The next morning, I rose early and headed to the fields to pick some vegetables. The old woman, peculiar as she was, was still a guest in our home, and it was only proper to offer her some hospitality. The dawn air was crisp and cool, giving people a very comfortable feeling, as if they could forget their troubles.
Living in the countryside has its perks—fresh vegetables are just a step away. You can go directly to the vegetable field to pick what you want to eat. I was crouched by the vegetable patch when a voice called up from below.
“Wuji, picking vegetables?”
I glanced down the slope and saw a familiar face—one of the village aunties, her own plot of land bordering ours. I flashed a smile and replied, “Morning, Auntie! Yeah, I pick some greens.”
She soon finished her own picking an
