Chapter 118: A Chance Encounter with a Classmate and a Dish Called “Immortal Tofu”

By 11 a.m., Lin Heng emerged from the Tuanjie Brick Factory carrying a bag filled with thick bundles of cash, each pack containing one hundred ten-yuan bills. In 1983, China was still using the third series of Renminbi, with ten yuan being the highest denomination.

Lin Heng went to the rural credit cooperative in town and deposited half of the money, ensuring it was safe.

Feeling secure after depositing the money, Lin Heng immediately set out to find the uncle who drove a tractor in town. He had noted down his address when the uncle helped him transport Sanghuang mushrooms last time.

Finding the uncle’s house closed, Lin Heng decided to visit the home of another tractor owner. This family specialized in transportation and owned two tractors.

Upon inquiry, Lin Heng learned that both tractors were out on deliveries, but one was expected back soon.

“How much does it cost?” Lin Heng asked.

“For a round trip within ten kilometers, it’s two yuan; within twenty kilometers, it’s three yuan. Or you could hire for a whole day for ten yuan, excluding fuel,” the tractor owner explained.

Lin Heng inwardly sighed at the expense, but with only a few tractors in town, it was a monopolized business with no alternatives.

Upon reflection, he realized that a tractor could haul at least 2,000 jin in one go, and on flat terrain, possibly 4,000 to 5,000 jin, so the price was justified by its capacity.

“Can I rent it for half a day?” Lin Heng inquired.

“Sure, five yuan, and you handle the fuel,” the owner responded.

Lin Heng agreed, “I’ll rent for half a day.”

“Pay first, and you can take it once the tractor returns,” the owner replied while spinning a pen.

Handing over five yuan, Lin Heng got a receipt and sat down with a glass of water to wait.

It was around one o’clock when the tractor finally returned, driven by a young man roughly the same age as the uncle who helped with the mushrooms.

On closer inspection, Lin Heng recognized him and exclaimed, “Wang Zhou, it’s you.”

“Lin Heng, what are you doing here!” The young man, who had jumped down from the tractor with a slicked hairstyle, showed an expression of surprise.

“I’m renting a tractor,” Lin Heng laughed.

Wang Zhou, with his 3-7 parted hairstyle and thick eyebrows, was an old middle school classmate, and they had got along well.

Unlike Lin Heng, who quit school early to wander, Wang Zhou had been diligent but still barely average academically, and after a year in junior high, his family pulled him out of school.

In his previous life, Lin Heng didn’t know much about him, but he remembered that Wang Zhou was hardworking and willing to do any job as long as it paid.

One lasting memory of Wang Zhou was when, at over 40, he discovered his son wasn’t biologically his, after which his wife took his savings and ran off with another man.

Details of what happened in between were scarce, but later, Lin Heng heard that Wang Zhou was working as a cement laborer again.

The next bit of news he heard was that Wang Zhou had died in his fifties, scars from long exposure to cement all over his body.

“Renting a tractor is quite expensive, what are you using it for?” Wang Zhou wondered, recalling Lin Heng’s family wasn’t wealthy, marveling at how much things seemed to have changed in a few years.

“I’m buying some supplies, so I need the tractor,” Lin Heng replied, shaking hands with him amiably.

Currently, Wang Zhou’s eyes were filled with hope. He was bright and hardworking, far from the tragic figure Lin Heng remembered.

Perhaps it was about unfortunate circumstances leading to tragic outcomes, Lin Heng sighed inwardly.

“Wait for me to have some food, then I’ll drive the tractor for you,” Wang Zhou said with a smile.

“By the way, have you eaten yet?” Wang Zhou asked again.

“I have, bought something to eat. You go have your meal,” Lin Heng replied with a smile.

Working here included meals, so Wang Zhou’s lunch consisted of three cornmeal buns and a bowl of pickled vegetable soup—considered decent fare.

After finishing his meal, checking with his employer, Wang Zhou cranked up the tractor and took Lin Heng out on his errand.

