Zhang Erpu watches Yin Song walk away and sighs quietly. Li Baiyuan rubs his nose. "The Yin family lost their…
Zhang Erpu watches Yin Song walk away and sighs quietly.
Li Baiyuan rubs his nose. "The Yin family lost their son young, and now he's seriously ill himself."
"I hear people from Chu use Sichuan pepper in cooking mostly to offer to some witch-god before they die, hoping to be taken to heaven." Zhang Erpu, well-traveled, knows these customs.
"So, that brother he..." Mayila frowns with concern.
"Don't worry." Li Baiyuan shakes his head, wiping grease from the stove. "Old Yin keeps his word. Besides, I gave him something else."
"Come on, let's get busy. Hot veggies! Careful!"
Yin Song returned home and opened the cloth bag. Besides a packet of Sichuan pepper, he found several bags of millet, some vegetables and fruits, and... a carefully wrapped packet of pepper seeds?
He couldn't remember how he ate that meal. Tears soaked the millet rice, the Sichuan pepper on top steamed fragrantly by the heat.
He carefully took out a dried flowerpot, pondering how best to plant these seeds.
After fiddling for a long time, Yin Song scratched his head.
Forget it. I'll ask Li when I return the food box tomorrow.
"Brother Li, you just gave him the seeds like that?" Mayila asked casually while clearing bowls.
"A handful of seeds is enough for him to find a trade."
"Just like us."
"Yeah. Just like us."
Gods and Buddhas don't descend to save the suffering, but small acts of kindness can drive away the cold.