“Brother Zhou Song!”

As soon as Zhou Song reached the edge of his field, Lin Erzhu, who was working in the neighboring plot, spotted him with his sharp eyes. Waving his sickle in greeting, he called out. Zhou Song simply raised his hand in acknowledgment.

He stood at the edge of the field, gazing over a sea of golden wheat, the heads full and ripe, just waiting to be harvested.

The busiest and most joyous time in the village each year was during harvest season. This time symbolized hope for the year ahead, with the promise of a secure life.

Almost every household in Qi Shan Village was currently out in the fields, hard at work. The harvest was too important to delay.

Lin Erzhu, busy with his own field, had only greeted Zhou Song briefly and didn’t come over to chat. This year, it was just him and his mother working the fields, as his wife was pregnant and couldn’t do heavy labor. She stayed home to prepare meals for them, bringing lunch out to the field at noon so they could save time and harvest more wheat.

Once the wheat ripened, people couldn’t help but feel anxious. The quicker they could get the crops out of the field, the better. Zhou Song remembered hearing from the elders about a year when a sudden storm hit during the harvest. Many families lost nearly everything they had worked for that year, leading to a tough and hungry year ahead.

Rural folk relied on the mercy of the heavens for their livelihood. When the weather was good, they worked relentlessly to get the crops harvested and feel some peace of mind. The sting of hunger was something they knew too well. During times of famine, food became more precious than life itself, especially for poor families like theirs, who couldn’t survive without grain.

Fortunately, Qi Shan Village was near the mountains, so in the worst of times, they could gather resources from the mountain to survive. Unlike villages that relied solely on their fields, Qi Shan at least had that advantage. If the harvest was bad, some other villages would face real starvation.

Zhou Song parked his cart by the edge of his field, grabbed his sickle, and stepped into the golden sea of wheat. Grabbing a handful, he sliced it cleanly with a swift motion, dropping the cut wheat onto the ridge in the middle of the field. When he finished a section, he would tie it all up together in bundles.

His movements were quick and practiced. The way he wielded the sickle showed he was no stranger to this kind of work. He made quick progress, cutting down sheaves of wheat with little effort.

Zhou Song’s land was two acres smaller than Lin Erzhu’s, but working alone, he was able to keep pace with Lin Erzhu and his mother. This year, Zhou Song estimated he might even finish harvesting before them.

After harvesting half an acre in one go, Zhou Song finally straightened his back, which had been bent for quite some time. The midday sun blazed fiercely, making it hard to keep his eyes open. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and squinted at the position of the sun. He reckoned he could finish this acre before noon and with time left to bundle and transport the wheat. By the afternoon, he should be able to finish another acre. With seven acres in total, Zhou Song figured he could be done in three to four days.

Glancing over at Lin Erzhu’s field, Zhou Song saw the mother and son hard at work, making about the same progress—half an acre harvested.

As a Qian Yuan, Zhou Song had more physical strength than an average person. He needed less rest. Aunt Qian, though, had worked too hard in her youth, and her body wasn’t in great condition. She couldn’t match the stamina of a grown man, so it was impressive that the two of them had managed to harvest this much.

Zhou Song took a drink from the water pouch hanging at his waist and bent down to get back to work.

Harvesting under the scorching sun was grueling, but seeing the wheat being gathered up brought joy to everyone. No one felt the fatigue.

By noon, many people still weren’t ready to stop working. They wiped the sweat from their brows and kept going.

“Brother Zhou Song, come over and rest for a bit!” Lin Erzhu called out from the edge of his field, waving his hand.

He was mainly concerned that his mother might overwork herself. If he didn’t stop, she would likely keep working too. As much as the grain was important, he didn’t want her health to suffer from overexertion.

Zhou Song called back from a distance and finished tying up the wheat he had cut. He hoisted the bundle over his shoulder and carried it to the edge of the field, where he stacked it with the rest of the bundles. This would make transporting it easier later.

Harvesting the wheat was only the beginning. Afterward, there would be threshing and drying, which would take several more busy days. Then, it would be time to pay taxes, sell what could be sold, and save the silver for the year’s expenses.

After putting so much effort into growing the wheat, only a small portion would be kept for themselves to eat. Most of it was too valuable to keep. Even the wheat they kept would mostly be turned into mixed grain rather than pure white flour, which was considered a luxury for rural folk. Ordinary families couldn’t afford such extravagance.

In the town, a pound of flour fetched a good price. However, their village didn’t have the means to mill wheat into fine flour, so they mostly sold the grain as it was. The buyers would then process it and sell it at double the price. Watching that made the villagers envious, but there wasn’t much they could do.

Lin Erzhu dragged Zhou Song over to sit in the shade of a tree at the edge of the field, unbuttoning his collar to let the breeze in. He said to Aunt Qian, who was drinking water nearby, “Mom, you rest a bit longer. I’ll work more this afternoon and finish this acre.”

Aunt Qian waved him off. “I’m fine. If we work together, we can finish faster and feel at ease.”

Since she insisted, Lin Erzhu didn’t push further. The elders valued grain above all else and wouldn’t rest easy until the harvest was complete.

After resting a bit and drinking some water, the three of them continued working. From a distance, Liu Fang was walking over with a basket in her hand.

Lin Erzhu saw her from afar, set down his water bottle, and went to meet her. “Are you feeling okay at home today?” he asked, reaching out to take the basket.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Liu Fang smiled as she handed over the basket.

As her pregnancy progressed, her earlier discomforts had lessened, and she was eating more, gaining a healthy roundness.

