"Da Wa, the day after tomorrow is your mother’s death anniversary. Did she have any favorite foods? I’m going to town tomorrow and can pick something up."
Sizhe’s mood dipped at the mention, though it had been over two years now—not like the early days when he’d think of his mother constantly.
He felt a pang of guilt. "I don’t actually know what she liked to eat."
His father had told him that after marrying his mother, he’d handed over his earnings to her. Back then, his father’s wages were meager, and the Bai family would often come demanding money. Even by the time Sizhe was four or five, the household was still scraping by month to month.
Later, his father stopped giving his mother so much, saving some for himself and only providing living expenses. But the Bai family kept coming for more. Back then, he and his younger sister ate worse than they did now.
His mother never mistreated her children, but with food so scarce, they couldn’t always eat their fill. Still, she was gentle, and he didn’t blame her.
"Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy a few different things—one of them is bound to be something she liked."
Siqi, overhearing the conversation about her birth mother, felt nothing. She’d only been three at the time and couldn’t even remember her face.
Sizhe, worried the Bai family might show up, rearranged the food in his room, stacking it flat on top of the wardrobe and covering it with a pile of clothes.
From outside the window, it just looked like a messy heap—nothing identifiable.
When he left for school, he pocketed the key to the west room. Nan Sheng was busy fixing their daughter’s hair, and before leaving, she made sure all doors and windows were locked, even the shed outside.
The yard was spotless—not a single stray item in sight.
Nan Sheng tucked a handful of candies into her pocket and knocked on Granny Zhang’s door. With so many idle hands at home now—her daughter-in-law and the kids all around—she knew someone would answer.
"Lin Han’s wife! Come in, come in!"
Nan Sheng stepped inside and set a handful of rock sugar on the table for the kids to share. "I won’t stay long—just wanted to ask a favor."
With the sugar as a polite gesture, Granny Zhang was all ears. "No need for formalities among neighbors! Just say the word."
Nan Sheng sighed. "Tomorrow’s the death anniversary of the previous wife. I’ve heard the Bai family comes every year and leaves with their arms full. I was hoping you could keep an eye out for me—if anyone shows up, could you send word to the Lin family? I’ll be in town."
"Consider it done! Don’t you worry."
Pushing her bicycle out, Nan Sheng faced the usual barrage of questions. She explained she was going to town to help her parents look into buying grain and to pick up a few things—tomorrow was the children’s mother’s death anniversary.
At the mention of Bai Xiu, the villagers remembered her notorious relatives all too well.
"This time, you’d better stand your ground against the Bai family. Don’t let them bleed you dry, or you’ll never hear the end of it."
Nan Sheng feigned helplessness. "I’m worried too. These days, who isn’t short on food? I just fear they’ll sneak in and pry open our door. I’ve heard they’ve got sticky fingers!"
The villagers, ever warm-hearted, reassured her. "Don’t fret. We’re outside all day—we’ll keep watch. If anyone tries sneaking into your yard, we’ll chase them off!"
Back when Bai Xiu’s parents were alive, it was their own choice to let themselves be bullied. But now that Lin Han had remarried, if outsiders dared steal from the village, they’d regret it!
"Thank you, everyone. It’s such a blessing to have neighbors like you!"
Her words drew laughter, and even as she rode away, the chatter behind her continued. But both mother and child were in good spirits—Siqi even swung her little feet from the back of the bike.
Nan Sheng warned her, "Keep your feet away from the wheel! If they get caught, you’ll be down to one!"
Frightened, Siqi shifted to sit sideways, wrapping her arms around Nan Sheng’s waist.
By the time they reached town, it was just past nine. Nan Sheng headed straight for the government office.
Yu Feng’s smile was strained when he saw her. "I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you. Saltpeter is tightly controlled. We can get approval, but it’ll be under centralized management. Technicians are scarce—most are at research institutes or with the military. They won’t spare any for a small place like ours."
The news was bittersweet. The good part? They could get saltpeter, albeit under strict oversight. But if they could produce ice, villages could collect it from town.
In the worst heat, ice could mean survival.
Nan Sheng mentally called up her system. She still had one question left from her last encyclopedia prize draw. She asked if she could trade it for a saltpeter ice-making method.
Thinking she was disheartened, Yu Feng offered rare comfort.
"Truth is, saltpeter’s tied to things like artillery. The researchers working on it are developing weapons—they can’t just drop everything for us. Don’t take it too hard."
By then, Nan Sheng had the full ice-making instructions. She hesitated before speaking.
"Director Yu, I wasn’t entirely upfront earlier. I actually have a saltpeter ice-making method—just never tested it. Would you like to give it a try?"
Yu Feng’s eyes lit up. "You’re serious?"
Nan Sheng nodded. "I thought having technicians oversee it would be safer, so I didn’t mention it. But if you’re willing, I can write it down now for your team to test."
Of course Yu Feng agreed. The saltpeter was already approved—a single phone call would bring it over.
If the county couldn’t make ice, but the town could? Even better.
"Good. I’ll have someone fetch paper and pen. Write it down—the saltpeter will arrive tonight."
Nan Sheng meticulously copied the method twice, keeping one copy for herself.
She emphasized safety: "When testing, pick a well-ventilated spot. Anyone handling it must wear protective gloves and plain glasses to shield their eyes."
After making his call, Yu Feng returned to find the instructions detailed enough that even he felt confident trying.
After a moment’s thought, he made his decision. "Comrade Nan Sheng, if you’re willing, starting tomorrow, you’ll work at the town office. I’m offering you a clerk position, with one day off weekly."
Yu Feng had high hopes for her. If not for the lack of openings, she’d already be on payroll.
Now, with the ice-making method added to her contributions, no one would block her file.
Nan Sheng was visibly surprised. Working in town hadn’t been part of her plans. The lowest rank was usually a clerk—this was a step up, normally requiring a year or two of seniority.
Yu Feng was serious.
After a pause, Nan Sheng didn’t immediately accept. "Director Yu, I’ve got some family matters to settle first. How about I start once the ice is successfully made?"
Yu Feng nodded. A sensible approach.
"Rest assured, you’ll be paid at Grade 24. For the drought relief and ice-making, I’ll also put in for additional rewards." (College graduates typically started at Grade 23.)
To Nan Sheng, the message was clear: Come work for us—you won’t regret it.
