PCJ – Chapter 166 New Training

Running on the bamboo sieve trains coordination and balance. The sieve isn’t fixed; though it holds over a hundred pounds of grain, it still wobbles when you run. You need speed and body movement to balance. On the first day of practice, your body struggles to coordinate. The old Taoist master didn’t teach Zhang Jiaohua any techniques; his approach was to practice more.

That night, Zhang Jiaohua dreamed of running on the bamboo sieve repeatedly. The sandbags on his legs got heavier, and the grain in the sieve decreased. Since there were only about a hundred pounds of grain, the sieve was empty after half a month, while Zhang Jiaohua’s legs were burdened with over thirty pounds. For an average person, running on the sieve would be difficult, even on flat ground. Zhang Jiaohua had to speed up and lean into the sieve to avoid tipping it over. But eventually, his balance improved, unlike his first training session.

In the dream, Zhang Jiaohua experienced more than half a month. He was jolted awake by the rooster’s crowing.

Zhang Jiaohua quickly got up and practiced his martial arts on the wooden stake outside for the duration of a stick of incense. Although the exercise seemed less necessary now, he still insisted on it daily. Afterward, he found a bamboo sieve at home, placed it in the main room, and filled it with scattered grain from the granary. Then he filled two burlap bags with sand, tied them to his legs, and started running on the sieve.

The first time, he fell off after a few steps. Despite practicing in his dreams for over half a month, his consciousness and body hadn’t yet coordinated in reality. When he fell, he instinctively dodged to the side, as if the old master with the bamboo stick was still there.

Getting on required a running start to gain enough speed to balance. The sieve’s frame was only a few inches wide; standing still meant falling immediately. After a few steps, he missed a step, leaned too far, and fell into the grain, which stuck to his body and felt uncomfortable.

Zhang Jiaohua stood up, shook off the grain, and prepared to run again, ignoring the grain stuck in his hair. He took a leap and quickly ran on the sieve, focusing on the frame. This time, he seemed to find his rhythm, with his body and mind coordinating better. The daily martial arts practice proved useful, improving his coordination. He ran around the sieve ten times, but soon his breathing became erratic, and his clothes were drenched in sweat.

Once his breathing faltered, his steps did too. He stumbled and fell off the sieve, landing on the frame, panting heavily.

Luckily, Jinhu and the others caught him before he hit the ground. They had noticed his exhaustion and rushed to help.

The sun rose, sending beams of light through the roof tiles, forming an oval halo on the wall.

Zhang Jiaohua took a shower, changed into clean clothes, had breakfast, and headed to school with his backpack.

“Jiaohua, Jiaohua,” Dumb called from behind.

Zhang Jiaohua didn’t slow down or wait, letting Dumb catch up on his own.

“You’re too fast. I’m out of breath,” Dumb complained.

“This is slow for me,” Zhang Jiaohua said dismissively.

“I envy you. No one at home controls you. You can watch TV whenever you want. If I watch TV for a bit, my parents scold me to death,” Dumb lamented.

“Then split from your parents. Take care of yourself: cook, do laundry, farm, feed chickens and ducks…” Zhang Jiaohua listed his daily chores, leaving Dumb speechless.

Dumb scratched his head. “How about I split and live with you?”

“No,” Zhang Jiaohua refused flatly.

“Then forget it. I’d starve in a few days if I split,” Dumb realized the consequences.

At school, Zhang Jiaohua immediately took out his book and started reading, engrossed by it.

Days passed quickly. By February, the weather warmed, and peach blossoms turned Meizi’ao Village into a pink world.

Spring is crucial for farming. It’s time to sow early rice and cultivate seedlings. Zhang Jiaohua, a determined child, insisted on keeping an acre of paddy near their house and a plot for vegetables despite Zhang Youping’s plan to give all the land to his father and brother.

That evening, Zhang Manyin visited Zhang Jiaohua’s house, “Jiaohua, I’ll plant this acre for you, and the harvest will be yours. How about that?”

Zhang Jiaohua shook his head, “I’ll plant it myself.”

“I know you can, but you’re still young. I’ll help you now, and you can help me when you’re older. It’s an exchange,” Zhang Manyin suggested, knowing his grandson’s stubbornness.

“No need. I’ll help you when you’re old, but I can manage now. Tomorrow is Sunday; take me to buy rice seeds. Just tell me how to cultivate them,” Zhang Jiaohua insisted.

“The field isn’t plowed yet. I’ll plow it for you,” Zhang Manyin offered with a bitter smile.

“No need. I’ll do it myself,” Zhang Jiaohua repeated.

Frustrated, Zhang Manyin lost his temper, “Nothing works for you! Fine, do as you like. I won’t bother you anymore.”

He stormed off angrily.