LAVW – Chapter 116 Eating Melons in Summer – Era of Niu Niu

Chen Niu stayed silent for a long time.

All thoughts of poetry were thrown aside; the only thing on his mind was one thought, and he couldn’t help but say it aloud: “Qian Niuhua… you’re really something.”

He had only ever heard of someone sleeping while standing—today he had finally seen it for himself.

Chen Niu stood there for a while. As the night’s chill crept in, he gave up on watching how long Qian Niuhua could sleep standing up and obediently returned to the cowshed to sleep.

Early the next morning, the sky was dimly bright.

Wang Anlei, who had gotten up very early, also witnessed the sunrise. He stood on the edge of the field, facing the young ox bathed in the first rays of sunlight.

The first light of day met the white mark on Qian Niuhua’s face, the one with patterns like the flower itself, as if they were both reverently welcoming the sunrise.

The two horns, perfectly curved and stretching outward, reflected the sunlight, making them look exceptionally majestic.

At first glance, Wang Anlei was stunned. But then he thought that the ox was probably just up early to graze.

After staring for a few moments, he realized Qian Niuhua didn’t move at all and stepped forward, both puzzled and amazed.

Wang Anlei said, “Qian Niuhua, you even know how to watch the sunrise?”

Shi Qian was in the middle of cultivation and didn’t respond, only blinking his eyes a few times.

Looking closely, his big eyes, long eyelashes, and rather delicate features were striking.

Wang Anlei couldn’t help sighing, “You really are a strange cow.”

Shi Qian had come along and, though he didn’t help much when not inclined, he revealed his incredible strength when he did work, leaving Wang Anlei with mixed feelings of admiration and frustration.

Shi Qian retracted his thin spiritual energy back into his dantian for cultivation and said, “Moo—”

“You’re a strange person too.”

Wang Anlei normally had his work to focus on, but in his spare time, he devoted himself to rice research—a task both time-consuming and exhausting. In just a short period, he had darkened further and grown even thinner, though his eyes still shone brightly, almost glowing. The experimental fields outside the Agricultural Science Institute had grown quite large, though no one knew exactly how he managed it.

Seeing Shi Qian looking at him, Wang Anlei reached out to pat the cow’s head.

Shi Qian was in a good mood and didn’t dodge, letting him pat once.

Just once.

But Wang Anlei, a middle-aged man with an unpredictable streak, immediately exaggerated that watching the sunrise together had “advanced their relationship” at lightning speed.

As he bragged, Shi Qian quietly approached from behind and nudged him.

Wang Anlei yelped, “Ouch! Qian Niuhua, don’t nudge me—”

Shi Qian loudly said, “Moo moo.”

“Aren’t we supposed to have a good relationship?”

Laughter erupted around them.

Yet such laughter became rarer over the following days.

The reason: more and more places were suddenly vying for students.

Free yet responsible labor, with food and lodging provided—who wouldn’t want that? On top of that, teachers wanted students to gain more practical experience, so they also reached out, intensifying competition.

As a result, fewer and fewer students accompanied Chen Niu to Wang Anlei’s Agricultural Science Institute. By summer, only a few remained—a mere two or three, along with Shi Qian, the tall and handsome cow.

Walking the familiar path to the institute, Shi Qian saw Wang Anlei and the others overwhelmed with work, while Wang Anlei only saw Chen Niu, Shi Qian, and a handful of others. His gaze darkened with a hint of melancholy.

Work would only get busier, and the labor force was dwindling.

Shi Qian’s eyes mirrored that same somberness.

Fewer people meant more work for him. Otherwise, these folks would be exhausted, and even honest, simple Chen Niu would be worn out.

Shi Qian put on the rope and helped carry things.

Glancing slightly ahead at Chen Niu, he thought: too bad he had already settled into the security department.

He didn’t end up as a security guard and chose to do “transportation” work instead.

On second thought, it was fine—he could always try for a security job later.

Life often involves detours.

In a cow’s life, taking a few years of detours was normal.

Shi Qian felt his actions could be summed up in one phrase: willingly bending low to serve others.

Occasionally, Chen Niu looked back and noticed the peculiarly complex expression in Shi Qian’s eyes.

He asked straightforwardly, “Qian Niuhua, what are you thinking? That look is strange…”

Shi Qian said, “Moo moo.”

“Don’t ask, kid.”

By midsummer, the intense dual-harvest period arrived, with both harvesting and planting keeping everyone busy.

Chen Niu sent off another letter addressed to Beijing and then headed to the Agricultural Science Institute.

Nanjing Agricultural University’s break was later, so they weren’t on holiday yet, but after the harvest, it would probably coincide with the break.

Chen Niu planned to stay longer to check the actual yield from this batch of rice once harvested.

Thinking of the soon-to-be-harvested crops gave Shi Qian the motivation to work.

In this short period, he had gained a clear understanding: every grain of rice was hard-earned.

Even when seeing waste in other people’s fields, it pained him.

Dual-harvest work was exhausting. Chen Niu bent over in the fields, harvesting rice; sweat dripped down, rows of rice stalks toppled, leaving short stubble and a patchwork of footprints and sweat.

