Chapter 120: Not Easy

When Han Li and the others returned from the threshing floor, everyone looked haggard and covered in dust.

Yun Yingying felt as though her arms and legs had gone completely numb. If they weren’t still in the middle of the street, she would have asked Han Li to carry her home. Even so, whenever they passed through an empty alley, she would grip Han Li's arm to ease her exhaustion. Today, unlike usual, Yun Jingjing did not lecture her sister for clinging to Han Li.

"Be good, just a little further and we'll be home," Han Li said. "Once we're back, you can take a hot bath, and then I'll massage your arms, waist, and legs. I guarantee you’ll be free of all fatigue by tomorrow."

"I just want to lie down on the kang and sleep," Yun Yingying replied. "I don't want to bathe, and I don't want to eat."

"If you don't wash, you'll stink by tomorrow. If you don't eat, you won't have the strength to work, and you'll suffer even more than today."

As they reached their door, He Mi and Hao Hongmin’s group of four arrived as well. It turned out that He Mi and Qi Zhaodi had stayed behind to help Hao Hongmin and the others finish their work before returning together.

Even though she was exhausted, Yang Xiuying started sharing the news the moment she saw Han Li. "Han Li, you really have no sense of camaraderie! You didn't even offer to help us with a little bit of work."

"I couldn't help it," Han Li replied. "Your assigned plots were just too far from mine. It wouldn't have been appropriate for me to go all the way over there."

"Forget it," Yang Xiuying said. "I just hope we're assigned closer together tomorrow. But do you know what happened just now?"

"What?"

"That newcomer, Xiong Xianjin, cut his calf at dusk. It bled profusely and looked terrifying. He was rolling on the ground, screaming louder than the donkeys in the shed. If you didn't know better, you’d think he was dying. The team leader couldn't stop him, but then Village Chief Zhao came over, had two people hold him down, took one look at the wound, and sprinkled a handful of wood ash on it. He told Xiong that if he had dared to scream like that back when he was in the army, his squad leader would have given him twenty lashes just to stop the noise. Still, Chief Zhao ended up granting him a day off."

Han Li chuckled to himself, thinking that Xiong Xianjin was already much tougher than the pampered idols of the future.

Nobody felt like cooking that night, but they had to eat; otherwise, tomorrow would be even worse. Yun Jingjing sliced a piece of cured meat, stir-fried it, added enough water for three, and tossed in some vegetable pancakes they had made with Hao Hongmei the day before. After a quick boil, their bowls of cured meat and pancake stew were ready. It was simple, fast, and included vegetables, meat, and starch—all customizable with extra salt, vinegar, or chili.

While they ate, the water in the pot outside boiled, warming up the washroom. Yun Yingying stayed to clean up, while Yun Jingjing went home to fetch their change of clothes. Han Li sat on the kang, watching Yingying as she bent over to wash the bowls. Observing her silhouette compared to He Mi's, he thought that with a little more "cultivation," she might reach the next level. As his hand reached out, Yun Yingying nearly dropped a bowl and gave him an annoyed glare.

"Stop it," she scolded. "Can't you see I'm busy? I'll be out before my sister is, anyway."

Everyone was covered in the scent of sweat, so any intimacy was limited to that; anything more would have been inappropriate.

Over the next few days, the group focused on harvesting soybeans. There were minor incidents, but nothing serious. Most of the trouble was caused by the new educated youths, leading to many having their work points deducted. Once the soybeans were harvested and spread out on the threshing floor to dry, it was time to prepare for threshing.

Han Li’s own harvest was significant; he had quietly gathered all the pods that had fallen to the ground unnoticed. Once the soybeans were dried, he could roast them, grind them into soy milk, or exchange them for tofu at the commune. The uses were endless.

Before the beans on the threshing floor were even finished, many people hadn't yet recovered their strength, but it was already time to harvest potatoes, sweet potatoes, and peanuts.

Working in these fields was different from cutting bean stalks; everyone was highly motivated. You could eat while you worked, and as long as you weren't too blatant, the team leaders would at most mumble a word or two.

Today was for sweet potatoes. They headed to the fields before dawn. First, they used sickles to cut the vines, which were piled up to be used later—the leaves could be picked for greens, and the rest would go to the cattle shed. Nothing was wasted.

Then came the part everyone anticipated: the oxen and horses pulled plows through the ridges. Only the most experienced hands were allowed to guide the plows. Once the earth was turned, the sweet potatoes were exposed, and everyone scrambled to pick them up. The large ones went into baskets to be hauled away, while the smaller ones became fair game. People would wipe them on their clothes and take a few bites when the team leader wasn't looking. The leader turned a blind eye—he wasn't deaf, after all.

After the initial sweep, they used rakes to sift through the soil, and finally, they went over it again with shovels and hoes to make sure nothing was left behind. Despite these efforts, many tubers remained hidden. Usually, these would be scavenged by rats, other youths, or village children, but this year, it all went to Han Li. He already had plans for them: cornmeal and sweet potato porridge, dried sweet potatoes, and roasted sweet potatoes in the brazier.

Because everyone was snacking in the fields, lunch was light. By dusk, some were even sneaking a few sweet potatoes into their pockets. Han Li didn't take any openly, but once home, he had them all set. He tucked a few into the stove to roast while he cooked dinner.

That night, Yun Jingjing traded for some eggplants and stewed them with cured meat, sticking corn flatbreads around the edge of the pot. It was a meatless day otherwise, but there was no helping it. Everyone was drenched in sweat, so any affection was put on hold. By the time they finished eating, Yun Yingying felt like she was falling apart. If Yun Jingjing hadn't pulled her home, she would have just collapsed right there.

After a few days, the sweet potatoes and peanuts were finished. Both the villagers and the educated youths were satisfied, as it saved them a lot of their grain rations. Han Li’s harvest was bountiful; he had gathered enough to last him two years on his own. Of course, he couldn't live on that alone, but the corn harvest—the staple of the era—was still to come.

When they headed to the potato fields, the mood was less buoyant, as potatoes couldn't be eaten raw.

Along the road, several villagers stopped by the sorghum fields, looking at the bright red heads and the few remaining green leaves. "The sorghum is ready to cut, too. That’s back-breaking work."

Han Li hadn't understood at first, thinking that since the stalks were tall, it would be easier. Reality soon taught him otherwise. The stalks were thick and tough, and unlike the bean stalks, they required bundling. He watched the villagers: one arm wrapped around a cluster of stalks, the other wielding a sickle, using their knees to push the bundle forward. When they could hold no more, they would twist two stalks together into a "tie" to bind the sheaf. They would then stack these into "sorghum tepees"—tall, tent-like structures—to prevent moisture and pests.

It was a task that required both strength and technique. It took Han Li half a row just to get the hang of the bundling. By the time he finished, the fields were dotted with these tepees.

They spent the next few days threshing, husking, and drying. The villagers chatted about how lucky they were with the weather. Han Li asked why, and they explained that one year, the cold and snow had come so early that the grain hadn't dried properly. With the authorities pushing hard for the grain tax, everyone had been forced to bring the harvest onto their heated kangs to dry it out bit by bit.