A young boy from the 1970s, separated from his family, fled famine and led his younger brother into

The accident occurred at 3:17 p.m.

Su Nianci was hanging clothes in the yard when she heard a muffled thud coming from the study. She hadn't even attached the hanger to the rope yet when she got to Lu Xingzhou's old T-shirt.

She was all too familiar with that muffled sound.

The last time I heard the same noise was when Lu Xingzhou blew up the kitchen.

She threw down the clothes hanger and ran inside.

The study door was open.

Paper was scattered all over the floor.

The papers on the table.

The paper under the chair.

The paper in the corner.

The thirty-seven-page manuscript, originally arranged in a three-level code of dynasty, region, and prescription category, was neatly stacked. Each page had a handwritten colored label in the upper right corner—red for verified, blue for pending verification, and yellow for questionable.

Now the red, blue, and yellow colors are all mixed together, scattered all over the floor, and a few have even floated onto the windowsill, swaying back and forth in the wind.

Lu Xingzhou stood beside the desk, his arms hanging at his sides, his back ramrod straight.

He was still clutching a rag in his hand.

He was obviously wiping the table.

As the rag was wiping, it snagged on the corner of the manuscript, and with a tug, the entire stack of papers collapsed with a whoosh.

Su Nianci stood at the door, her gaze sweeping over the paper on the ground and then back.

She walked to the table and picked up a cup.

Put the cup down.

The sound was very soft.

So quiet that the only sound was the soft thud of the bottom of the cup hitting the table.

Lu Xingzhou straightened his back even more.

Su Nianci's voice was also very soft.

"Lu Xingzhou".

"exist."

How long did it take me to arrange these manuscripts?

"Two months."

"How long will it take to re-arrange?"

Lu Xingzhou swallowed.

"One week."

"Who will line up?"

"I."

Su Nianci looked at him for three seconds.

"Can you read the codes on the label?"

Lu Xingzhou opened his mouth slightly.

"Red indicates verified information, blue indicates—"

What is the difference between Blue Category 3 and Blue Category 7?

Lu Xingzhou shut his mouth.

Su Nianci pushed the cup to the corner of the table, her voice flat.

"You'll kneel on the washboard."

"We don't have a washboard at home."

"Then kneel on the abacus."

"No, not at all."

"Then you'll have to figure it out yourself."

Su Nianci turned and left the study, sat down at the stone table in the courtyard, opened an old medical book, but couldn't get into it after flipping through a couple of pages.

There was a noise coming from the kitchen.

The clatter of pots and pans was mixed with the sizzling sound of rising oil and the constant gurgling of the tap.

Su Nianci listened intently for a long time, but did not hear the alarm sound.

Half an hour later, Lu Xingzhou came out of the kitchen carrying a plate.

Oil splattered on her apron, two red marks from the oil splashed onto her arms, and a peppercorn stuck to the web of her left hand.

The plate contains a dish of stir-fried beef with pickled bamboo shoots.

The pickled bamboo shoots are golden yellow, the beef is tender pink, the broth is evenly distributed, and the plate is clean.

There are no charred parts.

There was no burnt smell.

Even the marks left by tossing the wok are visible, and the sheen on the surface of the dish proves that the cooking time was well controlled.

Su Nianci picked up a piece of beef with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth.

I chewed it twice.

Her expression changed slightly.

I picked up another piece of pickled bamboo shoots.

The taste is acceptable.

It really can.

The pickled bamboo shoots have a mild sour taste, the beef is just the right amount of tenderness, and the amount of chili oil is controlled to a minimum, without overpowering the main flavor.

She put down her chopsticks and looked up at him.

"How many times did you do it?"

Lu Xingzhou wiped his hands on his apron.

"Seven times."

"What about the first six times?"

It's fallen over.

Su Nianci looked at the red marks on his arm from the oil splatter, and then at the peppercorns on the web of his hand.

Her lips twitched, and she couldn't help but smile slightly.

"Alright."

She picked up another piece of beef with her chopsticks.

"Regarding the manuscript, you squat down and help me rearrange it according to the numbers. I'll watch you from the side. If you rearrange it wrong, start over."

Lu Xingzhou bent down, his back bent even more precisely than a salute.

"receive."

For the next two hours, Lu Xingzhou squatted on the study floor, flipping through the manuscript page by page, looking at the label codes in the upper right corner, and putting them back in the order Su Nianci had given him.

Su Nianci sat in a chair, legs crossed, holding a plate of stir-fried beef with pickled bamboo shoots in her hand, eating and giving instructions at the same time.

"This is blue number three, put it in the seventh position of the second stack."

"This red six is ​​at the very back of the first stack."

"This one—you've got it upside down, turn it over."

Lu Xingzhou's knees went numb from squatting, so he switched legs every ten minutes, completing four rounds of this with both legs.

Banxia peeked out from the doorway.

"Dad, are you being punished by standing in the corner?"

"Punishment: Squat down."

"What did you do wrong?"

"I owe my hand."

Banxia gave an "oh," patted his shoulder, and spoke in a mature tone.

Be more careful next time.

Hoshino peeked out from behind Banxia, ​​observed for three seconds, and then silently walked away.

Five minutes later he returned, holding a glass of water, and placed it at Lu Xingzhou's feet.

"Dad, have some water."

Lu Xingzhou squatted on the ground, turned his head to look at the glass of water, and then looked up at Su Nianci.

Su Nianci nodded, chewing on her beef.

Lu Xingzhou picked up the water and took a sip, then continued squatting down to lay out the paper.

When he got to the last dozen or so pages, he picked out a different piece of paper from the scattered pile.

This piece of paper has no label.

The paper is also different from the manuscript; it's newer and whiter, and it's ordinary letter paper.

The above is Su Nianci's handwriting, written in two lines.

First line —

"If this book is completed, this page will serve as the preface."

Second line —

"Dedicated to my father, Su Weiguo, and to all the barefoot doctors forgotten by time."

A date was written at the bottom of the signature area.

tomorrow.

He stared at the two lines of text, squatting on the ground without standing up.

He held the edge of the letter with his fingers, his thumb resting next to the three characters "Su Weiguo" for a long time.

Su Nianci had half a mouthful of beef in her mouth when she saw that he had stopped moving, so she leaned over to take a look.

"What's wrong?"

Lu Xingzhou held up the paper and handed it to her.

"Your Preface".

Su Nianci reached out and took it, glanced at it, and then turned the paper over to look at the back.

The back is empty.

She hasn't finished writing yet.

She pulled the paper from his hand and tried to stuff it back into the pile of papers.

Lu Xingzhou did not loosen his grip.

He held the other end of the letter with five fingers, not with much force, but steadily.

The two people stared at each other for two seconds, separated by a thin sheet of paper.

Lu Xingzhou's gaze fell on the two lines of text, his voice, hoarse from squatting for two hours, came out with a very light rough edge.

"Nian Nian".

"Um."

"Well written."

Su Nianci's fingertips paused on the letter for a moment.

Her lips curved slightly, and this time she couldn't hide it.

"Finish arranging the manuscript before praising it."

Lu Xingzhou released the letter and watched as Su Nianci carefully pressed it under the first page of the notebook.

He lowered his head and continued squatting on the ground to arrange the last few pages of the manuscript.

My knees are so numb I can barely feel them anymore.

But he remained firmly in his squatting position, without swaying at all.