Chapter 7: The Days Are Still Long.

Back home, He Feng packed up Song Qingshu's belongings and placed them in the east cabinet.

The canvas bag contained only clothes and a quilt. He Feng had originally asked Song Qingshu if he wanted to use the one he'd brought.

Knowing that the quilt drying in the yard was one He Feng had chosen, Song Qingshu didn't refuse his offer, simply waving his hand.

"It's been ages since I've dried this one."

The educated youth were busy in the mornings, and Song Qingshu, a sleepyhead, always made arrangements with Tian Mengfan to wake him up the next day to dry the quilt.

It was strange; even though these were all memories from the original owner, Song Qingshu recalled them as if they had truly happened. He loved to sleep, too, but his previous living conditions didn't allow for it.

He Feng agreed, letting Song Qingshu take care of some of his personal belongings. He then went out to turn over the quilt, which had been drying for most of the afternoon, so that the inside could also be aired.

Xiao Hei, probably feeling overheated, had returned and stayed by the doorway, sprawled on the ground with his tongue hanging out.

The neighbor's puppy also ran home, having been called back for lunch.

The sun was high in the sky. He Feng said goodbye to the people in the house and prepared to go to the fields to pick some vegetables before returning to make lunch.

Song Qingshu leaned against the window and smiled as he said goodbye.

He Feng inexplicably felt a sense of peace and tranquility. Although they had only known each other for a short time, he subconsciously treated Song Qingshu well, wanting to make him happy.

The vegetable garden wasn't far from home. When the land was divided, his family had been allocated a small plot of only three mu (approximately one-third of an acre). That patch of land was fragmented, and everyone else had used it to grow vegetables.

It was early autumn, and the vegetables in the fields were still green. The leaves on the cucumber vines were yellow and green. He Feng, with his sharp eyes, spotted a few small, dry cucumbers while picking two older cucumbers for seed. They had

large bellies and small stems. They were not astringent, but rather crisp and sweet, with a unique cucumber fragrance.

He could save them for Song Qingshu as a snack.

He picked them and placed them in the cart basket. He also gathered a few scallions. There was a jujube tree near the well at the edge of the field. The jujubes were now turning red, and the ones on the upper part were ready to be picked.

Because of the drought, there were cracks on the ground. It was hard to step on and there were small sounds. He Feng walked forward and hit it twice with a bamboo pole.

The reddest and largest date on the top fell down and landed on his spread-out clothes. It rolled twice and

stopped in the middle.

The eggplants were already mature, and there were some seedlings left in the field. He Feng planned to pull them out in the afternoon, flatten them, and plant radishes and spinach.

There were not many beans left, and they could be cut in a few days.

This was already slower than the other families, but He Feng was not in a hurry and pushed the cart away.

Coming out of the field, there were just a few families who had dogs that barked when they saw people. Wang Qunshui came out with a bowl of noodles.

"Young master, are you here to pick some vegetables?"

He Feng nodded. "Eat so early today?"

"Don't go home, eat here."

"The baby is crying hungry, so let his mother cook early."

He Feng didn't stop. "Someone is waiting at home. I won't stay."

Wang Qunshui looked at his back and thought as he took the bowl to the neighbor's house.

When He Feng returned home, Song Qingshu's east room had been almost cleaned up, and his things were neatly arranged.

On the wooden table stood a small lamp, a notebook, and a pencil.

Song Qingshu heard the car stop and walked out of the room, holding a small cloth bag with neat lines in his hand.

His eyebrows curved, "Brother, since we are a family, you take this money."

He Feng looked up at him, and Song Qingshu added, "It's all earned from work points."

"Since we are a family, let's not talk about money."

Song Qingshu didn't think so. After all, brothers have to settle accounts clearly. He had seen many cases of uneven distribution of accounts in the orphanage and knew that money was a harmful thing.

He held the cloth bag in his hand, motionless, the aquamarine fabric embroidered with a blooming sunflower, his head drooping.

He Feng sighed, "Baby."

"Hmm?" Song Qingshu looked up, his face filled with dejection and a look of gloom.

"We have a long way to go. If you settle accounts with me too much, I'll get scared too."

Song Qingshu raised his fair face and blinked doubtfully.

He Feng leaned down, his shadow casting a shadow over Song Qingshu. He raised his hand and touched Song Qingshu's hair, explaining earnestly, "I'm afraid you'll be ready to leave at any moment." Song Qingshu

was stunned, looking up into a pair of dark eyes, and nodded blankly.

Knowing he had understood, He Feng smiled, "Go and rest. Come out for dinner later."

"I can help." Song Qingshu clenched his hands and put the bag back in his pocket.

