Chapter 25: She Is Actually Terribly Afraid of Pain

Huan Ya had no idea that she had inexplicably become the target of someone’s resentment. At that moment, she was still diligently shucking corn.

Seeing that the pile of corncobs had already reached her shins, she realized there was still a bit more than half of the harvested corn left to go.

Mother Song caught Huan Ya’s hand and said, "That’s enough, child. There isn’t much left. Let’s rest for today and pick it up again tomorrow."

"Alright!" Huan Ya stretched, and her back let out a series of audible cracks. She let out a small "ouch" and rubbed her sore neck and waist.

Thinking that Mother Song must be in even more pain than she was, Huan Ya hurriedly asked, "Auntie, would you like me to give you a massage? It might help you sleep better tonight."

Mother Song shook her head with a smile, "Your hands are all blistered, and you’re still thinking about massaging me?"

"Huh?" Huan Ya looked down and saw, sure enough, two large blisters had formed at the base of her thumbs, along with several more on her palms.

Seeing her blank expression, Mother Song chuckled, "I’ll go find a needle; you rest for a moment."

With that, Mother Song got up and headed toward the main room.

Huan Ya sat for a while before getting up as well, though she headed to the kitchen. The water she had heated earlier had gone lukewarm, so she added some firewood to the stove and stayed there to boil it.

"Huan Ya?" Mother Song’s voice drifted in from the courtyard.

"Yes!" Huan Ya quickly replied, "I’m in here!"

She stood up and had just reached the door when Mother Song, having heard her, walked over. Seeing the fire crackling in the stove, Mother Song asked, "What are you boiling water for?"

Huan Ya replied, "Auntie, you’ve been walking all day. I thought I’d boil some hot water for you to soak your feet; it should make you feel more comfortable." She lowered her head shyly and added, "Actually, a massage would be even better, but with these blisters on my hands, it’s not very convenient."

Hearing this, Mother Song couldn't help but feel moved; Huan Ya was truly such a sensible girl. She gently ruffled the girl's hair and said with a smile, "Thank you, Huan Ya."

Huan Ya shook her head. She was the one who should be thanking her aunt.

"Come over here first. Let me pop those blisters for you."

"Okay."

Huan Ya walked over to Mother Song and held out her hands. Seeing the four or five blisters on her palms, a flash of heartache crossed Mother Song’s eyes, one she didn't even notice herself. But Huan Ya saw it, and her eyes instantly brightened, making her feel even warmer inside.

The sky was growing dim, and even with the moonlight, it was hard to see clearly. Especially since Mother Song was getting on in years and had found her eyesight failing over the past two years, she moved with extreme care, afraid of poking Huan Ya’s hand.

She carefully pricked them one by one, squeezing out the fluid inside.

Huan Ya trembled from the pain, but she didn’t cry out, only biting her lip to endure it. When blisters aren’t touched, you don’t feel much; they occasionally feel soft to the touch and rarely ache. But when they are pricked and the fluid is squeezed out, the pain is something else entirely. A stinging sensation radiated across her palms, and whenever the raw skin rubbed against the flesh underneath, it felt as if chili water had been poured onto an open wound.

Noticing Huan Ya’s involuntary shivering, Mother Song looked up, intending to ask if it hurt, but she saw the young girl’s tear-filled eyes. She looked just like a little rabbit—utterly pitiful.

Mother Song paused, leaned down, and blew gently on the wounds, "Whoosh, whoosh—the pain is flying away."

As the warm breath washed over her palms, the pain really did seem to vanish.

Huan Ya blinked. In truth, she was very afraid of pain. Every time she held out an injury with red-rimmed eyes, her mother would do just this—blow on it gently and say that the pain had disappeared. Her father would even tease her, saying she was so delicate that she would probably have to stay home for the rest of her life.