“Where are we headed?” Wang Zhou asked, curious about his middle school classmate’s current situation, renting a tractor for half a day at five yuan.

“To the Acquisition Station in Dahe Town, do you know the way?” Lin Heng inquired with a smile.

“I do, been there several times,” Wang Zhou confirmed with spirited enthusiasm.

During their journey, Lin Heng learned that since dropping out, this was Wang Zhou’s fourth job, earning a monthly salary of 16 yuan with meals and accommodation covered.

At 24, three years older than Lin Heng, he was still unmarried.

A major reason for his bachelorhood was his shyness around women, unable to converse much, which naturally left him without female admirers.

In rural areas, 22-year-olds unmarried often faced ridicule, and Wang Zhou expressed his eagerness to find a wife during their conversation.

Hearing Lin Heng was headed to purchase Sanghuang mushrooms, Wang Zhou exclaimed, “Ah, you’re buying Sanghuang? Is the rumor about someone hoarding a thousand jin true—are you the ‘fool’ Uncle Li mentioned?”

“Haha, most likely, that’s me,” Lin Heng laughed heartily.

“Having that much money to buy a thousand jin of Sanghuang makes you wealthy, why risk it? The price has bottomed out,” Wang Zhou could not fathom such a decision, declaring that even with similar wealth, he’d never engage in such foolishness.

“I see a future trend: Sanghuang’s price is set to soar,” Lin Heng replied confidently.

Wang Zhou expressed disbelief, thinking Lin Heng was mad.

Lin Heng patted his shoulder, “When I make money selling Sanghuang, would you be interested in working for me? I’d pay twenty yuan a month with bonuses for good performance.”

Tempted by the offer, Wang Zhou quickly reconsidered, “The owners here treat me well; I’d have to wait until they find a replacement before leaving.”

He still believed Lin Heng might lose money.

“Don’t worry, no rush. If you ever decide to work for me, I’ll find you a wife in my village,” Lin Heng offered.

Excited by this prospect, Wang Zhou nodded, “If you make it, I’ll consider working for you.”

It seemed Wang Zhou was quite keen on finding a spouse.

In good spirits, they traveled over an hour, reaching the center of Dahe Town.

Stopping the tractor on the roadside drew curious glances from passersby.

Lin Heng entered the local Acquisition Station to inquire about the price for Sanghuang.

At twenty-five cents per jin, slightly better than Liu Qicheng’s rate in their town.

When Lin Heng proposed buying Sanghuang at fifty-five cents, the station had only three hundred jin left; a recent price drop saw the previous stock cleared, leaving just the newly acquired batch.

With little choice, Lin Heng purchased the three hundred jin at fifty-six cents per jin, spending 168 yuan.

“Let’s try another town,” Lin Heng suggested after loading the Sanghuang onto the tractor.

“You’re quite the enigma,” Wang Zhou remarked, shaking his head.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Lin Heng laughed.

“Yes,” Wang Zhou replied candidly.

Driving to the nearby Wushan Town, Lin Heng found only four hundred jin of Sanghuang available, costing him 224 yuan.

Here, too, people tended to sell their Sanghuang quickly—what was recently collected was all that remained.

“Forget it, traveling further probably won’t yield more since time’s tight,” Lin Heng decided, instructing Wang Zhou to head back.

Returning to town, Lin Heng compensated Wang Zhou with an extra yuan for fuel, and Wang Zhou transported the Sanghuang back to Hongfeng Village.

Villagers observed Lin Heng’s return with a tractor full of Sanghuang, baffled by his actions.

“Why is he still hoarding Sanghuang?”

“Does his family not stop him?”

“Every dime from hunting must have gone to this.”

Under the massive ginkgo tree, people shook their heads, puzzled by Lin Heng’s fearless Sanghuang stockpiling.

“Can he even pay us for digging the fish ponds tomorrow?” someone worried aloud.