"No, just rest inside,"

Song Qingshu said, and quietly went back to tidy up the room. He wiped the dining table as well, then stood in front of it, looking left and right, and finally straightened the stool.

Xiao Hei came in from outside again, plopped down on the ground, and lazily stuck out his tongue.

The main room was cool, and Xiao Hei knew how to take a break. He wagged his tail twice and then hung it on the ground, closing his eyes.

Thinking that he couldn't keep bothering He Feng like this, Song Qingshu went outside, patted the quilt that was hung out to dry, and then stood on tiptoe to pull it aside. With a strong flip, the quilt fell all over his shoulders.

The quilt was not long, hanging down to his knees in the front and to his waist in the back.

Looking at it sideways, it actually pressed Song Qingshu into a thin piece.

He Feng just came out to pour the water from washing vegetables into the yard to feed some water to the thirsty persimmon and pomegranate trees.

Seeing the sick person so thin, one always wonders if he will break if bent, like a young green bamboo.

The water splashed towards the tree. Song Qingshu turned around and smiled, calling him "brother" in a gentle voice.

He Feng put the basin back, quickly washed his hands with clean water, and dusted them off on his apron. He went inside to help him make the bed. Seeing the notebooks and pens on the table, his hands paused slightly,

but he quickly covered it up.

"Actually, I can do it myself. I've always done it this way."

Although he might have Tian Mengfan, who was displeased, to help him, Song Qingshu knew how to make his bed himself. He did it at home, just differently from others.

He Feng's hands kept moving, careful not to let his apron touch the bed. He stood by the bed, spread his arms, and with a shake, the bed was made.

"Little one, go get the things in the basket. If you're hungry, you can eat something to fill your stomach."

"Okay."

Xiao Hei was still resting his eyes, only opening them and rolling his eyes as he passed by. His tail scraped the ground; if it were long enough, it could be used as a broom.

Song Qingshu glanced at it, but didn't bother him. He went straight to the bicycle in the yard. There were indeed a few dates in the basket, red and green, not too small.

There are also a few cucumbers with big heads, which look a bit crooked and different from the ones you usually see. There are no thorns on them, but they are not like the fruit cucumbers displayed in fruit stores.

"Brother, do you want to stir-fry this?" He asked, picking up the cucumber.

He Feng adjusted his apron, "It's just a dry cucumber, you can just eat it plain."

"The dates are just ripe, let's taste it to see if it's sweet."

Song Qingshu nodded and ran to the kitchen to scoop a new basin of water.

He put the dates and cucumbers in. Although they were kept in the shade for a while, they haven't shrunk yet and still look very fresh.

The well water was cold, so he washed them carefully. He Feng walked in with a towel around his neck, which he used to wipe his sweat. For

lunch today, we had stir-fried meat with potato slices, and the beans from the morning were steamed in a big pot with steamed buns. He Feng was still thinking about what to eat in the evening.

Song Qingshu was too thin, so he thought about killing a chicken to nourish him, or going fishing or hunting birds in a couple of days.

Eating only one kind of meat and cooking it in different ways would make you sick of it.

There happened to be a slingshot and a fishing net at home, but he had work to do recently, so he would wait a couple of days before deciding.

Song Qingshu washed the dates and stuffed them directly into his mouth. The crisp dates were sweet, the pits were not big, and the flesh was big and plump, and tasted good.

He put one to He Feng's lips, in the same way he fed him candy in the morning. He Feng didn't hesitate and bit it directly, his lips brushing against the soft fingertips.

It was slightly cool.

He swallowed his saliva, "It's still not sweet enough. I'll pick more red ones in a few days."

"The smoke is choking, kid, go to the main room."

"Brother, I'm not hot." Song Qingshu didn't listen and sat directly behind the stove, watching the fire.

It was indeed hot in this room. Seeing that the last dog days were over, it would be cooler if it rained, but it didn't come.

The firewood under the pot was full, and Song Qingshu didn't need to add more firewood to the fire. He ate a few dates slowly, and the dishes in the pot were almost out of the pot.

He remembered the way He Feng cooked, and thought that he would cook for himself if He Feng came back late in the future.

He Feng's nose was sweating, and his white sweat shirt was mostly wet because the towel around his neck was constantly wiping his forehead, which was also damp.

Song Qingshu went to the house to get a towel of his own, soaked it with well water, and wrung it half dry.

When He Feng finished cooking, he raised his arm to take off the sweaty towel from the man's neck, and used the wet towel to wipe He Feng's forehead, eyebrows, and nose tip bit by bit... From

this angle, he raised his head, his pale pink lips slightly parted, he didn't have much flesh on his body, but his lips were round and full, and only a little of the bright red tongue inside could be seen, which was enough to make people imagine wildly.

With every inch of the cool touch, He Feng felt himself getting hotter.