Chapter 7: Arrival in the Countryside

After lunch, a light rain shower passed through. The rain didn’t last long before the sky cleared, revealing a bright, deep blue expanse.

The country roads were muddy; Father Fu drove through, leaving two long tire tracks behind.

“Yuan Yuan, didn’t Mom tell you? When you get there, you need to take the initiative to call out to people—you’re old enough now,” Mother Fu said anxiously, turning to look back at Fu Yuan as they neared their destination, offering more reminders.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Fu Yuan replied perfunctorily. After a peaceful nap at noon, and a short rest on the car ride, her complexion now looked a bit rosier.

Red walls and green tiles.

An elderly man sat on a bench by the door. Seeing Fu Yuan and the others approach, he slowly stood up and beckoned them inside.

“Xia Yun, Yuan Yuan, you’ve arrived—come in.”

Xia Yun was the name of Fu Yuan’s mother.

Her maternal grandmother had given birth late in life and was now eighty, yet still robust. Her maternal grandfather had passed away two years ago during the Qingming Festival, leaving her to live alone.

Some of her children had suggested she move to the county town to live with them, but she would say she wasn’t used to it or that she wanted to stay nearby her late husband, to be close to him.

What she truly thought was known only to herself.

Fu Yuan had grown up with her paternal grandmother and wasn’t familiar with her maternal grandmother—she even struggled to understand some of the dialect. Afraid the old woman might not hear her clearly, Fu Yuan called out loudly, “Grandma!”

The elderly woman responded with a cheerful “Ah, ah,” pulling her gently inside. The rough calluses on her palms pressed against Fu Yuan’s hand, slightly uncomfortable.

Looking down, Fu Yuan noticed how aged the woman had become; her hands were covered with deep brown spots like a riverbed long dried up, veins twisting like winding earthworms.

“Mom, you don’t need to worry about her—young people these days just cling to their phones,” Fu Yuan’s mother remarked, noticing her daughter’s stunned silence. She set down the gifts and affectionately helped the elder settle onto the sofa, beginning their conversation.

“It rained this afternoon; the weather cooled down. At the time, I was...” she started.

Father Fu, as the son-in-law, had little to say. He turned down the volume on the Huangmei opera playing on the television and sat quietly in a corner of the sofa, scrolling through his phone alongside Fu Yuan.

After a short while, Fu Yuan caught snippets of her mother’s conversation mentioning “dinner soon.”

Father Fu rose and opened the refrigerator. Inside was only a two-finger-wide piece of meat and a few scallions. On the floor lay a crisp cabbage and some soil-covered turmeric roots.

From the label on the bag, the meat was from their previous visit last week and now carried a faint sour smell. He sighed, tossing the meat, still in its bag, into the trash.

He informed Mother Fu before heading out to drive to buy groceries. Fu Yuan, anxious to avoid a lecture from her mother, quickly stood and insisted on going along.

Grandma had a vegetable garden and usually grew her own greens, but considering that relatives would be visiting tomorrow and the meat in the fridge was running low, they decided to buy some meat in the county town.

The county town was livelier than the countryside, where houses were spaced miles apart. From afar, one could hear street vendors calling out their wares.

Since they weren’t familiar with the area, they followed the phone’s navigation to the largest supermarket in town, which had the widest selection, saving them from running around.

“Do you want some eight-treasure porridge? I’ll buy some to save for tomorrow,” Father Fu asked.

He knew Fu Yuan was a bit particular—at the table, she usually only picked at the dishes as soon as they were served.

At home, it was fine since they had shared chopsticks, but with relatives coming tomorrow, she would likely go hungry.

Fu Yuan shook her head softly. “I haven’t been keen on eight-treasure porridge lately, but we can get a box for Grandma. The elderly usually like that kind.”

Father Fu frowned. “We’ve already brought three bottles of Yilu peanut milk and a box of Xinjiang red dates. That should be enough.”

Fu Yuan understood what he meant—he was displeased, feeling that her mother’s family had one older sister and three older brothers, but it was mostly their family who visited the grandmother on weekends. The others wouldn’t come unless there was some benefit.

The grandmother had a pension and lived frugally in the countryside. The others thought they were taking advantage by visiting so often.

She lifted the box of eight-treasure porridge, feeling its weight, and gently said to her father as they walked toward the fresh produce section, “She’s getting old. Let’s not dwell too much on those things.”

Thinking of the meat in the fridge, Father Fu sighed and said no more, stepping forward to take the box from his daughter.

They bought some pork bones, a few pounds of beef, a chicken with its head removed and gutted, plus a few stalks of celery, fresh corn, potatoes, and green peppers.

Dinner was prepared by Father Fu: celery stir-fried with beef and corn stewed with big bones.

The corn stew had chicken and a generous handful of red dates—the Xinjiang red dates they had brought. Some beef remained uncooked and was stored in the fridge.

The sunset’s afterglow gradually faded. After dinner, Fu Yuan took a towel and a change of clothes to the bathroom.

The bathroom was the kind common in the city with a shower. Her parents had pooled money with siblings to build it independently outside the main house, considering that the elderly found it difficult to boil water in winter.

After her shower, the bathroom filled with steam. Fu Yuan stood before the sink and turned on the faucet, watching the clear water flow.

She leaned slightly forward, gently rubbing the towel in her hands. Suddenly, she looked up and for a fleeting moment found her reflection unfamiliar.

Rubbing her eyes, she focused again. Nothing seemed amiss—the face in the mirror was the same familiar one, with unchanged brows, eyes, nose, and mouth.

She dismissed the strange feeling as a hallucination brought on by mental fatigue.

Back in her bedroom, Fu Yuan lay on the bed and reached for her phone, scrolling slowly through the unread messages accumulated during the day, trying to shake off the odd sensation.

The morning’s suicide case had inexplicably sparked a stir online, with public opinion attacking Jiang City No. 1 High School.

Some comments spread rumors, saying students had to get up at six every morning to run drills and couldn’t sleep until eleven at night—no wonder people went crazy.

Fu Yuan rubbed her brow. She had attended that school herself; she knew better than anyone. The online crowd only knew how to believe rumors.

But since she had graduated some time ago, perhaps things had changed.

Just as she was about to turn off her phone and sleep, a new message popped up in the high school class group chat.

The class monitor was tagging everyone, asking if they were free and saying he planned to visit their alma mater tomorrow. If classmates joined, it would be like a reunion.

Fu Yuan glanced at the message and the time—two in the afternoon tomorrow.

Given her grandmother’s milestone birthday, it would be difficult to make it.

Yet, in the countryside, lunch was always early, often starting just after eleven, followed by relatives sitting together chatting—young ones comparing studies, elders discussing careers, and people like her being asked about marriage.

Just the thought gave her a headache.

After hesitating, she typed in the group chat: “I’m free, but the trip is a bit far and transportation here is inconvenient, so I might not make it.”

Others soon responded, like stones skipping across a calm lake, stirring many silent classmates to speak.

“I want to go too! The school’s finally trending, even if it’s for the wrong reasons, haha.”

“Me too; it’s been so long since graduation, and I haven’t been back to see the teachers.”

“Where’s Fu, the top student? I’m coming back from out of town—if it’s close, I can give you a ride.”

Called out like that, Fu Yuan blushed uncontrollably, awkwardly pursing her lips but quickly sending the address in the chat.

Before long, a girl tagged her, offering to pick her up.