Chapter 210: Late-Night Grain Delivery

“One household at a time—one photo per family,” Zhou Yimin said as more and more people gathered, setting down some ground rules.

No one objected.

Who would complain about getting a free family portrait? They were thrilled!

The backdrop for the photos was the school wall that had been painted with murals by Teacher Lan. To be honest, she did have some real artistic talent.

Zhou Yimin had originally come to take a few pictures of the school’s staff and students.

He hadn’t expected the news to spread so fast—and get more and more exaggerated along the way.

Since the villagers were already here, he couldn’t very well turn them away disappointed. But taking individual photos for everyone would be far too much.

“Quick! Go get your grandma too!” someone shouted.

Families that had all their members present were photographed first.

“Yimin, my whole family’s here,” someone said, their face freshly washed and wearing a shirt without any holes. After all, it was their first photo ever—they had to look decent.

“Alright, you go first. Stand over there. You and your wife in the back, have the kids and the elderly sit in front,” Zhou Yimin directed.

The family followed instructions and arranged themselves in front of the mural—parents in the back, elders and children sitting in front, all smiling.

“Okay, look this way. I’ll count down from three to one. When I say ‘one,’ don’t move. If you move, the photo will come out blurry. Got it?” Zhou Yimin reminded them.

“Got it,” they all replied in unison.

The others watched Zhou Yimin carefully as he worked, trying to learn what to do so they wouldn’t be so stiff or confused when it was their turn.

“Hey kid, put your hand down—don’t block your sister,” Zhou Yimin said.

The father smacked his son lightly on the head, giving him a sharp look that said, Don’t mess around—just take the photo properly. If you keep acting up, I’ll throw you out.

Only then did the little guy settle down.

Zhou Yimin took the opportunity and started the countdown. “Alright, stay still—three, two, one…”

Click! The shot was done.

“Alright, next!” Zhou Yimin called out.

“Yimin, when can we get the photo?” one of the villagers asked.

“Around a week from now.”

If he developed them himself, it wouldn’t take that long—he could do it in one night. But if he handed them over to someone else, it would take time, since there was a queue.

Unless, of course, you slipped in a little extra.

Back in the future, if a shop took that long, they’d be out of business.

“Relax a bit, no need to be so serious.”

…

One family after another came to get their portraits taken. It didn’t take too long per family. Once done, the village chief and the old Party secretary immediately shooed them back to work.

At the end, Zhou Yimin also took a few group photos of each class with their teachers and students.

The next day, Zhou Yimin returned to the city and headed straight to the post office to mail out the photos along with two letters.

One letter was written by him, mainly to reassure his grandaunt that with him around, he would make sure their grandparents ate well and dressed warmly. He also expressed hope that she would take care of her own health, among other things.

This was their first contact, so Zhou Yimin didn’t mention anything else. Though he had other ideas in mind, he knew things had to be done step by step. There was no rush. Besides, some things might not be believable to his grandaunt, and she might not follow his script anyway.

The other letter, of course, was from his grandfather—filled with revisions and scribbles.

After sending the letters and photos, Zhou Yimin stopped by the photo studio.

“Comrade, can you develop these for me?” Zhou Yimin handed over the film, along with two packs of cigarettes.

The worker’s eyes lit up when he saw the cigarettes. “No problem! I’ll make time for this myself over the next couple of days. Come back then to pick them up.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Don’t mention it!”

When Zhou Yimin returned to the courtyard, he passed by the Xu family’s house and stepped in to say to Grandma Xu, “Grandma Xu, I’ll be bringing something over tonight.”

The old lady, of course, knew that “something” meant grain.

She was overjoyed.

“Alright, Yimin, really, thank you so much this time,” she said gratefully.

Zhou Yimin smiled. “Grandma Xu, we’re just helping each other out. But this time, it’s quite a lot of grain, so I have to be extra careful.”

“Yes, of course!”

With a few hundred jin of grain, you couldn’t be too cautious. In these times, even a dozen jin could get you a wife in the countryside.

They had a feeling things were only going to get harder from here. Grain would likely become even more scarce.

After Zhou Yimin left, Widow Ma said to her brother, “Daniu, doesn’t our family also have an heirloom? When you bring the grain home, bring that heirloom over too.”

She felt uneasy having her in-laws sell their own family heirlooms to support her maiden family.

Besides, that heirloom was eventually going to be passed down to her son anyway, so it was basically his. As a mother, of course she had to think about her child’s future.

Sentimentally and logically, they should retrieve her maiden family’s heirloom to offset the losses on her husband’s side.

“Alright, I’ll tell Dad when I get back.”

Daniu nodded.

He believed that with the kind of parents he had, they’d probably agree too.

If giving up the heirloom could get them through the toughest time, then so be it. That’s what heirlooms were for—to help descendants in times of need.

Old Lady Xu and Old Man Xu gave their daughter-in-law a bit of a “scolding,” but in the end, they “reluctantly” agreed with her decision.

At night, when most of the courtyard had gone to sleep, lights were still on at the Xu household—the whole family was waiting.

Zhou Yimin, Luo Dapeng, Li Youde, Zhou Dazhong, and Zhou Daqiu each carried a sack of corn to the Xu house. Zhou Yimin also brought a five-liter bucket of rapeseed oil.

Knock knock knock…

Hearing the knock, Old Man Xu opened the door right away.

When he saw the sacks of grain, the whole family lit up with joy. In their hearts, they marveled: It really has to be Yimin—no one else could pull this off.

“Come in, quick, come in.” He hurried everyone inside and nervously glanced at the neighboring houses before shutting the door.

Zhou Yimin and the others set the grain down.

“Grandma Xu, this is all corn. And here’s the rapeseed oil,” Zhou Yimin said, placing the 10-jin (5-liter) container in front of her.

“Oh my! You even brought oil? That’s too much!” the old lady exclaimed.

Old Man Xu had originally asked for 300 jin of grain. But Zhou Yimin, out of kindness, gave them 200 jin more—bringing the total to 500 jin. And that wasn’t all. Now he’d added 10 jin of rapeseed oil.

Who could trade a single heirloom for this much?

In the capital, plenty of families owned “antiques,” especially those old aristocrats. They were always pawning things just to scrape by.

So everyone had a rough idea of the “antique market.” Some items sold for just a few yuan; nicer ones might go for a dozen or so.

But no matter how precious something was, it couldn’t possibly fetch 500 jin of corn and 10 jin of rapeseed oil.

(End of Chapter)