Chapter Three: Harvesting the Wheat

Soon, they arrived at Grandpa’s wheat field, where the production crew had already gotten there ahead of them. The director pointed to the three acres Grandpa had left to harvest. “Your task today is simple: the three of you just need to reap this acre, bundle it, and carry it back to Grandpa’s house.”

An acre doesn’t sound like much—until you’re standing in front of it. Only then do you realize just how vast it really is.

“Let’s get started before it gets too hot. The work will be even harder if the sun gets any stronger,” Grandpa said, handing out sickles to the three of them. He then demonstrated how to cut the wheat, and how to tie the bundles so they wouldn’t come loose.

After a little practice, watching their clumsy movements, Grandpa deemed they’d basically got the hang of it and went off to tend to the field on the other side.

Harvesting wheat looked easy, but in practice, it was anything but. Zhou Miao nearly cut her hand several times, and the sharp wheat awns pricked her skin, making it sting and itch. After just ten minutes, her back began to ache, and the heat soon drenched her clothes with sweat.

Wang Jiang and Li Feifei fared even worse. They yelped at every prick, and could barely manage two strokes before needing a break. In half an hour, the three of them had only managed to clear a single corner.

“My hands are covered with blisters!” Wang Jiang shouted, frustration etched across his face.

“These wheat stalks hurt my hands so much! These sleeves are useless,” Li Feifei complained, vigorously rubbing her reddened arms as she sat at the edge of the field.

Zhou Miao paused to gulp down water, her face flushed from the heat and exhaustion, hair plastered to her scalp. She glanced up at the sky—the sun was even more blinding now.

“Let’s hurry up. It’ll only get hotter at noon.”

So far, Wang Jiang and Li Feifei hadn’t managed to harvest even half as much as Zhou Miao. At her urging, the two sighed helplessly and dragged themselves back to work, their movements sluggish and even less efficient than before.

After a little while, Wang Jiang couldn’t stand it any longer. He threw down his sickle. “I just don’t get it! Why not use a harvester? Harvesting by hand—we’ll be here forever!”

“It costs fifty or sixty yuan an acre to hire a harvester. Grandpa Lin’s got over twenty acres—that’s more than a thousand yuan. Since we’re not busy, we do it ourselves. No one in our village hires a harvester,” came a voice from across the path—a girl about their age, with a ponytail and a round face tanned by the sun, working alone in the opposite field. When she noticed the cameras turning her way, she blushed and turned aside, but she didn’t stop working. Her hands moved deftly, and her speed easily outstripped the three of them put together.

The director, sitting on the edge of the field, lit a cigarette. “My hometown is in the countryside too. When I was a kid, what I hated most was being dragged out to harvest wheat. By midday, my back didn’t even feel like my own anymore.”

“But what could you do? In the countryside, everyone has to work—adults and kids alike. After a while, I came to hate farming. Whenever the elders said if you don’t study hard you’ll end up in the fields for life, it scared me to death. That’s why I studied as hard as I could.”

He flicked the ash from his cigarette and pointed at the three of them. “Compared to me, you’re much luckier. You’ve never had to do anything, never had to worry about food or clothes, and yet a day at school leaves you exhausted.”

“Think about it—if you don’t study, what will you do in the future? Your families don’t even own any fields. You wouldn’t even have land to farm.”

Wang Jiang bristled. “I’m strong! If nothing else, I can move bricks on a construction site, can’t I?”

The director laughed. “What a coincidence—our village chief is building a house. Since you’re strong, you three can help move bricks tomorrow.”

Wang Jiang’s face fell, and Li Feifei grew anxious.

“I never said I was strong! I’m a girl—how can I move bricks? Why do I have to go?” Li Feifei protested.

The director nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. Then how about this—Grandpa’s vegetable patch needs fertilizing. Tomorrow, those two will move bricks, and you’ll spread manure on the vegetable garden.”

Zhou Miao burst out laughing, her molars showing.

Li Feifei stamped her foot in frustration and pouted. “Fine, I’ll move bricks instead.”

After the director’s banter, their break was pretty much over. They dragged themselves back to work, while the director, unable to bear the heat any longer, retreated to the air-conditioned car.

The sun climbed higher and higher. Even with straw hats, they sweated rivers. Sweat stung their eyes, and their clothes were so soaked they lost their shape and color.

Zhou Miao took a long drink from her water bottle. Wang Jiang and Li Feifei gazed at her with longing—their water was already gone. Zhou Miao tossed the bottle to them, and they pounced on it like hungry puppies, gulping greedily.

Despite all the water they drank, none of them felt the urge to use the bathroom—the moisture had all poured out of them as sweat.

By noon, they’d only managed to harvest one-fifth of the acre, mostly because Wang Jiang and Li Feifei were barely working.

Just then, Grandpa glanced at the sun and called out, “That’s enough for the morning—bundle what you’ve cut and let’s go eat.”

The three of them were so relieved they nearly leapt for joy. They bundled the wheat hastily, paid little mind to how tight it was, loaded it onto the tractor, and hurried home.

When they arrived, lunch was already on the table—Grandpa had asked the neighbor to help prepare it, and there was a big pot of chrysanthemum tea.

But the three were so exhausted, they had no appetite at all. They squeezed in front of the electric fan, only starting to feel human again after a while.

After lunch, they napped for two hours, waiting for the worst of the sun to pass, then reluctantly returned to the field. Zhou Miao draped a wet towel around her neck for shade and to wipe away sweat.

The sun scorched their backs, and Zhou Miao felt half-cooked. Her body was tired, her spirit drained. Before long, the other two gave up again—no amount of scolding could move them. Li Feifei even threatened to report the crew for youth abuse.

In the end, the girl from the neighboring field couldn’t stand to watch any longer and came over to help. Seeing Zhou Miao and the girl working so hard, Wang Jiang and Li Feifei felt embarrassed and joined in.

They worked together until six in the evening. Thanks to the combined effort—and mainly the strength of the girl named Li Xiang—they finally finished the acre. The three of them together had managed barely three-fifths of the work.

After loading the last bundle onto the tractor, the three were utterly spent, collapsing on the ground for ages before they could even stand. Only the urging of the crew got them onto the vehicle. They thanked Li Xiang and said goodbye.

After dinner, Grandpa brought out a threshing machine from storage, making the three blanch in terror.

“We’re not seriously working tonight too, are we?” Wang Jiang was on the verge of tears.

“No, you can rest. I’ll handle this myself,” Grandpa said with a smile. The three kids had done him a great service today.

They sighed in relief. Zhou Miao asked curiously, “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? Why the rush?”

“It’ll rain in a few days. We need to thresh the wheat and dry it, then winnow and bag it all before the rain comes,” Grandpa explained.

These steps of farm work were beyond their understanding. After dinner, feeling sticky and uncomfortable, they desperately needed a bath.

Li Feifei seized the only big tub and locked herself in a room to wash. Zhou Miao and Wang Jiang, in just their shorts, ran to the nearby river to bathe.

The river was clear, and many villagers—old and young—were soaking in the water. Children floated in tubs, learning to swim. It was a lively scene.

Seeing all this, a quiet peace settled over Zhou Miao. In all his lives, he had never experienced anything like this, and somehow, it felt strangely familiar.

While lost in thought, Wang Jiang nudged him. “Want me to scrub your back? I’ll do yours, then you do mine.”

Zhou Miao smiled. “Sure.”

For young people, unhappiness fades as quickly as the summer heat.