Chapter 18: Nighttime Rain and Emergency Harvest

“You’re always slacking off.”

Wang Shuning turned to see Aunt Dajiao，wearing a straw hat and wielding a sickle, standing behind her, like a grim reaper harvesting souls, but with a gossipy rural woman’s image—her eyes full of disdain.

“Aunt Dajiao，aren’t you tired of watching me? I’m resting and drinking water. Besides, aren’t you resting too?” Wang Shuning found the older woman’s behavior incomprehensible.

There was no conflict between them; why seek trouble?

Aunt Dajiao looked at Wang Shuning’s large water bottle. “I harvest twice as much as you. Don’t try to use me as an excuse for your laziness.”

She turned abruptly, scattering rice chaff that almost got into Wang Shuning’s water bottle. She quickly covered it.

It was pure envy. Seeing others doing well bothered her.

The white sunlight turned orange. Wang Shuning, holding her hat, stood and looked at the rice paddies, covered in sweat. She didn’t worry about gaining weight here; the fat turned into sweat.

“Shuning, how is it living with He Zhuzhu? Did she give you any trouble?” Zhang Meili, seeing Lü Bei Chu and Guo Jingyi together, didn’t want to be a third wheel and caught up with Wang Shuning.

Wang Shuning shook her head. “Aunt Zhu and her children are nice. Even at six, they help with chores.”

Zhang Meili pouted. “That’s good. I envy you. You get free vegetables. Jingyi and I just planted our vegetables; we have to buy from Uncle Pingping until they’re ready. Even though vegetables are cheap, eating them three times a day for a month or two is expensive.”

They passed He Pingping’s house; Lü Bei Chu and Guo Jingyi were talking outside. Seeing them, Lü Bei Chu stopped. “I’ll go back first. Tell me if they bother you.”

Guo Jingyi smiled and watched him leave.

“Oh, Jingyi, are you dating Lü Bei Chu?” Zhang Meili teased.

Wang Shuning looked at her; they shouldn’t be a couple so soon.

Guo Jingyi shook her head. “No, we just get along well as friends.”

Zhang Meili smiled; friends now, but soon a couple.

Wang Shuning bathed and changed clothes. It was getting cooler; she wouldn’t sweat while cooking.

She made oil-braised shrimp and cucumber salad.

In the space, six sacks of rice were piled in the corner.

At this rate, she could harvest the wheat tomorrow night.

She was slow; a robot harvester would have harvested the second crop. She could only work at night.

After eating half a watermelon, she brushed her teeth and prepared for bed.

It was pitch black.

“Boom!” A sudden clap of thunder.

“Bang bang bang!” A continuous bell rang; then, a knock on Wang Shuning’s door.

“Shuning, it’s going to rain. Hurry to the fields to harvest the rice.”

It was midnight. Harvesting rice?

“I’m coming,” she shouted. The knocking stopped, and the bell faded.

When Wang Shuning opened the door, the area was brightly lit; flashlights flickered, and villagers carrying sickles and raincoats were on the road.

It was starting to rain—light drizzle. Judging by the thunder, it would soon get heavier.

“Hurry up! If the rice is soaked, and there’s no sun, we’re done,” He Zhuzhu shouted at the dazed Wang Shuning.

Wang Shuning put on her raincoat and followed.

There weren’t many flashlights; it was hard to see and easy to fall into ditches.

Dozens of people harvested one field, bundling the stalks and transporting them on carts.

Lightning flashed, followed by thunder, startling Wang Shuning. She looked up fearfully; what if she got struck by lightning?

“Hurry!” He Haiming, with a flashlight, coordinated the harvest.

The flashlights didn’t reach far; Wang Shuning cut close to the roots, holding the stalks to avoid cutting her hand.

With each clap of thunder, Wang Shuning flinched; she was afraid of thunder.

The rain intensified; it went from drizzle to heavy downpour. Everyone worked faster.

Wang Shuning wiped her face every few minutes; the raincoat couldn’t protect her from the heavy rain.

The ground became muddy and flooded.

Hours passed; at dawn, Wang Shuning saw the field.

The rice was unevenly cut; some parts were missed. She was soaked and cold.

The rice was soaked; it needed to be dried. Because it was almost ripe, they had to harvest it all.

They drained the excess water and worked until the afternoon, when Wang Shuning was exhausted.

He Haiming arranged for people to rest and went to the village committee. They needed to separate the rice grains from the stalks and dry them.

At home, Wang Shuning bathed and changed clothes to avoid getting sick.

She ate two tea eggs and drank ginger tea before sleeping.

Six hours later, He Zhuzhu woke her. She had two baked sweet potatoes and ate them quickly on her way to the village committee.

He Zhuzhu was worried; a poor harvest meant less grain, which wasn’t good.

Rain shelters were set up in the village square. Piles of rice stalks were stacked; dozens of containers were on the ground; villagers thrashed the rice, the grains falling like hail.

Wang Shuning gripped the stalks; the rain made them heavy.

He Chunxi, holding a container, saw Wang Shuning’s strained face; she thrashed the rice until most of the grains fell off.