The kang (heated brick bed) for left-behind women

Li Ruoxue had already prepared dinner, making Lin Dachun feel at home again.

"Ruoxue, we all need to move on, right?" Lin Dachun asked.

"Mm." Li Ruoxue nodded.

"I will work harder. I'm still young, still young." Lin Dachun encouraged himself. The death of his child was a huge blow to him. His hair turned white overnight.

My heart is shattered into pieces, and can never be pieced back together.

Lin Dachun is 42 years old this year, but Li Ruoxue is only 21 years old.

"Well, you're not old at all." Li Ruoxue smiled awkwardly, lowered her head, feeling a little sad, and her eyes reddened.

"What's wrong?" Lin Dachun asked anxiously.

"It's okay, everything's fine. It's just that I didn't take good care of him after he left. I feel very guilty." Li Ruoxue has always felt guilty about this.

Upon hearing this, Lin Dachun quickly reassured him, "It's alright, don't blame yourself. This isn't your fault; it's that damned perpetrator."

"Um."

Li Ruoxue knew that Dachun was trying to comfort her, but in her heart, she always thought that only by continuing the Lin family line could she live her life with peace of mind.

Otherwise, she would always feel like she was letting her family down.

Li Ruoxue woke up before dawn.

A bit of firewood was added to the stove, and the room became a little warmer.

She got up quietly and began to tidy up, using the dim light reflected from the snow outside the window.

She carefully wiped the Acanthopanax senticosus plants clean with an old cloth, then wrapped the roots with a soft cloth soaked in warm water to prevent them from freezing. She then carefully placed them in a slightly worn bamboo basket and covered them with a clean blue cloth.

Lin Dachun also got up and handed over a small cloth bag containing a few crumpled small bills and a few ounces of grain coupons.

"Buy a steamed bun on the way," he said in a low voice. He paused, then added, "If... if you can't sell them, come back soon."

Li Ruoxue took the cloth bag and put it in the inner pocket of her cotton-padded jacket, where she kept the letter from her deceased husband close to her body.

"Don't worry. I'll definitely sell it."

She wrapped a thick headscarf around her head, slung a bamboo basket over her shoulder, and pushed away the "Flying Pigeon" bicycle that rattled everywhere except for its bell.

The road to the commune was more than ten miles long, with two deep ruts left by passing horse-drawn carts and tractors, and in the middle was a raised, frozen snow ridge.

The bicycle bounced violently on the road, and the cold wind felt like tiny knives cutting into my face, causing a sharp pain.

Li Ruoxue gritted her teeth, bent over, and pedaled hard.

The wheels rolled over the snow, making a monotonous "shush-shush" sound that carried far in the pre-dawn silence.

By the time we arrived at the commune market, the sun had already risen.

The market was small, located in an open space outside the commune compound, and was bustling with people.

Vendors selling their own chickens and ducks, vendors selling frozen tofu and pickled cabbage, and stalls selling needles and thread... The shouts, bargaining, and animal cries mingled together, filling the air with the smells of livestock, earthy tobacco, and fried dough sticks.

Li Ruoxue found a spot to park her bicycle on the side of the road, placed the bamboo basket in front of her, and lifted a corner of the blue cloth to reveal the Acanthopanax senticosus inside.

Unlike the other vendors around her who were shouting and hawking their wares, she simply stood quietly, watching the crowds come and go.

She seemed a little flustered, her hands clenching slightly inside the sleeves of her cotton-padded jacket.

Many eyes fell on her, some curious, some inquisitive.

It's rare to see a young married woman selling medicinal herbs all by herself in this area.

But most people's attention was drawn to Li Ruoxue's figure and face; this young wife was truly a rare beauty.