“Yes, even with the village secretary’s guarantee, I’m still concerned,” another echoed.

Lin Heng had delegated the hiring of workers for the fish pond digging to the village secretary, who had the workforce lined up.

Witnessing Lin Heng bring back even more Sanghuang stirred worries over his ability to pay wages.

Even Father Lin was taken aback, finding him reckless in spending all he had on Sanghuang.

Understanding there was no talking him out of it, they left him be.

Xiulan was in on this from the start, thanks to Lin Heng’s briefing in the morning.

“Just leave them there,” Lin Heng instructed, as he and Wang Zhou hauled the Sanghuang inside.

Afterward, he offered Wang Zhou a drink, who, upon seeing Xiulan, was struck by her beauty and the attractiveness of their daughter, amazed at Lin Heng’s good fortune.

He began to believe Lin Heng’s assurance about finding him a wife—seeing Lin Heng wed such a poised, elegant woman.

“I have to go report back,” Wang Zhou said after a quick drink, swiftly departing before Lin Heng could insist otherwise.

With Wang Zhou gone, Xiulan softly asked, “Did the owner of Tuanjie Brick Factory really pay three thousand yuan for your plan?”

“Yes, it contained a recipe for strong bricks that I learned secretly in the city,” Lin Heng nodded.

“Incredible,” Xiulan marveled, grappling with the unreality of her husband earning three thousand yuan from a single paper.

“Feel more real now?” Lin Heng joked, hugging her from behind.

“It feels like you’ve been possessed, yet you’re still the same.” Xiulan shook her head.

“I tried many things in my time away, not just fooling around with friends. My good memory let me gather experiences and knowledge,” Lin Heng explained, using this as a convenient cover.

Coming back with knowledge from the future inevitably brought changes beyond his control, although it might not make perfect sense, some level of change wasn’t unheard of even without supernatural explanations.

“I’m aware, you’re still you,” Xiulan affirmed, showing understanding.

Laughing, Lin Heng teased, “Of course. After all, we know each other’s ins and outs quite well.”

Xiulan playfully swatted him, “You’ve no serious side, ever.”

“Only because I’m open with you—it’s different with outsiders,” Lin Heng assured with a grin.

With Xiulan, Lin Heng felt at ease; her world revolved solely around family, even without typical close friends.

Many village women grouped together, while Xiulan was usually found alone or with Caiyun or Mother Lin.

“Stop it,” Xiulan brushed him off, acknowledging his sweet talk.

“Let’s make some ‘immortal tofu’ from collard leaves. Liu Ciwen delivered a basket of them this afternoon but didn’t even stay for tea,” she said, pointing to the basket.

Known locally as immortal leaves, they needed soaking and mixing with ash water to look like green jellied tofu, akin to liangfen (cold starch jelly) but with a unique aroma and a cooling property.

There were broad and narrow-leaved varieties; the narrow-leaved ones tasted sweeter, highly sought after each year. Lacking them in their field, Lin Heng relied on foraging.

“This lad, he’s really grown up well,” Lin Heng remarked with a smile, realizing the young guest’s thoughtfulness.

“Prepare the ash water while I boil water,” Xiulan playfully poked Lin Heng’s chest, blinking at him.

She could handle it solo, but preferred working with him.

Yet, she wouldn’t reveal this small joy.

“Sure,” Lin Heng agreed, turning away to begin.

Slaked ash water must be concentrated, so Lin Heng scooped ashes from the stove, mixed with water, strained, repeated five times until thick as paste.

Setting it aside to settle, he turned to help elsewhere—only to find Xiaoxia, fatigued from stick-throwing with Xiongba, eyeing the ash water curiously.

“Don’t touch it, or Mom will spank you,” Lin Heng warned his daughter, looking like a little soot-covered kitten.

“I won’t!” Xiaoxia quickly concealed her hands behind her, shaking her round head emphatically.

Following him to the hearth, Xiaoxia observed Lin Heng pick up a piece of wood, prompting her curiosity halfway through, “Daddy, what’s that?”

