After finishing the meal, Aunt Qin prepared the grain, bowls, chopsticks, and pot for making porridge that Qin Lin would take with him the next day.
Originally, Aunt Qin planned to secretly sew a pair of pants for her husband that night. However, Grandma Qin, who had gone out to use the restroom, saw the shadow of her sewing from the window and scolded her, extinguishing the oil lamp for bedtime.
Grandma Qin, as the matriarch of the Qin family, had her own rules.
She often said that in the Qin family, her word was the rule.
For example, men and women in the Qin family did not eat at separate tables, whereas in other families, not only were the tables separate, but women were not even allowed to eat at the table, often eating with their bowls in the kitchen without a place to sit.
In addition to mealtimes being different from other families, the women in the household were not allowed to use cold water for washing their faces or vegetables, nor were they allowed to do needlework under the oil lamp at night.
This resulted in the household's firewood never being enough and the needlework never being finished.
Grandma Qin did not care; if anyone disobeyed her, they would be met with scolding and beatings.
In Qin Junyao's opinion, these were very good rules for women, though they did indeed increase the labor for those who worked, like Mother Qin.
That night, while the Qin family slept soundly, Qin Junyao was in her spatial realm, digging for *jitoushuang* and *huangjing*.
Sheng Yining had taught her a simple preparation method, and she would pretend to be digging for *huangjing* on the mountain tomorrow.
She kept the larger *huangjing* and placed them in the courtyard of the thatched cottage. The smaller ones were broken into several sections and replanted in the soil. As she watered them, Qin Junyao suddenly remembered she had forgotten something.
After watering, while harvesting rice in her spatial realm, she abruptly exited and took a fire starter to the door.
Under the light of the fire starter, the ground that had not dried in the morning was still slightly damp.
This was abnormal. In the autumn in the northwest, water sprinkled in the morning would dry by noon. The water outside the door had been sprinkled the previous night and had still not dried...
A smile played on Qin Junyao's lips. She would need to conduct an experiment tomorrow to prove her conjecture. It was true that the well water in her spatial realm was extraordinary. With this water, she would surely be able to turn the Gobi Desert into an oasis.
The next day, before it was fully light, Qin Lin ate the noodles made by Aunt Qin and was sent to the assembly point by everyone.
After returning home, instead of eating, everyone began to go up the mountain to chop branches to build a fence around the yard and to clear land for planting winter wheat. The two meals a day were still a bit early.
Qin Junyao also went up the mountain but did not help pick up branches. Carrying a basket, she climbed to the summit of a mountain with kilns.
At the summit, there was a large open space with only a few large rocks. Qin Junyao looked around and waited for a while, but no one appeared.
She took out two straw mats from her basket, one for herself to sit on and one to place her zither case.
Sitting cross-legged, she placed her zither and, after washing her hands, began to play.
"Cheng," the first zither note sounded, and Qin Junyao knew she had made the right decision to practice here.
While controlling this body within her spatial realm was not an issue, upon emerging, she discovered the problem: she lacked muscle memory and could not achieve hand-to-heart synchronization, her music flowing effortlessly with her movements.
The only solution was practice.
With techniques like *mo, tiao, gou, ti, da, zhai* (wiping, plucking, hooking, picking, striking, and snapping), Qin Junyao immersed herself in the melody, her *san yin* (open strings), *fan yin* (harmonics), and *an yin* (stopped notes) flowing naturally.
At Qin Junyao's level, fixed pieces were no longer necessary. Looking at the homes below, the people laboring, and the distant desert, the music flowed from her naturally.
The lingering melody flowed only within the small area of the mountaintop. Only Zhao Liangcai, lying behind a large rock, enjoyed the solo performance of the modern young artist Qin Junyao.
He came to this mountaintop to practice every morning when he returned to Yangshu Village. The villagers knew his habits, so no one would come to this summit in the morning.
The "little god of death," General Zhao, was not easy to get along with in the village, and no one wanted to provoke the wrong person early in the morning.
Zhao Liangcai had discovered Qin Junyao before she reached the summit. He instinctively hid behind a large rock and then heard the music that made him feel completely relaxed.
He did not understand the zither or music, but Qin Junyao's playing made Zhao Liangcai lean against the rock and fall into a deep sleep. By the time he woke up, two hours had passed.
Qin Junyao had long since left. The villagers below bustled with life. Zhao Liangcai stretched, feeling refreshed. He could not remember the last time he had slept so comfortably in years.
He looked in the direction of the Qin family's house, wondering what Qin Junyao was doing now.
Qin Junyao was doing something that made Mother Qin frown, Aunt Qin hesitate to speak, and Qin Xiaoyu mock incessantly.
She was slicing *jitoushuang* and *huangjing*.
"Jun Yao, let Mother do it. You go and rest," Mother Qin said, her heart unsettled by the uneven thickness of the *jitoushuang* her daughter was slicing.
Qin Junyao wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the *jitoushuang* under the knife, replying to her mother, "Mother, I'm not tired. I can do it."
Mother Qin swallowed and looked at the messy pile of medicinal herbs sliced by Qin Junyao. She couldn't help but say, "Jun Yao, why don't you go and slice potatoes instead? We'll have potato cubes for the afternoon."
Changing from potato slices to potato cubes was Mother Qin's kindness.
"Then, can you and Auntie finish this basket? Isn't it too early to be slicing potatoes now?" Qin Junyao asked, pointing to the basket full of *jitoushuang* that had been blanched and the sun in the sky.
"Yes, yes, yes, it's not early at all. Hurry up and go," Mother Qin quickly took the board from Qin Junyao's hands and placed the basket of *huangjing* between herself and her sister-in-law.
Seeing her niece enter the house, Aunt Qin let out a sigh of relief and said to Mother Qin, "Sister-in-law, Yao Yao doesn't seem to have a talent for cooking."
Mother Qin sliced the *huangjing* quickly, the pieces uniformly thin and neat. "Who knows? Slicing vegetables can be learned. I just hope her cooking doesn't take after our mother."
"Alas, the dish Yao Yao made that made Xiaoyu sick was taught by our mother. Sister-in-law, you should teach her well and see if she can learn a signature dish or two."
Mother Qin nodded. In the future, both daughters would have to be involved in cooking.
After slicing what she considered to be perfect potato cubes, Qin Junyao went to conduct her spatial well water experiment not far from home.
Upon returning, she helped Father Qin prop up branches while he filled the earth to enclose the yard.
Qin Junyao noticed Father Qin's somber expression, as if he had something on his mind.
She therefore asked, "Dad, what are you thinking about?"
Father Qin looked up and gave his eldest daughter a smile, then lowered his head to bury the soil, "Nothing."
Qin Junyao thought for a moment and suddenly asked Father Qin, "Dad, do you want to learn to read?"
"Yes, I do. When I was little, my second uncle and I used to sneak to the school and listen, but the teacher there chased us away many times."
"Then I'll teach you to read."
Father Qin looked up sharply, "You know how to read?"
"Mm~ To study scriptures, one needs to be literate," Qin Junyao lied effortlessly now.
"Good, good. Then can you teach me the character for Bodhisattva?"
"Dad, don't worry. I'm doing a good deed. I won't be blamed."
Upon receiving his daughter's assurance, Father Qin's earlier worry vanished, and he worked even harder, wanting to finish quickly and have time to learn.
At dinner that afternoon, everyone ate the potato mash cakes with great relish. Mother Qin praised Qin Junyao for slicing the potatoes so well. Mother Qin's kindness was everywhere.
After the meal, Qin Junyao taught Father Qin and the rest of the Qin family their first character: Qin.