Grandma Jing nodded repeatedly with a pleased smile. "My granddaughter's still the most thoughtful one."
Li Zhu looked a little disappointed, but once he realized they wouldn't be walking back, he quickly accepted it.
Digging the water channels wasn't urgent anyway, but letting unpleasant people into the RV? Jing Shu would never allow that. She'd rather spend some money than let Li Zhu step foot inside her RV. Who knew what kind of trouble that man's family would cause once they got in?
"Alright, then hurry up and pack before you go," Grandpa Jing said with a sigh. His wrinkled face was full of worry. "What kind of cursed year is this? Disaster after disaster, every single one lasting a whole year. This muddy mess won't end quickly either, I'm afraid. Maybe it'll last like a flood, for a whole year even. You better decide soon."
Grandma Jing held onto Jing Zhao's hand, her heart aching for her. When she looked at her daughter, even thinner than before, her heart softened again, but thinking about that troublesome family she'd married into just made her angry all over.
In the end, she said, "I'll make some oil tea powder for you to take on the road. Mix it with water and eat it with fried rice if you get hungry. And if there are others in the truck, eat quietly, alright? Don't show off what you've got. If you hear any news, make sure to tell us right away."
Then she whispered to Jing Shu, "Should we give the kids some milk powder?"
Jing Shu smiled and nodded. Milk was nothing special in their household, though making milk powder was a bit of a hassle. But outside, it was valuable stuff.
Feeling sorry for little Shu'en, Grandma Jing only packed one can of homemade milk powder after checking with Jing Shu, not daring to take more. They still had plenty at home, but they mostly used it as gifts since their family could never finish all the milk they had anyway.
It could keep for years after being vacuum-sealed, but food sitting around too long just felt wasteful.
At first, Grandma Jing worried that Li Zhu's whole family might refuse to leave and keep squatting in the community. But when Li Zhu went over and explained the situation, his mother panicked more than anyone and insisted they hurry home. Apparently, she had her own stash of valuables hidden away.
The truck that delivered the worm patties soon arrived. Only two people could sit in front, while the rest had to squeeze into the back. Sure enough, Li Zhu dragged his whole family along. Thankfully, the truck was large enough to hold everyone; otherwise, even with a handcart, it wouldn't have fit that many people.
Watching them climb into the truck, Grandma Jing rolled her eyes, muttering in relief, "Thank goodness."
"Right? If not, they'd have torn a piece off my RV by now. With an empty truck, there's nothing for them to take advantage of," Jing Shu said proudly.
But that afternoon, the truck driver called to thank her, leaving her confused at first.
After hearing his explanation, she was speechless.
It turned out Li Zhu's family had scraped every bit of leftover worm residue off the truck walls, even the smelly, half-rotten bits. The truck ended up cleaner than it had ever been.
"Such nice folks," the driver laughed. "Thank you, little sister, your family sure works hard!"
Jing Shu could practically imagine it: Li Zhu's mother leading everyone, scraping off worm remains piece by piece to fry them up for dinner.
Well, at least it counted as an accidental good deed.
After sending off both families, Grandpa Jing went straight to the backyard. He wanted to reinforce those heavy structures again. If the muddy flood reached them one day, what then?
Grandma Jing sighed. "This's bad, really bad. Now there's nowhere left to grow crops. We'll have to start rationing the rice and flour. In just ten days, we've gone through an entire sack of flour. Nobody eats like this."
When she started doing the math, it hit her like a shock. She couldn't read or write, but with her fingers, she figured it out easily enough. At this rate, they were using up one forty-jin (20 kg) sack every half month. After all these years, how much grain did they even have left?
With so many people at home, she always scooped out three or four bowls of flour at a time, kneaded it into a giant dough, and after it rested, Jing Shu would eat half of it by herself.
And it wasn't like they only ate noodles. There was rice too, plus meat, pickles, braised dishes, and smoked meat.
She remembered when it was just her, Grandpa Jing, and their youngest daughter. Back then, one bag of flour lasted six months, and a bag of rice lasted two. But ever since they moved into the villa, it'd been half a bag of flour in two weeks, and rice vanished even faster—gone in ten days.
Jing Shu often restocked everything, which made Grandma Jing think they'd never run out. But even with all her stockpiling, there'd come a day when it'd all be gone.
So when Jing Shu came into the kitchen, she found Grandma Jing hesitating between cooking one pot or two pots of rice. The first thing the old lady said was,
"Granddaughter, the mud's flowing everywhere now. Nobody can plant grain anymore, and our yard's all vegetables. There's no place left to grow rice or wheat. You can't even buy grain outside. So tell Grandma honestly, how much rice and flour do we have left? If it's not much, I'll start cooking less. We'll eat more of what we can grow. As long as we don't starve, that's good enough. We can't just sit here eating away our stores."
When you don't manage the house, you don't realize how precious food and oil are. Now that the situation was getting worse and even farming wasn't possible, Grandma Jing was truly anxious. She'd already made plans—if things got bad, she'd make thin porridge or corn cakes. Those were flexible enough to fill the stomach and save food.
"Don't worry, Grandma. I told you before, we're fine. Come with me, I'll show you something—but you can't tell anyone, alright?"
To ease her grandmother's worries, Jing Shu decided it was time to reveal part of her stash.
When nobody was home, she led Grandma Jing to her little secret storage room. Of course, there wasn't much rice or flour down there. Those spoiled easily and got infested with bugs, even with peppercorns to keep pests away. So she kept most of them safely stored in her Cube Space.
Now, as she opened the door, she silently moved a fresh batch in.
A gust of cold air blew up some dust. Grandma Jing coughed twice, shivering. The basement was chilly.
Jing Shu flipped on the light. Rows of three-tier shelves filled the entire room, stacked high with bags of flour and all kinds of rice. The shelves were packed full, and further in were crates upon crates of dried goods—sweet potato noodles, dragon starch vermicelli, dried black fungus, dried daylily flowers, and more.
Beyond that were boxes of sugar, salt, vinegar, and seasonings of every kind.
The most eye-catching were the five-liter barrels of premium peanut oil, stacked halfway up the wall. Even after years of use, there was still a whole section left. Not to mention, she'd brought back plenty of olive oil and canola oil from the U.S.
All over the floor were piles of miscellaneous supplies she'd brought back from abroad—stuff designed to last for years.