The sound of a suona means either great joy or great sorrow.

Third Grandfather’s funeral was a festive affair.

Not festive in a celebratory way, but in the way that everyone who came followed Third Grandfather’s wishes: they arrived with a smile, kowtowed, and left with a smile.

Third Grandfather no longer had any family, but the villagers still kept a record of the funeral gifts.

Third Grandfather had arranged everything before he passed. If any gifts were received at his funeral, they were all to be donated to the village elementary school for the children.

Uncle An and many of the men from the An family wore mourning clothes to see Third Grandfather off on his final journey.

Paper money drifted through the air as the villagers played music to send Third Grandfather off.

After the coffin had rested for seven days, the villagers carried Third Grandfather up the mountain and buried him in a plot that had long been reserved for him.

It wasn’t until the very last moment that An Ning learned Third Grandfather’s real name: An Mosheng.

A name that evoked the fragrant aroma of brush and ink.

It turned out that Third Grandfather had been an old scholar, a war hero who wielded a pen as his weapon.

An Ning stood before Third Grandfather’s grave, staring at the name, motionless for a long time.

"Little Sis, it’s time to kneel."

An Guoqing pulled An Ning down to her knees, joining the others in sending Third Grandfather off on his final journey.

An Ning’s forehead touched the solid ground. The cold, rough sensation brought her back to her senses.

’I know this name.’

’Not from Ancient Earth, but from the interstellar era.’

The humans of the interstellar era had preserved very little of their cultural heritage.

They didn’t have great works like the Analects, the Classic of Poetry, or the Records of the Grand Historian, but any written information that could be found was treasured and preserved.

In the end, all surviving written knowledge was preserved in the form of audio and video recordings.

The name An Mosheng was in one of those articles.

An Ning had heard it before.

"Our generation was born in humble beginnings and grew up in peril. We must constantly strive for self-improvement, regretting only that we cannot die for our country. The nation, to me, is no different from family. If the nation does not exist, where is our home?"

"Our generation..."

Walking at the very back of the group, An Ning looked back at the freshly covered grave. ’So my connection with the An family began all the way back then?’

A gentle breeze blew past, and a wisp of blue smoke spiraled upward, seeming to form the character for "An" before vanishing completely.

An Ning smiled and turned back, a sense of a fallen leaf returning to its roots settling in her heart.

The An family. This was where she belonged.

.........

Third Grandfather’s funeral was over, and life went on.

An Ning put An Guoming in charge of all the vegetables from the greenhouse.

An Guoming hired women from the village to pick and sort the vegetables every day. He would then load up a truck or two and take them to Sanhe Town or neighboring towns to sell.

At first, many people were skeptical of An Guoming.

He prepared several small plates, took out a small knife, and sliced up a tomato for the crowd to sample.

With that one taste, the tomatoes sold out.

After that, for any vegetable that could be eaten raw, An Guoming would let the surrounding crowd have a taste.

Although the prices were high, An Guoming chose his locations well, setting up near various factories where customers had more disposable income.

The people here didn’t feel much pressure buying them, and with the assault of delicious flavor, An Guoming sold out of all his vegetables in record time on every trip.

On all his subsequent trips, An Guoming could only stand in the back of his truck, shouting through a megaphone, "That’s all for today! We’ll have more in a few days!"

Many who couldn’t buy any were truly frustrated.

Those who had bought and eaten them before were even more frustrated.

These vegetables tasted so good that even their picky grandsons loved them.

An old lady pushed her way through the crowd, hollering at An Guoming, "When are you coming back?"

Before An Guoming could answer, the old lady said, "I don’t care when you come back, just set some aside for me first. Here’s the money!"

The old lady threw down a handful of cash, determined to place a pre-order.

An Guoming quickly called her back and returned the money. "No need to pay now. I’ll definitely save a bunch for you next time."

Only after confirming this several times did the old lady let go of An Guoming’s arm.

An Guoming, Li Erniu, and a few others left the chaotic market scene. They drove to Sanhe Town, parked the truck, and met up with another truck to have a meal together.

When An Guoming returned home that evening, he was a little tipsy.

An Ning blocked his path, her hands on her hips and her face stern, not letting him pass.

"Second Brother, don’t drink and drive, don’t drive and drink. That’s the rule, understand?"

An Guoming slapped his chest. "I didn’t drink that much! Really!"

But when he met An Ning’s unyielding gaze, he had no choice but to promise:

"I know, from now on, I won’t drink the car, and I won’t drive the wine."

An Ning felt a headache coming on. She called over to An Guoping, and together they hauled An Guoming onto the kang bed.

"Look at you, Mr. Big Shot. You can drink cars now, huh?"

"Just wait until you wake up. I’ll let Mom deal with you."

An Ning tucked An Guoming in with a quilt and walked out.

That night, An Ning gathered everyone in the An family—except for An Guoming—for a small meeting.

The next morning, An Guoming walked into the kitchen, yawning. He was halfway through the yawn when he stopped, not daring to finish it.

"Hey, why are you all staring at me like that?"

"Second Brother, you don’t remember what you said last night?"

An Guoming genuinely couldn’t remember a thing. He asked tentatively, "What did I say?"

An Ning gave a signal with her eyes, and An Guoping was the first to stand up. "Second Brother, you said you’d help me till the soil in the backyard today."

"And that you’d help me shovel all the pig manure."

An Guoqing lowered his head as soon as he finished speaking, looking a little guilty.

An Guoming took one look and knew his eldest brother was lying. There was no way he would have said that.

Avoiding manual labor was in his DNA; none of these chores sounded like something he’d volunteer for.

"Little Sis—I—"

An Ning looked at An Guoming with a half-threatening gaze. "What’s wrong, Second Brother? Don’t you remember?"

"Do I need to help you recall how you promised to go up the mountain and water the trees for me?"

At that moment, several pairs of eyes were fixed on An Guoming. And in Lin Cuihua’s hand was a rice paddle that he seriously suspected was being wielded as a weapon.

"Hehehe, I remember now. I really did promise that."

An Guoming understood the situation. He had to agree, whether he wanted to or not.

Sure enough, he saw everyone across from him nod in satisfaction.

"Daughter, you supervise your second brother."

"Roger!"

An Ning looked at An Guoming triumphantly, smiling victoriously. "Second Brother, was the alcohol tasty?"

"No!"

An Guoming finally understood. This was all because he had drunk too much.

"Wrong!"

An Ning disagreed. "The alcohol can be tasty, but the car you drive after drinking isn’t so easy to handle, wouldn’t you say?"

"Oh... I get it."

An Guoming said listlessly. This whole gang had conspired to punish him.

But drinking and driving really was dangerous; he had been too complacent.

An Guoming looked at An Ning placatingly. "Little Sis, I have come to a profound realization of my mistake. So, about that work..."

"Second Brother, what are you talking about? This work has nothing to do with your drinking. Don’t get the wrong idea."

An Guoming was so frustrated he could grind his teeth. Where had his adorable little sister gone?

He didn’t recognize this little devil at all!