Chapter 76

Chapter 76

The sky wasn't light yet, and the fields were already full of people hard at work.

After another half day of cutting, the family's six and a half *mu* of paddy was finished. The harvested rice was piled into small mounds. Zhao Ertian and Zhao Sandi took turns threshing, the *thump-thump-thump* sounds carrying far, the force so strong it made the threshing bucket sway.

The sun was already beating down by now. Without rushing off to help Da Luo Bo's family just yet, Old Man Zhao led the five boys to carry the grain to the threshing ground. Zhu Shi and Luo Shi helped glean the fallen rice heads, doing a rough first pass. Later, they would have the children bring baskets to pick them over carefully again. Don't think the grains left in the field are insignificant; gleaning from field to field could fill a whole basket.

Take that old bachelor in the village, for instance. In previous years, he would help the village chief's family harvest. During those busy days, they fed him, and he was also allowed to gather the rice ears left in the fields. Whatever he gathered was his own, which, once he'd threshed it, could provide food for several more days.

With their own work finished, they didn't have their midday meal in the fields. Except for Zhao Ertian, who stayed behind to watch over the threshing bucket while finishing the last bit of threshing, everyone else went home to eat.

After resting through the noon heat, waiting out the fiercest sun, Old Man Zhao took Zhao Sandi and the five boys to help in Da Luo Bo's family's fields.

"Uncle Da Gen, sorry to trouble you all," Widow Lü said, a hand propped on her hip. Her face under the straw hat was flushed from the sun, sweat soaking her clothes. Yet, she dared not roll up her sleeves or bare her shoulders like the men, nor even loosen her collar a little, fearing gossip.

Old Man Zhao went shirtless in his own fields, but when coming to help, he put his shirt back on. Hearing her, he didn't even look up, slicing through a clump of rice stubble with one swipe of his sickle. "Your family only has four mu of land. We'll work into the night today and finish everything—the cutting and the threshing both."

"Alright, alright." Widow Lü nodded, not offering more thanks, but firmly deciding in her heart that later, when the new chicks they'd just gotten grew up, she'd take two to the Zhao family.

Glancing at Da Luo Bo not far away, gripping his sickle and working without a moment's rest, she wanted to tell her son to take a short break. But Xiao Wu and the others had come to help; how could her own family rest while the helpers worked? She couldn't bring herself to say it.

Licking her dry lips, she wiped the sweat from her face and bent down to continue cutting rice.

Zhao Ertian shouldered the last load of grain to the threshing ground, carried the threshing bucket home, sat down to catch his breath for a moment, then picked up his sickle and went to help too.

As the sun sank below the horizon and the sky gradually darkened, Widow Lü carried her family's final load of grain to the threshing ground. Setting down the carrying pole, she was so exhausted she barely had the strength to speak. Taking the bamboo rake her son handed her, she carefully spread the grain out. After finishing, she walked on numb legs to sit for a while on the mat in her family's shed.

After drinking some water, judging by the sky, she hurriedly got up to go home and cook.

When night fell completely, just like the previous day, torches were lit in the fields. Taking advantage of the coolness, many large families were busy working. The *thump-thump-thump* of threshing could still be heard now and then.

Da Luo Bo had gleaned half a plot's worth of rice heads. Seeing his mother hurrying over with a bowl, he quickly stood up to meet her, taking his portion. His mother then hurried off to the threshing ground.

He sat on the field ridge, his small face filthy beyond recognition, his hands holding the chopsticks covered in cuts from the rice leaves, some even oozing blood. He shoveled in two big mouthfuls of rice. His body was very, very tired, but he dared not stop. If he stopped, he wouldn't want to move again. So he couldn't stop.

Mother was also very tired. He knew that. Mother also dared not stop.

At times like this, he envied children who had fathers. If his father were still here, he and his mother wouldn't have to work so hard. But just thinking this, Da Luo Bo realized he didn't really think about his father much anymore. His small world was already filled with images of his mother's toil. He just wanted to grow up quickly—not even that much, just enough to carry water, shoulder firewood, and lift the threshing bucket.

Then Mother wouldn't have to work so hard.

A bowl heaped with coarse rice, hiding a few pieces of cured meat inside. Da Luo Bo sat cross-legged on the field ridge, his heart feeling quite full.

...

This year's autumn harvest, Heaven smiled upon them. For several days in a row, the weather was clear and sunny.

After Da Luo Bo's family's grain was cut, the next day, Zhao Ertian and Zhao Sandi went to help Zhao Quan's family. He was the only able-bodied laborer in his household, only a little better off than Widow Lü in terms of manpower. Being a man, he had more strength for work. At mealtimes, his wife could go home to cook and bring food to him. It was enough to just leave Gou Sheng to keep an eye on the threshing ground. Though the family of three worked slowly, at least they could keep things moving.

Unlike Widow Lü, whose family didn't even have someone to cook.

