After fleeing the famine, my older sister and I married the brother next door.

Mr. Chen put down the dried radish he was holding, straightened up, and rested his hands on his knees, remaining silent for a long while. Sunlight shone on his gray hair, each strand dazzlingly white. His lips moved, and his voice lowered: "I'm fine. I've just been working too hard lately; a few days of rest will do. No need to waste money. Everyone gets old; aches and pains are normal."

Chen Xiaohe walked over, squatted down in front of his father, and looked up at him. He reached out and took his father's rough hand, which was like old tree bark, with thick knuckles, cracked skin, and dirt stuck under his fingernails. Chen Xiaohe's voice was very soft, as if afraid of startling something: "Dad, it's settled then. Tomorrow I'll take you to see Doctor Li, and then I'll take you to the county town to visit Mom. Don't worry about things at home, my older brother and I will take care of it. You can all come back together when the kids are on vacation, and by then the house should be all sorted out. Don't argue with us."

Father Chen looked at his eldest son, then at his youngest. Both sons had grown up; their shoulders were broad, their hands strong, and they were capable of handling things. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then swallowed his words. In the end, he didn't refuse again, but simply nodded and gave a soft reply. The reply was very soft, but both sons heard it.

The setting sun cast long shadows on the courtyard wall, and smoke began to rise from the kitchen chimney. Su Xiaoyin and Su Xiaoqing were busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. The sounds of spatulas stirring and oil sizzling mingled together, drifting out from the kitchen doorway, along with the aroma of scallions.

Sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard, watching his two sons going in and out of the kitchen serving dishes, Mr. Chen suddenly felt that he could finally take a break.

----

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Chen Xiaohe had already harnessed the mule cart. He spread a thick layer of straw on the cart floor and then laid an old cotton quilt on top, to prevent his father from being jostled on the road. Chen's father came out of the house, wearing a faded blue cloth jacket, his hair neatly combed. He stood by the cart for a while, watching his youngest son busy himself, without saying a word, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Chen Dashan came out of the carpentry workshop, stuffed a bag of dry food into his father's hand, and said, "Dad, eat this if you get hungry on the way. When we get there at noon, Mom will make you something hot. Don't make do." Chen's father responded, put the dry food on the cart, and got on the cart with the help of the shaft.

Chen Xiaohe cracked his whip, and the mule cart creaked and groaned out of the courtyard gate. The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, a white haze. The poplar trees on both sides of the road had almost all their leaves fallen, their bare branches stretching towards the gray sky. Occasionally, a few sparrows would take flight from the branches, fluttering and disappearing into the mist. Chen's father wrapped his cotton-padded coat tighter, leaned against the cart's edge, and half-closed his eyes. The mule cart moved slowly, but steadily.

By the time they arrived in the county town, it was already broad daylight. Chen Xiaohe parked the car in front of Dr. Li's clinic and helped his father out of the car.

Doctor Li was taking the pulse of a woman holding a child when he saw Mr. Chen enter and gestured for them to sit down. Mr. Chen sat down on the bench and looked around the small clinic—the medicine cabinet was against the wall, with the names of the medicines written on red paper pasted on the drawers in neat handwriting. An oil lamp sat on the counter, its shade yellowed from smoke, and the air was filled with the bitter smell of medicine.

After the woman left, Doctor Li beckoned. Mr. Chen walked over and sat opposite the examination table, extending his hand with his wrist resting on a small pillow, revealing bulging veins and skin as rough as old tree bark. Mr. Chen rolled up his sleeve, revealing a long scar on his forearm, a cut from a sickle when he was young.

Doctor Li placed three fingers on his pulse, closed his eyes, and remained silent for a long while. The consultation room was quiet, save for the sound of the apprentice grinding medicine behind the cabinet—a series of knocks, like someone tapping on the door. He then examined his tongue, stood up, and walked behind him, pressing on his lower back and shoulders, asking if it hurt at each spot. When the doctor pressed on his lower back, Mr. Chen's body tensed slightly, his brow furrowing slightly, but he remained silent.

Dr. Li sat back down, put on his glasses, and took out a prescription paper to write a remedy. As he wrote, he said, "The old man is getting on in years, but his health is still quite good. People who did hard labor when they were young tend to have a strong constitution. However, he worked too hard during this autumn harvest, resulting in lumbar muscle strain and stiffness in his shoulders and back. I'll prescribe some plasters for you. Go home and apply them regularly, wherever it hurts, to relieve the pain." He paused, looked up at Mr. Chen, and his gaze, seen through his glasses, became more serious. "You can't do heavy physical labor anymore. Let the younger generation do things like carrying loads and hauling grain. If you injure your back again, you might not be able to get out of bed."

Chen Xiaohe stood to the side, her face tense, and asked, "Dr. Li, can my father's back be treated with just plasters?"

Doctor Li handed the written prescription to his apprentice to get the medicine, and continued to instruct him: "Just applying plasters only treats the symptoms, not the root cause. I'll also prescribe some decoction; go home and brew it. One dose a day, twice a day, morning and evening, taken warm after meals. One course of treatment is seven days. Come back after that to check my pulse and see how it goes. Remember, go home and take good care of yourself. Don't catch a cold, and don't overexert yourself. Eat a light diet, less oily and raw food, and more warm and nourishing foods. You can make bone broth, but skim off the surface oil."

Chen Xiaohe memorized everything, folded the prescription neatly, and put it in his pocket. He thanked Doctor Li. The medicine was packed up, a large stack, tied with hemp rope, and a packet of plaster was also wrapped. He helped Chen's father onto the mule cart and headed towards Chen's mother's house.

Chen's mother was squatting in the yard washing clothes, with several garments already hanging on the clothesline. Hearing the sound of the gate, she looked up and saw her husband. She quickly stood up, wiped her hands haphazardly on her apron, and went to greet him.

"Why did you come? You didn't even tell me beforehand." Chen's mother's voice was filled with surprise and joy.

Chen Xiaohe helped his father down from the car, then unloaded the medicine and luggage, carrying them into the house one by one. While working, he explained, "Mother, Dad's back injury has flared up again. Doctor Li prescribed plasters and herbal decoctions. Apply the plasters to the painful areas, and take one dose of the decoction twice a day, morning and evening, warm after meals. Please make sure he remembers to take it. I'll take him to Doctor Li for a follow-up appointment in seven days. These are the medicines, and these are the plasters. I've put them all in the kitchen cabinet for you, labels facing outwards, so don't get them mixed up." He paused, then took two bundles of firewood, a bag of fresh grain, and a basket of vegetables from the car and placed them at the kitchen door. "The firewood was just cut from the mountain and dried; it's ready to use. The grain is this year's newly harvested wheat flour, and the vegetables are from the garden—they're very fresh."