“Kindling, from an oak,” Lin Heng explained, showing before tossing it into the stove to ignite.

Once the fire heated the water, it could be extinguished; from here on, it wasn’t needed.

After cleaning the collard leaves, Xiulan placed them in a wooden bucket, pouring boiling water to blanch them—careful not to add too much water, knowing the balance precisely.

“Alright, I’ll hold the bucket, you do the pounding.”

Xiulan handed him a rolling pin with a smile, seated and steadying the bucket as Lin Heng pounded vigorously, extracting the essence—physically taxing nonetheless.

“I want to help!”

Giggling, Xiaoxia joined, her hands on the bucket’s rim, slowing Lin Heng’s rhythm as he took care not to hurt her.

After half an hour of effort, enough green paste emerged from the pounded leaves.

“Your turn now—I’m watching, fear of getting burned,” Xiulan playfully winked at Lin Heng.

“Of course, dear wife’s word is law,” Lin Heng joked as he complied, eager to please.

Finding a large ceramic basin and a cheesecloth, Xiulan watched as Lin Heng strained the leaf mash to remove leaf debris, leaving pure green extract.

With brief water dips to cool his hands between presses, Lin Heng persisted until most liquid was extracted.

Xiulan supported the basin dressed casually at home in an oversized camo shirt that couldn’t help but create enticing glimpses—a usual source of distraction for Lin Heng.

Xiulan was acutely aware of his lingering gaze, pouting momentarily before admonishing him to focus.

“Okay, we’re done.”

In fifteen minutes, nearly all the juice was extracted.

“Still some left. Should we add water and press again?” Lin Heng suggested playfully.

Poking his chest, Xiulan rolled her eyes, “Still not enough? You’ve seen plenty, yet still ogling.”

“Hey, I’m justified in admiring my wife,” Lin Heng declared, puffing his chest, “You’re so beautiful, my eyes are never satisfied.”

“Just a flatterer,” Xiulan noted, though inwardly pleased.

What wife wouldn’t relish her husband’s adoration?

Observing her parents’ playful exchange, Xiaoxia didn’t understand but sensed fun, mimicking, and poking at Lin Heng, too.

“Yes?”

“Flatterer!” Just imitating, Xiaoxia turned her head defiantly.

“Haha, I’m honest, not deceiving Xiaoxia or Mommy,” Lin Heng chuckled, cleaning his hands, brushing his daughter’s cheek.

Feigning aloofness, Xiaoxia avoided his touch, but dashed back to cling to his leg playfully moments later.

Turning again, she darted away, giving Lin Heng a teasing humph.

Scooping her up, Lin Heng indulged in tickling, “Aren’t you wrong?”

“Humph!” Despite laughing, Xiaoxia hummed melodiously, enjoying the game.

Lin Heng briefly cherished playtime with her, stopping when worried she’d catch a cold from the breeze.

Yet Xiaoxia continued her joyful engagement.

Meanwhile, Xiulan mixed the now-clear ash water with the green extract, stirring to achieve uniformity before setting it aside to chill.

By morning, the collard leaf “immortal tofu” would be ready.

“What’s for dinner?” Xiulan asked, eyeing the playing duo.

“And nothing vague,” she added.

“Noodles,” Lin Heng decided after a moment.

“Alright, rice then,” Xiulan countered, nodding.

Lin Heng saw through her teasing, “Planning to annoy your husband?”

“Will you eat or not?” she quipped with a wink.

“Of course, whatever my wife cooks, I’ll eat,” Lin Heng affirmed, smiling.

Xiulan, catching the mood, offered, “Feed the forest musk deer and civet; I’ll handle dinner.”

Minutes later, Xiulan served three bowls of noodles.

“Have fun teasing, do you?” Lin Heng grinned, seeing her playful smile as she watched him eat.

Indeed, Xiulan found amusement in the interaction.

(End of Chapter)