The autumn harvest was like this. Families on good terms helped each other, all wanting to gather the crops from the fields quickly. Heaven's mood was truly unpredictable; several thunderstorms in a day were common. Every extra moment the grain stayed in the fields was a moment of unease.

Old Man Zhao's responsibilities were now completely over, only needing to keep an eye on their family's grain at the threshing ground. He let his two sons and grandsons decide for themselves whether to go help other families—to rest or lend a hand to families they were on good terms with—it was entirely up to them.

After six or seven days of busy work, when only stubble and tied-up straw stacks remained in the fields, the threshing ground, lively for several days, also quieted down.

On the day the grain was bagged and stored, the originally clear sky suddenly turned overcast. In the blink of an eye, dark clouds pressed down. First came several rumbles of thunder, then a flash of lightning split the sky. Bean-sized raindrops fell to the ground, sending up a wave of heat that hit you in the face, the scent of soil instantly filling their noses.

The whole family crowded into the narrow storeroom, counting this year's harvest.

A grain sack held roughly a hundred catties of grain. For the village's experienced old farmers, tending their fields meticulously for a year, harvesting three hundred catties per mu was a bumper year that could move them to tears of joy. Last year, the Zhao family harvested three hundred and thirty catties per mu, though they only told outsiders it was around three hundred, afraid of attracting attention. This year was a rare good year, with ample rain and sunshine. While cutting and threshing, Old Man Zhao had kept something in mind, observing carefully. Though the heavy ears of grain couldn't compare to those from the three mu of the "immortal land," they looked even better than last year's. This year, they should harvest over ten catties more per mu, right?

Before bagging, that's what he thought.

After bagging, he felt he had been too conservative.

The grain sacks were used year after year; how much one sack could hold, they knew perfectly well. Stacking all the sacks, they counted carefully, back and forth, several times. That's right, there were twenty-two and a half sacks. If that remaining large half-sack were filled, it would be twenty-three sacks.

If calculated based on the experienced old farmers' families harvesting three hundred catties per mu, six and a half mu of land would only fill nineteen and a half sacks, less than twenty. Even last year, their family only harvested a little over twenty-one sacks, a full sack less than this year—about a hundred and thirty catties less, over one *dan*.

And in earlier years, before Little Treasure was born, with the same land, even after meticulously gathering every rice ear, they only filled eighteen sacks...

Even having experienced harvesting four hundred and sixty catties per mu from the "immortal land," Old Man Zhao was still rendered speechless by this year's harvest from their own fields. After all, the family's six and a half mu were ordinary paddy fields, no different from the village's. The irrigation water was carried from the river. Even if they had been blessed by Little Treasure Fairy's fortune, he thought last year's three hundred and thirty catties per mu was already the peak. He never expected this year to be even more—over twenty catties more per mu than last year, even more than he had originally anticipated.

"Harvesting three hundred and fifty catties per mu... if word gets out, I'm afraid even the Village Head would bring people to ask us how we farmed," Zhao Dashan couldn't help saying.

"I felt it while threshing. With one strike, the grain just poured down," Zhao Ertian said. His elder brother hadn't worked in the fields this year, so his feeling wasn't as deep. Ertian had both cut and threshed; holding a bundle of rice stalks, the weight in his hands felt different.

"Yet growing in the field, you couldn't see much difference," Zhao Sandi pinched his chin, thinking their family's land was strangely peculiar. Even the experienced old farmers hadn't muttered about their rice plants looking any different in the field. It hid its secrets well.

Growing in the field, no difference was visible. Once bagged, the difference emerged.

A bumper harvest was, of course, a joy, but the family's faces showed little delight, at least not as much happiness as when the "immortal land" had yielded its bounty.

Because, they had to pay the grain tax.

The more they harvested, the more they had to pay.

In the past, paying was just paying. Everyone paid, generation after generation paid, so naturally, it was nothing. But this year, they had suffered too many hardships. First, the earthquake at the beginning of the year, houses collapsing, grain damaged. The county authorities not only didn't send anyone to show concern but even, when they had barely managed to reach spring sowing, the Village Head came to ask if their village had any surplus seed grain, telling them to lend a hand to fellow villagers from nearby villages, without even asking once if *they* had seed grain for spring sowing.

The county's great officials showed not half a word of care, didn't ask how many were dead or injured, if they had places to live after their houses collapsed, if they had anything to eat after their grain was ruined... Showing no concern for the people under their governance, their hearts and minds were full of currying favor with their superiors. They even sucked the blood of Tongjiang Town to subsidize the other three towns, all for their own promotion and enrichment.

Later, when their lives had finally stabilized a bit—houses rebuilt, spring sowing done, hunger endured—then refugees came.

Did they not want to report to the authorities? Did they want to fight the refugees to the death? No!

It was because they knew reporting to the authorities was useless. To survive, they had to risk their lives, grit their teeth, and go down the mountain. Didn't they know this action was dangerous? They knew, but still had to do it. The mountain folk couldn't afford to wait. If they didn't fight, death awaited them.

