When father and son reached the foot of the mountain, Harrison was already waiting with the horse cart by the roadside. They were waiting for Harrison Jr. to bring the lychees down and load them onto the cart for the trip home.
On the way back, Milo stayed quiet. Since there were outsiders present, he couldn't ask his father any of the questions that had been on his mind.
Tom didn't notice; he was busy talking to Harrison.
"Harrison, what about the transport team?"
"Team Leader, they'll be here soon. As long as we leave the baskets of lychees by the road, the purchasing station will come to collect them."
"Oh, so you contacted the purchasing station?" Tom nodded in satisfaction. The orchard produced a lot of fruit, and usually, there were buyers who specialized in collecting and reselling them.
In recent years, the outside world had been unstable, and only the official supply cooperatives and purchasing stations dared to do such business.
There were black markets in both the county and the nearby towns.
Their county produced plenty of fruit, but few people could afford to eat them, so there was always a surplus. Most of the fruit was sent by waterway to the provincial capital, and trains passing through the county also transported shipments.
Milo listened quietly, gaining a better understanding of how things worked.
When they arrived home, Tom helped Milo down from the cart while Harrison carried the baskets of lychees inside.
"Daddy, do we get to eat lychees?"
The three younger daughters—numbers Five, Six, and Seven—ran up excitedly when they saw the lychees. That morning, they had been envious watching their little brother leave with their father, feeling a bit left out.
Now that their father and brother had returned with fruit, smiles lit up their faces.
"Each of you can have two. The rest are for gifts," Tom said sternly.
"Oh!" The girls were used to their father's frugality. Being allowed two lychees each already felt like a luxury, and they cheerfully agreed.
Milo sighed inwardly. I only ate a few myself… I want more too!
Just then, their mother, Lucia, came out slowly.
"My boy, you're back! Did you have fun with your father?"
"Yeah! It was fun. I saw lots and lots of lychee trees, and Dad told me stories!" Milo answered happily.
His cheerful reply drew looks of envy from his three sisters. They wished they could spend time like that with their father too.
But that was just wishful thinking. Their father was always serious with them and had never once taken them up the mountain.
They didn't even know what the family's orchard looked like.
Apparently, even their older sisters hadn't been there either.
Their parents always said the same thing: "Girls should stay home, learn sewing, and practice making clothes."
Before lunch, the three older sisters returned from school. When they saw the lychees, they also squealed with excitement.
It was a rare, cheerful moment in the household.
Milo couldn't help thinking—This is the team leader's family? Doesn't seem much different from any ordinary family. Even though our village grows fruit, it's still hard to eat any of it freely.
Over the past few days, he had realized that both of his parents were rather stingy. He couldn't help but wonder—Is it that the richer people get, the stingier they become?
From what he'd gathered, in their minds, food was saved through thrift, and wealth was built the same way.
Milo could only sigh…
At lunchtime, only Milo got to eat egg custard.
The family meal consisted of plain rice porridge, pickled vegetables, a bit of minced eggplant with meat, and stir-fried green beans.
They called it minced meat, but there wasn't even a trace of meat in sight—just scallions, garlic, and a faintly salty, fishy taste that came from a bit of salted fish.
Milo only ate the egg custard and a small bowl of porridge. His parents didn't let him touch any of the other dishes.
Among the sisters, only the second and third—both a little older—looked clearly upset at the unfairness. The younger ones didn't seem to care as much.
"Dad, Mom, it's not like we don't have eggs at home! Why does only our little brother get to eat them? Why are you so biased?" the second sister burst out angrily.
"Yeah, Dad! Why do you treat girls worse than boys? Isn't it supposed to be equality now? The teacher said women can hold up half the sky!" added the third sister indignantly.
The eldest sister tried to stop them—
But Tom held up a hand. "Let them speak. You two have been going to school and getting ideas, huh? Do you even understand what it means for a family to have no sons and the hardship that comes with it?"
Tom was annoyed. His second and third daughters were always so competitive and never protective of their little brother. Did they think the family didn't feed them enough? They should look around and see how lucky they were. Most girls their age in the village worked hard labor and still went hungry. Yet his daughters could attend school—that alone was a privilege!
Lucia's expression also darkened. Though the eldest and the younger girls looked longingly at the egg, none of them acted out.
But the two in the middle—arguing like this—made her furious. As their mother, she couldn't stand that they would fight their younger brother for food.
"Your father's right," Lucia said sharply. "It's not like we're starving you. Can't you see your brother's health is weak? Sure, we have eggs, but we need to keep a low profile."
Tom nodded and continued, "Stop talking about equality. Is the world really equal? For this family, you girls have never gone hungry—you just didn't get an egg this time. Is that really worth making such a scene?"
"Dad, we're all your children! Shouldn't we be treated equally?" the second sister retorted, anger still simmering.
"Mom, there are so many eggs at home. If we each ate one a day, we'd still have plenty! Why pretend to be poor?" the third sister pressed on stubbornly.
Lucia frowned deeply. "Why can't you understand? Are you starving? What's wrong with you two?"
Tom's voice rose, filled with irritation. "You girls don't understand the difference between sons and daughters. When your aunt got married, didn't she have to rely on her husband's family? Your mother's close to her brothers, but after she married me, she still had to put her own household first!
"You think having many sons isn't important? Families with many boys stick together and aren't bullied. Do you know why we keep a low profile? Because we only have one son! What happens when you girls get married and have no brother to stand up for you? Have you thought about that?"
His words came like a thunderclap.
The second sister shot back, "Dad, this isn't the old empire anymore! It's a new society! We're supposed to have gender equality! Why do you look down on women? Without women, how would there be men?"
"Yeah! The teacher said women can earn money and support their families too!" the third sister chimed in.
Tom's patience snapped. "Equality? Who fights in wars? Who does the hardest labor? You think women can do all that? Sure, women can be clerks or nurses, but who carries water, who plows the fields, who breaks their backs every day? Men do!"
Lucia joined in too, "Look at me—my feet are small. I can have children, sew, and weave, but can I carry heavy loads or walk far? Of course not!"
The girls countered weakly, "Even the educated youth working in the countryside can do everything!"
"You girls really don't know how lucky you are!" Tom shouted, his anger flaring again.
Both parents were furious now.
The second and third daughters still looked unhappy but didn't dare to say more with their father's temper so high.
Milo sat quietly, staring at his family arguing—all because of a single bowl of egg custard.
Given his frail little body, he truly couldn't handle the rough food the others ate. His parents' dishes were bland, barely seasoned, and often without oil.
Although his health had improved thanks to the spiritual spring water, a growing child still needed nutrition. His parents' love came from the right place, and he didn't want to waste it.
He stayed silent, quietly accepting their care.
Tom and Lucia's words weren't wrong—their meals weren't fancy, but compared to other families in the village, they were already fortunate.
Most households had too many mouths to feed and too little harvest. Every meal was coarse grain boiled with wild greens—enough only to half-fill the stomach.
Plain white rice porridge was already a luxury.
(End of Chapter)