BDSMST -Chapter 109 The First “Harvest Festival”

In the golden autumn of October, the scent of sweet osmanthus filled the air.

Woniu Village was celebrating its first major harvest since its expansion.

In the fields, waves of golden rice swayed, the heavy heads bending the stalks. In the greenhouses, the first batch of off-season tomatoes and cucumbers hung from the branches, red and green, delighting the eye. In the orchards on the back hill, apples, pears, and hawthorns filled the branches, releasing an enticing fragrance. Even in the experimental fields, the few peculiarly-shaped corn stalks had produced plump ears.

The entire village was immersed in the joy of harvest.

Looking at the abundant yields, Jiang Suisui had an idea—she wanted to host a grand celebration for it.

She shared her idea with Gu Yan and Uncle Fu.

“A Harvest Festival?” Uncle Fu asked, puzzled. “Madam, we have a good harvest every year and celebrate every year—doesn’t it just mean slaughtering a chicken and having some wine?”

“No,” Jiang Suisui shook her head. “What I want is a festival for all of Woniu Village, and even for the surrounding villagers. We want everyone to see how hard work can yield rich rewards. What we’re celebrating isn’t just the harvest—it’s hope in our lives.”

Her proposal immediately received enthusiastic support from the entire village.

Thus, preparations for Woniu Village’s first ‘Harvest Festival’ began in earnest.

The festival was scheduled for the first full moon after the autumn equinox.

That day, even before dawn, the village was bustling with activity. Every household decorated their homes with lanterns and banners. Children wore newly-made clothes, chasing each other through the alleys.

The large village threshing ground in front of the school was arranged as the main festival venue.

In the center, a huge bonfire was stacked with firewood. Long tables surrounded it, covered with clean tablecloths.

Under Jiang Suisui’s guidance, the village women prepared delicious dishes using the freshly harvested grains and vegetables.

Golden corn cakes, sweet roasted sweet potatoes, tangy cold tomato salad, and large pots of braised pork with cabbage filled the air with mouthwatering aromas.

Jiang Suisui had also ordered the freshest fish from the pond, cooking several large batches of poached fish. The fragrant, spicy, and numbing flavors were unlike anything the villagers had tasted before, making mouths water.

Beyond the food, there were all sorts of fun competitions.

The “Largest Pumpkin” contest saw villagers bringing their biggest pumpkins on carts—each one larger than the last. In the end, Zhang Da Niu’s pumpkin, weighing over a hundred pounds, won first prize: a brand-new bolt of cotton fabric.

The “Best Scarecrow” contest had children using their imagination to make scarecrows of various shapes—some imposing, some humorous. Gu Xuan and Wang Xiaopang dressed their scarecrow in old armor, holding a wooden sword, and it was awarded “Most Majestic Scarecrow.”

There were also arm-wrestling contests and sack races, with real prizes—bags of rice or jugs of oil—for the winners.

The whole of Woniu Village became a sea of joy.

Villagers from neighboring villages, hearing the news, also came to watch. They looked at Woniu’s clean streets and sturdy houses, and at the genuine smiles on the villagers’ faces, their eyes filled with envy.

Bai Yutang, as Woniu Village’s most important “business partner,” was naturally invited.

He arrived in a spotless brocade robe, seated at a separate guest table with two attendants. Watching the lively yet orderly scene, full of rural vitality and energy, a complex expression flickered in his eyes.

He had been to countless places, attended countless luxurious banquets—but never had he felt such pure joy, a happiness that sprang directly from life itself.

Night fell, and the full moon rose.

Gu Yan personally lit the central bonfire. Flames shot high, illuminating every face in a warm red glow.

The villagers gathered around the fire spontaneously, holding hands, singing ancient songs, and dancing joyfully. Musicians played drums and sheng, the rhythm lively and powerful.

Jiang Suisui was pulled into the dancing crowd by a few enthusiastic village women. She moved awkwardly at first, trying to mimic their steps, but her face shone with a bright, genuine smile.

Gu Yan stood by the bonfire, his gaze following her every movement. His expression remained calm, but in his deep eyes, a tender warmth glimmered.

Gu Xuan and Wang Xiaopang had already lost themselves in the crowd, laughing and shouting. Even the old marquis, flushed from wine, boasted to several elderly farmers about his heroic exploits from long ago.

Bai Yutang carried his wine cup over to Gu Yan.

“Lord Marquis, you are truly fortunate,” he said sincerely.

Gu Yan glanced at him but said nothing, turning his attention back to the woman whose face was illuminated by the firelight, radiant with joy.

“I’ve traveled the world as a merchant, and I’ve seen every facet of human life,” Bai Yutang said, looking into the flames. “I’ve seen riches like kings and marquises, and poverty like beggars—but I’ve never seen anyone, like madam, create such a… paradise with her own hands on a land so barren.”

He deliberately chose the word “paradise,” not “estate” or “village.”

“She’s not creating,” Gu Yan finally spoke, his voice low and steady. “She’s awakening—awakening the power of the land itself, and the hope within people’s hearts.”

Bai Yutang pondered this, his expression thoughtful.

Just then, Jiang Suisui ran out from the crowd, cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She reached Gu Yan and grabbed his hand.

“Come, let’s dance together!”

Before he could react, she pulled him into the lively crowd.

A general used to the decisive moves of the battlefield had no idea how to perform these rustic village dances. His movements were stiff, prompting the villagers around them to chuckle good-naturedly.

But Jiang Suisui didn’t care—she spun him around in the firelight, her skirt flaring as they twirled.

Gu Yan watched her bright smile, the tiny sparks of fire reflected in her eyes, and gradually relaxed. He began to imitate the villagers’ steps—still clumsy, but no longer resisting.

Bai Yutang stood outside the circle, observing the scene with a complex gaze. He saw not only the love between husband and wife, but a spiritual harmony and resonance.

He lowered his head, tracing the rim of his wine cup. The clear liquid reflected a shadowed, unsettled expression on his face.

The celebration continued late into the night.

When the crowd slowly dispersed and the bonfire dwindled, Jiang Suisui and Gu Yan stood side by side on the small hill behind the school, overlooking the now-quiet village.

Moonlight poured like silver over the neatly arranged rooftops and the patchwork of fields below.

“This is wonderful,” Jiang Suisui whispered.

“Mm,” Gu Yan said, holding her hand. “It will only get better.”

He knew this was only the beginning. His wife—the woman who always created miracles—still had an even grander vision in her heart.

Jiang Suisui leaned against his shoulder, gazing at the bright moon above the horizon.

After the harvest comes the sowing.

She was ready to plant new hope on this land.

And that new hope lay hidden in the secret space she carried with her, unknown to anyone.