Her Cultivation Diary
Chapter 1070 - 1050. Why haven’t we arrived yet!

Chapter 1070: 1050. Why haven’t we arrived yet!

Song Tan had no idea that the out-of-town guest was getting tangled up over clothing.

After all, she’d been busy all morning, still wearing a pair of oversized rain boots that anyone in the family could slip into!

She couldn’t help it; there was simply too much prep work to be done. Just setting up the stove and slathering yellow mud on it took ages, especially since there were so many mouths to feed—the stoves had to be arranged in a whole row.

Seeing that it was almost mealtime and the work was still unfinished, she just rolled up her sleeves and jumped in.

Meanwhile, out in the yard, stacks of crispy, golden fried leaves were laid out to cool, waiting to be bagged and stored away once they were ready.

If the bags stayed sealed properly, the fried leaves would stay crisp and fragrant all the way until the New Year.

But of course, such a delicious treat left right out in the open, fresh from the fryer—who could resist sneaking a piece as they walked by?

Let’s not even mention anyone else; Old Du alone could eat his fill!

Seventh Uncle wasn’t about to stop him—it’s just some dough and a bit of oil. The priciest parts were probably the eggs and sesame seeds from Song Tan’s home. If you want to eat, go ahead!

How much can a belly hold when it’s stuffed full?

The group of peers working on the preparations wasn’t particularly efficient, but the younger folks they’d brought along? Well, those kids were ready to do whatever task came their way and worked tirelessly.

Just for that, they deserved to eat to their heart’s content!

Helping out alongside them was Doctor Xiaoguo from her own clinic.

After spending half a year in Yunqiao Village, Guo Dong really seemed to be living the good life.

If she wanted veggies, she could pick them straight from Lao Song’s field. Though she couldn’t whip up anything special herself, she eventually just gave up and started eating at the communal canteen.

Her business was doing well, and she’d saved up quite a bit.

Now that the killing feast was happening, Lao Song’s family had given her a new side gig—if she had time, they wanted her to make some hawthorn pills.

Of course she had to make them!

With the pigs at Song Tan’s home, Guo Dong had been dreaming about them for ages, wondering just how delicious they would taste. She didn’t even dare let herself think about it too much!

Now, as she rolled the hawthorn pills, she popped some into her own mouth while she worked. The taste was a mix of heavy herbal notes and the sweet fragrance of honey. The more she chewed, the sourer yet mouthwatering they became, leaving her stomach growling and her mouth watering...

Oh! Why is today only the sixth day of the lunar month? Why isn’t it the eighth already?

...

At the same time, another group of people was crowded onto a train heading back home, chatting away in high spirits:

"So many people, right!"

"Ugh, tell me about it. I don’t even have a place to stand. If I’d known, I’d have bought a high-speed rail ticket."

"What are you saying? High-speed rail tickets are over 600 yuan. Are you buying one?"

"High-speed rail tickets aren’t easy to get either. It’s almost New Year’s. We’re lucky to get tickets at this time. People traveling even later might not be able to snag one at all."

Several people dressed in old clothes, carrying big bags of luggage, were crammed in the train aisle. From the entrance to the car came the distinctive shout of a staff member:

"Please make way, move your feet, sunflower seeds, snacks, bottled water..."

The group quickly cut off their conversation, hugging their belongings to make room. After the staff passed, they couldn’t help but sigh:

"Are we going out again next year? Working outside is just too much of a grind."

Of course, the "grind" didn’t refer to money.

In fact, the family’s primary income truly relied on migrant work year-round. But the problem was the living conditions—sleeping at construction sites, being in unfamiliar places, eating poor meals, facing climate discomfort...

Basically, for middle-aged folks heading out for work, it was always heavy, exhausting jobs that younger workers didn’t want to take on.

The group sighed again: "What else can we do if we don’t work? Staying at home doesn’t make money."

"My dad told me not to go out for work next year, to stay and work for Lao Song’s family. They said the pay is pretty good..."

"I know! I just started working for them in the fall. Before that, I spent summer helping there too. There is work, and they pay promptly. Even for harder tasks, they pay as much as 200 yuan a day."

"But there’s not much work overall. Their household spent millions on that mountain project—they’re talking about starting some big enterprise. But it hasn’t taken off yet, so the work is sporadic and unreliable."

"Millions?! How did they even make that kind of money? If it fell from the sky, I’d have to pick for days!"

"Who knows? We’ll figure it out when we go back."

Going back wasn’t optional.

The construction sites had already shut down, and Old Liu, with his high blood pressure, wasn’t allowed to work at the site anymore. Next year, he couldn’t go out either.

"If there’s work locally, doing odd jobs near home wouldn’t be so bad."

Middle-aged people increasingly found it hard to keep up with the times. Traveling to big cities was becoming more daunting, and now they were growing more attached to their hometowns.

Not far away, a group of middle-aged women was discussing: "Next year, we should look for more factories on TikTok. This one was just too hard—it’s exhausting standing for over ten hours a day. I can barely stand it anymore..."

"But the wages are good for people our age. Other places might not even have jobs, and here they’re paying 17 yuan an hour."

"Exactly, this place paid 21. If it’s tiring, so be it; we just need to endure for a few months to earn the New Year money."

It was always the same: hardship and money, survival summed up in these two words, nothing easy about it!

As the group chatted, the conversation began to branch out again:

"Coming home early means we’re missing out on half a month’s wages compared to those leaving later."

"But I didn’t want to risk the factories holding people back for the holiday. We can’t spend New Year’s away from home!"

"Li Lanhua told me to make sure I get home before Laba. She said something good is waiting for us...I don’t think she’d make stuff up. I’ve wanted to leave early anyway, so I took the chance this time."

"What’s the deal, though?"

"No idea!" The speaker sounded just as confused: "She only said to come back for Laba to see the changes in the village and make an appearance, so people recognize us and it’ll be easier to find work next year."

When it came to making money, everyone perked up immediately. But no matter how they wracked their brains, they couldn’t figure out what kind of event would require showing face to secure future work.

Among them was a person from another village, unrelated but familiar enough, who chimed in:

"When we get back tonight, don’t waste time. Make sure to ask about it. If there’s anything happening for Laba, bring us along too!"

"Got it!"

...

A single killing feast was like butterfly wings, stirring up movement from all directions.

Song Tan gave another shout:

"Mom, Old Zhao just called saying the radishes and cabbages we sold earlier did great. He’s planning to come pick up another truckload tomorrow—whose crops should we start with?"

Of course, Old Zhao’s business wasn’t as simple as that one sentence. The radishes and cabbages he bought for five or five-and-a-half yuan were sold back at double the price or more. His customers kept coming back for more, flooding him with endless praise...

Old Zhao, staring at those newly-issued membership cards, was grinning ear to ear.

Meanwhile, Wu Lan had her own frustrations:—

"He’s picking up crops tomorrow? I wanted to ask the villagers to help with cleaning and tidying tomorrow. If he’s taking radishes and cabbages, that means losing a few pair of hands for the work."

How many people are left in the village these days anyway?!

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