Chapter 18: Talking to Them Is Mentally Exhausting

At that moment, Aunt Zhang pushed open the courtyard gate and came in, seeing Meng Ling threshing rice.

“Big Ya, so you’re home threshing grain. I was wondering why your house has been so noisy.”

“It’s been raining for half a month already. It’s bound to clear up in a day or two, why the rush?”

Meng Ling paused her work and replied, “I don’t think this rain will stop any time soon. If we bring the rice in early, we won’t panic later. Our fields are on low ground — they were flooded last year. We can’t take chances again this year.”

“Well, your family has spare grain, so you’re not worried. We don’t.”

Her family’s fields were also in low-lying areas. Last year, they were entirely flooded, and the yield was less than 20%.

Half the village was in the same situation. If there’s no harvest again this year, life would become unbearable.

Here, only those who have grain at home can sleep in peace. In a disaster year, money won’t even buy food.

Aunt Zhang said dismissively, “Ah, don’t worry. The grain won’t spoil. I’ve never seen it rain for more than fifteen days during harvest. The sun will come out tomorrow.”

“You’re the only family in the village rushing around like this.”

Aunt Zhang thought: There are so many people in the village who haven’t started harvesting, yet only your family is in a panic. Are you the only smart ones? It’s been noisy all afternoon with no end in sight.

Meng Ling didn’t want to argue. Aunt Zhang’s family had surplus grain and fewer mouths to feed, unlike theirs.

Just because the villagers are being careless doesn’t mean she should follow blindly.

Meng Ling said, “They’re not in a rush because they have food. We don’t, so we’re anxious.”

“Ah, you’re just scaring yourselves.”

Aunt Zhang crossed her arms and said, “Don’t worry. I guarantee the sun will be out within three days.”

“Let’s hope so!”

Meng Ling knew Aunt Zhang wasn’t really here to talk about the weather—she was annoyed by the noise. The two families lived close, and the houses weren’t soundproof. Everything was audible.

Just then, Shen Yun came back carrying a load of rice stalks. She hadn’t even set down her load when she said with a smile, “Oh, Sister Zhang is here! Are you here to help us thresh?”

What she actually meant was: They’re working hard, and you’re here just to stand around again.

Aunt Zhang chuckled, “I just heard the noise and came to take a look. I can’t help much—I can’t even finish my own chores.”

Your house is so noisy I came to see what’s going on. Who said anything about helping? I don’t even do my own housework.

Shen Yun put down the load and said, “Oh, don’t say that. Everyone knows you’re the most capable one in the village.”

We all know you never do anything. You’re just lazy every day!

Aunt Zhang replied, “Don’t believe the gossip. My husband is just very hardworking.”

People are jealous that I have such a good man who does everything and doesn’t need me to help.

Listening from the side, Meng Ling’s brain nearly overheated. She decided she’d better keep her distance from these two. The whole time they were all smiles, but it was a silent battlefield.

Shen Yun continued, “Sigh, unlike my husband who makes me work with him every day. Your husband lets you rest at home all the time.”

We work in unity. You’re just lazy and think too highly of yourself.

Just then, Meng Liang came back carrying a load of rice stalks.

“Oh, Sister Zhang is here.”

He smiled and said, “Come in and sit for a while.”

There’s nowhere to sit in here, so just go home.

“No, I won’t. I still have things to do at home.”

Aunt Zhang realized she wasn’t welcome and left.

Meng Ling finally breathed a sigh of relief — the battle was over. She almost needed an extra brain just to follow the conversation.

The family worked until evening and had finished threshing more than half an acre of rice. They spread it out on mats to air-dry and remove surface moisture.

If you pile it up, it generates heat and spoils, so it must be laid flat to dry.

The next day, the sky was still gloomy with light drizzle.

Seeing the Meng family harvesting, some villagers began following suit. Some came to observe, and others just came to gawk.

Most of those harvesting were short on food. Those who weren’t anxious had planted a bit later.

“No need to panic, the sun will come out eventually. Even if you harvest now, there’s no sunlight to dry it, and no space at home to spread it out. It’ll just sprout if you pile it up.”

“Still, getting some in is better than none. Look, he’s already done an acre.”

“Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.”

“Look at the sky — do you really believe that?”

“We need to collect as much as we can. If it doesn’t shine all month, we’ll be eating dirt.”

“I’m heading to the field now. You guys can keep chatting.”

In the courtyard, people watched and talked among themselves.

After airing overnight, the rice had dried a lot, and the mixed-in leaves had curled.

Meng Ling passed the unfinished batch through a coarse sieve, then used a winnowing fan to blow out leaf debris.

She placed the cleaned rice on a separate bamboo mat to continue drying.

After a morning of work, the mat was full. Laying it too thick would cause it to heat up. It needed frequent turning, or it would sprout or mold quickly.

Meng Ling sensed trouble. On the second day, she was already out of space. If this kept up, the grain would still spoil.

She had to increase drying capacity.

After thinking it over, she decided to build racks for multi-level drying.

Using layers of bamboo mats wasn’t realistic—it would take too long to make that many.

Building drying racks wasn’t quick either, but it was the best idea for now: stringing the stalks in bundles and hanging them on racks — well-ventilated and space-saving.

Just then, Meng Liang came back with more rice.

“Dad, I have an idea I want to discuss,” Meng Ling said.

She explained her plan about the drying racks.

Meng Liang thought it was great. “Yes, let’s do it. Big Ya, you’re really clever — always full of ideas.”

With a solution in hand, they got to work. Meng Liang cut over ten bamboo poles from the back hill, split them in half.

In just two hours, they finished one drying rack — nearly as tall as the eaves, with nine layers and four rows, well supported. Meng Ling tested it — very sturdy.

She estimated one rack could hold about 500 jin (250 kg) and they’d need six total.

“Be careful not to cut your hand on the bamboo!” Meng Ling called.

Meng Shiqiao was hanging the bundles. Since the rack was built, they only brought back the rice heads and left the straw in the field.

Though threshing would be harder later, this was faster and more space-efficient.

For five days straight, the weather stayed the same — rain paused now and then, but the sun never came out.

Some rice in the fields started falling over, and families rushed to harvest. They copied the Meng family.

Aunt Zhang next door was fuming in frustration. Zhang Dahe scolded her harshly and dragged her to work in the fields.

He even gave her an ultimatum: if she didn’t work, he’d divorce her.

The Meng family had harvested about 70–80% of their rice. In another two days, they’d be done.

Three more days passed. The rice started collapsing in large patches, some even sprouting.

Then came shouting from next door.

“Lazy! I told you to stop being lazy! Now look — the rice has sprouted! We’ll deal with this after we finish harvesting!”

Meng Ling watched the scene with amusement. She had warned Aunt Zhang, but she hadn’t listened.