And every Chinese New Year, Gu Tianfeng would bring back two kilos of rice.
On New Year's Eve, Lian Yuhong, reluctant to cook it all, would add millet into the pot and make mixed rice stew.
And she, her favorite was to pick out the white rice grains with chopsticks.
But now, there was no need to pick.
Whenever she wanted, her bowl was filled with white rice.
Lian Family Village lay low, and in the summer, there were always puddles one after another, harboring loaches and palm-sized crucian carp.
Her younger uncle loved taking her fishing.
A warmth surged at the bottom of Gu Qiaoqiao's heart.
Now her grandmother was healthy and could even join her eldest uncle in the fields planting rice in spring.
At this moment, villagers on the street, seeing it was Gu Qiaoqiao, greeted her warmly.
Then the older children would run to Gu Qiaoqiao's grandmother's house, surely to deliver a message.
They ran fast, eating the candy Gu Qiaoqiao had given them while they ran.