Chapter 19: Day and Night Work

“Zhiqing Ning, You’ll run out of energy if you thrash so hard. Don’t swing too wide; just use force when hitting the container.” Normally, educated youths slacking off wouldn’t matter, but this was crucial; every extra person reduced losses. A good harvest this year meant food next year.

The wet stalks splashed water. “Uncle Chunxi, it’s cloudy. If it doesn’t clear up, the rice won’t dry. Is there another way?”

A cold wind blew; Wang Shuning didn’t think it would clear up.

He Chunxi, thrashing rice, replied, “If there’s no sun, we’ll use fire to dry it in large winnowing baskets. It’s difficult to control the temperature and is inefficient; it also wastes firewood.”

Wang Shuning frowned. Drying so much rice with fire would take forever. “Doesn’t the town or county have rice dryers?”

He Chunxi looked at her, bewildered. “I think I heard of them. The city’s rice factory has them, but transporting so much rice to the city would require a lot of manpower, and they’d charge. It wouldn’t be worth it.”

Wang Shuning worked faster. Rice dryers in the 1970s were imported and expensive.

The ox cart to the county took almost two hours; the bus to the city, an hour and a half. Dafeng Village only had ox carts; there were no tractors or trucks. Transporting rice to the city was difficult.

Looking at the villagers working hard, Wang Shuning held the rice stalks and looked up, praying for sunshine.

They worked until midnight; the afternoon shift returned to relieve them. He Haiming announced that everyone would work day and night to process the rice and return to normal hours afterward.

Wang Shuning felt a chill; working day and night was more tiring than overtime.

At nine, Wang Shuning walked home, exhausted. To finish thrashing the rice, they needed another day and night.

“Sister Shuning, what’s wrong?” He Guoyue, waiting for He Zhuzhu, saw Wang Shuning dejected.

Wang Shuning took He Guoyue’s hand. “It’s dark; stay inside. What if human traffickers take you?”

Goudan was asleep. He Guoyue was worried because He Zhuzhu hadn’t returned; there was leftover corn porridge in the kitchen.

A candle lit the hall. “Traffickers don’t dare come to the village. Li Zi almost got taken two years ago; the villagers almost beat the traffickers to death.”

Li Zi was He Daniu’s grandson.

Wang Shuning gave He Guoyue two candies. She’d brought them for when she got hungry. “Traffickers are afraid, but what if they’re bold? You and Goudan are only six. Lock the door when your mother isn’t home; don’t open it to strangers. Shout for help if you’re in danger.”

She felt sorry for the children; she’d been lonely at six, but that was a different time; she hadn’t worried about being trafficked.

He Guoyue held the candies tightly. Sister Shuning was kind; she often gave them things. It was night, and they’d brushed their teeth.

“I’m scared because Mom isn’t home. I’ll go to sleep now.”

Wang Shuning closed the hall door and went to her kitchen, boiled water for a bath, and didn’t want to work in her space.

She cleaned and fried a fish, added water, and put in white radish and red grass.

After bathing, she felt clean. The wet rice chaff stuck to her skin; her neck itched.

The best part of using an earthen stove was the crispy rice crust. After serving the rice, she cooked the crust until crispy and put it in a plastic bottle. It was delicious with water and pickled mustard greens or chili sauce.

She ate the fish and used the broth for rice. Fish broth wasn’t fresh the next day and smelled fishy. Unless it was braised, she preferred to eat it all at once.

As if hearing her prayers, the sun appeared the next morning. The villagers were excited.

They cleaned the square to dry the rice. Wang Shuning looked at her tool for spreading rice and wheat to ensure even drying.

The water in the fields had drained; the soil was muddy. The stalks were thrown into the fields to dry and then burned.

Cotton and rapeseed stalks were collected for firewood, but rice and wheat stalks weren’t good for burning; it was better to burn them as fertilizer.

The sun was brighter the next day. Villagers watched to prevent sparrows from stealing the rice.

Wang Shuning finished work at eleven, returning to a normal schedule. She told He Zhuzhu she wanted to buy a rooster for a chicken stew.

Cleaning and preparing the chicken was more work than cooking it.

Village chickens were large—four or five pounds; Wang Shuning could eat it for several meals.

The first team was assigned to collect leftover rice. Wang Shuning and Zhang Meili carried baskets and sickles, wearing clumsy rubber boots.

They collected leftover rice; the husks were dark, and the rice was dull. Wang Shuning threw them away. “It’s moldy.”

Zhang Meili picked up the stalks, cut the rice, and put it in the basket only if it wasn’t moldy. “Chief Niu said to only collect the unmoldy rice; even if dried, the quality is poor after being submerged.”