Transmigrated as an Unwanted Ugly Girl

Chapter 429: Chapter 226: A Family

With this idea in mind, their enthusiasm for threshing the wheat soared. The two men would occasionally shout back and forth, discussing what to do with the harvest. The basic plan was to sell half to pay taxes and get some spending money, while keeping the other half for the family to eat. This was a luxurious decision they had never been able to make before.

Although both men were still quite sturdy, swinging flails under the scorching sun was so tiring and hot that their hearts pounded and their faces grew flushed. They had to stop every so often to wipe the sweat from their brows with cloths.

Qingmu and Zhang Huai, however, weren’t as talkative as their fathers. The two of them buried themselves in their work, focused only on getting the wheat into the granary as quickly as possible. They still had their studies, after all; they didn’t have this much free time to help out at home!

As teenagers in their prime, they were brimming with vigor and worked all morning. Other than their rumbling stomachs, they hardly felt tired at all.

But the hunger was a torment. Their minds unconsciously conjured up all sorts of dishes, and they could almost smell the aroma of cooked rice. The two seemed to be on the same wavelength; while their hands never stopped moving, their eyes simultaneously darted toward the kitchen. Noticing the other’s identical movement, they couldn’t help but look at each other and smile.

Qingmu glanced at the flattened wheat stalks in the courtyard. ’Once Zhang Yang finishes turning this batch over, one more round of threshing should do it.’ So, he called out loudly toward the kitchen, ”Ma, Juhua, is the food ready?”

Zhang Huai also stopped what he was doing and looked toward the kitchen with anticipation. For some reason, the memory of the egg drop soup with crispy rice from the afternoon they paved the road came to mind. The fresh, savory aroma was unforgettable, and his stomach let out a loud GROWL, demanding food.

Juhua had just finished stir-frying the last dish. Hearing his call, she came out and replied, ”It’s ready! Brother, you must be starving, right? Take a break and wash your face. We’re about to eat. Dad, Uncle Zhang, Aunt Zhang, it’s time to rest!”

The moment her voice faded, Zhang Yang, who had been bent over turning the wheat, instantly dropped what he was doing and ran toward the covered veranda. He was in such a hurry on the slick wheat stalks that his feet slipped. He nearly fell, stumbling for a moment before catching his balance, all the while yelling, ”Sister Juhua, I’m starving! If I don’t eat now, I’m going to die!”

His words drew a roar of laughter. Seeing that Zhang Yang was no longer turning the wheat, Qingmu and Zhang Huai shook their heads with resigned smiles. They set down their flails and bent over to finish the job. Once it was all turned over, it could bake in the sun while they ate. One more round of threshing after their meal would knock all the grain loose.

When Juhua saw Zhang Yang’s small face covered in dust, with grimy streaks where sweat had run down, he looked like a dirty-faced kitten. She couldn’t help but laugh. ”Go wash your face,” she told him. ”You must be uncomfortable. See how tiring this is? You should just focus on your studies and become a Scholar. That’s the proper path for you.”

He shot her son a look and said, her voice laced with pity, ”Just a while ago he was bragging that he could drop his books for a hoe and handle the work just fine. He’s certainly learned his lesson these past few days.”

”I’m just hungry! I never said I couldn’t do the work,” Zhang Yang retorted unhappily. ”You have to eat to get anything done. Even an ox has to stop for a break and eat some grass!”

’This kid is actually very down-to-earth,’ Juhua thought, looking at his defiant expression. She couldn’t help but praise him in her heart. ’He hasn’t become pretentious and looked down on common laborers just because he’s studied a few books, and he isn’t completely opposed to doing farm work either.’

She turned, went inside, and brought out three cotton cloths. Handing one to him, she told him to go wash up by the well platform, adding that lunch would be served right away.

She glanced over at her brother and Zhang Huai. They had finished turning the wheat and were now walking toward the well, drenched in sweat. After a season of busy farm work, both of them were a little tanner. Their wheat-colored cheeks were flushed bright red from the heat, and their thin shirts were completely soaked through. When they took off their straw hats, their topknots were dripping wet, thoroughly soaked with sweat.

And they were in better shape. Zhang Dashuan and Zheng Changhe were flushed and panting, looking even more worn out. Zheng Changhe held a large, coarse porcelain teapot in one hand and a cup in the other. He poured himself a cup of water and guzzled it down, then immediately poured another. Next, he poured one for Zhang Dashuan. The two of them tilted their heads back and chugged the water—clearly, they were dehydrated from sweating so much.

A sudden pang of sympathy struck her. ”Brother, Huai Zi,” she said, ”you must be starving, right? I’ll make some pastries this afternoon for you to have as a snack.”

She had always known that the busy harvest season was hard work, but since she was always at home cooking, she never had the chance to see her family toiling and sweating up close like this. Last year, they had less land and had planted less wheat, so it hadn’t been nearly as exhausting.