The two walked back together, and Liu Fang greeted everyone, then sat next to Aunt Qian. “You must be hungry after working all morning. Let’s eat.”

Lin Erzhu opened the cloth covering the basket and asked if she had eaten. After she confirmed she had, he handed a grainy bun to Zhou Song. Since Zhou Song lived alone, the Lin family had been bringing food for him during the harvest. They were close enough not to bother with formalities. Zhou Song often brought them wild game in exchange, so neither family fussed over these small matters.

In addition to food, Liu Fang had brought them a large jar of water. The weather was hot, and they had likely finished the water they had brought earlier.

Everyone took a bun, and Lin Erzhu pulled out a pot of stewed mixed vegetables, placing it in the center. They ate heartily, having worked up an appetite all morning. Lin Erzhu joked that he’d probably lose two pounds by the end of the harvest.

“The harvest looks good this year. We should be a bit better off,” Aunt Qian said, taking a bite of her bun and glancing over at the still-unharvested field.

“Yeah, and once the baby is born, we’ll have some extra to spend,” Lin Erzhu said, smiling at the thought of becoming a father soon.

Liu Fang, feeling shy under his gaze, gently pushed him. “Eat your food.”

Zhou Song glanced at them briefly before lowering his gaze. In the past, seeing other couples being affectionate didn’t stir anything in him. It felt unrelated to his life.

But now, when he saw them, Shen Qingzhu’s face popped into his mind. He wondered what Shen Qingzhu would be like with his future husband. Whoever was lucky enough to marry such a wonderful Kun Ze would surely cherish him dearly.

“When the baby is born, Erzhu, you’ll need to act more mature. Don’t be such a mischievous monkey anymore, or you’ll set a bad example for your child,” Aunt Qian chided him when she saw him sitting all crooked.

Her son, despite being about to become a father, still acted like a kid who hadn’t fully grown up.

“You should learn a thing or two from Brother Zhou Song. He’s always so steady.”

Far from being embarrassed, Lin Erzhu laughed cheekily. “Brother Zhou Song is steady, but he doesn’t have a wife!”

“You cheeky brat!” Aunt Qian scolded him with a smile.

Usually, Zhou Song would ignore these kinds of comments, but this time, he gave Lin Erzhu a cold look.

Despite the heat, Lin Erzhu felt a chill run down his spine.

He shrank back a little, thinking, “Having a crush really changes a person. Now he’s even glaring at me over a joke.”

Rubbing his neck, he wisely decided to drop the subject and sat upright to eat properly.

Aunt Qian, thinking he was finally behaving, gave him another bun, feeling pleased.

After finishing their meal and taking only a short rest, they all returned to the fields to continue working. Liu Fang took the basket and headed home.

Before the sun set, Zhou Song had finished harvesting his second acre of wheat. Lin Erzhu’s family had also made good progress, with their third acre nearly half done.

Both families had carts to transport the wheat, but there was a lot, and they would probably need to make two or three trips. They decided to leave Aunt Qian behind to guard the harvested wheat.

There were always a few lazy scoundrels around the village who liked to take advantage of harvest season to steal grain. It was common for families to keep an eye on their fields during this time, so they could catch any wrongdoers early.

Farmers, aside from fearing natural disasters, also dreaded theft. Luckily, Qi Shan Village had a strong sense of community, and the village head kept things in order. Few dared to steal grain, as tampering with someone’s livelihood was a serious offense. Last year, a man named Laizi had brazenly stolen a large portion of someone’s field during the night. When the extra grain at his house was noticed, he was caught, beaten, and expelled from the village as a warning to others.

Although theft had become less common, it never hurt to be cautious. Stealing already harvested wheat was much easier than taking it from the fields.

After several trips transporting the wheat, night fell. Lin Erzhu invited Zhou Song to his house for dinner, but Zhou Song declined, saying he would eat something simple at home.

The two acres of wheat he had harvested took up a fair amount of space. Once he brought in the rest of his crop, it would likely fill his entire yard.

Afterward, he would need to thresh and dry the wheat in the village’s communal drying area, which was large enough to accommodate several families. Each year, families took turns using the space, with whoever finished harvesting first getting priority.

Zhou Song neatly stacked the wheat he had previously piled haphazardly, organizing it to one side of the yard. This would make it easier when he brought in the remaining wheat.

Once finished, he dusted off the wheat husks that had clung to him. His neck felt prickly, and when he reached into his collar, he pulled out a few husks.

He went to the kitchen, filled a basin with water, and wiped himself down with a cloth, feeling much better afterward.

Finished with his chores, Zhou Song didn’t rush to make dinner. Instead, he went to the back yard to check on the chickens, tossing them some feed. They hadn’t eaten since the morning and were clearly hungry, rushing over and crowding together to eat.

Watching them eat with gusto, Zhou Song clapped his hands and went to the vegetable garden to pull up some greens. He returned to the front yard and went into the kitchen to start making dinner.

By now, the sky had grown completely dark, and the kitchen was hard to see in. Zhou Song grabbed the oil lamp from the windowsill and lit it, then started a fire in the stove.

The dim light flickered, illuminating a small area and casting a somewhat lonely shadow over his solitary figure.

He stood up and squatted by the kitchen door, washing vegetables in the faint light. When he looked up, he could see the sky full of stars. Nearby, the faint clucking of chickens came from the back yard, while in the distance, a dog barked from someone else’s house.

Zhou Song sighed softly. For some reason, the large courtyard felt unusually quiet tonight, so quiet that every little sound seemed magnified.