Chapter Seventy: Untitled

“Who are you?” Fang Mu asked.

Fang Mu was quite curious—how could there be two strangers in Xingyang Village? There were no tourist attractions nearby, nor did any adventure teams ever visit. As an honored teacher, Fang Mu had already graduated from the normal university three years ago. In these three years, he had never seen anyone here besides the villagers. An adult and a child, with similar features—a father and son, it seemed. This made Fang Mu even more puzzled. What could a father and son be doing here?

As Fang Mu observed them, Lin Lang was observing him as well. Not tall, rather thin, glasses perched on his nose, pale skin, refined features, wearing a down jacket patched in several places. Lin Lang thought that if he swapped that jacket for a traditional robe, this fellow could easily play the role of a poor scholar in a historical drama.

At the same time, Lin Lang guessed that this must be the volunteer teacher the innkeeper had mentioned. So, Lin Lang replied in a very friendly tone, “We’re here to donate supplies. There are two more of us, our car is parked at the foot of the mountain, and we’ve brought quite a lot. Could you help us find a few men to help carry them up?”

Fang Mu was stunned. He’d been volunteering here for three years. Apart from financial support from his college classmates and roommates, he’d never received any other form of aid. Xingyang Village, buried deep in the mountains, was in one of the poorest counties. Whenever organizations sent donations to the county, they were divided up long before they reached this far-flung place.

He never expected that someone would drive all the way here with supplies. Fang Mu felt a warm current of kindness surge through him.

Fang Mu was an orphan, raised in an orphanage. That was why he had persisted here for three years—he hoped to use his knowledge to help those who needed it most. And today, he had finally met like-minded friends!

Suppressing his excitement, Fang Mu smiled at Lin Lang and said, “Alright, wait here a moment. I’ll go get some help.” With that, he ran back into the village.

Lin Lang glanced at the shabby earthen houses in the distance. The village probably had only a dozen households. Soon, Fang Mu returned with five boys about Lin Nan’s age. Lin Lang was momentarily surprised, then immediately understood—children of the poor learn to shoulder responsibility early. Most likely, all the able-bodied adults were out working.

Together, they headed down the mountain. As soon as the off-road vehicle came into view, Lin Lang noticed the boys’ eyes glued to the car, as if they had never seen such a large vehicle before.

Wang Dashan, who had been waiting in the car, immediately got out and opened the trunk when he saw them approach. The boys’ attention shifted to the boxes—clothes, toys, and books.

“Let’s move them,” Lin Lang said. “Ten people, five boxes—two per box.” Lin Nan and Wang Jinsong stepped up and lifted the box of books first, the heaviest of them all.

Seeing this, Lin Lang and Wang Dashan smiled and took the box of toys—also quite heavy. When Fang Mu came to help, he noticed the five boys standing still. Fang Mu understood—they were simply shy.

He gave them the same kind smile he used in class, saying, “Don’t be afraid, these uncles brought these for you. Come, let’s carry them up together.” At his words, the boy at the front moved first, and after a couple of seconds, the other four followed.

As the lead boy passed Lin Lang, Lin Lang saw a different light in his eyes—a quiet confidence. Once everyone had paired up and taken a box, they set off up the mountain.

There was no need to lock the off-road vehicle; theft was not a concern, and besides, with nothing valuable inside, simply taking the keys would suffice.

After a few steps, Lin Lang heard the boy, who had drawn his attention, speak to his partner, “Huzi, don’t carry it facing me. Walk ahead with your back to me, just like when we carry firewood.” The boy called Huzi immediately took his advice, adjusted his grip, then turned and led the way.

The others, seeing this, quickly mimicked them—one in front carrying backwards, one behind carrying forwards. Lin Lang and Wang Dashan laughed again, “Kids really are quick-witted. We’ve been doing this since we were young, yet never thought of it.” Imitating the boys, they found the new method much easier, as if recalling the days when they hauled firewood home.

