A Long-Lost Smile

The sun was still far from setting behind the hills; dusk was a long way off.
Moving furniture, moving tools, moving farm implements, hauling wheat straw, hay, peas, and soybeans, cleaning rooms, breaking open holes in the walls...

With dozens of uninvited but enthusiastic villagers pitching in, the thorough cleaning and tidying of Wu Qingchen’s household was finished far ahead of Old William’s original estimate.

By this point, Old William had long since abandoned any thoughts of sneaking away to tend the cabbage and pea plots beside the big house during a spare moment.

Who could focus on those now?

There was simply too much hay delivered to the door. Though the “helpful” villagers had gone above and beyond, piling all the hay inside the newly refurbished livestock barn—it was no wonder the former cowherd’s family had built such a large structure—the hay bales had been stacked hastily and chaotically in the confusion, and could collapse at any moment.

Yet when Old William gazed at the massive barn, at the towering haystack that filled nearly half the space, and then at the other half—where the family’s single plow ox, one dairy cow, three goats, five chickens, and two geese seemed almost lost in the emptiness—he felt not the slightest concern that falling hay might injure the livestock.

So much hay, and so few animals—how long would it take them to finish it all? Old William had never imagined such a problem could trouble him.

It was a happy dilemma, but not the most urgent at the moment.

What truly demanded attention were the vast quantities of peas and soybeans they’d received. Unlike wheat, these were always troublesome: in hot weather, they would spoil; in cold, they would sprout; and in mild temperatures, insects would find their way in...

He had to act fast, sorting and storing them before disaster struck—separating the good beans into different clay jars for sealing, picking out the split soybeans and shelled peas to be eaten quickly.

This was painstaking work, and certainly not something to entrust to the serfs—they would only create more rejects. Old William foresaw that most of the time saved lately by borrowing the ox would now be spent sorting beans, not just today but likely for days to come.

And that led to yet another problem he’d never anticipated: with so many split beans and shelled peas, how could they possibly eat them all before they spoiled?

Too much hay for the animals to finish, too many beans that had to be eaten right away—two lucky burdens to bear.

Oh! The beans! There were still plenty spilled outside the house!

As Old William hurried out with a basket to gather the beans, the final touches to the new house were finished, and the last of the “helpful” villagers had left. Wu Qingchen had counted the serfs and was preparing to lead them back to the steward.

Leading the serfs along the path, Wu Qingchen happened to glance aside at a bend. There, at the edge of the clearing before their new home, little Nina was crouched, helping her father pick up beans while casting hopeful glances his way.

Ah, with so much to do today, he’d nearly forgotten something important!

Wu Qingchen tapped himself lightly on the back of the head, then turned and called loudly to his father, “Father... please tell Mother that everyone’s been so tired lately—let her add a little more flour to dinner tonight.”

Little Nina’s face lit up with a bright smile.

“Ah…” Old William stood up, holding a handful of peas. “We’ve already used extra flour for several days... Today wasn’t all that hard; maybe we shouldn’t?”

“It’s fine, really…” Wu Qingchen gave his father the unmistakable look of “this is truly my wish—please say yes.” “If not for my insistence on cleaning the house, we could have done even more work today… Let’s eat a little extra tonight, and make up the lost time tomorrow!”

From the perspective of Earth, as long as Wu Qingchen himself was well-fed, improving the health and social standing of his closest family—his natural allies—was the long-term strategy the advisory team had always suggested.

From Wu Qingchen’s own perspective, after over a month of living together, and despite the poverty of their world, his family here had always done their best to look after him during the hardest labor. And even when he did things that must have seemed strange and incomprehensible to them, both his father and brothers had shown the utmost tolerance.

Wu Qingchen believed that family like this would be exemplary anywhere, not just in this world, but back on Earth as well!

To withhold a little extra flour, gained through his own means and which he could easily have kept secret, while he himself sometimes snuck a bite of the lords’ game or fish to supplement his nutrition—would that even be human?

No.

It would not.

“Let’s do that, Father! A little extra is fine…” With those words, Wu Qingchen turned and led the serfs down the slope.

“But…” Old William opened his mouth, a thousand “buts” on his mind, but not a single one found its way out.

What could he say after “but”? That the flour was a special reward from the Baron, precious property belonging to Los alone? But Los had never cared about “his” property—last time the farm overseer had rewarded him with white bread, he’d shared it with the entire family the moment he brought it home. When the lords had just gifted them this grand house, Los’s first question was whether his family could move in as well.

Or should he say that such fine food should be reserved for the steward or the priest, to further secure the cowherd’s position? But both the steward and the priest already liked Los well enough to grant him such a large house—would they really care about a little flour?

Or perhaps he should say that flour kept for a long time, so it ought to be saved for true hardship? But now that he was the cowherd, what hardship could there possibly be?

Or that, with a surplus of beans needing to be eaten quickly, it was wasteful to use more flour?—That, at least, was a reasonable argument.

Yet even fourteen-year-old Los knew to think of his family at every turn—how could Old William, after so many years, have forgotten that his brothers and old neighbors still struggled day by day?

Wu Qingchen—Los—was already far down the path with the serfs, and the words Old William wanted to say remained unspoken. Silently, he filled half a basket with peas and soybeans, and slowly carried them into their new home.

Golden-orange sunlight poured through the freshly cut holes in the walls, carrying with it the rich scent of earth. Their thoroughly cleaned wooden house was no longer dim or pervaded by the ever-present reek of decay.

Near the wall, beside one of the specially carved “large wall holes,” was the spot for the Mohr family’s new kitchen.

Beside the “kitchen,” smoke curled gently through the “wall hole” and drifted outside. Old William’s wife, tending the hearth, was no longer coughing and rubbing her eyes as she cooked; the strained look that once creased her face was gone.