When she woke up, she walked into an old alley in Shanghai during the Republic of China, guarding a small courtyard with peeling walls and half a box of old clothes. There is no golden finger, only the farming skills passed down from the ancestors and a mind full of flexible ideas. Ruined courtyard wall? Pick up some broken bricks and tiles to repair them, and enclose a regular vegetable patch; is the roof leaking? Build a bamboo shed for shade, and plant climbing cucumbers on the way; will the neighbors gossip? The left ear goes in and the right ear goes out, turning around to stop the gossip with a basket of fresh vegetables, and also exchange for some eggs, grain and oil. Spinach is planted in the spring, eggplants are picked in the summer, radish is dried in the autumn and pickled in the winter. The deserted courtyard is gradually filled with the smoke of fireworks, and even the quiet alley becomes a little more lively. The gentle and elegant teacher next door always "happened" to appear when she was in a hurry, handing her a sharp sickle or mugwort to repel mosquitoes. In troubled times, she did not seek to be well-known, but only wanted to guard the small courtyard, sow seeds in spring and harvest in autumn, and be with her husband. In the trivial daily life of firewood, rice, oil and salt, she lived an ordinary life with flavor and steaming.
