Chapter 103: Autumn Harvest

"San Jie, Ping'an, we are heading back first," Zhang Daniu said.

"Alright."

"I didn't expect the harvest to have already started. San Jie, you stay home with the two nephews to cook; I'll go to the fields to take a look."

"Okay."

Zhang Ping'an's grandparents were not at home; they were likely also in the fields bundling rice. He grabbed a sickle and a water bottle and headed straight for the fields.

"Brother, Brother!"

The little one was sitting nicely at the edge of the field, but upon seeing Zhang Ping'an, they came running over unsteadily. Zhang Ping'an hurried forward two steps to catch them.

"Hey, where are Mom and Dad?"

"There," a small finger pointed in one direction.

"Good, you sit here at the edge of the field nicely, and I'll take you home in a while."

"Mm, okay."

"Grandpa, Grandma, go take a rest. I brought a water bottle; go have a drink, and you can keep an eye on Xile while you're at it. San Jie is also at home cooking."

"That works too," Zhang Dadan said, looking up at the sun and guessing it was almost noon.

"Good grandson, cut slowly. The weather is nice, no need to rush," Grandma said, feeling very sorry for Zhang Ping'an.

"Alright."

Zhang Ping'an bent his waist, grabbing the rice stalks with one hand and swinging the sickle with the other, quickly laying down a large patch and soon catching up to his parents in the middle of the field.

"Ping'an, you're back."

"Mm, San Jie is back too, and she's cooking at home."

"That's good. Let's finish cutting to that end, and it'll be just right to go home for lunch."

Zhang Ping'an kept his head down and harvested, quickly leaving his parents behind. Even with Zhang Laohan swinging his sickle until it seemed to smoke, he couldn't catch up.

"Alright, head of the house, how old are you? Why are you competing with Ping'an?" Dong Dani shot him a look.

"Hehe."

Zhang Ping'an didn't straighten his back until he reached the north end of the field to look back. Seeing his parents had been left far behind, he bent over and headed back.

"Cough, cough, Ping'an, slow down, no rush," Zhang Laohan said as the two passed each other.

"Mm, okay," Zhang Ping'an replied, not straightening his back, and kept his head down as he cut back.

"......"

By the time Zhang Laohan reached the north end of the field, Zhang Ping'an's second pass was also nearly finished.

"We really are old," Zhang Laohan had to admit his age.

"Alright, you're not happy even when your son cuts fast? Let's go back."

"Good grandson, come drink some water and rest." Zhang Laohan's hand, extended to take the water, froze in mid-air.

"Old man, it's the same if you go back and drink. Ping'an has done a round trip, and you've only cut half."

"......"

Zhang Ping'an looked like he had been fished out of water. Even though it was mid-October, the temperature at noon was still twenty-seven or twenty-eight degrees, and with the labor, sweat was pouring down like rain.

"Let's go back; Xiaohua should have finished cooking."

On their way home, the six of them happened to run into Zhang Xiaohua, who had come to call them for dinner.

"Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, Dad, Xiao Zi, Donglai, say hello."

"Great-Grandpa, Great-Grandma, Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle, Little Uncle."

"Hey, good children, so well-behaved."

The group returned home. The others washed up while Zhang Xiaohua served the dishes: four large basins of food—Braised Pork, Braised Fish, venison, chicken soup, and over twenty Steamed Buns—all very rich and oily.

"Grandpa, Grandma, this is venison; since you are older, you can have a little less."

"Alright."

Zhang Ping'an inhaled three large Steamed Buns and half a basin of food in one go before slowing down. He ate two more Steamed Buns and finally drank some soup to fill the gaps.

"Ping'an, your appetite, tsk tsk tsk."

"My good grandson is able to eat and able to work."

"Ah, yes."

After resting for half an hour, the family set out again to harvest rice.

"You three stay here at the edge of the field and play; you are not allowed to run far."

"Mm, okay."

In the afternoon, Zhang Ping'an went full throttle. He didn't straighten his back more than a few times all afternoon, and finally, just before dark at six o'clock, he had laid it all down. Out of the seven-plus mu of rice, Zhang Ping'an had cut over three mu by himself.

Of course, tomorrow they would still need to bundle the rice and take it to the Threshing Machine to thresh the grain.

"Ping'an, the rice needs to wait for the moisture to dissipate before it can be bundled. Go help at your Third Uncle's place early tomorrow morning."

"Okay."

Dazhuang and Erzhuang from Third Uncle's family were both working at the Rolling Mill and hadn't returned; only the old couple and the two sisters-in-law were at home.

