PCJ – Chapter 283 Arriving at A-Tang

Although the yield of hybrid rice was at least two to three hundred catties higher per mu (Chinese acre) than conventional rice, most of the villagers in Meizi’ao still planted conventional rice in the majority of their fields. The reason was that the harvest of early rice and the transplanting of late rice had to be done seamlessly. The temperature during the growing period of late rice was much lower than that of early rice, especially toward the later stages when deep autumn arrived and the temperature dropped significantly. If the harvest of early rice was delayed, it would affect the transplanting of late rice, and encountering low temperatures during the grain-filling period of rice would severely impact the yield. Therefore, both the early rice harvest and late rice transplanting had to be done in a rush, a task that rural people referred to as “double rush.”

Zhang Manyin had previously suggested that Zhang Jiaohua plant conventional rice because he was worried that all the farming work would pile up afterward. After all, he had been concerned that Zhang Jiaohua, being just a child, even though he was planting more than one mu of land, would ultimately still need help from him and his eldest son for harvesting. However, he did not expect that overnight, the rice in Zhang Jiaohua’s field would disappear, replaced by lush, green rice seedlings. Although he knew his grandson possessed some extraordinary abilities, this was beyond surprising.

These seedlings, though not as tall as those in the seedling fields that had been growing for more than a month, were obviously much sturdier than the densely planted ones. It was clear that Jiaohua had used the Meishan Water Master’s water techniques to bring this about.

Jiaohua was carefully spreading out the harvested rice on a drying mat with a grain rake when he saw Zhang Manyin approaching. He quickly called out, “Grandpa!”

“Jiaohua, I came to check on you. Since your rice has already been harvested and brought home, everything is fine now,” Zhang Manyin said as he walked into the yard of Zhang Jiaohua’s house. He squatted down, grabbed a handful of the rice, and examined it. The grains were plump and golden, definitely of the best quality. Moreover, after grabbing a handful, he didn’t see a single empty husk. Normally, before going through a winnowing machine, at least five percent of the grains would be empty, and some would not be fully plump. But the rice in Zhang Manyin’s hand was flawless. It was a perfect batch. Generally, not all the rice plants bloom and fertilize at the same time, so there’s always a difference in the maturity of the grains. Some that mature a bit later won’t be fully plump. But this usual phenomenon had been completely overturned in Zhang Jiaohua’s case.

“Grandpa, when are you going to harvest your rice? When you do, I’ll come and help you,” Zhang Jiaohua said.

“No need, no need. Grandpa can still manage. Come, let me help you finish drying your rice,” Zhang Manyin replied, taking the grain rake from Zhang Jiaohua’s hand and skillfully spreading the rice evenly on the mat. The grains were spread out with a uniform thickness so they could absorb the sun’s heat and dry properly for storage. Drying rice is a skilled task because the drying mat is limited in size, and if not done carefully, the grains could easily fall off the mat.

As the grain rake moved the rice around on the drying mat, it made a soft, soothing rustling sound. This was a sound that brought a certain comfort. In no time, the gray-green drying mat looked as if it had been painted with a layer of golden yellow brilliance.

“Jiaohua, in a few days, both your uncle’s family and I will be busy with the ‘double rush.’ Since you’ve already harvested your rice, could you help us take care of the cattle for a few days?” Zhang Manyin felt a bit embarrassed asking such a small child for help. After all, when Jiaohua was harvesting his rice, they hadn’t been able to help. But now, they really couldn’t handle everything by themselves. They were struggling to manage the livestock as well.

“Sure,” Zhang Jiaohua readily agreed.

“A few days will be enough,” Zhang Manyin said, still feeling somewhat guilty. He didn’t want to take advantage of his grandson, but he knew he was already doing just that.

“It’s no problem. I don’t have much else to do anyway,” Zhang Jiaohua replied.

“When you go to tend the cattle, don’t go swimming in the pond,” Zhang Manyin quickly reminded him. He suddenly remembered last year’s incident and regretted asking Jiaohua to help with the cattle in the first place. The events of last year still gave him chills.

“I won’t go swimming,” Zhang Jiaohua promised.

Two or three days later, the sound of threshing machines filled the village as the busy season began.

Early in the morning, the fields were full of people harvesting rice. In Meizi’ao, agriculture was still carried out in the traditional way, with all planting and harvesting done manually.

That morning, Zhang Jiaohua got up early, leading his cow into the mountains. This time, he went straight to the same mountain where the accident had happened last year Luo A Ridge.

Every household was busy with the double rush, so no one noticed Zhang Jiaohua leading his cow step by step toward Luo A Ridge. Luo A Ridge was a small mountain in the Meishan Mountain Range, mostly bare, with large areas of grass instead of trees. This made it a favorite spot for the village kids who tended cattle. There were a few ponds in the mountain, one called Xin Pond and the other Luo A Pond. Of the two, Luo A Pond had been around since before the liberation (1949), and its water came from mountain streams. Xin Pond was built during the production team era. In the 1950s, when there was a severe drought, water projects were initiated nationwide. In rural areas, if conditions allowed, reservoirs or ponds were built to store water and mitigate drought periods.

The pond where the accident had occurred was Luo A Pond. Normally, the kids went swimming in Xin Pond because it was better situated, being sunnier. Luo A Pond’s water was running water that came from the forest, so it was cooler. Even wading in it barefoot would feel icy cold. Bathing in such cold water could easily make one sick. No one knew why, but on that day, Jinhu and the others had gone swimming in Luo A Pond, and that was when the accident happened.

Zhang Jiaohua had long wanted to come and see what was so strange about this place. Why had five children, who had grown up near the water, drowned in the pond?

He led his cow into the mountains, giving it a pat on the head and mumbling, “Cow, cow, eat the grass nicely. Don’t wander off. Don’t steal sweet potato vines from the fields, don’t step on the rice in the paddies, don’t eat the green leafy vegetables…”

The big water buffalo shook its head, flicking its tail constantly. It was unclear whether it understood Jiaohua’s words, but after a pat on the head, it quickly trotted into the woods. After a brief run, it stopped in a grassy area.

Seeing the cow settle down, Zhang Jiaohua felt at ease and began walking toward Luo A Pond.

Luo A Pond was located in a valley, and the pond had been built to match the mountain’s terrain. It was said that in the past, all the farmland in Meizi’ao relied on this pond for irrigation. No matter how severe the drought, this pond had always ensured the irrigation of Meizi’ao’s hundred acres of rice fields. Even during the most serious drought in the 1950s, Meizi’ao had never faced large-scale crop failure.