The Rough Lives of Three Rural Sisters

In 1972, my mother passed away after giving birth to three girls. Dad went down to the pond to fish that night and never came back. The three of us grew up with our grandma in a leaky woodshed, learning to weave, recognize herbs, and observe the sky. When we were eighteen, grandma failed to survive the cold winter. Before leaving, she only left half a basket of seeds: "This is the root left for the three of you. Plant it well and the days will be good." The three of us took the seeds and started planting them in wasteland, making bean paste and selling wild products. We managed to turn the half-collapsed firewood shed into a ten-thousand-yuan household registered in the whole commune...