I remember,” Liu Xing couldn’t help but laugh. His father had been so discouraged by that failure, he never dared try again. Every time he tried, his mother would tease him mercilessly.

But Liu Xing now had decades of experience to draw on—how could he make such a mistake? In his previous life, he could fix not just bicycles but motorcycles as well, though he couldn’t reveal that now.

Seeing that it was getting late, he fetched the new rear tire he’d bought, unwrapped it, and was about to check its quality when he saw his father leading the black calf home at a leisurely pace along the village road.

Seeing Liu Xing sitting at the door, preparing to change the bicycle tire, Liu Dazhao frowned. “Don’t mess around! It’s easy to take it apart, but if you can’t get it back together, it’ll be trouble.”

“I can manage,” Liu Xing replied without looking up.

“You’re getting more and more disobedient! If you want to change the tire, take it to Old Yang in the village. Why make it hard on yourself?” Liu Dazhao said, exasperated.

“Old Yang’s place is far, and he might not be home at this hour,” Liu Xing replied.

“You…” Liu Dazhao knew from experience he couldn’t talk Liu Xing out of it. He shot him an annoyed glare and went to tend to the cow.

Five or six minutes later, he hurried back, intending to stop Liu Xing. But the next moment, he was stunned—out in the drying yard, Liu Xing was riding the bicycle in circles, the new rear tire perfectly in place, without a single issue.

“This kid really has some skills!” Liu Dazhao scratched his head in amazement, and as he came to his senses, he walked over.

Seeing him approach, Liu Xing got off the bike and handed him the handlebars. “Take care of it—if the inner tube blows next time, don’t come looking for me.”

“Hey! You’re getting awfully cocky! Why shouldn’t I come to you?” Liu Dazhao took the bike, a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

“Because you don’t trust my skills,” Liu Xing replied with a grin.

“What skill does it take to fix a bike?” Liu Dazhao scoffed.

“Then why, when you tried to patch the tube, did the holes just get worse?” Liu Xing teased. “Isn’t that a matter of skill?”

“You—!” Liu Dazhao was left speechless.

At the door, Zhou Qiuxiang, still washing river snails, couldn’t help but laugh. “Dazhao, it’s no shame to admit defeat to your son. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“I’m not!” Liu Dazhao replied awkwardly, turning and riding off, clearly wanting to test the tire himself.

But soon a smile spread across his face, for Liu Xing had spoken nothing but the truth. What he couldn’t understand was how Liu Xing had gotten so skilled, able to do what he never could. Was this what they called talent?

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