After harvesting came threshing, flooding the fields, soaking the soil, plowing it again, and applying fertilizer to prepare for the next season.

Shi Qian was the main labor force for plowing, burying his head in the work.

The next batch of seedlings had already grown, leaving no time for slow work.

But the best part of summer was the abundance of fruits and vegetables.

Around noon, tired Shi Qian would stop by Wang Anlei’s vegetable patch to nibble on cucumbers he grew.

The others were having lunch.

Wang Anlei had a bowl of rice and a cup of wine at hand, one hand flipping through a ledger, the other manipulating an abacus at lightning speed.

Occasionally pausing to sip wine, he then refocused on the clicking abacus beads.

Chen Niu, concerned, sat with a bowl of rice, waiting patiently at the table.

Counting the numbers took time. Wang Anlei’s face flushed red, and the food in his bowl cooled. Chen Niu had already eaten three bowls before the total was calculated.

As Chen Niu reached to see, Wang Anlei raised his hand to stop him and looked up.

Chen Niu: ?

“What’s wrong? Wang, you’ve got the total—aren’t you going to show me?” Chen Niu hesitated to pull away Wang Anlei’s hand, worried he might mess up the abacus beads.

Wang Anlei said, “At first, there were people coming and going, but now it’s just you helping out—you’re reliable!”

Chen Niu understood immediately: it referred to going from bustling activity to quiet, with only him and Shi Qian left at the Agricultural Science Institute.

But—

Chen Niu had visited other agricultural institutes and units. After weighing it all, he felt familiar with this place, and Wang Anlei truly knew his stuff, so he had stuck around.

Thinking like this, it seemed he had also “betrayed” Brother Wang, who now looked hurt and sentimental?

Chen Niu spoke honestly, “I’ve checked out other places too.”

Wang Anlei’s eyes widened. “Then why are you still here?!”

“Of course, yours is the best. And with a whole season’s crop, you only see the results at the end!” Chen Niu said. “Come on, show me the numbers. Don’t tease me, or I might just take Qian Niuhua back.”

Wang Anlei’s dark expression immediately shifted. “You… you can’t even take a joke.”

“I’m showing you, I’m showing you.”

Wang Anlei revealed the total.

Chen Niu looked and estimated. “You haven’t even calculated the yield per mu yet? Five hundred-something—”

While moving his abacus to calculate the final average, Wang Anlei said, “I don’t have a high education, my rank isn’t enough. I know I don’t seem as capable as the other teachers or experts—that’s why they all left.”

“But what I have here, they can see it all. Can’t they see my effort and dedication? What I do here isn’t worse than anyone else!”

“I believe even though you’re freshmen, you’re smart enough to see the real, tangible results.”

“Yet just having these isn’t enough. It’s still not enough to make them trust me, to break through those conventional barriers people use to judge others.”

Chen Niu saw how serious he was and shifted his gaze to Wang Anlei’s face.

He thought about himself as well—he had also experienced some “unfairness.” But one couldn’t really say that unfairness was truly unfair; sometimes it was just inevitable, the rules were just that way.

And people usually judge others based on rules and habits.

Wang Anlei continued, “Otherwise, if others are better, why should they get the same treatment as me?”

He picked up his completely cooled rice bowl and shoveled a big mouthful into his mouth.

The bowl was made of coarse porcelain, chipped, and quite large. In Wang Anlei’s hands, it looked even bigger.

“But I really envy them!”

“I’m a petty person.”

Hearing the last sentence, Shi Qian, who had just arrived, stopped at the doorway.

He thought: You only ate a couple of plump yellow cucumbers from his field early, and there’s still plenty on the vines. He probably won’t hold a grudge, right?

Shi Qian didn’t know the outcome yet, because Wang Anlei seemed drunk, hugging Chen Niu and saying how touched he was.

When he saw Shi Qian, he even tried to hug him too. Shi Qian immediately took three steps back to avoid this drunk man.

After everyone finished eating and rested a bit, the happiest part—the watermelon—officially arrived.

A few watermelons were chilled in cold water for a while, then cut open, and everyone dug in.

The green-striped rinds, a thin layer of white beneath, then the red flesh—pinkish-red, dripping juice, creating the most refreshing waves of summer.

Shi Qian took two for himself.

Chen Niu cut one for him, and Shi Qian ate it straight away, one bite per segment, spitting out no seeds.

After finishing, Shi Qian remembered the cucumbers he had eaten earlier and stopped Chen Niu from cutting the second watermelon for him, pushing it toward Wang Anlei.

Honestly, for a moment, Chen Niu felt a little jealous.

But in the next instant, the watermelon split open, and Shi Qian was stunned—Chen Niu’s heart returned to perfect balance.

Shi Qian: ?

He didn’t even use any strength!

Annoyed, Shi Qian retaliated against this watermelon, taking two big bites right in front of Wang Anlei and Chen Niu.

Wang Anlei watched the watermelon coming toward him, then saw it split and its flesh gone: …

After finishing the watermelon, Shi Qian looked up and promised Wang Anlei, “Moo-moo.”

Tomorrow, for sure.