When they suffered, the government and the court turned a deaf ear.

Now, with a bountiful harvest, they naturally felt very unwilling, not wanting to give their grain to the court for nothing like in previous years.

In fact, Old Man Zhao even wanted to fleece the court.

Dark clouds pressed down, the storeroom was dim, and the heavy rain masked the faint murmurs inside.

The whole family crowded into this not-so-large storeroom. Wang Shi was so frightened she stumbled backward, only coming to her senses when her back hit the stacked grain sacks. She looked at that old man whose eyes gleamed with a green light, nearly scared out of her wits by his audacity. How dare he harbor such a terrifying idea?!

Had killing a few refugees truly inflated his courage so much??

Having slept on the same bed for half a lifetime, she almost didn't recognize him!

"I disagree! This is too dangerous!" Wang Shi raised her voice. "How dare you think this?! We've finally settled down now, can't we just live peacefully?! Didn't we already agree before? When the time comes, have the Village Elders pick a few strong women and grannies to push the grain to be delivered to Taoli Village. Then, along with folks from nearby villages, deliver it to the town. Pay the same amount as in previous years. Right now, the Village Head doesn't even bother coming to our village, let alone anyone coming to inspect carefully. We just need to bring a bit extra to handle the Officials' 'kicking the measure' practice. Everything will proceed according to plan. Once we get through the conscription, life will go on as before!"

She really wanted to slap him a few times to wake him up. If they were discovered, it would be a matter of losing their heads, the whole family!

"What isn't dangerous?" Old Man Zhao's appearance now was like an old wolf hiding in the forest. After all these busy days, the fatigue on his face was tinged with a somber shadow. "Being alive, there's never a moment of true peace. Weren't we peaceful and honest enough before? But what use was it? Faces to the soil, backs to the sky, living year after year at Heaven's mercy. If the Old Man in Heaven was in a good mood, we'd have a good harvest. If there was a bit too much rain, a few days of scorching sun, we'd go hungry for a year. Yes, we're peasants. We're supposed to live at Heaven's whim. That's nothing. Our birth decided we could only live this kind of life. I lived honestly for most of my life, naturally, I got used to it."

He grimaced and fiercely slapped the grain sack beside him, his voice gradually rising: "But I just can’t understand it! We’ve been so obedient, farming honestly, paying taxes honestly—grain taxes, poll taxes, every tax under the sun. When they demanded payment, we tightened our belts, even if it meant our children went hungry, just to scrape together enough to hand over. And every year’s corvée labor, no matter how bitter or exhausting, we never uttered a single complaint. Even if we worked ourselves to the bone, it was all considered our duty... So why don’t the court and the officials care about us? Why don’t they protect us?! When natural disasters struck, fine—we couldn’t rely on them, we had to find our own ways to survive. That’s nothing; there were places worse off than us, so it made sense to prioritize them. But why, when man-made calamities hit, was the court still couldn’t be counted on?!"

He was filled with resentment—toward the big shots at the county office, toward the high officials above them, even toward the emperor who had issued the decree to conscript soldiers in their Qingzhou Prefecture. They didn’t treat the common people as human beings, they didn’t treat them as people at all. So why should he continue to obediently hand over grain and money?

He didn’t want to pay!

“Since they can’t be relied on, what right do they have to demand the little grain we’ve toiled a whole year to harvest?”

“I just can’t swallow this anger, and I’m truly unwilling to give it,” Old Man Zhao gnashed his teeth, still fuming whenever he thought about it. “If we delay handing over the grain, the Village Head will definitely bring people to our village, and the whole plan we've been setting up will fall apart. So the grain still has to be paid, and we must hand it over on our own before the Village Head comes to press us.”

“So you’re going to hand it over and then snatch it back?!” his wife, Wang Shi, was so angry she wanted to hit him.

“Why can’t we take it back?” Old Man Zhao looked at his daughter, who was staring blankly in bewilderment. He had noticed years ago that after the autumn harvest, when it was time to pay the grain tax, people from the surrounding towns all transported their grain to Tongjiang Town, unlike them, who delivered it directly to their own town.

Tongjiang Town was more prosperous than the neighboring towns, but what did that have to do with transporting grain? It wasn’t as if the other towns lacked main roads leading to the county seat.

He boldly speculated that Changping County must have a granary somewhere near Tongjiang Town.

How could the grain from several towns not have a place for storage? The officials probably collected the grain from the people and then transported it to the granary. After gathering the grain from the surrounding towns, they would then ship it all together to the county seat.

When the grain collectors were out, the guards at the granary would be fewer. Seizing this opportunity, why couldn’t he take advantage and steal it back?

After all, the men in their village were all “dead” as far as anyone knew—the people from the surrounding villages could testify to that. Even if the matter blew up and the county investigated, it wouldn’t lead back to them. Couldn’t the refugees take the blame?

Besides, would the county even have time to investigate?

Conscription was about to begin, after all.