Chapter 32 Every Grain Is Hard-Earned (Fourth Update)

"Humph, not doing their own chores," Hongji's father grumbled, before eating, he took some puffs of his bamboo tobacco pipe to satisfy his craving, and then he began his meal.

Daya led her younger sisters to wash their hands, and while she ate, she also fed the youngest sister.

Previously, when Er Ya saw wild daisies, wild orchids, and honeysuckle, she didn't notice any flowers in the youngest sister's hands during the time she carried her. She didn't find it strange, assuming Qing must have thrown the flowers into a ditch.

Siwa, with a simple and unclear mind, didn't pay attention and thought Wuya might have unknowingly lost the flowers while playing.

Daya was even less observant, her thoughts aligned with her father's—Wuwa planting flowers? More like destroying them. She was sure the flowers had been discarded long ago.

Er Ya and Sanya diligently picked up the fallen rice grains from the field. This was the fruit of their and their sisters' labor, every grain was treasured.

While collecting these grains, the two children hoped that, after the harvest, they could eat dry rice every day and no longer have to endure the watery porridge that left their bellies growling with hunger and their bodies weak.

When Siwa wasn't paying attention, Ye Shiqi threw the wild daisy and honeysuckle vines, as well as the wild orchids into her "space".

While Er Ya carried her, she took a handful of rice grains from the bamboo basket in Er Ya's hands and threw them into the soil of her "space", then scattered a little more, thinking it wasn't enough.

Then she silently wished for the "Spiritual Spring" in the space to automatically water her sown seeds and the flowers she had just thrown into her space.

The bees collected in the space gathered honey from the blossoms there, and the plants rooted in the space grew rapidly. What were once just cuttings, like the wild daisy, had now blossomed into a dense patch with many flowers.

Wild orchids also thrived into secretive, dense patches, with their fragrance wafting through the air.

And then there was honeysuckle, although not many vines had grown, one plant was lush enough to form a dense mesh of branches and buds, some awaiting bloom and others already unfurling their petals—a golden variety of honeysuckle.

Such change in the space didn't affect that "Spiritual Spring," nor hinder the sprouting rice seedlings in another area of the space—their growth stayed separate, without competing.

Ye Shiqi, planting for the first time, felt a sense of accomplishment. So, this was another way to farm, with the joy of planting something tangible to enjoy.

After breakfast, Hongji arranged for Siwa to take Qing and stay in the room, no longer going to the fields.

He was worried that the two younger girls would get sunburnt. On their way back, they had come across many villagers who gossiped and asked why he was taking so many young children to the fields.

"Where is his mother, his sisters?"

Hongji and his father didn't know how to respond, they vaguely replied, not daring to say that the adults were at home while they sent the children out to work.

These last few months, the village gossip followed their family, turning them into the most scandalous household in the village.

Siwa obediently nodded; she was strong and starting to understand some things, capable of taking care of her sister, giving her water, carrying her to the latrine.

With the two children at home, Hongji still worried and asked his sisters to keep an eye on them while working.

Ye Shuzhi said nothing and did not nod; in silence, she went about her work, unwilling at heart to watch over the little ones.

Ye Shuzhen pouted and didn't nod either, nor dared to argue with her older brother, so she chose to ignore the two little ones.

Hongji could only sigh with worry, thinking about going to work for half an hour before carrying rice back, so that he could keep an eye on the little ones while feeling reassured about getting the work done.

Ye Shuzhi was left to work on the threshing with her eldest brother and father away, with only the two youngest children remaining at home. Unwilling yet daring not to shirk her duty, she wielded a large stick to beat the rice.

Ye Shuzhen glared at the two little ones, envying their young age that exempted them from work and thinking how worry-free life is as a child.

Ye Shiqi had seen before how people from ancient times threshed rice, an entirely manual labor using a stick divided into two sections, swinging forcefully to separate the grains from the stalks.

She felt that the poets were right, "Who knows from his dinner that each grain is hard-won."

After another half hour, Hongji returned with another load of rice, followed by the footsteps of Hongji's father.

The two men entered their courtyard and saw that Ye Shuzhi and Ye Shuzhen had already thrashed the rice they had brought back earlier and separated it from the sheaves.

The two men placed the baskets of rice seedling in the yard before wiping their sweaty faces with their dirty sleeves.

Hongji put down his load to drink water and filled a kettle for the children, remembering they had forgotten to bring water to the fields. Seeing them drink raw water from the irrigation ditch, he feared they might fall ill.

Hongji's father also took a sip of water. He didn't give it much thought, as his priority at the moment was to take a couple of puffs from his bamboo tobacco pipe.

"Elder brother, father, how much more is there?" Ye Shuzhi asked, her hands burning painfully. A girl not used to manual labor, with hands skilled in needlework, she was distressed by the rough work that had damaged her hands.

"Father, my hands hurt. Can we wait until you have finished the work before threshing the rice?"

Ye Shuzhen's hands also burned fiercely, her pain bringing her to the brink of tears, her pitiful expression causing tears to well up in her eyes.

"How can that be possible? We must thresh the rice quickly, or it will sprout and mold. We will lose our food for the future," Hongji said, swiftly intervening.

Hongji's father blew a puff of smoke from his bamboo pipe and, frowning, told his daughters, "Your brother is right. When has work been without toil? You've been coddled and rarely did any tough work, but during harvest, you cannot slack off. This grain is our lifeblood. We haven't yet harvested one-fifth of our two acres."

"Ah... wuwu, it hurts so much," Ye Shuzhen dumbly stared at her palm, now wounded, and couldn't hold back her tears.

Ye Shuzhi also felt like crying, but upon seeing the admonishing gaze of her father and elder brother, she did not dare. She moved the threshed rice to the side of the wall to dry.

As they continued to bash the rice, dust from the stalks covered them, the chaff making their faces and hands itch intolerably.

Hongji and his father shouldered the baskets and continued back to the fields.

Ye Shiqi was sitting on the bed, held by Siwa. The two children dared not sit outside, partly because the aunts swinging their sticks to thresh the rice would stir up considerable dust, which could coat them and cause unbearable itching.

Ye Shiqi didn't understand that she avoided sitting outside not because of the dust but for fear of being glared at by her aunts.

Siwa, being slightly older, had experienced two rice harvest seasons and knew better. When younger, she didn't understand and would scratch incessantly at the itchy dust on her skin.

She continued to pester Qing, telling her not to crawl outside.

As the sensible elder sister, she was a responsible and caring girl.