Linlin puffed out her cheeks, carefully folded the handkerchief, and tucked it into her pocket.
Jiang Chengzhou tipped his head back and took a big gulp of sour plum drink.
The drink was ice-cold, instantly dispelling most of the stuffy heat clinging to him.
Liang Ping shuffled over with his cup, crouched down beside Jiang Chengzhou, and took a big gulp too, letting out a long, satisfied “Ahhh” after he swallowed.
Jiang Chengzhou shot him a look of disgust and scooted a little closer to his sister.
Liang Ping, oblivious to the disgust, leaned in and said, “I heard this sour plum drink was sent over by your aunt. Jiang Chengzhou, can you ask Doctor Lin to send this every day instead of that bitter herbal tea?”
“Drink it or don’t,” Jiang Chengzhou said, tipping his head back for another sip. “You know why it’s sour plum drink today?”
“Why?” Liang Ping asked.
The corner of Jiang Chengzhou’s mouth lifted. “Because my aunt knew I’d be working today. I don’t like bitter herbal tea, so she switched it to sour plum drink instead.”
What he said was both true and not quite true.
The green plums had been brought in by the Chinese medicine department in late May. Director Ye had taken them home and smoked them over a wood fire for a few days to make dried dark plums.
At the time, they’d also stocked up on a bunch of mung beans and had completely forgotten about the plums.
Dried dark plums are great for quenching thirst, relieving heat, stimulating the appetite, and dispelling dampness. Using them to make sour plum drink to cool everyone down was a good idea.
But it was also because Jiang Chengzhou hated bitter herbal tea that Lin Zhilan wanted to try something different and remembered to make this sour plum drink.
She added licorice, dried tangerine peel, hawthorn berries, and a small amount of patchouli, giving it a slight herbal fragrance alongside the sweet-and-sour taste—but no bitterness.
Liang Ping smacked his lips and kept drinking his sour plum drink, making a “slurping” sound, ending with another long “Ahhh.”
Linlin sat on a small stool, observing Liang Ping.
She tried to imitate him, holding her little water bottle. She couldn’t manage the slurping sound, so after swallowing the sour plum drink, she simply let out an “Ah.”
But her voice was soft and delicate, missing the soul of his performance.
Jiang Chengzhou turned to look at his sister and kicked Liang Ping. “Linlin, don’t copy him. It’s not elegant.”
Liang Ping burst out laughing. “Linlin, your brother’s elegant—copy him instead.”
Linlin blinked her big eyes at her brother, clearly still interested in copying Liang Ping.
“What’s wrong with being elegant?” Jiang Chengzhou pushed Liang Ping away and said to his sister, “Don’t copy him. He just washed his hands with his spit.”
Linlin, having picked up a bit of a cleanliness habit from Lin Zhilan, instinctively leaned back when she heard “washed his hands with spit.” If Jiang Chengzhou hadn’t caught her stool in time, she might have fallen over.
“Still want to copy him now?” Jiang Chengzhou asked.
Linlin shook her head. “No.”
“Good girl.”
Liang Ping watched the siblings interact and scratched his face. “Why are you so good to your sister?”
Jiang Chengzhou: “What, I’m supposed to be good to you instead?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Liang Ping said, picking a leaf from nearby to fan himself. “When you talk, your sister listens. Han Mei loves to defy me.”
Jiang Chengzhou didn’t feel like listening to anyone else’s family drama and turned his body toward Linlin.
Liang Ping kept pestering him. “Jiang Chengzhou, teach me—how do I get Han Mei to listen to me?”
Jiang Chengzhou frowned. “Just be nicer to her.”
Liang Ping looked a little uneasy. “What’s wrong with how I treat her?”
“How should I know? And besides, Han Mei’s in sports school now, not at home. Nobody’s defying you anymore. What’s there to worry about?”
Liang Ping didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what he was worrying about either.
Under the shade of the tree, everyone washed down the dry rations they’d brought that morning with the sour plum drink.
It was only then that Jiang Chengzhou realized he hadn’t brought any food for himself or his sister.
As he was wondering how to solve lunch, a familiar voice came from the other end of the ridge.
“Chengzhou, Linlin.”
Jiang Chengzhou looked up and saw Lin Zhilan walking along the dirt path, carrying a cloth bag.
She wore a loose, long-sleeved floral dress. Her belly was already showing, and her steps were slower than usual.
The dazzling sunlight fell on her, the hem of her dress gently swaying in the breeze. Against the backdrop of yellow earth and green grass, she stood out vividly—like someone stepping out of a painting.
Jiang Chengzhou pushed himself off the ground and ran over to her quickly.
“Aunt, why did you come over?”
Lin Zhilan handed him the cloth bag. “To bring you lunch.”
Jiang Chengzhou took the bag with one hand and supported her with the other as they walked slowly back.
Linlin had already been impatient to run to her mother, but Liang Ping held her back so she wouldn’t fall.
When Lin Zhilan got closer, Liang Ping moved aside.
“Mommy,” Linlin called out, sprinting over on her short legs.
Just before she crashed into her, Linlin stopped herself and reached out to touch Lin Zhilan’s belly.
As soon as her palm touched the floral dress, the little one inside moved, kicking against the fabric.
Linlin looked up, her eyes sparkling. “Mommy, the baby brother kicked me.”
Lin Zhilian raised an eyebrow and said gently, “Sweetie, it might not be a little brother. Maybe there’s a little sister in Mommy’s tummy.”
“It’s a little brother!” Linlin said firmly.
Lin Zhilan and Su Lang had discussed this privately, wondering who had been teaching their daughter this.
Maybe it was the kids at kindergarten, or maybe the old ladies at the street corner who loved to tease children.
However it happened, Linlin had somehow absorbed the idea that “having a little brother is better” and stubbornly insisted that Lin Zhilan’s baby was a little brother.
The couple had corrected her several times. Linlin always listened carefully, but the next time, she’d still stubbornly say it was a little brother.
Jiang Chengzhou picked up his sister and set her down in the shade they’d been sitting in earlier.
“We’ll know when it’s born. Doesn’t matter if it’s a brother or a sister.”
Linlin’s straw hat slipped forward, covering half her face, so Jiang Chengzhou took it off and fanned her with it.
No matter what it turned out to be, he only had room for one little sister like her.
Lin Zhilan sighed. “Oh well, let’s eat first.”
Neither of these two kids was easy to budge, and Lin Zhilan was at her wit’s end.
Inside the cloth bag were three lunch boxes. One held tomato and egg stir-fry—bright red tomatoes mixed with golden scrambled eggs, sweet and tangy.
Opening another revealed a cold dish of winter melon, light and refreshing.
The last lunch box contained two big, fluffy white steamed buns.
The moment he smelled the sweet-and-sour aroma of tomato and egg, Jiang Chengzhou, who hadn’t had much appetite from being so tired, suddenly felt hungry.
Liang Ping stood off to the side, eating his own lunch.
A coarse grain bun and a boiled egg.
When the sour-and-sweet fragrance of the tomato and egg hit him, Liang Ping couldn’t help swallowing.
He looked away and lowered his head, biting into his bun.
Jiang Chengzhou sat down and called out to Liang Ping. “Come on over and eat with us.”
Liang Ping shook his head. “No need, I brought my own food.”