Seeing everyone adapt, Lin Nan and Wang Jinsong tried it too. At first, Lin Nan took the lead, but found the technique wasn’t as effortless for him. He was puzzled—why did the boys and the older men seem to find it so easy, while he struggled?

Wang Jinsong tried taking the lead as well, but had the same result. Lin Nan instantly understood—practice makes perfect. Neither he nor Wang Jinsong had ever done heavy labor or carried firewood, so they hadn’t developed the knack. Still, with their strong bodies, they easily kept pace.

When they finally brought the supplies up the mountain, several elders and about a dozen children were waiting outside the earthen house. After setting the boxes down, the elders, eyes brimming with tears, kept thanking Lin Lang and the others, calling them good people, while Fang Mu translated.

Lin Lang and Wang Dashan hurried forward to shake hands, asking Fang Mu to translate their humble acceptance. Without delay, Lin Lang opened the boxes, first finding clothes in the right sizes for the younger children.

The children’s faces lit up with radiant smiles as they ran about, shouting, “I’ve got new clothes! I’ve got new clothes!” Lin Lang felt a twinge of embarrassment that all the clothes were for younger children, none suitable for the five older boys. But these sensible youths assured him it didn’t matter; seeing their younger siblings happy made them happy too.

While Wang Dashan busied himself distributing the supplies, Lin Lang chatted with Fang Mu to learn more about Xingyang Village. He soon found out there were seventeen households in the village, five boys around Lin Nan’s age, and twelve younger children aged seven to ten. Fang Mu taught in shifts—half his time with the younger children, half with the older boys. He knew each student's progress intimately.

Of the five older boys, only Yang Yang—the one who’d suggested the back-to-back carrying method—had the grades to attempt the college entrance exam, and Fang Mu was working to help him register. The other four, Fang Mu knew well, had no need to try. It wasn’t for lack of effort or diligence, but because of limited talent, limited understanding, and a poor foundation. Fang Mu had explained countless times in different ways, but some knowledge simply didn’t stick.

No matter where one is, people are always different. For instance, Yang Yang played with a Rubik’s cube, while the other four bounced the basketball Lin Nan had brought. Lin Lang then discovered that the earthen house itself was their classroom. Fang Mu lived there too, sleeping on a wooden plank bed made by the villagers.

That night, Lin Lang and his group followed local custom—cooking wild greens in spring water over a wood fire in the classroom with the villagers. The villagers wanted to cook rice, but Lin Lang insisted they keep it for themselves, knowing rice was scarce and they might not have it every meal.

Sure, Lin Lang’s group could have brought plenty of delicious food, but that would not be good for the children. They could satisfy their cravings once or twice, but what then, when they had to return to their usual fare? Of course, not every poor region was so hard up, but Xingyang Village’s unique geography made life especially tough.

After the meal, when it was time to sleep, Fang Mu suggested they sleep in the car for comfort, but Lin Lang chose to sleep in the village. Wang Dashan had no objections. With plenty of wood around, each man laid a plank on the classroom floor, covered themselves with clothes, and the four of them slept on the ground.

At six the next morning, Lin Nan woke first, quietly roused his father and the Wang family, and the four slipped back to the car. They took out the clothes they’d brought, intending to leave them for the five older boys, but found only thermal underwear and long johns. Since winter travel meant they hadn’t brought spare clothes, Lin Lang simply told everyone to take off their down jackets, turned on the car heater, and sent Lin Nan to deliver the jackets to the classroom.

At last, they drove away quietly. That evening, when they returned to QS County and got out of the car, passersby stared at them in shock. Who were these people—models? The temperature had dropped, and everyone else was bundled up, yet the four of them strolled out in nothing but sweaters.

Lin Lang and his friends didn’t care about the stares; they headed straight for a hotpot restaurant and ordered a table full of dishes: Layered tripe, signature tripe, Australian beef, spicy marinated beef, basa fillets, beef aorta, duck intestines, fresh tofu, tofu skin, enoki mushrooms, wood ear mushrooms, yam, lotus root, spinach... all cooked in a divided hotpot and devoured in no time.

Delicious!