"Dad, why are you comparing to a pig?" He Zhilan pouted in protest.
"If a pig’s brain isn’t to be compared with a pig, what should it be compared to?" He Teng replied, with an implied aning as he glanced at He Zhilan’s palm, which after a few days of applying dicine, had finally healed a lot.
He Zhilan still couldn’t rember when exactly she had fallen, so after being lectured by He Teng, she could only pout and say nothing in return.
The nights in the countryside are even cooler than the city’s sumr nights, in this chemical-free hamlet, the air is fresh, and just by looking up, one can see a sky scattered with stars.
The first night they returned to their old ho, He Zhilan slept soundly through the night until the next day.
Early in the morning, Father He cooked breakfast, and after eating, Father He and He Da went out to the fields, while He Teng suddenly dug out paper money and candles from the cupboard for ritual offerings, then took He Zhilan with him to offer respects at their mother’s grave.
Although Mother He had passed away over a decade ago, her gravesite was clean and tidy, without any signs of overgrown wild grass.
Mother He’s grave was located on a piece of mountain land belonging to the He family; next to it was a plot planted with sweet potatoes, indicating Father He took care of this grave frequently when he ca to the fields. Beside the grave, he also preserved a plot for himself, saying that when he passed, he wanted to be buried next to Mother He, so they could keep each other company.
Since joining the military, He Teng hadn’t been ho for festivals, thus he had been rarely able to visit his mother’s grave, only occasionally paying respect with so paper money and a couple of candles when he was ho.
"Mom~" He Zhilan, holding onto He Teng, crisply called out in front of the grave, before following He Teng as they knelt down, with He Teng burning the paper money and her lighting the white candles.
Mother He had passed away before He Zhilan joined the He family, so He Zhilan had never t her, and there wasn’t even a single photo of her in the house. In the past, to He Zhilan, Mother He was like an unfamiliar word rather than a person.
"Bro, Dad said that mom had the best temperant in the village, right?" He Zhilan looked up at He Teng.
"Yes." He Teng nodded, "Mom never hit anyone, rarely scolded, and always spoke softly and gently; her temperant was as good as Dad’s."
"Bro, were you naughty as a kid?" He Zhilan giggled, covering her lips, "Fishing in the river, climbing trees for bird eggs, did you do those as a child?"
He Teng knew He Zhilan was teasing him, so he didn’t respond but instead exchanged a aningful look with her.
"I was very naughty as a child. Lin Chan said I could never sit still, especially when frolicking with them. At ho, I’d run out the door just hearing anyone in the courtyard, sticking to them. However, as a child, Brother Lan Lin was the only one who wasn’t annoyed by ; wherever he went, he would take , his little tag-along," He Zhilan paused before continuing, "Bro, I bet you were naughty like He Da, climbing trees for bird eggs, going into the mountains to pick chestnuts before Mid-Autumn, chasing squirrels and ending up crying with a chestnut burr in your behind, loud enough to echo across the mountain."
"That was He Da as a kid, not ." He Teng laughed as he recalled He Da’s childhood embarrassnts.
"Did you doodle maps when you were little? Did mom discipline you?" He Zhilan leaned closer to He Teng, her eyes filled with mischievous laughter.
Reviews
All reviews (0)