Chapter 154: The Thrill of Never Going Hungry Again

Wenyao borrowed a small rake from Wang Yong and took a little basket as well. She squatted down and began digging, carefully selecting only the healthiest plants.

Before long, the basket in the hands of the grandfather and granddaughter was filled with fist-sized potatoes.

“Stop digging, stop digging. That’s enough. These precious things are just for a taste; if your father finds out, he’ll come looking for you again,” Mrs. Luo said with a heart full of concern. Especially after Wenyao told her that these potatoes could keep growing—potentially even larger than an adult’s fist—her worry deepened.

They simply couldn’t dig any more.

Wenyao wanted to dig a bit more, hoping to cook some fresh new potatoes for the evening, but seeing Mrs. Luo’s distressed expression, as if she wanted to crawl into the ground, Wenyao relented.

“Let’s just dig this much today, little potatoes. I’ll come see you again tomorrow,” Wenyao said, hoisting the small rake and waving to the seedlings in the field.

Mrs. Luo smacked her lightly, scolding, “Stop this nonsense. Just a little taste is enough. If you keep coming back every day, your grandfather will find out and get mad at you.”

The old lady carried the basket as Wenyao linked arms with her, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry, I guarantee my grandfather won’t be able to stay mad after tasting them.”

Mrs. Luo sneered. Did she not know the old man? No matter how much he liked these things, knowing they could grow even bigger would make him treasure those few plots of land even more than his eldest son.

The two of them found Wang Yong to return the rake, then carried the basket of freshly dug potatoes home.

Wenyao rubbed her hands together eagerly, imagining cooking spicy new potatoes. But since the chili peppers in her backyard hadn’t grown yet, she had to suppress her craving and settle for crispy little potatoes seasoned with salt and pepper.

In the evening, after Wenxiuyi and Old Man Wen finished their work and came back, they saw the basket of potatoes Wenyao had dug. Wenxiuyi’s eyes lit up. “They’re edible already?”

Old Man Wen asked, “What are these?”

Mrs. Luo explained, and when she mentioned that these potatoes could keep growing until they were larger than an adult’s fist, Old Man Wen’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? They can still grow?” His gaze immediately turned fierce, as if ready to scold Wenyao.

Wenyao sensed trouble from her grandfather’s tone and quickly grabbed the basket, slipping away.

“You little brat...” Old Man Wen took a few steps to follow and give her a proper talking-to, but Wenxiuyi stopped him with a hand. “Dad, it’s not that serious. We only dug a few. Besides, these potatoes are tasty even when small.”

“It’s not that...” Old Man Wen wanted to say he wasn’t angry, just wanted to remind her to let them grow longer.

“Dad, Wenyao didn’t mean any harm. The kid’s just greedy. Please understand and don’t get yourself upset,” Wenxiuyi continued to reason.

Old Man Wen was speechless.

Mrs. Luo shot him a glare. “They’re already dug up. What’s the use of complaining now? If you don’t want to eat them, then don’t.”

Old Man Wen was at his wit’s end—he couldn’t stay in this house for even a day.

When Wenyao brought a large bowl of salt-and-pepper potatoes to the table, Old Man Wen’s mouth watered at the aroma.

Everyone was eager to try, but all eyes were on Old Man Wen.

He looked puzzled. “Why are you all staring at me? Just eat.”

He picked one up and bit into it. The skin was crisp, and inside it was soft. The salt and pepper tingled his taste buds, prompting him to take another bite.

Mmm, delicious.

After several bites, however, Old Man Wen paused. He held one in his chopsticks for a moment but didn’t eat it.

“Grandpa, what are you looking at?” Wenfa asked curiously. These are really tasty. If grandpa doesn’t want it, I’ll eat it.

Old Man Wen was silent a moment, then looked around and asked, “Are you all full?”

Everyone was stunned. The children looked puzzled, not understanding why he asked. But the others suddenly realized something.

Wenyao smiled knowingly—finally, the old man understood.

Old Man Wen hadn’t noticed until now that tonight’s table held only one dish: the salt-and-pepper potatoes. Yet everyone seemed somewhat satisfied. Not stuffed, but their hunger was eased.

After a long pause, Old Man Wen finally brought a potato to his mouth. As he ate, tears welled up in his eyes, and he began to choke back sobs.

The younger children were frightened and put their chopsticks down, unsure what was wrong with their grandfather. Only Mrs. Luo wiped her eyes quietly, while the others understood the reason for his tears.

“Eat your food; there’s no need to cry,” Mrs. Luo said, pretending to be stern, but her voice trembled enough for even Wenyao to notice.

The emotion affected Wenyao, making her heart ache. Though she wasn’t truly ten years old, her soul belonged to a grown woman in her twenties.

Even if the era she grew up in didn’t endure such hardship, Professor Wen had always told her and her brother that people once truly went hungry. The poverty and helplessness of those times were deeply ingrained in their upbringing.

Moreover, with the progress of the era and the prevalence of television dramas, Wenyao could empathize deeply, even without firsthand experience.

“Grandpa, are you happy?” Wenyao asked softly.

Old Man Wen nodded repeatedly through his sobs.

Happy—how could he not be? He had always thought the eldest son was exaggerating, but it turned out everything was true. These things were truly treasures, capable of saving lives.

After composing himself, Old Man Wen wiped his tears. “Eldest son, how many jin per mu did you say these potatoes would yield?”

Wenxiuyi sat upright and replied seriously, “With proper cultivation, at least three thousand jin per mu; if cared for well, five thousand isn’t impossible.”

Old Man Wen’s hands trembled.

“What about the other two crops you mentioned? Is it the same?” His voice shook with excitement, referring to the corn and sweet potatoes.

“The sweet potatoes yield about the same as the potatoes. Corn produces less, but still at least a thousand jin per mu,” Wenxiuyi answered honestly. He understated the corn yield to avoid overwhelming the old man.

Old Man Wen’s eyes reddened again. “Good, good, good.”

At that moment, he no longer inquired about the origins of the seeds or how Wenxiuyi came to know so much. He had always sensed that the eldest son was different.

Wiping his tears, Old Man Wen looked solemnly at his other two sons. “Starting tomorrow, you two will help Brother Wang Yong protect those two mu of land.”

“Dad...” Wenxiuyi was surprised and quickly spoke up. Why bring this up again? Hadn’t they already hired someone to watch over the fields?

Old Man Wen raised his hand to stop him. “Until the crops are fully ripe, no mistakes are allowed.” Then, suddenly glaring at Wenyao, he added, “And no more eating.”

Wenyao shrank her neck playfully and stuck out her tongue. Fine, she wouldn’t eat any more—as long as Grandpa was happy.

That night, Old Man Wen lay awake, tossing and turning. The others didn’t understand, but he knew all too well the pain of hunger—the unbearable sight of people eating barren earth, even resorting to exchanging children to survive.

Those childhood memories were ones he wished to forget but could never escape.