When their family of four was in Beijiang, it was also Second Uncle and Third Uncle who helped look after their rice fields. They would go see Second Uncle's place in the afternoon.

At six in the morning, Zhang Ping'an and his father carried their sickles to Third Uncle's field.

"Big Brother, Ping'an, your family's rice is already cut?"

"Mm, we finished it before dark yesterday."

"This..."

Actually, everyone near Zhang Ping'an's house knew his speed at harvesting rice yesterday, but everyone had gone home to eat and was so tired they fell straight to sleep, so they had no energy to discuss it. That was why his Third Uncle didn't know.

"Xiaohua and the others have come to help."

"Oh, oh."

"Alright, hurry up and cut, we'll go see how Lao Er's family is doing after we finish."

"Done."

The Third Uncle's field was smaller than their own, and with the Third Uncle, Third Aunt, and the sisters-in-law having cut quite a bit yesterday, they finished before ten o'clock.

"Big Brother, this speed of Ping'an's..." Third Uncle Zhang Laiwu smacked his lips, unable to find the right words for a long time.

"Heh heh, he takes after me; I was like this when I was young."

"Cough, cough." After hearing this, Third Uncle almost choked himself to death on a puff of smoke. He could even take credit for this?

"Dad, Third Uncle, I'm going to Second Uncle's place to take a look."

"Done, go ahead."

By the time Zhang Ping'an arrived at Second Uncle's field, only the last ridge remained to be cut.

"Ping'an, your family's rice is all cut?"

"Finished cutting in the dark yesterday, helped Third Uncle's family for a few hours this morning, and I came over to see if yours was done."

"Just one ridge left, a single pass."

"That's fine, you guys keep resting, I'll be back in a flash."

"......"

"No need, Ping'an, you go back and bundle the rice."

"It won't delay anything."

"Daniu, you go and meet Ping'an halfway."

"Okay."

Not yet eleven o'clock.

"Second Uncle, I'm heading back now."

"Oh, alright, alright." Second Uncle Zhang Laiwen was also stunned.

Bundling in the afternoon was simple; just squatting down and bundling away, and even with Zhang Ping'an's speed, it barely took until the afternoon to finish bundling all the rice.

Tomorrow morning they would transport it to the threshing ground to pile it up together in preparation for the stone roller; many people had never seen a Threshing Machine.

That thing was driven by a tractor using a triangular belt and was very dangerous; it was estimated that every year someone would lose a few fingers because of it. Anyway, in his past life, Zhang Ping'an had seen it, back in the nineties.

Of course, there were none now; now they used oxen to pull Stone Rollers to repeatedly crush the grain, manually turning the rice ears to gradually separate the grains from the straw.

Early in the morning, Zhang Ping'an and his dad pedaled the tricycle, his grandfather drove the donkey cart, and the whole family pitched in, finally transporting it to the threshing ground before twelve.

After going home for a simple lunch, they started getting busy again. Threshing rice was a technical job that required a good grasp of the degree. Zhang Ping'an couldn't handle it, so he let Second Uncle and his dad take turns, while he went to help transport rice for Second Uncle's family.

After five days of hard work, Zhang Ping'an's task was finally completed. The rice for the three brothers' families had all been harvested and was mostly dried; by the afternoon, it could be packed into sacks and transported home.

"Phew~ finally done. Ping'an, Xiaohua, are you going back later or tomorrow morning?"

"We'll go back later."

Zhang Ping'an had originally promised Wang Xiaoling three or five days, and today was the final deadline; besides, San Jie had to go back to see her husband, San Jie Fu, Lao Jia.

Jia Dongxu had taken Qin Huairu back to Qin Family Village to help, so at this time, only Lao Jia was at home, and there was no telling how he was eating or drinking.

When the three of them returned to Sijiucheng, it was almost dark. Zhang Ping'an handed the vehicle to San Jie at the entrance of the Siheyuan and ran off to the Pharmacy himself.

"Cough, Master."

"Is the rice at home harvested?"

"Yes, it's done. Master, where is Xiao Ling?"

"It's this late, she's off work, so of course she's gone home."

"Oh, alright."

"Alright, if you have anything to say, talk about it tomorrow."

"Okay."

Zhang Ping'an had originally planned to visit Wang Xiaoling's parents directly, but thinking about it, this time wasn't appropriate. Forget it, talk about it later.

The next morning, Zhang Ping'an waited early at the entrance of Eighty-five Hutong.

"Xiao Ling."